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+--- Thread: Duskfire Glacier [m] Oomemē (/showthread.php?tid=64737)
[m] Oomemē - Ayovi - February 02, 2025
That long preserved virginity— it was a joke.
So were the Ashēeran huntmen she’d fantasized about marrying when she was an idealistic girl.
To be a good wife. That had always been Ayovi's dream.
Now she had none. Not as she fleets; ivory wings against ice, careening towards some unknown destination far below the madding world’s surface. In this frozen labyrinth she ruminates only on the man she leads deeper into the glacial halls.
It is a dead-end that at last stills the heaving huntress; a concourse of blue ice and silver stone where there is no alternative but to turn and face in full the one she’s chosen.
“@Skorpa,” she whispers and her body responds with an electric jolt. Ayovi waits for him to appear around a column of glass.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Skorpa - February 02, 2025
they flew along the ice, bear-runner and icewater woman. he was enthralled with every pull of her muscle, every tautened breath. her fragrance singed the air with a leaping flame, and its scorch was something he inhaled to burn his throat.
blue-gleam twisting; her vision was skewed by pillars of ancient freeze and then ayovi was sharp into view again, her snowstorm fur stark against the glacial curve.
he did not wait; skorpa was drawn along by her voice, his heavy muzzle finding juncture of round shoulder to warm neck.
the man's exhale was a shudder, and he fought himself for control as he touched ayovi at last, seeking her upturned face, the eyes which had struck against his as a spark in a long night.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Ayovi - February 02, 2025
She might have called it love, once.
This was not that.
This was need; desperate; driving. Ayovi’s body savage with pining even as Skorpa’s barbarity cuffs her senses. There is no pause— no moment of discovery. The northman reaches and she gasps at the sensation of his lips on her shoulder, a place where no man had touched. Clumsily she turns her head to watch his lathing, shy yet to touch him, though hazed eyes wander and explore, and her throat tightens when she looks too long upon these erogenous places: the jaw that opens to reveal a wide tongue. The broad chest that edges close, and tapers into strong legs.
At last in these imaginings her mouth parts, this time to lean forward and land her lips beside Skorpa's maw. She can taste blood— mature, metallic, strong, from old kills. Her belly shivers and a hot drop of pleasure spreads between hind legs. Teeth find him next; a dark ridge of nose taking the brunt of silent urging. Then she's turning, that hoarse whine leaking from a restless muzzle.
Her tail slips up and away, exposing all of herself to Skorpa.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Skorpa - February 02, 2025
she commanded wolves. rainwater sang to this wolf of everwinter. he was seated upon a throne surrounded by flowers, springtime zeal in ardent veins; he was a jarl of patience, so he said unto himself.
a finer vintage could not have been wrought by the gods, and skorpa glut himself until near drunken, and that needful bouquet swirled about all his senses until he was made near a priest by his reverence of her femininity and her wildness held there by his heavy grasp.
ayovi was incense for a silvered altar. when skorpa could bear his own dalliance no longer, the man joined them more gently than his bulk might compel, feeling as if her burn might melt the glacier down around both their addled heads.
there were far worse ways to die. but to die now meant he would not end in Valhalla, not with weapon fit neatly to scabbard and unsullied by skirmish. the gods would tease! but skorpa did not dare to do so any longer. all conscious thought now galloped away; he was the beast for which she had called and he reveled in their mingled natures.
she commanded wolves, and he took them into a cadence fit for horsemen upon a high ridge.
to war; to battle of a sweeter kind.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Ayovi - February 02, 2025
He holds back; proceeds gently. Ayovi can feel his shaking restraint, and still a dam breaks inside and she gasps, muzzle twisting back to question him in yelping shock. She shifts beneath his weight, whining with the uncertainty of this searing new pressure that brings their bodies sharply together. Bearing it, trembling, licking her lips over and over to derail a series of cries—
Then a second sensation thrums between them and she is hyper conscious of the northman’s pushing. It’s intense, teasing that exact fire that had clawed ceaselessly to life. But he does not smother it, no; he breathes into her embers and kindles it higher and higher until the flames are leaping everywhere through her— nose, eyes, mouth. She moans, arching neck and pushing splayed ears back into the man's jaws.
Merging, parting, bending, gasping, her eyes squeeze shut, emitting the sharpest little cries of tortured bliss that finally pour cool water over that anchoring point.
Ayovi goes missing somewhere between their unspoken language and Skorpa’s swerving hips— falling down a slope of him.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Skorpa - February 02, 2025
song and sound; a storm which poured beneath his skin. she was there; she was resplendent and dancing and vital in all his fibres. skorpa caught at her ears, arcing the pretty throat until her psalmic trilling was turned up to the gods.
he had wanted to move selfsame in the practiced gait of a wanton man, but ayovi coming to each new pleasure thrummed something deep in his heart, a mossed axeblade hove deep into the wood of a great sprawling evergreen. there she was; there she remained.
skorpa released his pinioning jaws and bent his crown against her spine. "ved alle guder, kvinde!" came words hoarsened by her smoke, reaching now over the coil of their undulating bodies to do as she had done; to bite gently upon her muzzle, to kiss softly at her jawline.
shieldwall, and he a pikeman; ayovi echoed in his ears as he fell headlong down steephill on the other side, force driving near to the end of his strength as steelset crook of one arm held them to meet.
skorpa's shout sailed as a thrown spear into the ice around them, a series of quick growls to follow, simmering to a sated snarl which ground to a vibration between their bodies.
as steam, twinbreath pools and rises up to the gods above the glacier.
"ved alle guder, kvinde," skorpa murmured again this time amid ayovi's nuzzled shoulderblades, "du kunne fylde mit hjerte."
RE: [m] Oomemē - Ayovi - February 03, 2025
Skorpa is pleased with her, murmuring in northern, the tone of it alone encouraging her to absorb all of him. She likes her body like this, muscles and nerves braying like this. She likes the tautness of his flank against her spine, and his bones, shuddering firm-smoothness. She likes the slow-stroking kisses, and the new thrill of being under him. She likes Skorpa’s body; what it does.
She finds excitement where it isn’t supposed to be— behind wretched teeth, flowering on a northman’s lips.
Lust vacant of love is a confusion. This part of her belongs only to her husband, and still Ayovi hungers for the new pleasure he’d shown her, squandering love’s sanctity for a second taste of bitter mouth.
“Again,” she breathes, though it is almost a moan, head tilting over shoulder, rubbing the side of her cheek into his face. Her hind legs buck and her front ones stretch, at once reawakened. “Again, Skorpa,” she pleads, this time with low laughter, naive yet to the interval which sated men. She nibbles back along his snout, taking the lower lip between pinching teeth.
Desperate to feel the sensation of him again.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Skorpa - February 03, 2025
flagging flesh might have laid skorpa low with another, but the strident grasping of ayovi, the pining of her perfumed body beneath his chest, that wanting touch of teeth, and moreover her voice, her voice; he did not ever think his name had sounded beautiful before — bearwolf took his moments for breath to subside and a new thrumming to begin.
marveling at the rest his body did not need, glittering with a wholly masculine pride for how he had made ayovi raise her voice for him, skorpa fitted flush their flesh anew.
this time he tested her limits and his own, listening for any capitulation to her discomfort which would at once rescind his roughness. elsewise while first they had galloped across a pavilion of beating hooves, now skorpa bid them to the battlefront and tasted the north upon her cry.
as he had adjusted backward to bear his own weight, ayovi's sole delectation now was to remain upon her willowy limbs long as she was able while he fiercely drummed them both through waves of heat and the glacier's simmering cold.
thereafter, it was his own turn to tremble. "regnvand" riding his tones as if it were a prayer.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Ayovi - February 03, 2025
It’s different this time; faster, vigorous. Skorpa moves them into a quickening pattern where Ayovi finds her own cadence to meld back into him. Is she doing this right? Her heart ripens with the pang of Skorpa’s pleasure the rest of her waits to hear. And soon it is her own strangled gasps of delight that steep in the ice, a chamber of echoing rapture.
At last she falls beside him, every muscle flaring in sensitivity, a youthful glow sitting on dewy fur. She turns for the void of Skorpa’s face. The hunt and mess of him had painted her in red, staining her mouth, her spine. She felt she had been made into one of his kind; a northern warrior, and in the ferocity of their connection she did not mind it. Tomorrow, she might. Tomorrow she might look at him with regret and anger and curse that she did not have the strength to save herself for a hunter; a pack wolf who could offer a safe home.
He was not handsome. His face stirred in her only a danger she now associated with pleasure. And yet she leans breathlessly closer, positioning herself so she can truly look at him for the first time, allowing curious eyes to rove his landmarks without discipline.
“Regnvand,” Ayovi repeats softly. He has said it before to her. “What does it mean?” She asks only in wonder, cornflower eyes fluttering closed.
They reopen upon her flat belly. Now there might be children.
“I— I want to be a wife, Skorpa.” He was not the only man for whom she had eyes, but his were the only ones she trusted.
“Your wife.”
RE: [m] Oomemē - Skorpa - February 03, 2025
skorpa, she said, and he was attentive at once, wondering if she meant to persuade from him a third time, and perhaps wary of it. he was not so sure he would be able to rise to such an occasion so swiftly, but her voice was soft first with inquiry, then with an earnest request.
the second of these seemed most important. he followed her glance to the belly he had not considered before, and his brow furrowed almost in realization. he was not ignorant to this time! he had only not been thinking, and even now her scent distracted the man.
did she mean to ask if he would put her aside? tend her? skorpa was gladly bound to the opposite, and eventually drew in a strange courage to cover with his warm palm the place of her womb, her skin flushed with their exertions. "bare rolig, regnvand," came the gentling rumble of his voice. "jeg skal nok passe på dig og dem."
they did not yet share a tongue, and he hoped his meaning would be received. "regnvand," and now he smiled, and tried to describe the fluttering of rain down upon their heads with a raised paw. for her ferocity, for the hue of her eyes.
he caught ayovi's ear gently between his teeth, humming a low tone.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Ayovi - February 03, 2025
The heat of his palm presses to her belly.
Ayovi stiffens, lips open for a gasp, this touch somehow far more intimate than all they had done only moments before. No common words they share, and still he seems to know what moves through her now. Is that possible? To intuit one you lie with?
His paw undulates upon her crown. She grins and thinks of wind, and then rain. Face flushing, the eager eyes see Skorpa as their bodies are wedged and their limbs tangle together. What can she know from his eyes that his mouth cannot say?
He sings a little note and toys with her ear, like it’s natural to do so; the day’s last breath a hot caress.
Adoring man. So attentive that Ayovi is drunk again, emboldened by his voice to fondle along his throat, pinning nose to skin; learning scars and mars and crunching old blood between teeth. She had never explored a man so closely— not with her tongue and the freedom to touch where she chose. And she did, everywhere, if only to watch what expression each place might incite from the bearman.
She tongues his legs and paws and down over his ribs, adorning each filthy curve with a kiss. She hated his taste and she loved it, couldn’t get enough of it, wanted him all over again.
Heat made her a boundless body of water, upon which she poured over the man she’d chosen; content, for now, to learn him.
RE: [m] Oomemē - Skorpa - February 03, 2025
fading <3
in wonder he watched. for the company of women he had fought, won, bartered, and paid. by nature he was cruel and by physicality he was rough, yet managed with those fairer to become rough without cruelty.
but this — there was no currency in which he knew a name. she chose it; she chose him and he wondered again at her wildness, his body tensing and muscles eased once more as ayovi explored his shaggy tapestries.
untamed as rain. unbound as storm. now she consumed him, and he held and held the straining rein of control until it snapped from his own bit.
its ends flew; skorpa caught her in his arms and drew regnvand to where he might feel the beat of her heart near his own.
again; gladly recaptured, a softer dance as if cold seawater lapped around them. her scent wove in and out of his own and he was gentle as the brush of new velvet leaves.
then at last, they slept, and skorpa did not think a sweeter slumber he had ever tasted.