Ankyra Sound [m] his sister's keeper

backdating this a bit to when she was still in heat.

in what could be possibly a terrible decision, bellatrix roams.

her aggravation over her heat that plagued her for the first few days of it's coming and it's burn within her has waned, and though the idea of partnering with a male still very much icks her out, the commander does not deny that she is hungry for it.

for touch.

for intimacy; however fleeting she intends it to be.

she cannot deny mother nature; and knows that she wouldn't, anyway.

she follows the rivers to the coast, where the sand is warm beneath her paws and the sea that batters the sounds shore is comforting.

more timeline messing about. set before his other threads

There was an itch in his brain, one he hadn't been able to shake. It wasn't the usual hazy feeling, the one that came after he blacked out, or when he got irrationally angry. This feeling was more... basal, more instinctual. It was a while until he figured out what, exactly, it was.

Not until the sea breeze shifted and pushed that scent up his nose did he truly sort out what his head was doing. Or rather, what his body was doing, carrying him towards the woman whose scent he had been following. Part of him screamed to stop, to not do this, to stay. away.

He did not, striding towards her with mixed purpose and curiosity. Callan did not descend upon her like some depraved lunatic (funny, if only because he felt like one sometimes), but instead let her see him and decide for herself if she would inter his presence.

a man approaches on swift paws, bellatrix watches, cloaked in a steel-blue. dull gold eyes takes him in, black nostrils flaring. his scent is that of ash and cedar; strangely alluring.

she draws in another breath, the gentle encouragement of the sea tangling ‘round her legs pushing her up the sand towards him.

it is the promise of what he can uniquely offer her that drives her; the only thought of akavir’s warning to seek outside the creek.

she lets out a low, inviting rumble; tail swaying behind her.

She sees him. He sees her. A thick silence hangs between them, the roll of the ocean waves and the cries of the gulls the only soundtrack to their meeting. The sound she makes lures him closer, ears attuned to the seanymph with the intoxicating smell.

His logical brain was gone, at this point, completely out the window as he continued his slow approach. One paw at a time, each bringing him closer than the last until finally — finally — he could extend his next to touch his nose to the fur of her cheek, breathing her in deeply.

A nuzzle, a nip, and another little step to bring him close enough that he had to pull his head back and look down at her, eyes searching her own.

upon further reflection, bellatrix would find her behavior and the invitation, the small rush she feels when his nose touches her cheek, the nuzzle, the nip of her teeth speak to the sirensong of her body ... as a loss of control.

beneath her.

she was the commander.

but even the commander was subject to the mother nature and the primal desires awoken within her.

a soft noise akin to a croon as she peers up at ares given flesh; beckoning him to come nearer still.

The sea-nymph was mistaken if she felt she was not in control here, for she alone held power over him this night. The sounds she made, the wants and needs of her body, the intensity of the look in her eyes... All of it commanded Callan to close that last distance between him.

It was a command he did not fight.

The bluesteel male let his teeth find her her shoulder, her spine, her haunch. A last glance over his shoulder to her before he gave one last lovebite to the base of her tail, a last lovenote that made his intentions as clear as the sky that cast over them this night.

There was no turning back now, not for him; her scent, her intoxicating scent drowned him at this distance, beckoned him, called to him, drove him to chance a well placed swipe of his tongue before he looked back at her with a small, knowing smile.

everything in bellatrix tries to fight the fact that she enjoys it: each bite he leaves along her as he makes his way down her body. but in the throes of her heat ... her body is a livewire and does not appear to put her personal preferences in any sort of consideration.

and she gives into it; wanting him to stifle the yearning in her. wanting him.

a soft commanding croon slips from betwixt her lips, swallowed by the roar of the sea, she fears. but she presses back against him, welcoming the embrace.

...

and when nature allows their embrace to end, bellatrix paces distance between them; warring with herself over whether she should speak or keep up the illusion of the ghost story: here and gone.