“—Shhh…” You interrupt her nervous stammering. If her eager body hadn’t made her cravings apparent, the tone in her voice sure did. You lean in cheek-to-cheek to whisper into her ear, “…You don’t need to say it…” Your hands hold the back of her head and a tense cheek of her flank as you plant a kiss on her warm jaw, “…I figured it out…the clothes on the bed…the feathers on your wings…the mess you were cleaning up when I called out to you…” Dash gulps. Her expressive ear had tried to perk up at first, but promptly retreated back to its nape when you started citing evidence that proved its owner guilty of self-pleasure. You free a hand and fish a forehoof from your neck which you hold tentatively between you.