Swiftcurrent Creek [m] half a mind that keeps the other second guessing

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: heavy suggestion, more insecurity, #justgirlythings

 

It is now that Wren begins to wonder if she'd accidentally somehow joined a sex cult. Since the formation of the Valley packs? She is silent after that, save for the shallow sighs that struggle to regulate themselves. 
So this is what Arric meant when he said sharing, was it? 
Quivering, her paces come to a halt as what little space between them that remained dwindles. She is so weak, in this moment, and maybe Silvertongue knows this, because the lilt of her voice and that simple question that dances between Wren's ears is making them ring. Right now, Wren is no woman. 
The push and pull of emotions has devolved into something primal before she can even realize what's happening. Body against body, black lips pressing against a feathered neck, if she were to accept it. A growl is caught in her throat and released between clenched teeth. And breathlessly, darkly; God, yes, I do.