Sea Lion Shores i want a hot dog real bad

Artaax didn't react to her apology, even though he'd heard it. He didn't see a need for apologies. He didn't want there to be wrong in what was happening, or what had happened, or what would. It was the wrongness in his life that made his heart so sick. It was the wrong Wildfire had done him, that his sisters had done him, that he feared nomi might do him, that had driven him to break. He didn't want to see those wrongs. He wanted something right. Or nothing at all. Just not wrong.

He continued his gentle ministrations without pause, his blood rising as she allowed him to do so. It wouldn't be the first time they had come together like this, and yet it was so utterly different than it had been that time. In a way he'd never consider it might be between them. This was Furi. And yet, there was something of his honeyed sylph here too. It would've been confusing if he'd spared it the thought, but he adamantly refused to do so. Instead, he lost himself in his affections, trailing down the side of her neck, down into her shoulders.

As much relief that comes from the outburst the pent up exhaustion slips out too. His movements become rhythmic and she’s tired but something keeps her from drifting off to sleep. Her eyes open, staring down at white paws instead of red and slowly picking up her head to slowly look at him. She doesn’t want to disrupt the attention but something is out of place. It isn’t enough of a problem to make him stop despite the lingering itch.

His nose presses along her spine and between her shoulders that causes her back to arch. Her head turns more to the side, hooking her nose beneath his chin and nibbling along his jaw. Mallaidh isn’t the same confused girl she had been, no longer driven by Aviana and the mixed emotions there. She knows more, now, about herself and who she is and what she wants… She swallows a lump in her throat as she slowly pulls back from his chin, bumping him gently with her snout.

It's amazing what arousal does to men. He'd been exhausted, weak, barely strong enough to make it to this place. Yet, when Furi arched her back, Artaax was on it.

He continued his ministrations down the length of her spine, losing himself more and more with every inch gained. He was gentle as he turned her, gentle as he climbed aboard pulled himself onto her, gentle as he started, then sporadically less so as he fully lost himself in the throes of passion. It was different than before. There had been no emotion before when now, he felt immersed in it. It was what he had needed - to lose himself. To bury himself in something good and forget all of the rest, if only for the stolen time it took before he was spent in every conceivable way.

When they parted, Artaax moved again to her side and ran his muzzle along her chin. He said nothing as he urged her to lie down, nothing as he wrapped himself around her and rested his head upon her back. The fire of his need was gone, but not his longing for something warm and solid against him, so he tried to hold on longer as he closed his eyes and willed his mind to turn off completely.

Mallaidh needs little persuasion as he guides them, trailing further down her back when the invitation is given. For a while, she can forget about everything going on. She can forget about Blixen and Heda and Drageda and all the lingering worry she might not have a place in the world anymore. The gentle touch continues on, each caress well placed. It isn’t awkward and foreign, as it had been last time and eventually she forgets about last time entirely, finding peace in thinking about nothing else than her own physical need as it takes up all the empty, hurting space left vacant.

He is quick, when they are no longer together, and moves next to her and caresses the underside of her muzzle. She leans into him, finding her own legs weak and following the silent instruction to lie down and leaning into him as he curls around her. If she stays close, they can keep away all their problems. They don’t have absent mothers or other lovers or something ugly inside them they’re forced to battle on a daily basis. No, for a while, they can be the core of themselves, asking and receiving the same thing from one another.