Tuktu Hinterlands [m] bite marks

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@Lorcan

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her heat had crept upon her like a thief. a sweltering warmth hugged her frame, humming through her body like a song she didn’t know the words to, building in intensity until it was all she could think. a blush bloomed across her cheeks, breath coming shallow as if the air had grown too thick to draw in.

every noise beyond the den that pricked her ears stirred a longing she couldn’t quite name, her pulse quickening with something dangerously close to hope. she shifted restlessly on her nest of soft moss and woven grasses, uneasy.

she tried to suppress the soft whine that slipped from her lips, but it broke free, crying his name. "lore," she whispered, pressing her nose to his cheek.

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it is not to peace and tranquility he wakes to, but fire.

fire raging all around him. fire in his chest, in his loins, in his gut. fire in his eyes now as he turns his head, eyes popping open to look upon the woman at his side. curled against him, her breath now warm upon his devilish face.

a dangerous game she played. he could smell it on her. they had laid to sleep and all was normal; now she awakes him in the mid of night, her scent swelling with a sweetness that pleaded for him. he must press his nose into his own fur to distract.

he would not take her here. not within the ruddy contents of their temporary den. he rises, ignoring the trembling of his nerves and ushers her to her feet. come, my love. a soft voice only for her, and he trails past her, out of the den and into the open.

it is a short walk, but one that felt like ages. he had seen a sprawling jungle oasis just a short ways of their den earlier, when he did his rounds to make sure it was safe. a waterfall trickling over a bridge of rocks, melting into the clear waters beneath. it is here he takes elowen, drawing her to his side where they walk upon the rocks and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

do you like it?

elowen follows, near-silent as she trails after him, her heart a trembling thing in her chest. she does not speak—cannot speak—for her tongue is too thick with want, and she fears what her voice might betray should she dare to use it.

he is resisting, she can tell, though she can feel the fire in him just as keenly as she feels it in herself.

the earth hums around them, thick with the scent of wet soil and night-blooming flowers. the air is cooler here, kissed by the mist of the waterfall that trickles endlessly over dark stone. it is beautiful, untouched. a sanctuary of sorts. none of it holds her attention quite like him.

he turns to her then, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and her eyes flutter shut at the tenderness of it. she could lose herself in touch alone, in the way he speaks to her so softly despite the tempest between them.

"do you like it?"

her breath shudders as she exhales, eyes lifting to find his. "yes," she murmurs, and though she speaks of the place, her gaze betrays her—answer is for him. she likes him. the way he cares even now, even if instinct begs him otherwise. makes it special for her. it means more to her than life itself.

he watches her closely, his golden eyes half-lidded as she speaks, soft and breathless. the shudder of her breath, the look in her eyes—it stokes the fire in him, threatens to unravel what control he’s clinging to. her scent is maddening, clinging to him like a second skin, thick and heady in the cool night air.

he exhales slowly, trying to temper the heat that coils in his chest, in his blood. she likes it, she says, but the way she looks at him tells him what she really means. and he knows.

he always knows.

good, is his reply. nose coming to brush along the curve of her cheek, slow, lingering. he feels her tremble beneath his touch, and it sends a deep rumble through his chest, almost a purr. he shifts slightly, circling her as if to keep himself moving, keep himself from giving in too quickly.

every instinct told him to mount her now and make love to her beneath the falls. but his heart bid he take his time with her. her first heat; it should be special. special with him. he presses to her side as he comes back around, his forehead rubbing lovingly into her cheek fur. i wanna be gentle with you, dove.

he is careful as he circles her—too careful. she knows it is out of love, out of reverence for her, for what she is experiencing. gentle. he wants to be gentle. 

her ears flick back, and for a moment she considers it—considers letting him have her like the first time—careful, soft. but the fire in her does not crave softness; it burns hot, too wild, demanding. she does not want careful tonight; she wanted more. wanted him. all of him.

she turns her head, pressing into him, inhaling deeply at the thick ruff of fur along his throat. "lore," she breathes—half a moan—, and her teeth graze his skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to spark, to pull. She presses closer, her trembling not from fear but from anticipation. need. 

the words slip free before she can stop them; “don’t want gentle.” there is no taking it back now. her body betrays her, pushing into his, as if to urge him, to make him understand. 

she lifts her head, searching his face, searching for the flicker of control she is so desperate to break. "want you." a breath, "please,"

the last of his restraint unravels, slipping between them like sand through open fingers.

her words, her touch—she ignites something deep within him. the fire that had smoldered beneath his skin flares, consuming the space between them, electricity sparking at once. the tension between them drawn to a snap.

the air is heavy with the mingling of breath and want. the distant rush of the waterfall fades into nothing, drowned out by the sound of bodies pressing close, of whispered names and ragged breaths.

poetic fade to black