Firefly Ravine (m) who says I like right angles?

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Innuendo!

It would be over soon.

There was still so much desire within her, but as she left the cliffs Sanja thought, it could not last forever! It would ebb away from her and she would be safe again, and in control.

She crossed a meadow and for a time there was peace to her spirit; running wild across the open space, until she could go no further.

The ravine blocked her path. She paced along the edge like a caged zoo animal. The journey had taken her far and now she did not know where to turn or what to do.

A woman.

Distracting and crass. Here near his claim with her fire scent on the breeze. His nostrils flared, sharp and heavy red eyes watching her. She behaved like a frenzied beast.

It was against better judgement but he approached. The only thing he would offer, as he stalked along the ravine towards her, was a lowly rumble.

The chasm spread before her, lined with teeth made of ancient trees, deep-set against crumbling paths.

There was a howling in the depths. The wind journeyed through the ravine and where it hit the wall she stood upon, gasped over her. Eddies of air caught the brown mantle of her shoulders.

The only other sound was a rumbling. Sanja did not think much of it, and did not look until she felt a preternatural raising of the hairs at the back of her neck.

There! A man - drawn by her yearning, no doubt. She watched him carefully, quelled for a time.

He felt a creeping of sin at his nape. Just as she crept along the edge of stone and —

He inhaled deeply, this the only pleasure he was sure he would allow himself. Her green eyes against him felt horribly, horribly wrong.

Briefly his head turned to look over his shoulder, wondering if another might be there. Augur might be drawn, he thought. But so far it is only them and he does not know if this is for the better or worse. He stayed on his course of approach, slowing down the closer he got. Mindful that her scent did not remove the threat of teeth or claws.

Would she stay or go?

He came closer and she became more guarded.

Her ears turned to track the sounds of his movement and to listen in case he spoke; he could have been from a clan like her own, or like the old man from before (Gunnar).

A part of her wondered if that would matter. He looked healthy regardless of origin. Strong. She could not take her eyes off of him.

Neither could Sanja will herself to move. She wanted him so much closer.

He could not bring himself to speak to her. None of the usual aloof questions he prodded strangers with.

He wondered if she had seen the men of the Rise already, if she knew very well what her presence did and if she was a serpent come to sneak through their grass. What did it matter? He had already stepped into the viper pit if so.

If still not chased, he would stop a few feet from her. Testing the air once more, rumbling something meaningless. His head would dip below his shoulders, hackles prickled only from the mere overstimulation than any aggression.

He was without voice. Sanja appreciated the silence, and him, all the more. Perhaps he did not know the same language she did, but it did not matter; his body spoke for him and she understood that more than anything.

There was a rising tension in her shoulders as the man drew closer, a vague fear, but he was careful. He did not crowd or covet. She drew a breath and found a tangle of scents upon him.

Curiosity sparked and Sanja tentatively closed the gap. She moved to extend her neck and run her nose across his fur, barely, and to taste the air around his face.

Finding nothing amiss, her tail sways with cautious optimism.

Danger, his mind screamed.

Exhilaration, his body whisper.

Sooner than he knew she was upon him, but not in the way he thought. She did not graze him with teeth or tear with claws. Her nose brushed his fur and he found himself unintentionally posturing, as if she might need see more of him.

The sway of her tail his sign of approval.

He sought to test her patience with him further. Lowering himself and hoping to sniff her closely in the same fashion she had him.

Some warm rumble of invitation in the depths of his throat.

This dance seemed so much more tactful than his last.

They study one-another.

What might he find? The seasalt in her coat, the sweetness of maple, maybe fading notes of others. The old man, the angry shadow.

He smells... sweet. Sanja cannot place why it is a familiar scent that pulls at her core; it is wholly out-of-place for such a rugged looking man. Milk?

Her scent is stronger. The yearning returns suddenly and as she feels the need for him closer, closer - she hums an invitation for his ears only.

Her scent tells everything and nothing, all at once. No one staple scent clings to her, but he can smell the ocean.

His heart ached in a wordless way.

An invitation, a soft hum. There is the knowledge that he should not, but there is the thrumming instinct in his blood. A warrior, a brute, a Berserkr.

It was not his place to deny her anymore. He would offer her one more tentative moment, respectful of her decision to welcome him or turn him away at a last thought.

He did not appear wholly receptive at first. Conflicted maybe, over something she could not fathom, and Sanja's skin burned all the more for the delay.

She reached again for the hang of his fur and lightly clipped at it with her teeth, not enough to graze skin but to earn a taste, to show her growing impatience.

While he gave her a moment to reconsider, Sanja caressed him this way. She was no longer herself; the lust of recent days had overpowered all sense.

can either be a fade or time skip!

Her touch sealed it.

A nice ribbon around his bad decisions.

He would embrace her without second thought. Perhaps, if he warped his mind enough, he could convince himself this was for good. It was better it was him to be distracted than one of his soldiers or hunters.

It was better he took the fall.