Duck Lake [m] watch the fall

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[thread backdated to hell] U KNOW WHO

Night clouds unfurled tenderly from a leering moonface above. Curtain-slits of light illuminated a valley lake that glittered like onyx in the dark. And though the lakeside was often full of noise during the day, the only sounds at this hour were the serenading crickets and the gentle lapping of the water.

Wreathed in a beckoning scent, River languished on a bed of lake reeds and duck feathers, having feasted on several of the waterfowl throughout the day. She now rolled upon her spoils as if to leave her mark upon this place before departing, a few of the iridescent quills becoming lodged into her coat.

Fed and well rested, it felt time to resume her prowl to sate a different kind of hunger.

The lake drew him—not for any particular reason, though when the wind shifted just slightly… there was something more that certainly beckoned him.

Thus far, the man had managed to maintain his firm reasoning that to be a father would be a death sentence to those born of his blood—trial and error had already proved this hypothesis, and it hadn’t been questioned much from him.

But did that mean when his pale champagne eyes cast upon the fluid motion of a she-wolf lavishing in her element—a myriad of downy duck feathers drifting around her with the motion.

Amusement pressed upon him, but he spoke nothing—languid in his own motions as she drew up—a few of the remaining feathers stubbornly clinging to a frame he unabashedly allowed his eyes to rove.

When she met those pale, pale eyes in the dark, River froze on the spot, pulse quickening.

But another break in the clouds, and the living shadow assumed wolfshape; a stalwart, frost-caped figure made of cast iron. The thud of her heart refused to slow, even as she determined that there was no obvious threat anywhere along his rugged lines.

By inches, River crept her posture back into an easement. How long have you been there? she wondered aloud, voice almost a laugh. It seemed a dip in her vigilance had occurred, which was both ironic (given how vulnerable she was) and expected (given the haze of hormones clouding her every action and decision). At least she didn’t have to wonder what had drawn him this near; she was sure her hunger had manifested the dreamshadow.

Muzzle lifting, her nose worked to detect his cologne, but the wind did not favor her. Tch.

Pressing her ears forward to regard him shrewdly, feathers glinting, she gestured for him to come nearer. You’ve got my scent. It’s only fair to share yours.

Her question was what drew him from the reverie of his gaze roving over her—amusement tipped upon his lips, though not allowing such to flesh out to a full smirk. “Long enough,” he assured, the pale eyes unashamedly coursing along her body.

Nature was a fickle beast this time of year—thus, it had proven this to him time and again.

He knew better. But it didn’t mean he wished to truly obey what his both his mind and heart spoke as a terrible, terrible idea.

She beckoned him—another feather gently gliding to the earth from her bronzed pelt.

With a spur of mischief, he took one step closer—muzzle tilting upward, his gaze beseeching her—“Better?”

If the wind happened to shift in favor of her request—all the better. Otherwise, he could continue this game of cat and mouse.

Or, perhaps he was the fox and she the hen.

Either way, he was entertained with the notion.

A single step. That knavish tilt of his chin. The flash of white-hot gold.

No suitor thus far had seen fit to tease her. The mere idea challenged her, stirred up her oppositional defiance. She knew she was the prize; the gift of life incarnate. She deserved nothing less than unabashed subservience…

But did her assumed superiority mean that he was not also worth pursuing?

He would not bend easily, which made the dreamshadow valuable to her. Priceless, even. Less of a pawn on her chessboard and more like a cleverly maneuvering knight.

How was a greedy wolf such as herself to resist?

River felt herself clenching. As if she could simply will the genie of attraction back into its lamp. But she had no such power. Her heat called him to her as much as it called her to him. She languished under his stare, her insides coiled in a delicious squirm. Not even a little, she smirked. But it’s probably for the best. Inhibitions were dangerously low and this was not a rehearsal dance. I’d have no choice but to take advantage if you come any closer.

Her silver eyes glittered impishly.

A chuff of a laugh is given—the woman has a sharp tongue and Akavir’s gaze rove over her with an appreciative gleam. “We certainly wouldn’t want that,” he offered, his own devil-may-care grin widening, and as thus, promptly sat himself down on his rump, right then and there.

“I can only imagine how many have been taken advantage of you so far,” he murmured, loud enough for her to hear—certainly not shy on the matter. She wasn’t looking for a partner—then again, neither was he.

A paw shifted forward, rolling a pinecone before him, gaze lingering there before pulling back up to the coy rogue.

“They can’t have been very memorable.”

The shadecaller’s choice to recline rather than depart spoke louder than his attempt to remain at bay. The shine of his grin in the dark burned into her thoughts, drawing warmth deep under River’s skin. She clawed the loamy earth, pulling a clump of grass underfoot.

I assure you the advantages were mutual, she bantered on the topic of those she had previously ensnared. She was too proud to see or hear anything but praise in his words and actions.

Her eyes followed the pine cone he idly pawed, her body beginning to ache with renewed yearning -- the need to feel that moonlit caress. The desire rose inside her with the same blurry consciousness of a dragon waking atop its treasure horde; waking only to gather more, more, more. As there was always more gold for a dragon to collect.

But even a great winged serpent felt too tame a comparison when describing the hellish fire that drove her to raze her own foundations and plant seeds in the ashes. River feel godlike; arousal was her power, men were her worshipers, and sex was her blessing. Not everyone’s worth remembering, she shrugged, a casual laugh dancing on the air. Good or bad.

Tilting her head, she let it drift toward the ground until she was lying on her side, peering at the blackwinged sentinel through the grasses. Are you someone worth remembering?

“You’ll have to tell me,” he offered her—a flash of a grin that was more predatory than friendly. Her casual laugh was light in the warm air—welcoming—and Akavir’s paw lifted to bat aside the pinecone now, and in one fluid motion to lift himself and prowl forward toward her.

He might have tested the moment—but they both knew who was the prize in this moment, and he was eager to ensure that she knew this.

Not that her confidence was lacking.

As he neared, paw steps became more languid—pale eyes roving across her, testing his proximity to her. He could have rebuffed her question—asking her if she was worth remembering herself—

—but he had a feeling he already knew the answer.