Swiftcurrent Creek [m] Hands 'round my neck, heavenly unfold

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Suggestion, mentions of (assumed) attempted sexual assault

Reverie is in heat (but unable to conceive per rules) and trespassing! Injuries & powerplay welcome. Tagging @Akavir @Arric and @Arlette for visibility

It was not into the valley she fled, in the end. Reverie crossed the borders of Swiftcurrent Creek in a panic, breaths coming ragged and too-fast as she dissolved into shock and grief. Everett. Everett, what did you do?

Her! Her, of all wolves! His own sister.

Blindly she sought safety, and perhaps it was ironic that this search had led her here. The setting of so many nightmares. Yet she knew Akavir and Arric, knew they would never touch her knowing that it wasn't what she wanted. They would protect her. So she cut a path toward the den Akavir had once led her to, tail tucked firmly between her legs. There were no thoughts in her, none but the need for safety.

The coywolf hadn't had surprise heat on his bingo card for the year. Not for himself, certainly, but not for Reverie either. He was torn on what he ought to do about the situation, if anything — but when Reverie's scent veered into Swiftcurrent Creek, he had to put his foot down.

If she came home smelling like that guy again, he just didn't know what he was going to do.

Dusty Rose followed doggedly in her footsteps and found her at a den. Her old one? He didn't know, but at least she was alone.

"Whatcha doing?" he called down to her, planting his ass near the entrance.

Dusty Rose had never been a more welcome sight — which, really, was saying something. Reverie launched herself into his arms without even waiting to hear what he said, seeking his embrace not for lust but protection. It was difficult to deny just how it felt to touch him, though.

Then she started to cry, and all amorous thoughts fled her. I - I - I'm - hiding. From - from Everett, The words were frantic, breaking as they spilled from her. He - he tried to - to - She pressed her face more fully into Dusty Rose's fur and couldn't finish.

Everett?

Dusty Rose had his suspicions about Tybault, but he'd assumed the problem was isolated to that brother and not something weird about the family itself. He wondered now, though, feeling just a little bit of misgiving about his involvement with the woman in his arms. But whatever her brothers might think appropriate, it was clear Reverie hadn't welcomed it. He felt guilty for entertaining any sort of blame.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice low. Normally he might've trusted himself to smell blood, but right then, he could only smell — her.

Heat had never really affected him this way before.

A little, She sniffled, still pressed into his arms. Her panic was slowly dissolving into gratitude — for his presence, his perceived lack of judgment, his concern for her. Just bruised, I think.

Reverie stepped back then, beckoning him into the den with her. It would be easier to shield him from the wrath of any Swiftcurrent Creek wolves that way, she thought now that she had the presence of mind to think it. She was welcome here, but all the same, they weren't really meant to be here.

The tears still fell even as she calmed. I - I never thought he would - Reverie swallowed hard. Her voice dropped to a whisper. I don't know what to do.

His expression remained calm and ever-loving, but privately, he thought — I know what to do. Of course he was seething at the thought of someone else touching her, never mind hurting her. And that it was someone that she knew and trusted (that they'd both trusted, but he tried to keep himself out of this equation) only made it worse.

What he said, though, was, "You don't gotta do a goddamn thing," in as authoritative a tone as he could manage. "Let's get you through this first, okay? We can worry about him later."

Because, as much as Dusty Rose didn't like him right then, he didn't suppose that Everett was dangerous. He couldn't help but think about Slow West's tendency to get a little too affectionate when he was in a particularly good mood. That'd gone away once he found his Shady Grove. Some guys just had too much rabbit and noplace to spend it — although that wasn't an excuse so much as how fucken stupid his brother was. He wished he thought less of Everett's intelligence, right then.

A fierce affection filled her then, and her tears fell anew. Reverie tucked her head lovingly beneath his chin, silent for a few long moments. He was perfect. Perfect, and hers.

After a little while she said, a bit haltingly, I meant to - to find you. I - I went to - our spot, But Dusty Rose had not found her. Everett had. She trembled, torn between the molten depths of her adoration for Dusty Rose and the unending screech of angerfeardisgustbetrayalwhy? She wished that she could forget. She wished that she could go back and undo it all, somehow.

He was torn between two extremes — an enthusiastic, well, I'm here now, and a more cynical, and instead you ended up here, huh? Neither were what he truly wanted to express right then. As much as he felt both thought throbbing deep in his — those were his thoughts, right?

"It's soon, yeah?" he asked her after a protracted beat of trying very hard not to say something stupid. "Not for — for us. But like for you. For this to be happening?"

Smooth. Totally collected. His claws pinched reflexively in her fur as he clung valiantly to his composure.

Not for us. Her ears and cheeks flushed with heat immediately. She hadn't even considered that it might be too soon, and now that he'd said it her thoughts were a flurry of oh! is it too soon? and he doesn't think it's too soon? and he doesn't think it's too soon! and — oh, she felt dizzy.

It was easier to grasp his next words. It is, She agreed, voice betraying her apprehension. I've always had... well, problems with - this. I was only a yearling when I had Blossom - and then - then I nearly died with the girls...

Reverie let out a breath.

But I thought - I guess I wasn't thinking, She pulled away to meet his eyes then. I don't know if - if anything will happen, or if you even want that. But I know that - that if you do want that, I want to try to give it to you. And maybe it is too soon - for us, but I - things are always happening, and what if - what if I die tomorrow? Or you? I don't want to wait until it's too late to tell you that I - I care about you. A lot.

I guess what I'm saying is - I want you to stay. With me. If - if you want to, Whatever else she'd meant to say was lost to her racing pulse, the sound of it in her ears. The words caught in her throat and died there. Reverie searched his gaze carefully.

He knew a little about what'd happened with — with the girls (Dusty Rose was just now realizing that Reverie only had daughters) but he hadn't heard about Blossom before this. Once was bad enough, but twice? He wasn't too sure he liked the idea of that kind of risk. Especially since she had three cute kids already, and they were a handful all on their own.

Mainly it was this:

"I want to," he told her. He'd come down here to tell her. Not in these words, maybe; he'd meant to say something more like, you'd better not be fucking someone else. His ears swiveled uncertainly. he said, "I thought maybe you were gonna go see — that guy. The one you smell like, sometimes."

It was a really bad time to ask who the fuck he was — mainly because he didn't think he could do so without getting angry — but the set of his ears and the intensity of his gaze spoke volumes. Who the fuck is he?

"And, y'know," he said, speaking forcefully to override his irritation, "I thought I should come tell you. That you're mine'n'all."

That halted her in her tracks.

Akavir? Her voice was a touch incredulous, matching the surprise in her sunlit gaze. Oh, Dusty Rose - I could never trust him that way. Not like I trust you. We - we're family, but there's a lot of complicated history there and it's just - Reverie cut herself off.

It doesn't matter. Of course I'm yours, She kissed his cheek, then his nose, her mood lightening all at once as she found that their hearts were in the same place. She was his. He was hers. And — Why would I ever want anyone else when I have you?

Reverie kissed him again as if to emphasize her point.

He wasn't sure if he felt more vindicated or annoyed when she knew immediately who he was talking about. He assumed, anyway; he only knew the scent, and not the name or the face of The Interloper. And he was apparently family, which Dusty Rose had his doubts about, but all the same he was glad he hadn't made a big deal out of it, as he'd been tempted to do several times in the past couple weeks. If West or the flower eater showed up, he'd probably smell pretty incriminatingly like a serial cuddler, too.

She was his, though. A peculiar look stole over his features; one of suspicions confirmed. That's what I thought.

"Beats me," he said earnestly. But stranger things had happened.

They didn't speak for a time, a kiss easily driving all other thoughts from the coywolf's mind. If she was his, he wanted to have her — and it was difficult to remember why that might not be a good idea when the need had never been more imperative.

"We should..." Fuck? Fuck, definitely — or was it that they shouldn't?

Get out of here and back to our bed? She finished with a tentative but playful light in her eyes. Reverie still felt — rattled. Betrayed, more than anything, but the fire of her heat was a merciless thing. Combined with her affection for Dusty Rose, it had driven nearly all logical thought from her.

At least she still had the presence of mind to know they needed to leave. Reverie had already been quite rude, fleeing into someone else's house unannounced, family or no. Getting busy in their spare bedroom would be crossing another line entirely, she felt.

It was obvious to him, then: he was in trouble. No, worse than that — he was in love.

In love.

It was kinda nice, he thought. All too much like the stories he'd always discounted. Somehow, not like them at all.

"Yeah," he agreed, dazed. "Yeah, that."

If there was anything left to think about, that was a concern for a Dusty Rose of the future, however near or distant that may be.

Love in this way was not a foreign feeling to Reverie, yet it felt different each time. There was no comparing Dusty Rose to those who had come before him; no comparing him to anyone at all, she thought, but especially not the men she'd loved before. Even now she did not let them truly enter her thoughts. Instead her mind was filled with Dusty Rose, the blue of his eyes and his sharp coyote muzzle and the red that tinged the big, soft ears she loved so much. She loved all of him. She loved him.

Reverie led her lover from Swiftcurrent Creek back to the Emberwood, kissing him all the way, never breaking their contact. Back to their hollow, a place she would not allow to be tainted by what Everett had done. It was theirs, after all, hers and Dusty Rose's. That alone made it a beautiful place to be.