wintersbane does not mean to intrude. in fact he doesn't even mean to cross the
listener's path at all. he approaches the place she is from an opposite direction, taking a break between his patrols only because he deems it necessary. if he could be a machine, if he could walk the borders constantly, without the need of food or water or rest he would. it's no secret the tundrian is on edge since the escape of the redhawk woman. redhawks had already been here — no doubt in search of her — and his anger towards the one responsible is an ever growing plague in his mind. it seethes like the bubbling lava — not reaching the surface but the pressure builds all the same as it grows heated. in secret, he wonders if this is the reckoning. if the end was coming for blackfeather ...and what they would do if it came. wintersbane is practical. he is logical. he always has been; but he is stubborn and he will go down with the ship until there is nothing left to salvage from the wreckage.
he hears her voice. quiet. raw.
rare.
he hesitates.
it feels like a moment not meant for him to hear, nor bear witness to ...yet, no doubt she heard the approach of his heavy footfalls, unaware until he drew nearer that she was there at all. hesitantly, he draws nearer as she grows quiet and shrugs through the underbrush.
listener?
are you alright? he conveys the unspoken question in her title, his tone tentative enough to communicate that he would leave if she wished to be alone, if she asked him to.
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wintersbane offers her a sheepish dip of his head as his presence and voice causes her to start.
if she is offended that he has heard a bit — only a small bit — of her words to the death place of cicero ( he assumes, anyway ) she hides it graciously. the tundrian's glacial gaze studies her, focused and slow. he still can't shake the feeling that he's intruded on a private moment not meant for him but he is here and she has yet to chase him off with teeth bared.
the expression upon her face as she draws nearer is hard for him to read; and tentatively he assumes that it's not meant towards him. she draws closer still, until he draws breath — head lowered with unspoken inquisition — and draws in her scent, the longer tendrils of her pelage at the nape of her neck tickling his nose. wintersbane's intoxicated, instantly. drunk on
her wholly; as if the dark priestess has cast upon him a spell. perhaps she has. perhaps it doesn't matter either way because he is unbothered. because his heart thrums in his chest like an unquiet drum whilst in her presence and all he wants to do is worship her like a sinner imploring for forgiveness at the alter ( her ).
it comes as no surprise for he's always revered and desired strong women.
she touches his thick ruff and her touch sets his body aflame. his blood burns hotly beneath flesh and thick winterforged pelage and the tundrian's throat lets out a low guttural rumble of it's own accord; seeking to convey that her touch is welcome, that is pleasing. if he is burning alive it is surely holy fire that consumes him. he
wants to say her name, to let it fall freely from betwixt his lips like a lover's caress. he doesn't remember ever saying it. he alternates between what he calls her but it is usually always in respect to her rank(s). but he is not sure if she would allow it.
priestess,
he murmurs in stead into the fur of her own scruff.
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wintersbane feels her sigh, feels as it shifts through the outer tendrils of his thick winter pelage and feels concern tug at his brow as she pulls back. the moment does not feel shattered and the tension and worry that she is rejecting him soothes as her turquoise gaze — her eyes like twin gems, or like the warm waters of a tropical paradise — holds his own. the world outside of
her has long since melted away to the tundrian. for the time being, it is just
them.
is this how hades feels when persephone returns to him year after year still tasting of summer? still tasting of something that should be forbidden to him ( unworthy wretch that he is ) but is blissfully not?
her scarred lips touch along side of his muzzle and this time he does speak,
relmyna,
rumbling her name like a prayer.
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very quick post before work.
wintersbane draws in a stilled breath, reveling in her closeness. in the feelings relmyna stirs and inspires within him. devotion. loyalty. desire. the knowledge that he'd die to protect her and her daughters ( despite that he doesn't think he's every formally met her pale child ). effortlessly, his admiration and affection for the listener had grown roots into something deeper. he realizes it now, during the wordless communication of their locked gazes.
he closes the distance this time, reaching forward to brush his muzzle against her's, leaving small nips along her jaw if she allows him; hoping to answer any unasked question she might've been harboring with his touch.
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she allows him the small nips, tilting her muzzle skyward to give him better access. a low rumble of affection lingers in his chest as he traces the delicate curve of her throat — lovely and warm, the thrum of her heart beneath her flesh like a call to arms that his own heart answers with a responsive thump in his ribcage.
he loves her. he knows it in his bones, knows it by the unyielding and unflinching trust he feels even as her teeth rake through the fur at his throat.
he wants her in every way he could. physically; with an fierce ache in his body that he's never felt before for another. he wants her spiritually.
can a dark priestess belong to anyone other than the gods? could they have a union beyond flesh? of names? of ...families? more so would she even want to? he's never asked ( and now doesn't seem like quite the appropriate time ).
for the first time wintersbane is faced with a swell of insecurity. because she is divine. because has had others before him and he does not want to disappoint her with his inexperience. he knows what to do, trusts his body will not make a fool out of him but he's never ...
there is a flutter in his chest and he realizes he's nervous but tries so hard to keep it hidden, because he's afraid she'll change her mind if she knew. she could have anyone she wanted. someone older than him, more experienced.
deciding that facing his insecurity head on was the best course of action — just as he would an opponent in battle — wintersbane moves along the line of her body dropping love bites as he goes: at the junction of between her shoulders, at her shoulder, against her flank, at the curve of her hip, teasing, testing what is alright with her ( ready to backoff if something isn't alright with her ) and exploring.
relmyna is a divine gift and he intends to worship her as such.
*coughs* i'm rusty af @ writing sexy timez.
Mature Content Warning
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the graze of her teeth at his cheek was rough; affectionate and communicative that she wants this... that she wants him. it is all the assurance that he needs and though there is an idle worry that he might hurt her the fire that pools low in his belly grows increasingly insistent until it is the only thought that consumes him. instinct guides him now as he rises along her body, forelegs wrapping 'round her hips to draw her against him. the majority of his weight rolls back to his hind legs where he supports himself and keeps his weight off of her. a few sloppy rolls of his hips are given. there's never been a moment that wintersbane's been unsure of himself and it doesn't show now ( though there might be some embarrassment about not being able to get it in right away later ). his teeth graze her scruff as he rolls his hips again and they draw flush together and a whole new sensation washes over him.
it is here wintersbane pauses; joined with her, to assure that he hasn't and isn't hurting her. as much as he very badly wants to explore this new sensation, relmyna's comfort is also important to him and he wants to ensure that she enjoys it too.
he tucks away any lingering uncertainty — not about this per say but about his obvious inexperience — to ruminate upon it later. later, later. when his mind isn't swimming with carnal urges and he is no longer as consumed with her. and she does consume him ...this is in a new way. a physical way. she trembles beneath him and he finds a moment of clarity to be concerned but the whimper she makes is quick to chase it away. it encourages him to proceed and he does so; the first thrust of his hips involuntary — a primal reaction to feeling her all around him.
it only serves to stoke the low burning fire he feels in his abdomen. another roll of his hips against hers follows. and another. and he falls into a steady rhythm easily. instinct guides him, despite that she is not in heat, and his muscles know what to do as if they'd done it thousands of times before. it is an archaic dance. older than the sky itself, he thinks. he readjusts his weight on his back paws mindful not to be a burden to her, forelegs tightening on her hips to draw her back against him with each roll of his hips.
her name lingers on the tip of his tongue at the building anticipation. of what, he doesn't know. he almost gasps it out but chokes on it at the last second and settles for a rumbling growl that tears itself from his throat into the hairs at the nape of her neck. wintersbane comes undone in a rush of heat — though he had plenty of stamina as a warrior ...this was quite a difference and no experience meant he ( just another thing to add to his list of things he'd probably feel embarrassed over later ) didn't last long. he dismounts her and his ears taper back with unspoken nerves.
a rarity for him...but it was easy to act confident even if he didn't feel it. except when his inexperience shows and there was no hiding it. i...uh,
should he apologize? not for being with her, of course, but because she was great and he was not ...great? should have told you i'm new at all this.
somehow giving voice to his ineptness sounded worse than it had in his head and it wasn't like his inner monologues were being particularly kind about it. that was unfair of me.
it was his way of apologizing without actually verbalizing 'sorry i sucked' despite that, that was the general gist of it.
lol @ wintersbane <3 so cute. we can fade w ur next post as this is super outdated D:
he was careful with her, warm breath gliding through the fur at her nape; gently buffeted, relmyna swayed with each inward curve of his hips against her own, eyes drifting closed. while his body tensed and clenched with the pleasure of the experience, relmyna herself floated, connected intimately but with no true driving goal of her own zenith in mind.
the feel of his forelegs 'round her hips pleased the woman — she was eager to lose herself in the arch of his larger body over hers as they danced an old set of steps.
presently, her dark ears fell back as wintersbane grit out a guttural sound against her flesh; she was flooded with warmth, and for a time stood joined with the warrior. the absence of him from around and within her brought a brief sting of sadness to relmyna, as if for a short while wintersbane had driven it out.
a shake of her muzzle; she moved to kiss his cheek. he had done nothing wrong, for the listened had expected nothing of him, and a glance into the haunting colour of his eyes surely would convey that. a smile; relmyna backed some steps, inviting him with the narrow swing of her hips to follow her, where they might find another place, and she could show him more than he had learned this time.
she silently assures him that he'd done nothing wrong and there is a rush of relief within wintersbane. he lets out the breath in a relieved sigh that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. she smiles and the tundrian's gaze follows her as she backs up and invites him to follow her with a tempting, 'come hither' sway of her hips. obediently and eagerly, the soturi follows after his lover willing to learn what secrets she has to teach him.