Mature Content Warning
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Like a willing pet, Wren had followed @Colt well into the early hours of the morning. Padding beside him in relative quiet, the occasional song of small talk uttered from her lips. The sun was beginning to peek over the treetops by the time they had reached their destination, dappling the pair with a faint blush of pinks and oranges.
She had walked among these trees before, but with him, it felt new.
Wren comes to a stop beneath a secluded canopy. Quiet, save for the sway of leaves with the winds and the morning birds that spoke amongst each other. She presses her back against the trunk of a tree, and with one long forelimb, reels him closer.
She starts with a lone kiss to the tip of his nose, followed by a plea for his lips to part, should he allow it. Torn ears press to the sides of her dust-colored head, and her tail sways between reedy legs. The only sound to come from her lips is a small, vulnerable whine. She would be slow; careful.
If she was to pretend to be his for now, she would make it worth his time. She only had so much of it.
Wren revelled in it. The roughness of his touch that lit her skin ablaze, his throaty growls that would bounce off of the treetops. The power she had at her hands, how willing he was to bow at her feet and give himself to her. Slowly, until it was all at once.
And she would do the same for him, worship his name and cry it out for no one but them to hear. It was criminal, the way she feverishly begged for him, on and on until her throat grew hoarse and her cheeks had flushed a pleasant, indicative scarlet. She could only hope God would cover his eyes.
**
She was shivering, the heat having drained from her body, now delivered to her via her lover's gaunt figure pressed against her own. Perhaps in another life, she would have lit a cigarette for them to pass back and forth, but all she could do was exhale with a content, shaky sigh.
The afterglow could only last for so long. She shuffles away after a moment, keeping close proximity, though her eyes avoided his. She needed to think.
One thing Wren was growing increasingly aware of was that the song and dance of physical intimacy left behind an achingly dark feeling. Cold, lonely, and unforgiving, climbing up her spine and implanting itself in the back of her mind. The desire had burned so bright and taken so much from her that she had little more left to give.
She and Colt had not an emotional connection. She wanted nothing more from him, in that moment. Their transaction was complete, until the tension thickened between them once more and they were no longer caught in the satisfactory haze. On quivering legs she rises, wobbling and unsteady, slowly padding towards the edge of the copse. Her teeth itch for pressure, for the hot blood of a creature smaller than her to drip down to her chin. Surely, that would fix it.
There's a snap of a twig and a crunch of bones as four thunderous paws meet the earth. All was silent otherwise. The unsuspecting mockingbird lodged between Wren's teeth had met a quiet, quick end. A huff leaves her nostrils, a pat on her own back for a successful, albeit small hunt. Small birds were mostly bones, but with shaky legs and breath that was still catching up to her, it was all she could muster. Colt didn't seem the type to complain, anyway.
G'ho ah p'esen' pf'o y'hah,
She's careful to place the carcass next to his nose as she comes down to a sit. Sorry it's not much.
No,
Wren's eyebrows grow firm in a display of something like mild annoyance. you eat. What, I can't do somethin' nice?
Mouth curving downward into a frown, she leans further back on her haunches in a slouch. Bringing one forepaw towards her mouth, she runs her tongue over a cracked pawpad.
She studies him, now, following crimson eyes with her own, the yellowed smirk on his face growing with pride as if he'd won something. It unnerved her, though she only expresses such with a mild-mannered scoff. I can handle my own hunts, y'know. You don't gotta flex your muscles to impress me or some shit.
With her now dampened paw, she shoves the bird further towards him.
Men and their audacity. Why is everything always a game?
Hm,
was Wren's immediate answer, followed up with a tilt of her head. I don't know. S'a little boring being alone, sometimes. Could maybe find some people to keep me in check.
She wasn't entirely sure why she was still talking. Evidently, Colt did not care much for listening to her, which she supposed was well within his right. The discussion of life plans was not something that was previously agreed upon.
She accepts the warm press of kisses to her leg, though she is careful about where he goes. It was always a risk, but the last thing she needed was to wander up to a new pack with a growing belly and hormonal imbalances, reformed by mutants that had made a home out of her. The possibility of it was something she would rather not worry about; it was starting to make her blood grow cold with anxiety, and that was not particularly conducive to the notion Colt was implying.
You think you'll live long enough to see me again, if I go?
She knew the answer, but she asks anyway with a flash of teeth and a dimpled grin. She could pretend, for a moment, that her body was a temple and not just meat.
Warm brown melts into deep scarlet, stares meeting for a brief moment before Wren's is lost and transfixed on the visibly bony spine of her lover. She is lukewarm, and for a minute, she thinks of the sweet boy from the woods to the East. How he looked at her with calmness and innocence, patient hunger over the ravenous kind.
Colt was good in a different way. Or maybe he wasn't so good at all.
What he had said was not an invitation, and she wouldn't take it as such. Not that she wanted it to be. She laughs, the kind of sad laugh that one would let out to lighten a mood, and she isn't smiling. I've done enough runnin', for now, I think.
Rising Sun Valley.
Wren liked the sound of that.
Do yah think that Sunspire pack would take on a litter of pups if I dropped 'em at their door?
Her comment is in jest, dripping with sardonicism; her voice rises by an octave, a giggle fluttering out from deep in her chest. y'know, just in case. I'm here for fun, not for a bunch a' crotch goblins.
Although cruel in nature, part of her wondered if she would actually ever do such a thing. If I ever walk around with saggy tits, I want someone to just kill me.
For the time being, Colt had stopped with his preening, and she was admittedly thankful for a moment's respite from it. He'd have to wait a little longer for her to be ready again, should he decide to stick around long enough.
I hope I do see you again, if I move.
She knew she wouldn't, but she says it anyway.
fading here! this was so fun thank you so much <3333
A lady healer. He didn't need to explain more than that. They both knew very well what he was referring to, and she offers a silent thanks with a shrug of her shoulders, a thin whisper of a smile. She mumbles an I'll keep that in mind, the back of her head pressed against rough bark, digging at her skin with its ridges and splinters.
Maybe you should,
the songbird hums, a simple tune that rang from tired, sore lips. come East, I mean. Maybe it'd be good for yah.
And the song comes to a stop, fizzling into a comfortable silence between them.
She would remain there as long as he would allow, be swallowed and spit back out; his arms around her hips, a tousle to mousy fur and a mouth that tasted of him. And in due time, they would part with pleasantly sore bodies, and as shaky as her legs may be, they carried her Eastward.
Her home would not be with him.