Firefly Glen this love it is a distant star

In the dim light of the forest, shadows twisted around the slender figure of Elowen as she lingered at the edge of a sun-dappled clearing. Her doe-like eyes, wide and watchful, scanned the glades for any signs of life, heart beating a steady rhythm of unease in her chest. The sun filtered through the dense canopy, casting playful patterns on the ground.

Elowen's coat blended seamlessly with the underbrush, and she took a moment to appreciate the concealment it offered. In the embrace of the woods, she felt safer—untouched and unseen. It was easier to breathe when she could become one with her surroundings, the soft rustle of leaves soothing a rapid heart. She often preferred this solitude, the quiet spaces where she could gather her thoughts without the weight of scrutiny bearing down on her.

But today felt different. A soft breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it a hint of something unfamiliar—a scent, a sound, perhaps even a presence that stirred her instincts. The hairs along her spine prickled with apprehension, urging her to step out from her hiding place. To run or to stand guard, she did not know.

As she took a tentative step forward, the crack of a twig echoed in the stillness, and she froze, breath hitching in her throat. Her heart raced, and the familiar wave of anxiety washed over her, tightening her chest. Shaking off the urge to retreat, she forced herself to take another step, her voice barely a whisper against the gentle sigh of the forest. “Is anyone there?” The words felt foreign on her tongue. Suddenly, she wished for nothing more than to blend into the shadows once again.

A chuckle echoed through the trees, low and unsettling, like the growl of something dark and half-formed lingering in the underbrush. From the shadows, Lorcan's form coalesced—tall, sinewed, and haunting, his dark pelt blurring into the shadows as if he were born from them.

He took a step closer, though his steps were soundless, only his piercing gaze tracing over the cream-colored female, absorbing her every tremor and hesitation. His smirk curved, dangerously soft.

Careful what you summon, darling, he murmured, his voice a silken hiss. Some of us enjoy the hunt... a bit too much.

The chuckle slithered through the silence, twisting its way into Elowen’s chest and settling there like a shard of ice. Her ears flattened as she whipped her head toward the source of the sound, wide eyes catching on the shadowed form as he stepped from the underbrush. He looked dark as a nightmare pulled from the depths of sleep, his presence melding with the darkness as though he’d been born from it. She felt her heart quicken, each beat a pulse of tension urging her to flee.

The soft venom in his voice cut through the quiet, each word a subtle taunt. Careful what you summon, darling. The endearment slipped through her like poison, setting her nerves alight. She swallowed hard, feeling the tremor rise in her chest, her breaths coming quick and shallow. Every instinct screamed for her to be silent, to melt into the underbrush before he closed the distance between them. But she hated the idea of looking weak, of proving to him that she was the very thing he mocked.

With a delicate but defiant lift of her chin, she managed to find her voice, though it was barely more than a whisper. "I wasn’t… summoning anything." The words tumbled out shakily, her pulse betraying her. She faltered, realizing too late that she had no escape plan, no exit if he chose to close in. 

Gathering what little courage she could muster, she forced herself to hold his gaze, a flicker of defiance sparking within her even as fear prickled along her spine. "Besides," she said, though her voice shook, "you’ll find that I’m… not that easy to catch." It was a bluff—a thin one, frayed at the edges—but it was all she had.

Lorcan's smile curled, serpentine and slow, as he let her words play over him, savoring each shaky note of her voice like a fine vintage. He stepped forward, languid but purposeful, letting the shadows play around him like a cloak, enhancing his aura of quiet menace. The nickname slipped from his lips in a low, velvet murmur.

Oh, my little dove, he drawled, his tone both indulgent and predatory, a hint of humor dancing through his dark eyes. You say you’re not easy to catch, yet here you are, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

He cocked his head, gaze sweeping over her with a deliberate slowness, like a hunter sizing up prey that had wandered right into his snare. Each step forward seemed to shrink the space between them, and he could feel her fear, sharp and electric, saturating the air between them. Yet, she held her ground. Bold, even as her pulse betrayed her, and it intrigued him.

And what’s that little quiver in your voice? he murmured, feigning gentle curiosity as he stalked nearer. Such a delicate tune. If you truly wished to slip away, you would have vanished already, wouldn’t you? He watched her, knowing each word deepened her sense of entrapment, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the chase.

Elowen’s pulse thundered, each heartbeat drumming a warning as the man's voice curled around her like a vice, his tone both mocking and enticing. The nickname felt as sharp as a barb, sinking into her as though he had known exactly where to aim. Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze slid over her, invasive yet deliberate, assessing her trembling form with all the patience of a predator savoring its victory.

The truth of his words stung more than she’d ever admit. She could have bolted; she could have faded back into the shadows, melted into the forest like a ghost. But something rooted her in place—some twisted compulsion, a curiosity mingled with defiance that made her want to face him, even if every instinct begged her to turn and run. "Not all birds fly at the first sign of danger," she replied softly, just barely steadying the tremor in her voice.

"Maybe I just… don’t find you as frightening as you think." Her eyes flicked up to meet his, her defiance flickering like a candle in the wind, fragile but present. Liar. She knew her words were dangerously close to taunting him, knew they held little weight in the face of his silent menace. But pride pushed her forward, forcing her to meet his gaze even as his proximity set her fur on end.

As he continued his approach, the shadows seemed to close in, filling the space between them until the air felt thin and charged. But rather than back down, she held his gaze, swallowing against the tightening in her throat. "And what about you?" she asked, her tone barely above a whisper, steadying herself even as her pulse thundered. "Does it… entertain you to frighten others, or am I just special?" The question was laced with more defiance than she felt, and as it left her lips, she feared she’d overstepped. But her gaze held his with something mixed with curiosity, even as her fear lingered beneath the surface, ready to crack and take flight at the slightest push.

Lorcan’s eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction, like the glint of obsidian catching moonlight. Her trembling resolve fed his twisted sense of delight, a wicked thrill stirring within him as he watched her struggle to stand her ground, to face him with a defiance he found endearing and laughably futile.

He moved forward, a shadow given form, his approach as silent as the fall of night. Her question hung in the air, laced with trembling bravery that he could taste as easily as the sharp scent of her fear. His lips twitched into a slow, predatory smile as he drew close enough to feel her shaky breath warm the cool air between them.

Special indeed, little dove, he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, a soft promise wrapped in danger. He reached out, bringing his muzzle down with exquisite slowness, grazing the edge of her cheek with the barest brush. His breath fanned over her fur, deliberate, intimate, allowing the sensation to linger before pulling back just enough to look into her wide, unsettled eyes.

Fear makes you lovelier, he purred, his tone laced with mockery and intrigue. Her defiance flickered, but he could sense the cracks beneath it. Her pulse beat wildly, a symphony of anxiety and intrigue playing to his every step, her every quickened breath an invitation to take her further into the darkness she dared to confront.

With a glint of amusement, Lorcan circled her, his form slipping in and out of the shadows. He kept her within his reach, his presence pressing down upon her like a raven watching its prey, letting the silence speak for him as he toyed with her courage, savoring every fractured piece of it.

Elowen’s pulse fluttered wildly, each thrum betraying the twisted thrill tightening in her chest. His dark gaze, relentless and piercing, sent shivers along her spine. She wanted to pull away, to reclaim the space between them, but the intensity in his eyes held her fast, binding her as securely as any snare.

His words were a low murmur that slid beneath her skin, making her stomach twist in a way she didn’t fully understand. She swallowed as his muzzle dipped close, grazing her cheek with a softness that felt unbearably intimate. The warmth of his breath stirred the fine hairs along her neck.

It stung, knowing he could see through her defenses, see the way her courage wavered, her fear a thin veil stretched over something strangely inviting. And yet, she couldn’t tear herself away. Not when he looked at her with that dark, knowing amusement, as if her very presence was some game for him to savor. She wanted to bristle, to throw up her defenses and prove him wrong, but she knew deep down that she couldn't. Her greatest folly.

"I’m not—" Her voice barely scraped out, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her own resolve threatened to fracture. "Who are you?" The words were thin, a desperate attempt to change topics and redirect him.

Lorcan's lips curved in a hint of a smile, his expression a finely crafted mask of civility, touched by something darker beneath. He circled her like a raven shadow slipping through dusk, his movements smooth, deliberate, feigning an air of patience as though he had all the time in the world to savor the prize before him. Her question, thin and trembling, only deepened his amusement.

Who am I? he murmured, barely a breath, his voice a dark caress against the tension she held. He leaned in, his gaze brushing over her as if to savor the way her body tensed, the way her eyes darted yet remained caught, unable to break free of his grip.

With an unhurried step, he came around from behind, his form closing the space so subtly, so seamlessly, that she wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. He let his muzzle dip to her side, and with a swift, teasing nip, his teeth grazed the tender skin along her thigh. The touch was feather-light but filled with a possessive, simmering intent. She was indeed a precious thing—rare, trembling with both fear and the thrill of his attention, her pulse a cadence that thrilled him.

Lorcan lingered there, letting her feel his presence, his breath brushing over her skin before he lifted his head, casting her a look rich with feigned courtesy and a glimmer of something far less restrained.

My dear… does it really matter? he murmured, his gaze still holding her fast, knowing full well she wasn’t slipping from his hold anytime soon.

Elowen’s breath hitched, her entire body tightening as his teeth grazed her thigh, the delicate, fleeting touch enough to send a flush of warmth rushing under her fur. She felt her heart leap in response, lips parted in a mix of a yelp and a whimper, an embarrassing and uncontrollable reaction that she could only pray he wouldn’t draw attention to. Her ears twitched backward, craning her head from him.

Elowen’s cheeks burned under her fur, the humiliation of it prickling along her skin. She’d never experienced anything like this, never felt her heart thud quite so wildly from someone else’s touch. It unnerved her how easily he unraveled her defenses, slipping past every wall she tried to keep between them. Compose yourself, she scolded silently.

Her voice was softer now, almost shy, as she finally found the courage to respond, her eyes darting downward even as she tried to hold onto the remnants of her defiance. "It might not matter to you," she murmured, hating how her voice faltered, "but I like to know who I’m dealing with."

Her skin prickled with awareness as his eyes traced her, his amusement evident as he watched her flounder. She couldn’t shake the feeling of his teeth, that soft nip that lingered like a brand, making her want to tuck her tail and retreat. Elowen forced herself to lift her gaze back to his, her heart beating faster as she met his eyes, her own wide and hesitant but defiant. He simply watched her, a predator patiently savoring his prey.

And so she would soften herself further, lilt a single word in his direction. "Please,"

Lorcan’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, his eyes dark and heavy as he watched her. He had felt the shiver that ran through her at his touch, the way her body reacted before her mind could catch up. It was almost too easy, but that only made the game more tantalizing.

He stepped closer, his presence commanding, and for a moment, the air between them thickened with unspoken tension. With a deliberate, languid grace, he let his gaze trail up from the curve of her thigh to her flushed face. His voice, when he spoke, was as smooth as velvet, thick with a dangerous charm.

I suppose it’s only fair, he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, to offer a little of myself in return. He leaned in, his proximity impossible to ignore, each word drawing her deeper into his orbit. Lorcan, he introduced himself, his name a whisper that hung between them like a promise. And you, little dove? What shall I call you?

His gaze never wavered from her, the dark amusement still dancing in his eyes.

Elowen’s heart pounded in her chest, the sound deafening in her own ears as he closed in, suffocating the air between them. The words—Lorcan—wrapped around her like an unfamiliar tune, one she couldn’t shake, though she didn’t quite understand the melody. His presence, so near, left her dizzy, as though everything in her world had been reduced to the intensity of his gaze. She tried to steady herself, but his proximity, his easy control over her space, made it impossible to find her footing.

His warm breath against her ear was like a spark to dry tinder, her body tensing instinctively before she could even process the sensation. She stiffened but didn’t move away. Her skin still burned from the touch of his teeth, but it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable now. There was a strange ease in it, as though she had no choice but to accept that his attention—his presence—was hers to navigate however she would. She wasn't entirely against the concept, not whilst heat unfurled in her belly.

Her breath caught as she realized he was waiting for her, expecting her to answer. "E-Elowen," the girl murmured, the sound barely more than a whisper as a wet nose nudged beneath her chin. She didn’t mind, not really, not if this was all there was to it. After all, there was something easier about it this way, something simpler in simply submitting to the quiet space he held around her.

Lorcan’s smirk deepened as he watched her, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing just beneath her ear as he spoke, his voice smooth like silk.

Elowen, he murmured, tasting her name on his tongue. Tell me, dove, do you always find yourself so... entranced by the unexpected? Or is it just me?

His hand drifted slightly closer to hers, fingers brushing against the edge of her skin, a tantalizing tease that lingered. He watched her intently, a slow, deliberate smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And tell me, he continued, his voice lowering to a near whisper, are you lonely out here? His gaze flickered down to her lips before returning to her eyes, awaiting the answer he knew would come—slow, soft, and perhaps, just a bit reluctant.

The brush of his fingers against her skin sent a ripple of warmth through her, and she instinctively stiffened, allowing him to press that much closer. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of heat flooding her face, the way her heart seemed to race without her permission.

She had no answer at first, no way to explain the way he seemed to pull her under with each word, with each touch. "I don't know," she breathes, daring an awkward laugh, "it doesn't happen often."

"Lonely?" she echoed, her voice small and uncertain, barely more than a breath between them. She didn’t want to admit it, but in the quiet of his presence, she felt the truth seep from her before she could stop it. "I suppose... sometimes."

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Lorcan's grin was slow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in, his fingers still tracing the curve of her skin with a practiced gentleness. His voice was low, smooth, and teasing as he spoke, his breath warm against her ear.

Lonely, you say? He chuckled softly, the sound rich and dark. I can certainly help with that, darling. Not too difficult to make you feel like you're the only one who matters.

His lips brushed just beneath her ear, the tension between them growing thicker with each second. And if it doesn't happen often... he added, his gaze flicking to hers with a knowing glint, I suppose that only makes it all the more enticing, doesn’t it?

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Her eyes darted to his face, catching the knowing glint in his gaze. The awareness in his eyes unsettled her, left her feeling exposed and far too vulnerable, and yet something was thrilling about it, too—something that stirred a fluttering excitement she couldn't quite understand. She wanted to speak, to tell him something—anything—that would break the spell he seemed to have cast over her, but words failed her.

"Enticing?" she repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word escaping her almost without thought. She tried to keep her tone steady, to mask the blush that painted her cheeks, but the way he looked at her—like he knew she had never felt this close to anyone, like he could sense her innocence and found it amusing—made her self-conscious.

She could pretend to be calm, to brush it off with a wry comment or a laugh, but that wasn’t her nature. And perhaps, in some strange, twisted way, she didn’t want to pretend at all. “I… don’t think I’ve ever…” she murmured, hesitating as if saying the words aloud would give them weight—as if he might see her inexperience as something foolish—make her more undesirable than she already thought.

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Lorcan’s gaze softened, taking in the delicate bloom of her blush, the tremor in her voice, and the shy look she wore as if she might retreat at the slightest misstep. He resisted a smirk, careful not to make her feel small or naive. Instead, he lifted a paw, the motion slow and deliberate, brushing her cheek with a gentleness that surprised even him.

Then, allow me to be the one, love, he murmured, his voice a quiet, coaxing drawl that held a promise. No need to rush, nor pretend otherwise. We’ll take it at your pace. There’s no shame in feelin’ uncertain… or curious. His tone was low, velvety, like a secret offered solely for her.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her fur, a glint of playfulness softening his otherwise intense gaze. It’s only natural to want to experience life—every part of it. He paused, savoring the way her eyes searched his own, as if daring her to find herself in him.

fade to black in your next post?

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Elowen felt the world narrow to the point where there was only him—the steady warmth of his presence, the delicate brush of his paw against her cheek, and the quiet promise in his voice. She should have felt wary, maybe even frightened, but instead, a strange calmness settled in, a gentle assurance in his words that softened her resistance.

His tenderness surprised her. It was easy to see the glint of mischief, the darkness simmering beneath his gaze, but here he stood, careful and unhurried, as if willing to wait as long as it took for her to find her own courage. Her breath caught as he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath tickling her fur, igniting something she had only dreamed about, barely even dared to consider.

A soft, almost shy smile touched her lips for a short moment, a rare display of openness as she found herself leaning forward, allowing herself to bask in the moment, to let herself feel without reservation. "Then show me," she whispered, her voice barely audible, an invitation—and acceptance.

It would be a quiet, unspoken understanding, the space between them faded, and she let herself fall into the warmth, trusting him to guide her forward at whatever pace she dared to take.

---

fade to black!

Lorcan stretched, the dark fur along his back bristling in the cool air as he turned his gaze down to Elowen, a sly smile playing at his lips. Well, little dove, he began, voice smooth as silk and edged with a mischievous glint, I’ll be frank—I'm not much for lingering. Never really have been. He tilted his head, studying her with an approving gleam in his eye. There was something appealing in the way she bent so willingly to his whims. Malleable, he thought, and the notion pleased him.

But I’ve got a place to be—Shadow Ridge, he continued, nonchalantly brushing a paw against the earth. Strange company there, a lass named Envy. Odd sort, but I think you’d find it… interesting. He arched a brow, his smirk deepening. You’re welcome to tag along, if you fancy it. I wouldn’t mind having my little dove beside me.

Elowen watched him stretch, admiring the casual, almost languid way he moved, his confidence as effortless as breathing. The cool air prickled along her fur, grounding her as she listened to his invitation, though his words made her heart sink just a little.

He wasn’t one to linger. She shouldn’t have expected him to be. But then came his offer, casual as anything. Shadow Ridge. She’d never heard of it, and there he was, offering her a place beside him, tempting her with the chance to leave her quiet solitude and follow him into the unknown.

Elowen hesitated, the soft light in her eyes flickering as she looked away, uncertainty in the set of her jaw. She should decline, return to her life as it was before. Safe, simple. Yet the idea of staying behind, watching him disappear into the shadows without her, tightened her chest with a pang she didn’t quite understand.

“If… if you’re certain you don’t mind the company,” she said softly, a hesitant smile touching her lips. “Then… I’ll come.”

Lorcan’s smile was slow, predatory in its charm as he leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. His voice was a smooth whisper against her ear.

Good girl, he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. The shadows will welcome you, Elowen. Come, and I’ll show you where you truly belong.

He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with a promise of things to come, and with a gesture, beckoned her to follow, the darkness drawing them both in.

Elowen’s heart fluttered wildly as his words wrapped around her like a silk ribbon. The warmth of his kiss lingered on her cheek, a spark in the chill air, and for a brief, dizzying moment, she felt as though she were truly seen, truly wanted. A temporary thing, one that would leave before the next moon, but she'd welcome it all the same.

She nodded, swallowing her hesitation as she took the first step to follow him.  She let herself fall into his shadow, the world narrowing down to just the two of them as she slipped into the darkness by his side.