Mount Apikuni don't go out tonight

the sky had sunk and left grey night. this fact was noted somewhere in the back of her mind as the man's fangs glinted starkly and suddenly. but there is a sound of approval, low and rumbling. there exposed is his neck and stomach, and she is still a moment as once more gaze flickers to toxic yellow.

then she is running her nose over the fur, unkept and stiff. he is in stark contrast to her, dark and coarse and haunting. again does her blood sing but she is stoic, careful in her examination of shadow-given-shape. fangs tug carefully at a mat, loosening it and falling still, thinking herself bold.

She is bold. There is one thing that is more important to the shadow-cloaked swain than anything else upon this earth — he wants to feel wanted. The cheerless girl at his side does not know that in this moment she is filling that need and she does not understand the consequences for it. She is too bold for her own good.

He is a sorry cur and he knows it, but she still tenderly and without question preens his unkempt fur. The tip of his tail moves to a beat of its own as he lets out a long sigh, reclining in full. This kind of attention he desired he did not get often, and he would take full advantage when relishing it.

His nose swings up to find the buttersoft fur behind the hook of her jaw, and it is without much fanfare that he returns the favor.

he seems to relax beneath the single touch, and she resumes carefully and cautiously, ears swept back still. she is quiet and still yet, even when he begins to preen to edge of her jawline in turn.

she is stilled only for a moment before continueing softly her work, never testing much further than she has. perhaps others would feel pride at having the hell-beast lay suppliant before their ministrations. yet she is forever devoid of the feeling, and in its stead stands quiet commitment to her task. it is nice, too, to be touched; it has grown a foreign feeling.

He can tell that there is no self-satisfaction in what she is doing. She does not glow and swell when he submits himself to her, and it puts him at ease to know that there is at least some modicum of mutual respect between them.

Every once in a while he emits a gravelly rumble, reminiscent of a purr. Where he lingers he is able to feel her pulse and he is aware of how alive she is. He continues his preening as if he his searching for some color beneath a faded cotton topcoat, but the downy fur underneath is just as desaturated as what is on top.

she is steadfast in her careful preening until her muzzle withdraws carefully, nose lingering at the intersection of one bony stilt and the ragged body it holds up. breath pools there a moment, and she lets out a low note. she is pleased at this mutual relation of wanting.

her head curls forward a fraction as her gaze moves toward his, for only a moment does it linger but in her gaze is want. her submission is still present but no longer a learned reflex; it carries the same message that lingers in her gaze. fangs carefully tug at a matt near the base of his throat. somewhere below, lifeblood flows, but she does not seek it.

Before he knows it she has warmed up to him. She is still colorless, her mood dour, but there is something in her whine that causes him to stop what he is doing and angle himself to look at her in full. He sweeps one of his thin forepaws over the gentle curve of her spine. She is not like the other woman who did not know truly what it was she wanted, and she does not play with him the same way.

Still, he must tell her, Be direct with me. If he were younger (in mind, in body) he might have given in without a second thought — he had many children that would never know him as father. But now that he was older he was more careful with these fragile women... and he could not help but feel used by them for surely, they only wanted him because he was available; he had never been a looker.

she is still when he speaks, and replies easily. "I want you." it is said without lust or coyness, there is not of that present. it is more bold than she has ever been in a long time, yet still her stance is quiet, her words stoic even while her muzzle shifts near to hi once more, waiting, not quite touching.

it is, perhaps, a morbid sort of infatuation. she has felt intimacy rarely and rarer still on her own terms, and shadow-made-flesh fascinates her like no other. heat moves through her slowly yet she is still, reverent still, seeking approval.

doooo u care if we skip over the sexytimes

He does not bother asking why, for in his mind he knows. It is because he is available and she wants someone, not necessarily him. Truthfully his desires are not inherently sexual; he only wishes to touch these women, to hold them close and feel their heartbeat and warmth. But if this is what they desire from him, then.. so be it. He will provide it for them without complaint.

He licks the corner of her mouth tenderly, as if he knew her, and he moves to stand. She is unbearably small beneath him, and he does not wait again for permission before he spreads her comfortably and offers her himself.

He would move at her pace until they were both spent, but once their flesh had parted he did not relinquish his hold on her.

I have a pack. You should come there, with me. But he knows that not everyone desires to be held down. If she declines, maybe the pressure of surviving the colder months will bring her back to him. But if not, I would like you to stay with me tonight.

she is malleable beneath him, moving at his direction until he is atop her. she is silent still save for a crooning note, content as their bodies move. and then they part and exhaustion settles over her, yet she remains on shaky limbs beneath him when he does not shift.

when he speaks she is silent, wary. she has only recently fled her first pack and she does not wish to seek another. yet to refuse would to be to slip from beneath her mantle of docility, and for all her moments of boldness, here and there, she is not ready to slip from it. it has become instinct as much as survival.

at his second offer does her silence break. "I will stay with you." and if that means following him to his place than she will. if it is as bad as the first than she will gather her boldness as mice gather crumbs, and she will do again what she had done before. she shifts, back arching once against him as her muzzle twists back, seeking to place suppliant lick on his jaw.