Witch's Marsh Oh [m]y God, she looks so helpless, and her body's saying: "Hell yes."

@Xan

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sex below!

Had she known the name of the marsh she was in, or who she was to meet in it, she would have laughed at the irony. But she was unaware, moving quickly through the marsh to drier ground. The marsh covered up her scent, which was against her interests at the moment. She hurried as much as she could to find some land that didn't sink underfoot, though her nose wrinkled at the half-claim on the grove to the east. Defiant, she pulled herself into the claimed ground, attempting to quickly pass through to neutral territory. Her pace slowed as a familiar scent hit her nose, but she froze as she could not place it in her addled brain.

To patrol had not been his intentions, nor had he possessed any others. He’d simply been wandering, slowly and aimlessly, throughout the grove. To seek out one of the others was an idea that had crossed his mind, but he’d never followed through with it. He’d continued on his own instead, unable to know what awaited him up ahead.

The scent had hit him first, and he’d been forced to stop and try and wrap his head around what he’d caught wind of. It was Potema, he’d first thought, before realizing that that couldn't possibly be true. Why would she be there? Especially when there mingled with the wolf’s scent something that he’d experienced before—the hex of a witch, he’d once believed it to be, but now knew it to be something else entirely. Without thinking, he’d trailed after the assumed stranger, only to then spot the very same female that he’d thought he had smelled. It’d taken him too long to realize, his body having already been moved into her line of sight when he’d forced his legs to stop. Silence followed and he stared towards her, disallowing his body the opportunity to move nearer to her. “Potema?” he’d called out seconds later, needing confirmation, and then a reason. Why was she there, and who had let her leave the woods?

Her paws were not entirely soaked in mud; she scraped them against the grass in an attempt to rid herself of some clumps, but prepared to move on. Her ear swiveled towards the sound, and her head followed, seeing the young male staring at her, questioning. Xan, She murmured, turning her body towards him. So this is where you've gone,

Back when he’d first been around a female in heat, he hadn’t known any better. He’d have done anything for the female in question, no matter the consequences. Now that he was older and knew about what a heat was, however, absolutely nothing had changed. He could still feel himself experiencing the pull, and wanted to serve her in any way that he could. Yet, he’d kept himself in check. He’d not approached her, having managed to keep some distance between the two of them for the time being.

As she’d turned towards him, he’d forced himself to take a step back, whilst his eyes never left her form. It was Potema, that much was obvious now, but he still had so many questions that he didn’t know how to ask. “Yeah,” was his response to her, having no reason to lie. At least, he didn’t think he had a reason. “Why are you here?” he’d asked. “Shouldn’t you be in the woods? Because… y’know…” Shouldn’t someone be watching out for her? He really didn’t know.

What this pack was and why Xan joined it were questions for later. She still did not know why he left, though she suspected Cicero. The reasons behind that were even murkier. Now that she knew where he was, perhaps she could ask him about it. But for now her mind was driven on one thing.

He questioned her reasoning for straying so far from the Woods. The witch chuckled. Damien wants, I want, wolves loyal to the Dark Brotherhood. We've decided homegrown proved much more fruitful than recruitment, She didn't know why she was telling him this, but the words slipped out anyway. She closed the distance between them, her nose beginning to trace through the fur on his neck and shoulder. I am in heat, though I have no mate, She licked, then whispered in his ear, Do you understand now?

Confusion was all he could feel. It’d increased when she’d chuckled, as had it when she’d spoken to him. At first, he couldn’t piece together what it was that she had told him. Homegrown? What was that supposed to mean? His mouth opened to ask her, but he’d regretted it almost instantly. By then, the distance between them had already been closed, and her scent was all but choked on. Blood rushed to his lower region and he’d found himself unable to move away, the aroma having ensnared him. Her reason for being there was realized, and he’d reached out to nose through her fur, but stopped himself before he’d the chance to touch her.

“I… I understand,” he’d said, the words having been reluctant to leave his mouth. It was not the time to speak, it was the time to allow for his body to do as nature intended. Again though, Xan did his best to refrain from doing so. And whilst he’d yet to act on his instincts, he had leaned towards her, unconsciously wanting to touch her. “Damien would kill me if I did anything to you,” the boy muttered, his control slipping with each second. It was the power of the hex, as he’d forever refer to it as being. “Even if it’s for the Brotherhood, he… I wouldn’t be wanted.” The words were spoken, but they’d started to mean hardly anything to him. Damien did not matter at the moment, not entirely. All that mattered was what he could do to make Potema happy with him.

From what she found, words were pointless in the throws of heat, for both parties. She could already tell that their conversation was grinding to a halt. Damien won't know, She whispered before moving forward, purposely rubbing her spine against his nose until her tail lined up with his nose.

Damien won't know.

The words rang through his head, echoing and then fading away. Her brother would not learn of her time spent with Xan, and so he’d not be put under the threat of imminent death. It’d loosened the grip that he’d thought himself to have on his control, allowing for the yearling to think that maybe he’d get away with it. He’d opened his mouth to say something else, but was quick to shut it, the words lost to the deepest depths of his mind. Her movement, however simple it’d been, was enough to tear from him entirely any lingering hesitance. Downward had his head then gone, nose finding its way to the source of her scent. Outward flickered his tongue, tasting the air around her before he’d pulled back.

Needing be prompted no more, Alexander drew himself closer to her, then swung a single forelimb up over her back. Though he could no longer keep himself from feeling the effects of her curse, instincts still insisted that he test the waters before continuing any farther. It was necessary for him to make sure that he’d not be attacked, and that this was, without a doubt, what she truly wanted from him.

The words said, the promise made, Potema's body in the correct place, Xan swing his leg over her body, preparing the act. The witch rumbled in approval, her hips pushing backwards to meet his, urging him along to complete the act. It seemed so long ago that she was the spoiled princess and he the new kid. Things had changed.

Xan was neither chased away nor snapped at, but encouraged. It was swiftly thereafter that he’d adjusted his position, aligning his body with hers just in time to feel her pushing back against him. It was his first time with a female—he still wasn’t entirely sure if his friend from the coast could really be called a woman or not—and so a few minor adjustments had needed to be made. The task was an easy one, however, for his mind was not currently his to control. Instincts alone guided his every movement, forcing for his conscious self to do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the show—and what a show it was, for the moment he’d made his first thrust, nothing else seemed to matter. There was something vastly different from bedding down with another male and doing the same with a female in heat. It felt as if every nerve was on end, and awoken his body in ways that he never would have thought possible, had he not been experiencing it for himself right then and there.

A tight grip was kept on her scruff as he continued the motions of his hips. Though he’d started off slow, he’d been quick to then speed up, rocking his body against hers as he took all that wanted. And when the time came for his member to swell within her, he’d released her at last with a huff fleeing passed his lips. Xan was not unfamiliar with the feeling of bliss that came with release, but it was different now. Rather than being able to pull away, he was stuck, intertwined with her very being. It was entirely new, but not undesirable, and so he’d lingered atop her rather than twisting off immediately. There was a brief moment where he’d attempted to continue moving against her, but the idea was abandoned after one or two tries. The albino had settled, then, on nosing through her fur, allowing for her scent to further lay claim to his mind.

He was young; she was not sure if his seed would take hold within her. But such thoughts quickly melted away as he thrust inside her. The witch moaned in delight, her toes drawing furrows into the ground beneath her as he began his rhythm. It was slow at first, but it quickly sped up, to the witch's delight. 

She whined in content as he finished, feeling his weight against her. The woman panted, again half wondering if she would bear Xan's child. What would Damien would think...

Atop her frame had he remained, breathing against the back of her neck as he’d buried his nose into the fur there. He’d lingered, and then he’d pulled his face away and slid off of her, having to adjust his position at the same time so as to make himself more comfortable. It was still strange to him, as well as new. Whilst he’d had sex in the past, Potema was his first female—and, on top of that, she was in heat. The possibilities—which weren’t even real possibilities, given his age—of what could result from their fling had yet to dawn on him, leaving him oblivious to what would happen in the weeks to come. All he could focus on was the here and now, and how he was connected to the princess in a way that he never could have imagined happening, had he not been experiencing it right then and there. But, even those thoughts were distant and unfocused, his mind a mess and his voice missing. Silent had he remained, shifting when he needed to but was otherwise lost within his own mind. Was he supposed to say something whilst they waited? Not knowing, he’d glanced towards her, expecting answers as he waited to be freed from her.

She hummed at the breath against her neck, softly panting as they remained tied. The only sounds she could hear for the moment was their breathing, the rest of the area around them silent except for the sounds of night. She thought of what to say; these things were always awkward, especially since she barely knew most of her lovers. But she knew Xan. Xan, She breathed, her voice deep and throaty, Why did you leave? She whispered.

Ignoring the dice roll because I can, lmao.

At the sound of his name, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, but not a single movement was made. He stood there, staring at her as she asked the question that he’d not wanted to hear, all whilst wishing that he could just leave. His ears folded back and he looked away from her, then made an attempt at removing himself; the second there was any sort of resistance, he’d ceased his attempts and went back to just standing still, silent. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to tell her—or anyone, for that matter—but, at the same time, that was all he wanted to do. He wanted for what had happened to be found out about and for his attacker to be punished, but never had he been able to say the words. It still hurt, but maybe…

“He attacked me,” was muttered, his gaze having yet to find its way back to her. “He drugged me, and then he—” His voice cracked and he went back to keeping quiet, watching the ground and hoping that it’d tear him away from her and then swallow him up. What would he accomplish by telling her? Every part of his mind believed that she’d deem him a liar, side with her brother and leave Alexander without anyone. Or if she did believe him, that she would do nothing about it, and he would get away with what he had done. And yet, despite his internal worries and beliefs, he’d ended up saying, “He did this to me.” But that wasn’t true, not entirely. Potema had wanted the albino, she’d encouraged him to have sex with her, which Xan had never once even thought to do with her brother. He had taken him by force, whilst his body could not move on its own, and ruined him in the worst way imaginable.

She listened, quiet, as Xan explained his departure. They were still tied, though Potema no longer felt the sweet afterglow anymore. All she could feel was quiet panic as Xan described his abuse. Her ears flattened against her head, trying to rule out the obvious. It would not be his father. Was it Miraak? She did not know much about her uncle, nor his...preferences. Who was it? She asked, almost terrified of the answer. Because the answer would be one of her relatives; either one of her brothers, or her uncle, and that frightened her.

Who was it?

He struggled to find his voice again, realizing just how much he’d said already. It wouldn’t make a difference now, though, whether he gave a name or not. She knew what had happened, why he had left, which was what she’d been wondering. So, he didn’t answer her—not immediately. The yearling remained silent, his head tilted towards the ground. He had remained like that until the swelling had reduced enough for him to removed himself from her, and then he’d moved away. He did not leave, but couldn’t turn to face her just yet, either. The more he thought about what had happened, the more he realized that he had to tell her. It was her brother that had attacked, yes, but what would stop him from targeting her someday, too? He didn’t want to risk hearing about someone else going through what he had, especially when he could have said something to prevent it.

Turning towards her, he sought out her gaze with his own. He couldn’t read her emotions, he was too distracted to do so. Her question repeated through his mind over and over again, before he’d finally lost his ability to stay silent and shared with her—with someone—the name of his attacker: “Cicero.” And then he was quiet once again, directing his gaze elsewhere. He felt ashamed by the fact that he’d been tricked, that he’d allowed for himself to be drugged. However, he was most ashamed by the fact that he’d allowed for Cicero, of all wolves, to do as he had done. He’d not been able to fight back, he’d hardly been able to move his body, but he still should have done something to try and stop him. Yet, all he’d chosen to do was run and hide.

There was a heavy pause, and Potema held her breath, turning her head as best as she could. The tie between then ebbed away, until they parted. When she felt him exit, she turned to face him, her single, questioning eye peering into him, searching out the truth.

But when it came, she felt her heart break. Her eye widened as far as it could, until she felt as if her eyelids would rip. The woman's mouth was open, agape, as she heard her brother's name. Of all people: Cicero. She blinked, still shocked. She asked a question which she didn't care if Xan had the answer to: Why?

The shock was to be expected, given who his attacker was. Of all the wolves that lived within the woods, Cicero was, perhaps, the least to be suspected. He acted defensively, not aggressively, and yet... he shook his head, willing the memory away. He didn’t want to remember it anymore, nor did he want to see the older male’s face whenever he closed his eyes at night. The nightmares had lessened considerably, but they still occurred, forcing him to relive the moment over and over again. He could find distractions here and there, but nothing was permanent. What hurt the most was not knowing why it had happened, and how someone he’d once thought he could trust had been able to betray him in such a way.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “He kept saying that I would remember, that I knew what I had done but—” His voice cracked and a feeling of panic started to set in. “I didn’t do anything to him, I swear…” His voice was hardly a whisper, just as quiet as it’d been in the cave. Never had he done anything to the male that could justify his actions, he was certain of that much.

She hated the fact that she did not know much about her brothers. In their youth, she might have boasted their closeness, but ever since she left for Hags' Fen, or perhaps even prior to that, she felt detached from the both of them. They grew closer, incestously so (how long had that been happening), while she was simply...there.

The witch felt lost, the throbbing in her loins forgotten as she mulled over the revelation. Her brother had ra...it felt strange to even think that. Of all people...Cicero... what had happened? I believe you, No wolf within Blackfeather Woods had any good reason to hate Cicero. He was mischevious at worse, but at best he was kind and compassionate, always looking out for them. What might have happened between them to elict such a reaction? I just can't believe...Cic'....

I believe you.

The words left him staring at her, having been what he’d never expected to hear. He had left in order to keep himself safe, and he’d kept silent out of fear. He’d convinced himself that no one would ever believe him, and especially not Potema or Damien—but she had. The truth had come out, and without having been argued against. Still, he wondered if anything would be done about it, if his assailant would face any consequences. Part of the yearling wished to see him dead, his blood coating the earth like some morbid painting. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t want that at all. He wanted him to continue living, to go through each day having more and more taken away from him until there was nothing left to be ripped away. To put it simply, he wanted Cicero to suffer through every day, and have no way of ending it. He wanted him to lose sleep, to be humiliated, defiled, ruined. He wanted him to lose everything in the world that he held close to his heart, but even all of that would never be enough to balance out what he had done.

With a shake of his head, he looked away from her, focusing on the ground instead. There was so much that he thought he wanted, but he wasn’t yet ready. The shame was still there, and he could already feel himself regretting having told the Princess anything. “You can’t tell anyone else about what happened,” he’d said, though it’d sounded more like he was pleading with her than making a statement. “Please, Potema, don’t tell anyone…” He’d begged, then, making it clear that he wanted for no one else to be told about what had happened. Despite his desire to see Cicero be punished, he wasn’t prepared to go through everything that came with doing so.

She sat in stunned silence for a moment, mulling the thought over and over in her head. As Xan begged her not to tell a soul, her shoulders sagged, relaxing as she sighed, releasing the tension. Cicero, her brother, the calm philosopher, was a rapist. It was a simple, hurtful truth that she could not deny any longer. Xan would not lie about such a thing (would he?), especially not with such passion. She had not known the boy for being very deceitful, or knew him to hate Cicero for any other reason. This had to be the truth.

The matter settled in her brain, it returned to its primal desires. A wave of heat passed through her once more, and she looked at Xan in a new light; no longer pity, but lust. She moved forward, pressing her lips to his forehead. I promise, She said earnestly, before she moved her lips to his neck, licking there gently.

A part of him knew that, even if she were to give him her word, he’d have no way to make sure that she'd stay true to it. In order to do so he would have to return to the woods, which was out of the question. It nagged at him, the consequences, both of meeting her there and of spilling his secret. Should she speak out about his attack, what would that mean for him? Would Cicero search for him—or, perhaps, would she lead the beast right to him? A death delivered by the siblings that he’d have never of expected it to come from. The longer it took for her to speak, the greater his paranoia grew. It made him shudder and then grow still, the emotions pressing down upon him with such a terrible weight. By speaking, he’d sentenced himself to death, he knew it to be true—and then he didn’t, for she’d answered him at last and quelled whatever crisis he’d been in the middle of having.

The distance between them had been lost as lips were pressed against his forehead, encouraging him to close his eyes and draw forth a new breath. Slowly had the rapid pounding from within his chest started to grow calm, gentle, her touch acting as a soother. Unknowingly, he’d been ensnared in her web once more, leaning into her touch. His mind told him to stop, to back away or even leave entirely—to get away from her. Yet the longer he stood there, fighting with himself and trying to separate what he really wanted from what nature wanted from him, the more lost he became. Eventually, his conscious had been suppressed and his instincts left to take the reins, his body having won the battle against his mind. He sought to nip at her cheek before running  his muzzle through her fur, his steps slow as he inched towards her tail.

She took her time with him, wanting to sooth him and satisfy her own lusts as well. As he moved down towards her hips, her lips trailed his spine, licking and nibbling as much as she could as he did the same. She wanted him to banish these thoughts away from his brain and focus on her instead, something more pleasant that what he had gone through.

Fade here? ^^

The closer he’d gone towards his target, the slower time seemed to move. Along his spine, where she’d licked and nipped, his skin felt as if it’d been set aflame. Her wants had been answered, for so easily had his mind been carried away from the horrors of his attack to pleasing her. The only thoughts on his mind pertained to what he might be able to do in order to satisfy her, as well as himself; with the throne having been taken by his instincts, he couldn’t help but want to fulfill his own desires, too, just as much as he wished to do so for her. He’d not been so slow this time, having pushed her tail aside with his nose the moment it’d been within his reach. And unlike his first time with her, he’d mounted the Princess without any hesitance and secured his jaws around her scruff.

With his body knowing what to do, Xan abandoned his mind entirely as it was allowed the control necessary to do what they had both wanted. When finished, he would offer to her what little physical comfort he could provide—he’d groom her and deliver gentle nips to her cheek, but he’d not remain in her company long enough to have any other secrets dragged out of his mouth. Before a conversation could be created, he’d bid her a silent farewell and then retreat to the grove, where surely he’d find a place to settle from his high.