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+--- Thread: The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket (/showthread.php?tid=43007)
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Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Clay - August 01, 2020
SETTING: A bit a ways from The Saint's borders
Weather:rainy
cool
Midday
TERRITORY: Sunspire
TAGS: @Donovan Azura
Weather:rainy
cool
Midday
TERRITORY: Sunspire
TAGS: @Donovan Azura
The rain had started that early morning, it's downpour soft and alluring. Clay had expected with it's gentle drops that it would cease, but as the day grew longer and longer, the prince began to wonder when, 'just when?' He had never experienced such a phenomenon; The rains were always short as far as he could remember. Lasting at most a quarter of a day... But this was just weird
He had found solace outside of Reneian empire, away from the prying eyes of everyone (or maybe just Takeshi). His fur dripping, flattened by the rain long ago and swirling down at his sides and neck like rivers. He had tried to sooth it with a paw and his tongue, but nothing seemed to work. He had given up long after it was prevalent that the efforts were nothing, sitting down and curling up in a ball under an overhang in some small attempt to get away from the offending weather.
He had found solace outside of Reneian empire, away from the prying eyes of everyone (or maybe just Takeshi). His fur dripping, flattened by the rain long ago and swirling down at his sides and neck like rivers. He had tried to sooth it with a paw and his tongue, but nothing seemed to work. He had given up long after it was prevalent that the efforts were nothing, sitting down and curling up in a ball under an overhang in some small attempt to get away from the offending weather.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 02, 2020
Donovan was exploring the many caves that are strewn about the Sunspires. One of his favorite pastimes, when he actually has time to himself. Most of the time he’d rather be training or hunting, sometimes discussing tactics and such with the other members of his pack. Just getting to know them. He wants them to feel comfortable around him as their leader and all that. All around he’s a very lax man when it comes to enforcing respect to his people. He doesn’t truly desire any of the formalities some would require. Today though, he has a good few hours to himself and he’s trying to take advantage of it.
Once he makes it to mouth of the cave he just got done walking through, he notices the pleasant smell of rain. As he continues to walk out he’s drenched in a matter of minutes. It doesn’t stop him from continuing on in his pointless trek outside their borders. He walks aimlessly in the rain for a good ten minutes before he notices an overhang. Though it seems there’s already someone occupying it. No matter, he won’t let that stop him.
He begins padding up to the stranger, unsure if they’d be paying enough attention to notice him and, honestly, he doesn’t even try to be sneaky. As his fur smooths out on his pelt, his muscles shift noticeably as he saunters over. His barrel chest and large form more prominent when the rain weighs his fur down. He’s stopping just by the edge of where the rain cuts off from the overhang.
Looking down to the steely pelted stranger he tilts his chin up to them. “Hey.” He says loud enough for them to hear, a smile gracing his features and his honey hues rake over their form shamelessly. “Mind if I join you?” The brindled male then inquires. It almost sounds suggestive yet truly he means it in both ways.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 02, 2020
The boy watched the rain fall for some time, his eyes drooping with sleep at their gentle sound that provided a false sense of safety. His head was perched upon a paw, his chin tucked to the ground, though with time it had started to sway—leaning to one side where his cheek fur curled upwards to frame more than a fair share of his face.
Though he turned his ear towards the sound of paw-steps approaching, Clay didn't intend to follow with his gaze. He was far too tired to move, let alone entertain someone with his presence. But this sound—the deep gravel of the voice that hinted at power begged for him to give in and at least be nice.
Another oddity, it seemed.
"You may," He answered back, voice curt, simple and sharp like the rain that fell off the overhang. "And it's 'Hello,' not 'Hey.'"
Though he turned his ear towards the sound of paw-steps approaching, Clay didn't intend to follow with his gaze. He was far too tired to move, let alone entertain someone with his presence. But this sound—the deep gravel of the voice that hinted at power begged for him to give in and at least be nice.
Another oddity, it seemed.
"You may," He answered back, voice curt, simple and sharp like the rain that fell off the overhang. "And it's 'Hello,' not 'Hey.'"
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 02, 2020
Donovan wastes no time padding around the male to move under the overhang. He doesn’t mind the rain, but he definitely doesn’t it love it. His eyes follow the male as he walks past and he takes in his features. The deep, hairless scars on his thighs and the pewter pelt looks good on his rather feminine frame.
His voice is quick to the point, not rude, but not exactly the picture of friendliness. Something that truly doesn’t bother Donovan. Though at his correction of Donovan’s greeting, the brindled male can’t help but chuckle smoothly. “Yes sir.” He hums back teasingly. “What’s your name?” He asks then.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 02, 2020
The guy moves in, joining him under the rather poor shelter, and Clay begrudgingly rolls over a bit to allow room for the man, his paws curling inward to make himself smaller. He takes the chance to then glace at his new company at that moment and immediately regrets it. The world stills...His mouth sours, his tongue too try and too much like dirt.
This man—this beast—His appearance tickles something at the back of the prince's mind, bringing nothing but static to his eyes and ringing in his ears that makes him feel as if he is going mad.
'You are nowhere. You aren't fit.' A voice rumbles from behind the noise. Too faint to fully comprehend but just enough to bring the long forgotten feeling of fear to resurface within his chest.
Clay's pelt puffs out in irritation, and as he moves to get up all he can see is him. The boogeyman, the monster; Ears sharp like horns above his head and a wicked smile to grace his lips.
He quivers, shakes, and sways with wide, unseeing eyes before he finally crumples ungracefully below the stranger's paws, face low in the dirt and meer inches from nails that would better be described as claws. "I-I-I-I" his voice is stuck on repeat, stumbling, spinning, falling over each syllable. "W-Why are y-y-y-you here?" he whispers.
This man—this beast—His appearance tickles something at the back of the prince's mind, bringing nothing but static to his eyes and ringing in his ears that makes him feel as if he is going mad.
'You are nowhere. You aren't fit.' A voice rumbles from behind the noise. Too faint to fully comprehend but just enough to bring the long forgotten feeling of fear to resurface within his chest.
Clay's pelt puffs out in irritation, and as he moves to get up all he can see is him. The boogeyman, the monster; Ears sharp like horns above his head and a wicked smile to grace his lips.
He quivers, shakes, and sways with wide, unseeing eyes before he finally crumples ungracefully below the stranger's paws, face low in the dirt and meer inches from nails that would better be described as claws. "I-I-I-I" his voice is stuck on repeat, stumbling, spinning, falling over each syllable. "W-Why are y-y-y-you here?" he whispers.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 02, 2020
Everything seems completely normal. Until it’s not. Donovan even thinks he can get a name out of the handsome — yet beautiful wolf. Though things take an unexpected turn for the worst it seems. A demon that lies deep inside the other male perhaps? An old memory resurfaced? Maybe both? Either — or, Donovan can’t do anything but watch as the slate fur settled along his spine bristles and puffs out like porcupine quills. He’s struggling to stand and his emerald green eyes are blank — gone or blind. Strangely enough a stretched smile even makes it onto the others maw.
At this point Donovan raises his head, circular brows high and his sun-like eyes are unable to look away from the questionable scene unfolding before him. What the fuck is happening? Is all that goes through his mind.
It only gets worse. The unnamed man is quivering — shaking like a leaf. Falling to the ground he begins stuttering. His voice sounds like a broken record and Donovan can not decipher what or why this is happening. The situation paired with the sound rushing water that surrounds them has the brindled male on edge.
Gazing down to the other he slowly cranes his head to be level with his own straight back. “I don’t understand.” He says back. Confusion evident in his shimmering, honey-gold hues. “What’re you talking about? Are you okay?” He inquires and dares to take a step forward. Touching a leathery nose to a slate shoulder. What does he even do?
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 04, 2020
The stranger's words—his questions go unanswered as Clay convulses on the ground below, too preoccupied with the vision of Vengeance in front of him, and the painful flashing of words long forgotten that is dragged back. Why is he alive? Why is he here? Why him?
Why
Why
Why
All he feels is his own thundering heart beating, fluttering within his chest as it attempts to wash over the fear that has been placed there. It's tight—too tight, and as he gasps for art in a futile attempt to fill his lungs, he scrunches his face up and closes his eyes, attempting to make qualms with the fact that he might be dying.
That is... Until the touch of a cold nose nudged his shoulder.
The sensation of being touched, of feeling the cold flesh arises something within him, and with eyes flashing open the small wolf snapped his jaws upward in fury with multiple tries, attempting to ward off the other. He aims to get ahold at the behemoths fur underneath his chin, to rip out strands.
Why
Why
Why
All he feels is his own thundering heart beating, fluttering within his chest as it attempts to wash over the fear that has been placed there. It's tight—too tight, and as he gasps for art in a futile attempt to fill his lungs, he scrunches his face up and closes his eyes, attempting to make qualms with the fact that he might be dying.
That is... Until the touch of a cold nose nudged his shoulder.
The sensation of being touched, of feeling the cold flesh arises something within him, and with eyes flashing open the small wolf snapped his jaws upward in fury with multiple tries, attempting to ward off the other. He aims to get ahold at the behemoths fur underneath his chin, to rip out strands.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 04, 2020
Donovan seems to have made a mistake when he touches a wet nose to his shoulder and his juniper hues are shooting open in alarm to the touch. He’s gnashing and snapping vicious teeth in his direction and Donovan is just hardly able to slip away fast enough to not get eaten. The smaller even aims for his throat and manages to pull out a small tuft of pale fur in his wake.
“The fuck?” Is all he can growl out.
He’s backing up and his brows crinkle as they furrow. Irritation is prickling down his spine, but can he really blame him? If he’s seen a PTSD related flashback (which he has), then this has to be one. He even had them when he was younger and actually had an uncorrupt moral compass. Thankfully, now he doesn’t give a fuck enough to care about anything. Perhaps the only exception being his packs death.
Still the smaller’s violent thrashing and the careless way he’s throwing his teeth about piss Donovan off. He knows the only way to get him to come back is to drive him back to reality, though with what he has planned, he doesn’t know if it will make it worse or better. Oh well, might as well try.
So try he does. Making his movements quick and efficient, he steps forward and channels his body weight into a large paw to push him over. Wasting no time in getting on top on him and caging him in with massive forearms. His lip is vaguely wrinkled by the effort it takes and circular brows continue to be furrowed. Dangerous golden orbs star down at him in warning.
“Wake the hell up.” He says loud enough for his voice to penetrate through the hum of the rain. “You keep tryna bite me you little shit.” Is his only reply. “I’m not whoever you think I am.” True Donovan might not be who the male thinks he is, but there is a possibility he’s just as bad.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 04, 2020
His attacks miss by a hair's length, and all Clay can manage to snap between his jaws is air. Air and the bitter breath of the man talking over him, his deep voice enough to vibrate directly into Clay's chest, echoing beside his heart and breathing some sense into it.
But not enough for the boy to snap back into reality.
The only thing coherent enough to the prince is Vegenace, and the massive paw that so easily turns him over as if he was nothing but a branch. Weak. Airless. He grunts at the impact, or maybe just the fact that he's displeased he's being rolled over so easily. Regardless, the motion of him being moved, and his back now pressed to the soggy ground has him squirming more.
But he cannot move.
He's trapped between the man and the ground, caged under with nothing to do but stare upwards with a trembling gaze and jaws that quiver. He's licking at his lips—fearing growing more and more as he stares at the man. And then, Clay screams. He screams as loud as he can, aiming more bites at the man, paws flailing as he attempts to smack at the offender above him.
But not enough for the boy to snap back into reality.
The only thing coherent enough to the prince is Vegenace, and the massive paw that so easily turns him over as if he was nothing but a branch. Weak. Airless. He grunts at the impact, or maybe just the fact that he's displeased he's being rolled over so easily. Regardless, the motion of him being moved, and his back now pressed to the soggy ground has him squirming more.
But he cannot move.
He's trapped between the man and the ground, caged under with nothing to do but stare upwards with a trembling gaze and jaws that quiver. He's licking at his lips—fearing growing more and more as he stares at the man. And then, Clay screams. He screams as loud as he can, aiming more bites at the man, paws flailing as he attempts to smack at the offender above him.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 05, 2020
You said you were okay with Clay getting a bit beat up, but pls tell me if I need to edit! (*´꒳`*)
Also roll for Clay’s bites to land was successful!
Also roll for Clay’s bites to land was successful!
Donovan gazes down to the other, his body language is more of fear than aggression. The nervous twinkle in pine colored eyes and the tongue that repeatedly flicks out over dark lips. The low growl that emits borders on a whine and Donovan truly doesn’t know what to do here. For a moment he contemplates just getting off and letting the male go about his business. Then, if he lets him up, who’s to say he won’t continue his attack or whatever seems to be happening here. Donovan really wouldn’t say attack, for it seems this stranger is on the defensive, but Donovan couldn’t be quite sure.
Especially when a moment of silence goes by and then the guy is screaming for his fucking life. Gnashing teeth wildly up at the striped male, Donovan snarls his lips and growls deeply as a good few of the bites meet skin. He’s biting the cream-white of Donovan’s chest and the underside of his chin, occasionally getting his neck. Surely he’d have a few good scrapes.
Officially pissed off, he opens his own maw wide. His large set jaws looking deadly as they comes down towards the boy. Picking up a single paw he risks a few bites to the appendage and gives him a good smack to the face. Only enough to distract him before his mouth covers the others in a muzzle grab. A display of dominance among their kind. His teeth rest on the bridge of Clay’s nose and the underside of his chin, threatening to bite harder and elicit possible whimpers if he must. He’s lowered his upper body more into him and emits a dominating growl from his maw. Coingold eyes hold a challenge in them.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 05, 2020
Totally okay with it!
Finally, his jaws catch something other than air, and as Clay pulls away he spits the offending fur out of his mouth, tongue snaking out once more. There's blood—not much, just pearls but more than enough for the slate colored boy to taste his small victory and savor the pride.
But karma seems to take place and not long after Clay feels a hard slap against the side of his face, the noise echoing in his ears, causing them to sting and his head to see multiple of the monster above him. He's dazed, gripping onto the feeling for some sort of control, some sort of prayer as he begs it to overwhelm the other feelings and wash them away.
It does not.
He feels the man's jaws over him then, the large teeth settling over his face, over his maw. The breath stinks, and the prince pushes his nose upwards in a snarl within the chamber, eager to get away from it. But such a small movement to pull slightly away gives im awareness to the pain.
He whines in reaction to it, or maybe the growl echoing from in the beast's throat over top of him. Maybe both... , but his small whimper catches within his throat and eventually escapes through clenched teeth as he stays perfectly still. Perfectly pliant to the man above him cept for his outwards limbs, which are straightened to keep the man at bay as they push into the fur of his chest and stomach.
"I-I-I" he repeats again, voice still stumbling as the haze eventually begins to fade and his tail is curling upwards, covering himself from the man. "W-who- who the hell a-a-are you?"
But karma seems to take place and not long after Clay feels a hard slap against the side of his face, the noise echoing in his ears, causing them to sting and his head to see multiple of the monster above him. He's dazed, gripping onto the feeling for some sort of control, some sort of prayer as he begs it to overwhelm the other feelings and wash them away.
It does not.
He feels the man's jaws over him then, the large teeth settling over his face, over his maw. The breath stinks, and the prince pushes his nose upwards in a snarl within the chamber, eager to get away from it. But such a small movement to pull slightly away gives im awareness to the pain.
He whines in reaction to it, or maybe the growl echoing from in the beast's throat over top of him. Maybe both... , but his small whimper catches within his throat and eventually escapes through clenched teeth as he stays perfectly still. Perfectly pliant to the man above him cept for his outwards limbs, which are straightened to keep the man at bay as they push into the fur of his chest and stomach.
"I-I-I" he repeats again, voice still stumbling as the haze eventually begins to fade and his tail is curling upwards, covering himself from the man. "W-who- who the hell a-a-are you?"
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 05, 2020
It seems like the wolf is calming down yet who knows. Pear colored hues seem just a tad clearer and Donovan eyes the smaller suspiciously. The clenching of his jaw make the other whimper, a high pitched cry sounding through closed lips. The sound of relative submission and Donovan will take that. Loosening enough so that the other can easily pull from his maw. Clay retracts his face from Donovan’s and his thinner legs angle upwards so slate grey paws can press into the muscle of his chest — a weak attempt at keeping the beast at bay.
Clay stutters, finally able to get out a proper sentence of Who the hell are you? Finally it seems he’s calm enough for Donovan to move off of him. On the other hand he wants to give him a few seconds to make sure he won’t attack again. Giving him another warning glance he lifts his head so that’s it’s not in his space any longer. “Name’s fucking Donovan. What the hell was that all about? Are you calm now? You think I can let you up? He asks sternly, a light growl in his tone. Though he sighs, trying to calm and control himself to not beat the hell out of the other wolf. Reminding himself again that it had to have been some type of PSTD episode.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 05, 2020
Donovan.
Not Vengeance.
Clay furrows his brows at that, emerald eyes glaring up towards his offender, peering into the frightening yellow hue that has similar likeliness to the sun. He still can't see all the man, his figure and the background around him too fuzzy, too dark. But his tone, that dark and growling tone is enough to set Clay off once more. And as he trashes, the boy attempts to push his paws more sternly into the forgiving fat and fur of the man's stomach. Perhaps if he were to aim a bit lower he can knock the beast's balls off.
But he won't, not yet anyway.
"What was what all about?" Clay taunts back, venom dripping from his voice normally as if nothing happened and he werent just screaming bloody murder. But Donovan doesn't let him back up no matter how hard he struggles, and it angers him... makes him seethe and causes the slate colored boy to attempt to snap at him once more; This time aiming for the man's fleshy nose. "Let me up. Right now! You're—Ugh! So uncouth !"
Not Vengeance.
Clay furrows his brows at that, emerald eyes glaring up towards his offender, peering into the frightening yellow hue that has similar likeliness to the sun. He still can't see all the man, his figure and the background around him too fuzzy, too dark. But his tone, that dark and growling tone is enough to set Clay off once more. And as he trashes, the boy attempts to push his paws more sternly into the forgiving fat and fur of the man's stomach. Perhaps if he were to aim a bit lower he can knock the beast's balls off.
But he won't, not yet anyway.
"What was what all about?" Clay taunts back, venom dripping from his voice normally as if nothing happened and he werent just screaming bloody murder. But Donovan doesn't let him back up no matter how hard he struggles, and it angers him... makes him seethe and causes the slate colored boy to attempt to snap at him once more; This time aiming for the man's fleshy nose. "Let me up. Right now! You're—Ugh! So uncouth !"
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 05, 2020
Just gonna go ahead and let Clays bite hit if that’s cool!
Sharp claws dig into his chest and now his stomach, he’s trying in earnest to throw Donovan off of him. Yet the man doesn’t budge, significantly anyway. He only plants his weight and widens his stance enough to not be pushed off. This does not please the younger man at all.
Next thing Donovan knows he’s getting snapped at again and his anger has begun to ebb away into something else. Something like the feeling you get when playing a game — teasing this worked up wolf is a bit fun. Or it is until he’s almost getting his nose bitten off. Thankfully only a single top canine scratches the tip of it and the opposite bottom canine skins his lips. Giving him a good little pinch and a few pinpricks of blood.
Now, he laughs. “Oh okay. Tryna play that game?” He hums lowly before swiftly taking a quick bite of an ear. He too gives enough pressure to bring blood to the surface, yet surprisingly, that’s all he does before moving to step off.
“You’re fucking crazy, kid.” He chuckles, finally padding off of him. “What do you mean what was what all about?” He quotes incredulously.
There it goes again. The complex he has. He likes a bit of attitude.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 05, 2020
Thankfully the guy moves off of him, but not without returning his own little mark of pain. Right on his ear. Clay hisses at the feeling, snaking his tongue out once more between the front of his barely closed jaws as a statement, hoping that Donovan sees it. Hoping that it does something to the man to elicit anger.
He hates that the behemoth is laughing; Laughing at him. "We're not playing a game." Clay says flatly, instantly rolling away from the guy and rubbing at his ear with a cuffed paw. It stings. and it probably will for a bit. Something that he's not looking forward to.
"—And im not a kid, don't call me that." He spits, standing up to shake off his pelt in some failed attempt to dry against the sputtering rain that still fell around. He hates this weather. He hates the rain. And he's slowly becoming to hate this Donovan.
Yet he doesn't leave.
"It was nothing. Don't worry about it—it doesnt concern the likes of you." He turns away with that, showing the full view of his torn hinds to the brindle as he crawls back under the ledge to take cover. He doesn't glance back until he's forced to, until he's sitting with crossed paws and glaring intently at the man. Wishing that he HAD kicked his balls off.
He hates that the behemoth is laughing; Laughing at him. "We're not playing a game." Clay says flatly, instantly rolling away from the guy and rubbing at his ear with a cuffed paw. It stings. and it probably will for a bit. Something that he's not looking forward to.
"—And im not a kid, don't call me that." He spits, standing up to shake off his pelt in some failed attempt to dry against the sputtering rain that still fell around. He hates this weather. He hates the rain. And he's slowly becoming to hate this Donovan.
Yet he doesn't leave.
"It was nothing. Don't worry about it—it doesnt concern the likes of you." He turns away with that, showing the full view of his torn hinds to the brindle as he crawls back under the ledge to take cover. He doesn't glance back until he's forced to, until he's sitting with crossed paws and glaring intently at the man. Wishing that he HAD kicked his balls off.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 05, 2020
His play of words don’t anger Donovan any longer. No, now has his sights set on the feisty male and damn, does he want to feel the wrath. Donovan only shakes his head at his first two replies. Then as the other flips back down, Donovan follows like a moth to a flame, surely to get burned. Speaking of, he’s trying to get burned.
He pads over and slinks beneath the overhang as well. Flopping down on his side next to the other. Propping himself up on an elbow, Donovan leans forward, sticking his face in the danger zone once more. “But why’s that? Making up an excuse to bite me?” If allowed, he’ll even nudge his massive head next to the others, shoveling at his face with a wet, leathery nose. “Maybe I like it when you bite.” He hums in a enticingly.
RE: Death Is A Warm Blanket - Clay - August 05, 2020
The male eventually joins him, and as his large form is settled under the overhang, Clay is forced to be beside him; To be nearly touching him—he can feel it, the tips of the fur on their sides brushing against each other. It unnerves Clay, and he quickly tucks his feet in the other direction, away from the beast.
But despite the offending movement, he continues to glare his hardest, his head angled downwards as he stares up at Donovan, water dripping from his fur like a drowned rat. "I'd rather not taste garbage again," A jab, hopefully, one that hits and causes the male to back off.
But it doesnt—no. He just gets closer.
Clay stays still, willing his nerves to settle even when the wet leathery nose of the other touches his cheek fur, his cheek bone, the bridge of his nose. It's in that moment that he realizes just the sheer size of the man. He's giant, thickly corded with muscle and fur. His nose is twice the size, maybe thrice the size of Clay's own—and he hates it. Loathes it. But moving away would be admitting defeat, and Clay doesn't do defeat.
"What is an oaf like you looking for?" The vale wolf questions, slightly unnerved by the man's words. By the underlying tone that reeks of sex. "Are you that desperate to feel something from me? Pathetic."
But despite the offending movement, he continues to glare his hardest, his head angled downwards as he stares up at Donovan, water dripping from his fur like a drowned rat. "I'd rather not taste garbage again," A jab, hopefully, one that hits and causes the male to back off.
But it doesnt—no. He just gets closer.
Clay stays still, willing his nerves to settle even when the wet leathery nose of the other touches his cheek fur, his cheek bone, the bridge of his nose. It's in that moment that he realizes just the sheer size of the man. He's giant, thickly corded with muscle and fur. His nose is twice the size, maybe thrice the size of Clay's own—and he hates it. Loathes it. But moving away would be admitting defeat, and Clay doesn't do defeat.
"What is an oaf like you looking for?" The vale wolf questions, slightly unnerved by the man's words. By the underlying tone that reeks of sex. "Are you that desperate to feel something from me? Pathetic."
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 05, 2020
As he noses his way towards him, the smaller, angry man spits insults that he can only scoff at. Then he askes Donovan just exactly what he’s looking for in Clay and Donovan is thoroughly surprised when the male insults himself. Or maybe he’s trying to insult Donovan. His dumb male brain has about two brain cells working right now and they’re both sending the signals south for the winter. Either fucking way he pulls back and quirks a circular brow to him.
“What does that even mean? You’re attractive, small, and got a big attitude. Why would I not try and have an evening with you?” He asks genuinely. Then leans in once more to sensually lap a black tongue along an ear. “You’re just my type, darling.” He muses softly.
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Clay - August 05, 2020
The male continues his onslaught of disgusting touches until he doesn't, and the second he leaves Clay's personal space the prince takes in a breath of air that isn't soured by the behemoth's scent. "I'm not small." is all he says in return, angered that the man would call him such a thing. Angered that his insults do nothing to drive the man off, and instead, lull him closer.
He doesn't know how to feel about the warm touch to his ear, the shiver it sends down his flank, and the slightest bit of drool clinging to it that makes it cool to the air around them. He knows now that Donovan is looking for something other than fighting and bickering, and while the thought repulses him, it's not enough to drive the prince away.
"You don't know my name, nor if im a lone wolf... You think i'd give myself up so easily? To some no-one mutt that doesn't even appear to be worth his hunt?" Clay tsks with a flick of his tongue at the man, repulsed by his shoddy attitude. He aims a bite to a ear in return, a small one just enough to draw blood at the shell if it were to hit.
"I'd be too good for you."
He doesn't know how to feel about the warm touch to his ear, the shiver it sends down his flank, and the slightest bit of drool clinging to it that makes it cool to the air around them. He knows now that Donovan is looking for something other than fighting and bickering, and while the thought repulses him, it's not enough to drive the prince away.
"You don't know my name, nor if im a lone wolf... You think i'd give myself up so easily? To some no-one mutt that doesn't even appear to be worth his hunt?" Clay tsks with a flick of his tongue at the man, repulsed by his shoddy attitude. He aims a bite to a ear in return, a small one just enough to draw blood at the shell if it were to hit.
"I'd be too good for you."
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 06, 2020
Sorry for the short reply. My brain in failing me. (OvO)
Donovan shakes his head to the other and his grin can only show how entertained he is by the other males attitude. He sits back once more, just staring at him. “Oh yeah?” He challenges. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be too good for me?” He offers with a condescending smirk, though it’s more of a jest. “You say that I don’t know your pack or name. So tell me.”
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Clay - August 06, 2020
The guy taunts him, and that's the final straw.
Clay rises upwards and within a flash he throws his body weight at Donovan with a growl, using all of his strength in an attempt to topple the crow-fodder to the ground. He isn't sure if the man would budge with such a smaller body thrown at him, but it's worth trying. It's worth fighting.
It's worth trying to topple and pin this man to the earth and show him who he is.
Regardless if he wins or fails, is pinned, or pins, Clay would offer two words to him. "You first."
Clay rises upwards and within a flash he throws his body weight at Donovan with a growl, using all of his strength in an attempt to topple the crow-fodder to the ground. He isn't sure if the man would budge with such a smaller body thrown at him, but it's worth trying. It's worth fighting.
It's worth trying to topple and pin this man to the earth and show him who he is.
Regardless if he wins or fails, is pinned, or pins, Clay would offer two words to him. "You first."
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 06, 2020
Donovan thoroughly enjoys aggravating the other. The swirls of anger that seems to mix in with his green irises. Along with the brows that furrow and crinkle the other wolf’s between his eyes make Donovan fucking laugh.
Out of nowhere, or perhaps Donovan should’ve expected it, the cobalt male is shooting towards him. The intent to knock Donovan over is obvious by the strength he puts behind it. Though Donovan probably could’ve fought against the movement to push him over, he doesn’t. He allows the other to throttle him around for now. Surely the smaller knows that Donovan could easily overpower him, so Donovan will play along for now.
Just as Donovan has rolled into his back, his canary orbs look up to him and his smile is rightfully devilish. He waits for Clay to lose his cool, to bite at him last he did earlier. To try and truly grab a hold of him and try to shake him to death. It won’t do much good anyway. So Donovan does the only other thing he knows how to do; fan the fire.
“Yes sir.” Comes the brindled man’s surly purr. “Donovan, as you know. Grandmaster, or alpha, of the Saints of the Dying Light — my pack.” He says the words at an easy pace. Allowing his hind foot to rest softly on the other stomach, much too close to Clay’s more sensitive regions.
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Clay - August 06, 2020
He revels in it—in the triumphant feeling as he stands perched over the much bigger, despite his limbs struggling to settle on either side of Donovan's massive shoulders. He tries readjusting them, staggering in place as he attempts to get comfortable, but all he succeeds is awkward placement and a deeper, smoldering glare at the other before giving in and shoving a paw into the man's cheek.
"Alpha?" He echoes, bending down to look at the man. He sure does look the part with his size but his attitude? His posture? It was nothing close to being a leader in the younger's eyes. It was disgusting, revolting, and down-right embarrassing. How could this oaf be an alpha? Be in a position of power?
Clay couldn't help but be insulted. A man like this could get it all, but him? Clay had tried his darn hardest to secure a spot within the high noble court of the empire. He even slept with the emperor, helped him cheat on his wife! But in the end he got nothing. "As if you are a saint," he scoffed, rubbing his paw around on the beast's cheekbone. "Clay Apaata. Prince of Easthollow, brother to the leader of Kaisteloki, Ira. And.. commoner to Reneian Empire." He spits back, just as easy as the man had announced his own.
It's when he feels the man's foot near his crotch, something that makes blood rush to several places in his body,a raise of his brows, and a lower his head in an attempt to look under before shooting a glare back, that he lets his weight drop onto the other—comfortabaly lounging ontop of him. "If that was your attempt at getting me to fuck you, you better try harder." he hisses.
Clay hadn't intended to sleep with the guy, but now knowing that he possessed power and possibly wealth, Clay couldn't help himself. What was one more count to add to his list if he could possibly mooch off such riches.
"Alpha?" He echoes, bending down to look at the man. He sure does look the part with his size but his attitude? His posture? It was nothing close to being a leader in the younger's eyes. It was disgusting, revolting, and down-right embarrassing. How could this oaf be an alpha? Be in a position of power?
Clay couldn't help but be insulted. A man like this could get it all, but him? Clay had tried his darn hardest to secure a spot within the high noble court of the empire. He even slept with the emperor, helped him cheat on his wife! But in the end he got nothing. "As if you are a saint," he scoffed, rubbing his paw around on the beast's cheekbone. "Clay Apaata. Prince of Easthollow, brother to the leader of Kaisteloki, Ira. And.. commoner to Reneian Empire." He spits back, just as easy as the man had announced his own.
It's when he feels the man's foot near his crotch, something that makes blood rush to several places in his body,a raise of his brows, and a lower his head in an attempt to look under before shooting a glare back, that he lets his weight drop onto the other—comfortabaly lounging ontop of him. "If that was your attempt at getting me to fuck you, you better try harder." he hisses.
Clay hadn't intended to sleep with the guy, but now knowing that he possessed power and possibly wealth, Clay couldn't help himself. What was one more count to add to his list if he could possibly mooch off such riches.
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Kynareth Deagon - August 06, 2020
Oh fuck. Is all that goes through his mind when a smaller paw nestled itself roughly onto his cheek.Grinding dirt from his paws into his face like he’s absolutely nothing. Surely the spot will be covered in granulates of mud and rock. The male beneath the offended area sucks in a quiet hiss of air at the toughness of the action. Donovan is being straight up treated like he’s trash and he’s living for it. Lucky for Donovan, he doesn’t stop there. The word alpha is spit out in question and, yeah, he doesn’t quite look like an alpha at the moment, but he couldn’t find a fuck to give.
Though finally, Clay says something Donovan peeks his ears up to. The name Clay Apaata. So fitting for the pallet of grey his coat carries and a prince?! Oh baby, there’s a storm coming and it’s not the one currently raging around them.
Mentally he notes that he’s Ira’s brother, interesting information if Kaistleoki ever wanted beef with the Saints. Though unless they actually cared about each other it wouldn’t matter.
Then as he not so slyly shifts his foot beneath him he gives Donovan a rather comical look accompanied with raised brows, a quick look down, and then once more their eyes meet. ...you better try harder. Donovan’s expression has such obvious signs of a heated pleasure and his circular, cream brows in challenge.
“Fuck.” He mumbles lowly, taking a second to really roam his fiery hues over the others form. “As you wish.” Is all he hums before he’s thrusting his body to the side. Kicking out the other males hind legs and causing them to switch positions. “Perhaps my tongue could convince you in a different way, darling.” He purrs as lowers his chest closer to Clay’s own, running an unusual black tongue over his ear, then neck, and lower to nibble on his chest. All the while those heated yellow eyes that resemble the fiery surface of the sun gaze up to him. He pauses, awaiting a reaction.
RE: Death Is A War[M] Blanket - Clay - August 06, 2020
The world turns.
One moment he's high on triumph, standing over his prey. And next he's shoved to the ground, back making contact with the wet surface and rocks digging into his spine. It doesn't hurt—more like uncomfortable. But it doesn't compare to what happens next.
He feels the other's tongue on him again. Swiping his fur in the opposite direction of which it grows and causing his nerves to misfire. What is happening? What is going on? He continues to glare at Donovan, watching him descend. What is he doing? Why is he going DOWN? Clay doesn't understand, he's never had this type of encounter in the two—now three times he's found himself laying with another.
But he doesn't hate it.
He's just anxious.
Raising a paw again, he pats the middle of Donovan's forehead. Pushing lightly into his skull in hopes to get his attention. "What are you doing?" he questions. "That's not—that's not how fucking works. You don't use your mouth, idiot. Are you new at this? Are you stupid?" He genuinely wonders if this is the man's first time.
"Get up here. Now." He commands, voice dropping to an icy octave. If the man were to come closer, to listen to him, Clay would attempt to swipe at him, to slap him across the face in an effort to knock sense into him.
One moment he's high on triumph, standing over his prey. And next he's shoved to the ground, back making contact with the wet surface and rocks digging into his spine. It doesn't hurt—more like uncomfortable. But it doesn't compare to what happens next.
He feels the other's tongue on him again. Swiping his fur in the opposite direction of which it grows and causing his nerves to misfire. What is happening? What is going on? He continues to glare at Donovan, watching him descend. What is he doing? Why is he going DOWN? Clay doesn't understand, he's never had this type of encounter in the two—now three times he's found himself laying with another.
But he doesn't hate it.
He's just anxious.
Raising a paw again, he pats the middle of Donovan's forehead. Pushing lightly into his skull in hopes to get his attention. "What are you doing?" he questions. "That's not—that's not how fucking works. You don't use your mouth, idiot. Are you new at this? Are you stupid?" He genuinely wonders if this is the man's first time.
"Get up here. Now." He commands, voice dropping to an icy octave. If the man were to come closer, to listen to him, Clay would attempt to swipe at him, to slap him across the face in an effort to knock sense into him.