Tormented Tarns footprints on the sand

All moisture had left his body. His throat tightened, mouth ran dry, and his eyes began to burn. He found himself hungered in a definition apart from what he had ever meant before. His chest rose and fell heavily--a man holding onto himself only by a strand.

For a moment it could be him and her. Alone.

He needed help. He needed to get away. He was in danger.

His eyes blinked drunkenly as she whispered a greeting. Her body melding to his own and he stayed for the ride. He was in a trance. Her fur entangles with his own and he dropped his head to touch her back. If he could just--No.

Collision shook his head and staggered back. He glanced to the side sheepishly. She wasn't his. He was not hers. This was not his card to play.

But wasn't it? Wasn't this exactly the role of a man? To offer the assurance that their species continued. Then the role of the mother to protect that brood until they could stand on their own against the world.

Collision needed more, "I--can't," He muttered the words barely loud enough to hear. Restraining himself, "You're more than a one night stand and a single-mom-to-be," The male held women in high regard. More importantly...he held the mother of his children in high regard. He couldn't father children that he would not raise. By a woman that could dance into oblivion--for him to never know.