Set for the 18th around noon. Tagging
@Scamp but, of course, anyone may pop by.
Somehow, the girl had managed to loop her way around, trudging away from the mountains and back towards flatter lands. She knew not where to go, exactly, allowing for her legs to simply wander. She was free out there, traveling by her lonesome and without the weight of the tribe on her back—for the most part, anyways. She still thought back to them often, wondering what they were each up to, as well as how they were taking her journey away. It was a new experience for all of them, really, for never before had she traveled so far from her claim. Her adventures were short, lasting no more than a day or two in most cases, but this was different. Though it was only for a short time that she'd been gone thus far, any that tried to follow her would realize that her trail led them down the range and then away from it. She had broken her own rule, in a way, but thought little of it for the time being given her plan to return.
Asterr had eventually wandered into the prairie, its high grasses seeming to dwarf her in every way. Within them, her sight became useless, and so it was her nose that had been given her favour. She'd walk a ways ahead, turning occasionally, but always stopping often to take in a great breath. Each inhale brought with it nothing more than the scent of prey, along with a few other smells that were too weak to be of any concern. Alone was she determined to remain, too, and so onward the girl went within the grasses.
Scamp, though as loyal of a minion as he was, had his tendencies to wander. On days he couldn't find his Dark Master he usually went as far as to go outside the borders. Today was one such day, and he'd been moseying along since early morning.
But now, a scent tickled at his very innards and brought his posture to his tip-toes to look around in a wide circle. What was it? It was, by far, the most amazing thing he'd ever smelled! Even better than prey, he wondered? Quite possibly, depending on what the smell actually was. Led by instinct and hormones, the young charcoal male trotted right towards Asterr with his jaws hanging open in a goofy grin, tongue dangling too, and his tail wagging low behind him.
It wasn't long before he saw movement in the grasses further away, and coming towards him. That, for sure, was the target. Seeing as he was in slightly shorter grass, he stayed in order to be able to see what he was looking for before rushing head on. It was a lesson learned from
@Damien that'd clearly stuck, and the young Blackfeather was seeing if it really paid off.
tag for visibility.
He'd escorted
@Wildfire to the caldera that morning and confident she was in good hands and his series would temporarily be relieved, he began to explore. The area is foreign to him, for the most part, and he doesn't stray too far but nor does he stay close to the borders that do not belong to him. It is not long before his trot becomes purposeful. Gavriel isn't sure when it all kicked in or when his body had taken over his direction, but when the scent he's been subconsciously trailing becomes apparent, he begins to understand.
A dark figure stands in the distance (at least what little he can see against the grasses), but disappears upon pursuit. Gavriel uses her scent wafting in his direction to locate her. If it hadn't been weighted by her perfume, the brute might have noticed the extra scent in the air. He's pulled forward, zeroing in on his target, he thinks of Gyda and how he'd had patience, restraint, but this seems different. He doesn't know the woman exposing her vulnerability to the world but he does know he needs to get there first and so the last several yards turn into a gallop. In a matter of seconds, their distance becomes nonexistent.
Gavriel's chest puffs out and he's able to scrutinize the dark woman for a moment, a whine vibrating his throat while his head dips for a quiet, pressing invitation request.
Practically blinded, it was her nose that was used the most, followed up, then, by her ears. She'd picked up upon a new, but familiar, scent before she'd even heard the male's approach, resulting in her own form having lurched to a stop. She could recognize the pack that the wolf belonged to, for within the same woods did her friend, Damien, live. Yet the owner was not a being that she'd ever met before, nor did she currently feel inclined to introduce herself and exchange pleasantries. It was a male, she knew, and so backwards a few steps had she gone, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of another. Unlike the Blackfeather wolf, the new male had approached her directly, stopping a bit too close for comfort. Immediately, she'd drawn herself back, retreating a few steps in the direction that she'd come from. For the moment, he was the most concerning presence there, for he was near enough to pose an immediate threat. Yet, attack had he not, whining instead and awaiting an invitation to approach.
Asterr pondered his desire, knowing what had drawn him there, but wondering if he might turn out to be the lesser of two evils. Another was near, and she'd been warned once of the dark woods' wolves by a member of the pack that resided there, but the male standing before her was new. So much time had passed since her encounter with Thurin that the scent was not entirely recognized, triggering a sense of familiarity, but without a name to match. Slowly, she'd come to the conclusion that the man nearest to her was the safest option, for surely was the charcoal stranger far worse than he could ever be. It was then with a noise of her own—some sort of sound that straddled the line between a whine and a chuff—that she'd granted the tawny wolf his request.
skipping with permission.
It takes Gavriel a few seconds to register the distress of the female—aside from being in heat and out in the open, of course—but eventually she makes a sound that draws him in. Her scent, by this point, is overwhelming, and his body is giving him all the answers and motions. Enveloped in the warmth, he's still oblivious to the wolf stalking in the grass somewhere but the woman's response is enough to refocus his own concern.
He inches closer upon the invitation and licks at her chin with a reassuring whine in hopes to calm her down. The large male will only press so far. It surprises him how much his mind flickers to Gyda and the children he helped produce, Drageda's first Dragons and he had a
penis paw in it. The thought alone causes him to puff up a little more, as if the dark woman would know his legacy through touch alone.
"I'm Gavriel," he murmurs into the space by her ear once he preens gently through her fur, then moving down her neck and shoulder. His darkened gaze travels the length of her body to his destination but his movements remain slow, so not to spook her, and his tail lashes eagerly back and forth behind him. Gavriel moves downward still, as far as the other will allow.
As he'd neared her, she'd watched, careful to not let her gaze drift elsewhere. Still, though, out of sight did not equal out of mind, and she'd soon found her attention wavering back and forth between the male before her and the one that had hidden himself away. She could not see him, did not even know if he still remained there, but her previous detection of his whereabouts still inspired concern. For the moment, she was able to offer the tawny man her full attention, his gesture and sound appealing to her. Of him she was attentive, wondering still if the correct decision had been made, and then he'd spoken. She'd not expected words, yet he'd encouraged introductions right off the bat. Gavriel—a stranger for but a moment, but now someone that she could put a name to. She did not yet attempt to speak his name aloud, instead having returned the notion with a soft "Asterr."
At first, she'd found herself melting against his touch, favouring the feel of his preening. But as his movement continued, inching along the length of her frame, she'd gained enough sense to pull away. Though slow in his wandering, she'd found a reason to drag herself away from him, turning then to stare back at him. She was reminded of her time with Hiram and the feelings that had come with it, her body then urging her to approach him, but she'd moved not a muscle—yet. She had a name and assumed intentions, as well as her own desires, but still did she stay there, practically attached to the earth beneath her paws.
Gavriel barely catches her name once it is spoken. Soft, strained, a voice that draws him in. He thinks to look back but he holds still as he moves his ministrations to her shoulder. Should she remain in place, his intentions clear, he'll find the center of her smell. His brown eyes close and he leans in to her, feeling his own swelling with excitement, that her pulling away surprises him.
His jaw tightens and he suppresses a growl, frustrated that she'd pull away from him. Her stance remains stiff, dominant, and he attempts to match her posture. Gavriel isn't sure what she might want to gain his prize, to show her that he is a suitable candidate to satisfy the hunger she no doubt feels burning between her legs. It is his own hunger that drives him, but he resists anyway and a strangled whine escapes his throat.
"Forgive me," is all he can manage, one paw lifting as if he might advance but he doesn't, placing it back in the ground. He would not force her to give in to him, no matter how much his loins beckon for her to engulf him, and instead he waits to see if she'll come to him.
His whine had resulted in her ears falling back, assuming she'd made a mistake, only to recall her activities from the prior day. She had done something, but no real harm or offense was made, and so her expression had switched from concern to curiosity. She wondered of him, of what was going on within his head, though there was a high possibility that she could guess with ease. But, her internal queries were never voiced, for again he'd spoken, asking for forgiveness. Against him no grudges could be held, as she did not know him well enough, nor did she expect him to be in complete control. She knew of instincts, as well as of how they could be suppressed, but doing so could only lasted for so long, and only for specific things. "You have done nothing wrong," she'd returned with then. In actuality, he truly had not done anything wrong, per se, for nature had led them there.
Asterr's gaze had lingered upon his raised paw, only to notice that it'd been dropped shortly after. Restraint, she'd decided, was the cause of his actions. She appreciated the notion, but wondered for how long he could maintain it—or if she even wished for him to do so. There was no denying his candidacy, his condition meeting the requirements necessary for a proper pairing, but still she found herself to be hesitant. Yet, in her mind, she had only two options, for running off no longer seemed possible. Two where near—she continued to assume that the charcoal being remained there somewhere, biding his time—but only one had she never before been warned of. Worried that she might be left at the mercy of the Blackfeather wolf if she were to turn away, the dragoness took a few steps nearer to Gavriel. She was dubious, still, but offered her favour to him rather than to the unknown.
You have done nothing wrong.
His ears drop, flatten against the back of his head. He'd been forward with her and if she hadn't move, would have been a lot closer. With Gyda, he'd restrained himself. She'd been his queen, at the time, and he a simple servant providing a service. While he's given the opportunity to be apart of their lives, there will always be a divide between them. Here, while the drive to reproduce is high, knows there's something far more simple. He doesn't know the she-wolf more than simple introductions but those details seem unimportant when his body is burning and shouting at him to hurry.
Asterr takes a few steps closer and he swallows a lump in his throat. Uncertain if she is testing the waters or giving him another invitation, Gavriel remains in place for a moment. It would be easy to move forward and mount her in one swift motion, to claim her as his own—ignorant that she's already mated to another at least once—and be done with it but he remains steadfast. He does, however, lift his foot again and take one small step forward to show his interest, intrigue, and willingness to provide the both of them with relief that has been building.
Her observation of him continued, witnessing his stillness. She could leave, she'd realized, and head off for less populated areas. Yet, the longer she'd allowed for herself to gaze at him, for her own anticipation to build up, it was made clear that she wouldn't. He would serve as a guardian, she'd told herself, anything that he might do being to keep the other wolf at bay. To admit that she was interested, that she could desire a physical connection, would not happen. It was out of the question for her to verbally confirm anything, but she didn't need to, either. No words were necessary, her actions being enough.
A step had been taken towards her, but even then her mind had not shifted away from the decision made. Again, she'd moved towards him, but this time, she hadn't stopped. Her body had inched forward, halting only when she was close enough to reach out and touch him—which she had gladly done. Her muzzle had been lifted, nosing his jawline, and granting him permission to proceed. In the back of her mind, she'd repeated over and over that it was not because she needed him, but because she needed protection. Yet the more the words played within her mind, the more distant that they'd seemed to grow, until finally the thought had faded altogether. It was something she needed—he was someone she needed.
Mature Content Warning
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She doesn't say anything else and it is she that closes their distance, putting her nose to his. Gavriel closes his eyes for a moment and lowers his head into her touch. Her skin felt like fire and he noses her, licking the underside of her chin a few times before he nuzzles into her chest. There's a small part of him that tells him to back off, that he doesn't know this woman, and that the whole thing is wrong, but the voice doesn't survive long as she touches him.
When it turns out she isn’t going to retreat again, Gavriel returns to his workings. His nose finds her shoulder and he becomes a little bolder this time, testing the waters until he finds her rump. His tail swishes and dark brown eyes glance back the length of their body while he pivots away and noses between her legs, tongue flicking out for a taste that causes his teeth to chatter instinctively.
His back arches with excitement and one dauntless leg lifts and curves around her slender waist. Gavriel hooks his leg into her hip and pulls her close, lifting himself to tower over the smaller female. Their bodies comes together and he keeps her close to his groin, feeling the jutting urge in his hips that he manages to control—how, he isn’t sure, as her scent envelops him the closer he gets—and he lowers his head to nose behind her ears.
With little they know about one another, Gavriel doesn’t have to be entirely selfish, and his affections against the back of her had is hopefully appreciated. He swallows a lump forming in his throat again and pressing himself closer, but not allowing himself to enter yet. Instead, he whines as he leans into her, hoping to get another clear go-ahead that she wants this too.
The girl's touch led to him leaning down, offering affections that had her eyes closing momentarily. It was unlike her previous time, but favourable all the same. As he moved down her body, they were reopened, peeking in his direction. Some of her nerves had since subsided, body relaxing for each second that his nose was pressed against her. Yet, even still, she'd tensed as her backside had been neared, his nosing having caused for her body to run rigid. Hiram had not done something similar, and so she'd not been expecting it. She'd wished to look back at him, but had instead refrained from doing so and placed her gaze upon the earth. Legs stiff, she'd kept still, awaiting that which she knew was coming.
As his forelimb was lifted up and hooked around her waist, she'd relaxed once again, finding familiarity in the act. She'd moved with him, allowing for herself to be pulled close and then adjusting her stance to better support his weight. But there it had stopped, and rather than feeling a snuffing of her flame, she'd been met with a feeling against the back of her head. Though uncertain of his doings, she did not shy away from them. Then when he'd made a noise, she'd both understood and appreciated his hesitance. From the back of her throat, there came a soft chuff, offering to him the green light that he'd desired.
Asterr doesn't move away from his touches. She molds in to him, as if she were made to fit beneath his large frame, and he softly licks at the back of her head and ears. The sound she makes is all he needs to move forward, hunting his back a little more for a better angle and ruts his hips a few times until he finds his mark. A low rumble vibrates in his chest with a surge forward, warmth surrounding him that encourages his speed. A few more licks turns into nips and eventually, to keep himself steady, his teeth locks onto her scruff. While it isn't his intention to bear down, his teeth grinds a little more than they should with each thrust of his hips as he claims his prize.
His descent into her had been anticipated, perhaps even desired on some level, and so she'd attempted to keep herself still enough so as not to make things difficult for him. Once he'd succeeded in entering her, her toes had spread, dull claws digging into the dirt underfoot. She'd been quick to ease into his motions, greeting each thrust with a near stumble, though she'd been prevented from actually going anywhere by the grip he had around her waist. She was kept further still when his jaws had stationed themselves around her scruff, the skin still somewhat tender. Yet, she'd done nothing, mind hooked upon the relief that she was being offered—until his teeth had ground a bit too harshly. Had she not been secured in place, surely she would have jolted upright from the shock of it. Rather, she'd only let out a sharp yelp, followed after by a whine to try and get him to loosen up.
Scamp watched from afar as the two interacted, and it became painfully clear that he wouldn't be getting into anything interesting as the other male wraps her in his touch. Snorting irritaby, the Blackfeather turns and heads a different way. At least he would get to explore a little before circling back home, alas even more wound up than when he'd left.
His paws carry him swiftly from his perch, firey ears on a swivel for any others drawn by the womans wonderful scent. Much as he hated to, Scamp made his leave for better things to do.
No more posts from me :P
awkward post so not to drag it out oh well
Her yelp causes him to flinch and, for a fraction of a second, tighten his grip. He lets go a second later and licks the tender skin a few times. A tinge of a metallic drop touches his tongue and he laps a few times. He has no other means to express his apology in that moment other than the small bit of affection he can manage.
It is forgotten for a moment as he hears a rustling from one side but it is short-lived and he’s far too occupied to be bothered with it. His teeth flash while his hips move all the faster to the point a swelling between his legs becomes prominent and he’s soon locked, his thrust becoming short and quick as he teeters off, lost in the pleasure her center has brought him.
It is then he slumps into her, putting more weight against her four limbs than he intends to, and simply enjoys the sweet aroma and feeling that leaves his skin warm.
Her yelping had, for a moment, worsened her predicament before having allowed for it to then get better. Though sore, the touch of his tongue against the irritated flesh seemed to dull the pain. She'd found herself accepting his apology, as per usual, deciding that he'd not known to be less harsh with his grip. Everything had soon been forgotten, however, when she'd felt the motion of his hips. Perhaps she should have been used to it by now, but each exchange had felt new, for each male had been vastly different from the others.
Once they'd connected, a gentle huff had slipped past her lips in response to the sudden increase of weight against her frame. While it'd caused her to struggle, she'd not complained, having chosen to hold him for as long as she could. Eventually, something that truly was new had happened.
It had started with a slight trembling in her legs, and before she'd the opportunity to recognize what was happening, her limbs had folded in on themselves and sent her tumbling to the ground.
I couldn't help myself, omfg
It happens quickly. He barely has a chance to gather himself when he feels the tremble through her body. At first he doesn’t think much of it but it’s a matter of seconds before he’s pulled to the ground after her. It startles him, he yelps in surprise, and hits the ground awkwardly. He tries to position himself above her but his back legs bend at a straining angle and his front legs hover around her enough so that his chest might not press down against her.
Gavriel stares at the back of her head for a moment, realizing how weird of a predicament they’ve gotten themselves into. He doesn’t even know the woman beneath him and as his high wears off, the weight of it comes to mind. He bites the inside of his cheek and remains silent, leaning forward to softly nose the fur on the back of her neck.
“Are you okay?” he finally asks, realizing she’d been unable to keep standing and now he’s certain he might be causing her more distress than he thought through.
The impact had caused for her chest to ache, leaving her short of breath for several moments. By the time she'd settled down, his touch against the back of her neck was felt, but she'd not attempted to twist her head around. She'd stayed how she had landed, for the most part, having been made to adjust only slightly so as not to make a bigger mess out of their bodies. Towards the ground her gaze had wandered, ears falling back as what had happened replayed within her mind. His voice had eventually brought her out of it, causing for her to shake her head in a dismissive manner.
"I am fine," she'd answered, finding her voice no more than a second or two later. "Are you?" She couldn't help but wonder if she'd caused some sort of issue, capable only of hoping that she hadn't.
"Yes," he says with a nod of his head, which ceases the moment he realizes she can't even see the motion. He'd been lost in his own moment that he hadn't considered her, feeling a pang of guilt stab through him. He doesn't speak up against it, however, and smooths over her fur a little more. As much as he doesn't know about her, he doesn't want to leave a horrible impression of himself—likely that he already has—and instead shifts a little to make it more comfortable for the both of them.
Sensitive (and now a little sore), he tries to remain still until he can carefully separate from the woman. He makes a half hearted attempt every so often but the slightest resistance keeps him in place until, finally, he's able to pull away without too much struggle and (hopefully) relatively pain free. He noses her once as a brief inspection but backs away, leaving her alone to do as she pleases, and twists to clean himself.
"If... you need anything," he began once they both had been quiet for a moment, unsure how to go about this, unsure if she even wants to. "I live north east of here, on the other side of the mountain range. A place called Sleeping Dragon."
From their tumble they'd both emerged just fine, which pulled from her any feelings of discontent. Her silent hopes had been answered, leaving their only issue as being the position they were put into. Silence ensued and, once he'd been able to remove himself, she'd taken a moment to push herself back up onto her feet. Slow had she been to turn, but quickened had her movements become once he'd started to speak. An offer was made, directions having followed suit should she ever wish to take it. And though she'd nodded, accepting his words, it was not the first portion of his words that had stuck out to her. Rather, it'd been the name of his home, a distant memory informing her that she knew of the place.
"Sleeping Dragon," she'd repeated, recalling how the name was misleading. There existed no dragons there, Thuringwethil had informed her of such. "Does Thuringwethil reside there still?" She knew not of the other female's position within her home, for she'd not been informed of such during their meeting; on the off chance that she actually had been told, she could not remember. From what she could remember, however, they'd exchanged names and conversation, but neither had informed the other of their places within their respective territories.
She repeats the name of his home and at first he doesn’t think much of it. An act of committing something to memory. When she speaks again, however, mentioning the name of his commander, his ears fall back upon his head in surprise. He’s loaded with a new wave of emotion he isn’t sure what to do with, uncertain how this woman has a connection with his home and what he has possibly gotten himself into without realization. Stiffly, he nods his head, and it takes a few silent moments before he speaks again.
“She is our commander,” he instructs. How she phrases her question, he doesn’t expect she knows too much about their culture and the dedication of Heda to their home but he knows her (or at least of her) nonetheless. “How do you know Heda?”
Ever so slightly, her head had tilted as his ears fell back. Had something happened to the female? Asterr's own ears threatened to fold at the thought, for even though she'd hardly known the other wolf, she hadn't wished death upon her. Thankfully, however, the motion was revealed to have been done out of surprise, rather than the recollection of a painful memory. That was good, at least, to know that an old acquaintance hadn't passed.
Thuringwethil was the leader of Sleeping Dragon, apparently, a fact that she'd not been told during their meeting; not that it really mattered, since she'd not shared her own position of leadership, either. "We met once while I had been exploring," she'd answered. "We had not spoken for very long, but she was memorable—her name, especially." As was the time that she'd stumbled through the pronunciation of it. "Is she well?"
The answer he receives is mostly harmless. She'd met his leader during a scouting mission at some point in Sleeping Dragon's genesis. He'd forced himself to get used to their new land filled with wholes that didn't know who they are, who their commander is, and perhaps now that is changing. This far away, however, is what surprises him, but the thoughts remain to himself.
"She is well," he explains but he doesn't make another comment. Thuringwethil is a memorable wolf, having gone through so much in her short life already. Having been commander for the vast majority of her life (and a brief stint where everyone was ungrateful) but having since cleansed their hierarchy and their lives reorienting back to their ways has been comforting.
It is a few seconds later, now that his head had cleared from the temporary euphoria, that he remembers what he's supposed to be doing. His ears twitchy upon his head and he grinds his teeth together to find a way out of the situation as it grows in awkwardness. Gavriel is held by a little guilt, a little duty, to remain, but neither of them are required to stick together. He inhales a sharp breath as he decides he needs to go.
"Do you need anything?" he asks, biting his tongue for a moment. "I should get back soon," he adds though he doesn't know the exact timeframe Wildfire will spend within another's claim.
The other female was well, which was all she'd needed to hear. They'd met but once, yes, but she'd been curious all the same. Having discovered something about her, as well as learned that she'd been doing well, had been enough to momentarily quell any curiosity, however. Focusing on the present, she'd given a nod. There was nothing more that she'd wished to say, having been given the answer that she'd desired. When he'd gone to speak again, she'd been relieved to hear his voice, having been at a loss on where the conversation might next be directed.
When asked if she'd needed anything, Asterr had responded with a shake of her head. "No, I am fine," she'd said afterwards. "You may go." Though he'd not needed a formal dismissal, she'd offered one anyways; to put his conscious at ease, or out of habit, she wasn't entirely sure of her reasoning. Either way, the girl had watched him for a moment or two longer, then straightened herself back out and offered her goodbyes. Thereafter, they'd parted ways, the male heading off to wherever he was needed whilst she'd started towards home.