Sea Lion Shores wolf [m]other

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Puppy making happening!

Backdated to the 12th! Paging @Rhaegal

When she woke, she wanted to move. Doe’s hooves itched and burned with want, the need to travel.

But she did not go far from Saltshore’s fledgling claim. She traveled the shoreline, up towards the north. Vairë felt the burn, knew what it belonged to, and she had done as anaa asked with her antler totem before she had left, welcoming herself into womanhood fully and naturally. Vibrant summer danced around her, heated winds playing with her fur in a dizzy dance. Her scent played a gentle melody to the surrounding air, a soft tug on those who could smell it, but she would attend only one.

The thought left her mind when she saw them. The odd, honking creatures, looking at her like she was the foreign thing here.

It was odd. They were odd.

She stood there, perplexed.

it was the scent of his wife's heat, left like an enticing siren's song to the sea lion shore that had both woken rhaegal and led him along her path, diverting his own plans for the day ( which had been the same old: fishing, border patrolling, etc ).

it is a welcoming distraction from the routine that the sveijarn patriarch had fallen into; one that he is a helpless marionette to.

he finds her, staring at the sea lions sunbathing upon the shore.

he slides against her side, delighting in the soft shivers of electricity he feels at the simple action.

they be lions of the sea. he tells her in a low murmur, gaze tearing itself off of her to study the lumbering, sunbathing beasts for a moment.

A familiar scent and the brush of muscled shoulders against her side made her skin warm.

Rhaegal.

Vairë turned her head just enough to take in the form of her seasalt husband, appreciating him anew in this moment more than she ever had before. Then, perhaps due to the curiosity they inspired, she turned her head back to the “lions of the sea”.

They are odd…nothing like I’ve ever seen before. A distant bull’s bellow reached her ears and she snorted a little laugh.

And very loud.

they are nae the most prettiest of critters, rhaegal remarks, perhaps cruelly. he wasn't necessarily fond of them. they can be aggressive tae. best tae stay clear of 'em.

he warns, and adds as an after thought, though they have good meat. fatty.

a double edged sword, as rhaegal was wont to see them.

good food but terrible neighbors.

he draws his muzzle by her ear, drawing in her scent again; more intoxicating now than it's ever been ... and while rhaegal was no expert, he was well knowledgable enough to know what it meant.

She hummed a half response to him, focusing upon the feel of his body beside hers. She shivered all over when his nose touched against her ear, leaning against the touch in a gentle sway.

Her mind drifted from its turmoil of the past several days into the bliss of the now. Her tail wagged, briefly, as she swooned to the side to press her shoulder to Rhaegal’s own.

Perhaps come fall, we hunt one. Vairë spoke absently. They would need more members, of course, but it would be good to get that much meat and cure it for winter.

Especially with children. Her ears burned.

aye, rhaegal agrees in a soft murmur. their meat be good fer storin' fer the winter.

spoken from a seafarer who has weathered at least the first two winters of his life alongside the sea.

'course, s'nae as good as deer..., a tilt of his head is given. salty, tastes of the sea ... but nae terrible.

somewhere in rhaegal's mind, he's aware that he's rambling; struck by a soft fluttering of nerves and lowly stoked flames of desire for her, ever heightened by the delicious perfume she currently wore.

We will dry it and make it a jerky. It would be a good way to teach our children. She did not expect them to go hungry for winter, they had so much! Moontide so close, Moonglow a few days travel away, and the family they were building here.

She turned, running her nose underneath Rhaegal’s chin, a motion almost like the one she had done when they first met.

We will hunt in fall, and we will get many pelts. I will teach our daughters to cure them. Just as Vairë herself had been taught, so long ago.

she makes plans, of drying the meat and making something she calls 'jerky' and mentions that it would be a good think to teach their children.

the thought of which ignites the sprint of his heart in his chest, again.

you'll have tae teach their father first. he tells her with a low rumbling laugh.

the touch of her nose beneath his chin ignites the nerves in rhaegal's body; claws digging into the soft, pliable sand underfoot.

aye, rhaegal murmurs. and i'll teach our sons tae hunt and fish.

Vairë closed her eyes for a moment, using the time in the dark to imagine the children. She imagined dark pelted girls and boys with her eyes. 

Then, she opened her own eyes and thought, for a moment, about what they would name them. But that would come at a different time, she knew. When she was wide with life.

Vairë shifted even closer, maneuvering so her entire head was under Rhaegal’s own, pressing up against his chest with her shoulder.

They shall have a fulfilled life here. She knew this like she knew herself, a deep knowledge that she could not speak aloud.

rhaegal murmurs low in salttongue, a rough sort of prayer, but not prayer; a blessing spoken by the elders ... meant for the Sea, for the earth under foot as, after a moment of lingering with her head tucked under his chin, her shoulder pressed against his chest, he shifts.

a slow circle; placing soft nips and lovebites.

on her shoulder, on her ribs, on her hip.

he is a beast of primal instinct in this moment, guided by the threads of a dance as old as time and the soft command of the sea that his body, aching for his doe-wife's, affirms.

that the time was now.

a soft nip at the base of her spine, the brush of his chest against her hips; an unspoken question of permission.

He slides around her in a dance she recognizes in her hindbrain, one even Old Doe perks her tired old head to observe. A dance done by many, over millennia of evolution, one that her very core recognizes.

She burns with the want of him.

He requests the permission, she gives it readily.

All the while, the ocean pulls in and out on the shore.

she grants him permission and with the soft thundering of the sveijarn's heart, he draws her into his loving embrace; soft, and loving and tender.

---

are ye ok? he asks when their bodies part, the feeling soft curves of her body fitting against his lingering; tucking his head beneath her chin this time, before bumping his nose gently under her jaw.

Her breath is fast, but she feels as though she has tasted flight. Vairë leans against the touch of her husband, a little smile tugging against her lips as she takes a gentle pleasure from their closeness.

Better than ever. Came her gentle reply, one twinkling eye popping open to look at her husband, and offer him a little smile, though she was not sure he could see it.

archiving with this post. <3

for a while, rhaegal rests, almost lulled to sleep by the comforting roar of the sea ( punctuated by the calls of the sea lions as it was ). it was just as he jerks awake that he stands up and stretches, gently encouraging vaire to go back to the bay's territory with him if she wasn't already there.