Stavanger Bay Just call [m]e shameless

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It was not safe to be anywhere, which her time at the plateau proved to her. Sanja was on the move; a ribbon of pheromones carried by the sea around her, and there was nothing she could do about it. The scent grew heavier as the days progressed.
Sanja stopped to regard the world around herself: hot sky, hot sand, hot skin; her mind buzzed with cravings of the physical variety, but she sought distractions for herself.
There was the unmistakable musk of other wolves, which sparked intrigue as well as anxiety within her. As she picked her way carefully along the beach Sanja listened to the crashing of the waves, but kept an eye out for danger, thankful for the open space.

With Trepidation and pain, Gunnar followed the scent left by shewolf. It felt fateful and put him at ease that she had sought shelter where his family once had lived. He hadn't taken stock of his injuries yet, something he knew better than, but he was more worried about the she wolf, she had run away so scared. 

The youth had tried to take what wasn't his and that had set so wrong with Gunnar. He had remembered how his mother had told him of what his grandmother had gone through, what some slaves of some vikings went through and that alone had filled him with such ire, it was not even funny.

Finally, limping he caught up to her. He chuffed gently not wishing to scare her, and he stayed upwind from her. Her scent was doing a number on his psyche, even for one as calm as he usually was. He had always went away from femme's in heat not towards, and like all other males. He felt the pull, but he kept himself in check.

After witnessing some of the fight she had taken off, and so when the scent of one combatant came to her she stopped and stared. Sanja looked for signs of danger everywhere now.

It wasn't the shadow. It was the grizzled older man, bloody, limping. Hurt on her behalf. A sense of overwhelming guilt filled Sanja and she moved to meet him.

Taking careful stock of his wounds, she moved around him with an air of caution and welcome simultaneously - tail waving, spreading pheromones.

You saved me. Why? She asked in their shared language; a part of her was forever endeared to this man for his aid, but she did not understand his motivation.

Gunnar quit moving. He hadn't wished to frighten her. So he stood stock still when she realized he was there.

At each wave of her tail, his muscles tightened, and his good sense warred with his instincts. It was now he realized how and what his father had done for his mother that one time with Nerian. He had heard whispers and then put two and two together, and his father had never hidden it. His father had truly loved his mother, for not giving in. He wished she was still alive so he could make her understand.

Her next question drew him pause, gentle on her tongue, in his father's language. Because no one deserves to be taken by force, despite instincts or longing. You deserve more.

They were of the same mind.
Her eyes lingered upon his bloody chin. She had seen a tooth fly free during the scuffle and now knew whose it was; pieces of this man scattered like sand.

Her attention was tender. She moved closer, daring herself, and softly cleaned the space - cautious in case it hurt, and bold to try and help.

I wish there was something I could do. You're hurt. It was not pity in her voice, it was appreciation.

Being so close to him was dangerous. She felt the nagging desire of her body getting worse. She realizes her intrusion to his space in that moment and draws away.

Gunnar shifted as her eyes found the bloody maw. It was one of the less fearsome wounds, but again he had yet to fully stock and fix. He wasn't bleeding out that he saw, though that may have been due to his long fur. It was nothing, he would do it again, let his body lie and decay if she had a chance to get away.

Her close proximity played roulette with his brain and his instinct and his body. One after the other and over again, the neurons, nerves, thoughts fired. Over and over again. She was so close. He looked towards the sky. Frigga and Freya were surely laughing at him. No one won against lust or love no one, he had avoided it for years, and this was a lesson from the two viking goddesses that they could not be ignored.

You're alive, and unused. That is enough for me.

Unused.
She was struck by how he phrased it.

Sanja thought about how she had used him in her bid to escape. It hadn't felt wrong at the time; now, seeing how injured he had become over someone he did not know, fed the spark that she had been trying to tamper down.

He was strong. He had fought someone young and volatile and he was here, not left dying in the wilderness. His language was her own. A protector, her protector.

Reaching again to clean a wound, this time she lightly grazed his striated coat and dared to draw quite close. He smelled of dry blood and musk, which kindled a fire in her belly.

You could use me, Sanja offered carefully, unable to look at him now. Her face felt warm; all of her did, if she thought about it. But she didn't care for thoughts as she let the feelings burn.

He hadn't meant it to sound as crass as it had. But he couldn't unsay.

Gunnar didn't mind what he had done. He was a viking son. His body was a tool an instrument. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't opened a door to something that had lain dormant. He had always liked a good scuffle.

Gunnar's father had given him a job years ago. Protect your mother, your sisters, the pack. But it was all gone now. But the job remained.

Her touch burned. Goddesses did it burn. He was unsure if he even could or should his mind fighting to control age old instinct.

Gunnars eyes went wide. Thats a dangerous offer. I..er... his fight died on his tongue. He could, she had offered, but it felt wrong. He took a moment to study her.

Is that what you want or need? Though he was unsure, if this is ehat the girl needed to feel better he would offer the small comfort. Though who was really getting the better deal. He studied her unsure.

He was going to refuse. She wanted something to remedy her situation and knew it couldn't have been the shadow, or the strange shaggy man, and now this wisened warrior was here with her. It was fated; or she was desperate, but either way...

I... Need, yes, I need this. I want this. The sea growled beyond them with white noise. She hoped it would drown out the pleading note within her voice.

Gunnar had every intention of refusing. As he had refused before. Though he had never been this close. Always going the other way. And though he opened his maw to refuse the words wouldn't come. His body was tired, his mind too and he was tired of fighting instinct.

The sea growled her approval and the goddesses laughed as Gunnar tentatively leaned forward and ran a muzzle along her neck and shoulder line. It was instinct that drove him now, primal, old and he nipped gently at the juncture of her shoulder and began a slow circle. He would pull her into age old dance and question his sanity later.

This was not the first time Sanja had endured the affections of a man, but it would be different this time. He was older than any partner Sanja had sought, plus, she had only ever wanted the physicality before - and now, something else possessed her.

She sought forgiveness for his injuries; calling upon spirits she barely believed in. A quelling of her lust. To offer herself like this was garish (her mother would be proud) for she was no prize to be won, but he had saved her, and so she felt a debt owed.

When he steadied himself she braced, then their dance began together, and Sanja realized she did not even know his name; but in time she would forget, and their time together would cease.