Bearclaw Valley Now you know, all you need is me

He slowed and backtracked frequently, nudging her with his nose and aiming gentle nips towards her muzzle. He remained alert, half of his attention on her whilst the other was on their surroundings; he was cautious, wary of who else might have caught on. He wanted to hide her away, to keep her secluded until it all passed over, but he knew that he couldn’t do that—not to her. So he settled on his other option: remain with her at all times and defend her—kill for her, even, if necessary.

He led her into the forest and towards his old hideaway—he didn’t intend to end up there, it just sort of happened. And though it was much too small for either of them to fit into, he urged her to lay down just outside it, whilst he stared at her, confused as to what he was even doing. He didn’t want to admit to actually caring for her but, the more he thought about it, had he not already? Through his actions, both earlier and days before, during each battle they fought in together and stranger they greeted.

“I—” he cut himself off—there was no point in speaking, she wouldn’t understand. So, instead, he opted for pressing his muzzle into the fur along her neck, trying to ignore everything and just—just focus on the present, focus on where he was and what he’d done and how it wasn’t a bad thing.

In spite of how on edge he knew he should be, he let himself relax against her, welcoming the kisses. He just stood there with his face pressed into her fur, taking in her scent until it became too much for his senses; at that point, he pulled away and put some distance between them to rein himself back in. Though the distance didn’t last for very long as he was soon right back where he’d started, only this time he plopped down beside her and rested his head over her withers—which wasn’t a position he was used to. It felt strange at first, more so because of how close he was than anything else, as Alexander had always been one to favour his personal space. But—and this was perhaps the most perplexing thing—he eventually settled in and, in a way, even started to enjoy it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted aloud, voice muffled by her fur. “I think I made a mistake but I don’t feel regret.” It was weird and he wanted to blame it on her heat but, somewhere in the back of his head, there was a voice that doubted he’d feel any different once things were back to normal. Sighing, he pulled his head off of her and sought out her gaze, asking, “You really don’t understand me? Not even some of it?” He liked that she didn’t speak, that her voice didn’t interrupt his thoughts when they were together, but he also wished that she could. For that moment alone, though, just so he could talk things out with her and get to the bottom of his confusion and what their next step was. Would they still be friends, or something else? Did either of them even possess the capacity to be anything more? He didn’t know and he couldn’t ask her—or anyone, for that matter.

Things were easier before, when he could run and free himself of all responsibilities by doing so. Running was something of the past, though, something he could no longer do—and, surprisingly, he was fine with that. Xan didn’t want to run away, he didn’t want to abandon her, his pack, or the valley. He wanted to stay and face the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be and however much confusion and upset they might bring with them.

A word escaped her mouth and, in an instant, he was on his feet and backing away from her with wide eyes. Caught up by her sudden ability to speak, Alexander wasn’t able to perceive her flattened ears or furrowed brow as anything other than disappointment—which he knew was directed at him, his vocal pondering of whether he’d made a mistake or not coming back to bite him in the ass. His own ears fell flat against his crown and he lowered his head, regretting what he’d said and wanting to take it back immediately—it wasn’t a mistake, he didn’t want to change what had happened. “So… you do understand?” he asked tentatively, averting his gaze in the process. If she could understand what he’d said, then what did that mean for him? Was she going to leave, stop being his friend—his partner in battle?

Shaking his head, Alexander disregarded the thought entirely; it wouldn’t come true, he would remedy the situation before it could escalate any further. Looking back towards her, he began to close the distance between them again with slow steps. And just as he reached her he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that—I like what happened.” He didn’t wait to try and read her expression again, he just proceeded to shove his muzzle towards her neck, hoping that he hadn’t done too much damage.

He could recall his parents’ separation so clearly that it might as well have happened just yesterday. He remembered the pain, the heartache, everything—he didn’t want to go through that again, especially not with the knowledge that, this time, he would be in the place of his father, not a child. He didn’t think himself capable of handling that, not after everything else.

he stands up with a start, backing away from her like she had bitten him.

oh my god, she was never going to talk again! what was this? what had she done? every time she had let this word escape from her lips she had been met with indifference, and now this? oh no, this word was forbidden. nasty word.

she must go to him, she must comfort him. but she is frozen, bolted to the ground by fear. anxiety rippled off her in waves, and she sat statuesque. what had she done? she wants to whine, but since her last vocalization she is afraid to do even that.

he must realize, because now he is coming back towards her. but he does not hold the same eagerness as before, his steps are halting and tentative. if she could form tears they'd be welling up, but instead subtle twitches of her whiskers are the only movement her body has to offer.

once he touches her she melts into him fervently. she was sorry, couldn't he see she was sorry? what could she do for him? she smooths her tongue over his muzzle a few times, first with fervor and then slower, working to groom his pelt to calm them both down.

Rather than being met with the harsh pinch of her teeth, he felt her tongue running over his muzzle. And although she didn’t say anything else, he took it as acceptance—despite his comment, she’d forgiven him. Slowly, his tail started to wag and he pressed himself closer to her, essentially burying his faze in her fur as he tried to get her to ease up; he could sense something was off, still, like there was something unsettling her. He chalked it up to be the lingering effects of his words, which made him feel even worse but didn’t push him away. He remained close to her for just a little while longer, tail waving behind him whilst he tried to mend things.

Eventually, he pulled his head back so he could look her in the eyes, then licked over the fur his face was previously pressed into to smooth it back out. He wanted to hear her say something else, to figure out what more she could say and understand, but he didn’t know where to begin—so he reverted back to the basics, a wild grin tugging at his lips as he said, “Hellooo,” right back. He didn’t know what would come of it, if he would be able to get her to speak again, but he definitely wanted to try. Not only because he was drawn to her voice, however, but because he also viewed it as a pleasant distraction from his earlier mistake—

—the more he thought about it, the less truth he found behind his words. He’d thought their union to be a mistake, he’d thought that it was something that would pass following the return of normalcy, but now he believed the opposite. He didn’t love her—he couldn’t love anyone, not so soon, it was too difficult of an emotion for him to develop towards anyone—but he did care for her. He wanted her to feel safe, like she belonged and was welcomed—and he definitely wouldn’t mind taking her any way that he could, whether she was in heat or not.

things between them started to settle and her anxiety abated the longer they remained close together. he seemed to have calmed down; his feelings smelled like they were still stirring, but with this man weren't they always?

his expression placated her, that devilish grin, and then he said the word that she had just! thought! was forbidden! what was this! such confusion! exclamation points! but she didn't dare express it towards him. she figured she would test her luck, and try again.

hallo. it was less drawn out this time, closer to what the others had been saying. yes. hai.

She spoke again and, even though it was but a mere repetition of her earlier comment, his tail wagged quicker. And whilst he started to suspect that maybe she couldn’t speak that well, or only knew a few words, he still believed she could understand him; honestly, whether either turned out to be true, that wouldn’t change that way he saw her. He prodded her cheek gently with his nose before his tongue darted out to plant a sloppy kiss right there on her face, praising her for speaking at all.

“How about this,” he began. “Can you say Xan?” How would his name sound on her tongue? He was eager to find out. Again, he said, “Xan,” and motioned towards himself; he did so out of habit, used to having to use his body to communicate with her.

oh, he was proud of her now! her swished up snow in its excited wake, and her guard hairs sprung to life at his touch.

and then he did something that would change her perspective of language forever. he tried to teach her. her joy is unmatched, and for a moment she is too anxious — but good anxious — to vocalize anything other than suppliant whimpers.

she calms down enough to attempt the word he's offered her (which she is intelligent to surmise, with his gesturing, refers to himself). zz-zzzaan? the first noise was difficult for her, and she hitched and haltered over it before getting it right.

When all he heard were whimpers, he immediately tried to take it back; it seemed to him as if trying to get her to speak more was making her anxious, and Xan was not the greatest at differentiating good from bad anxious. From his perspective, anxiety was anxiety and he felt bad for having made her experience it. “It’s fi—” Before he could finish, he was interrupted by her voice, which silenced him without an ounce of complaint. He watched her for a moment, expression unreadable, before a smile broke out across his lips and his tail started wagging excitedly.

She had addressed him directly, she’d said his name—and the way it sounded with her voice was even better, multiplying his joy tenfold. “That’s good!” he exclaimed, giving her several more kisses to further explain how he was feeling. When they first met, she’d been silent, nothing leaving her mouth that could be even remotely related to words. Now, though, it was an entirely different story. And though her vocabulary was limited, he couldn’t contain himself over the fact that she at least knew his name—

Curious, he made a failed attempt at reining himself back in and relaxing, but his eagerness refused to be sedated. Words escaping him, he motioned to her in the same fashion he had himself, a pleading look in his eyes: can I have your name? But his interest in her name could easily be seen as a plea for something else, but this he was unaware of.

his kisses were met with licks of her own when she could reach his face, and though she did not understand his praises their intent carried through his tone and reached her. she had done something right, and this was the most proud she had ever seen him; even when they had fought together he didn't seem this impressed with her.

a laugh bubbles up in her throat for the first time since she could remember. even when they had played together it had just been vocalizations, but this was a cultured (if not hesitant) laugh.

the intent in his eyes is misconstrued for something else, however this time she does not immediately fold under his desire. Her tongue drew slow across his ear before she nibbled at its bulb, occasionally interrupted by a subtle, coy giggle.

and had the meaning gotten to her, things likely would have been the same. well, she really didn't have a name, and had very little knowledge of sounds to name herself.

Rather than a name he was met by laughter—a sound, though hesitant, that made his heart skip a beat. It was the first time he was hearing her laugh—there were so many firsts happening today—and he wanted to hear more. Each time they played, he wanted to hear it; Alexander was greedy at times, wanting as much of something that he could get the second he realised it either sparked something within him or just simply felt good.

It was easy to forget what he’d originally wanted from her, her touch being one that he could neither resist nor evade, his body disallowing. He leaned into her, a low, playful growl emanating from his chest as she licked and nipped his ear. And whilst before he was cautious, making certain on several occasions that she was okay with him, that same caution was now thrown to the wind. Her actions encouraged a response, making him incredibly bolder as he tried to swing a forelimb over her.

his vocalizations, matched with his actions, took her back to their romp in the snow when he had playfully wrestled her body beneath him.

then, she did not like it. but now, she thought she might understand what it was all about, this wrestling-game. she would not push it further than he wanted; instead feeding his more innocent, greedy desires.

she allowed him to raise above her, and chasing away the buzzing behind her skull and in her loins, she mouthed him over, wagging her body.

this was the best day ever! it was the best day she'd ever lived through, and at the moment she thought that it was the best she'd ever get.

She neither avoided his grasp nor tried to get away like once before, seemingly accepting his place over her instead. Each time she mouthed at him he met her with his own jaws, softly taking her muzzle between them to counteract her; in between this battle of the mouths, he delivered numerous nips to her cheeks and ears. But then she started to squirm, her body wriggling beneath his and creating friction that led to a fiery eagerness spreading throughout his body, originating from his nether regions. Uncomfortable, he shifted his caudal half so that it wasn’t as pressed against her, only to remember that he wanted her as close as possible—which forced him to return his body to how it previously was, only this time it was with the entirety of his ventral side pressing against her body.

Alexander continued to nip at her, though the love bites soon became kisses, littered across her face and neck as he gradually worked his way down. The moment he reached the crook of her neck, the kisses stopped and he pushed his nose into her fur, a deep intake of air drawing her scent up into his nasal cavity. He liked this, this was nice.

he drew himself from her and she prepared another movement before he was atop of her again. she could feel his girth against her and could not deny the burn that came to her own nether regions.

their half sexual, half playful nature drew another laugh from the raven. it seemed as if her companion could not decide what it was he wanted from her, and that was fine as long as she was concerned.

there was not much she could do from this position lest she lead him on; his nose was in her neck and she was effectively pinned down, so she began to rake her tongue against his forelimbs.

The male was confused, knowing not what next he should do. He knew what he wanted, knew what his body wanted, but the desires were not quite the same. In the end, as he felt her tongue grazing along his limbs, he decided that his body would just have to deal. Alexander let himself flop off of her, side colliding with the earth. As he laid there, he extended his forelimbs out towards her, attempting to pull his companion closer and hold her there; he was content to just lay there for as long as time would allow, holding her close to him and greedily taking as much of her affections as she was willing to give.