Sleepy Fox Hollow teenage orgasm

all welcome!

Nearly a month had come and gone since the last time Fiona had bid her temporary farewell to Prowler. She busied her days filling caches, making note of useful herbal plants in the area, and digging herself a den. She patrolled the borders when she was not busy doing all that, and made sure that she was putting in the work @Anselm and @Etienne so clearly demanded of her. Fiona worked tirelessly and slept hard each night.

Today, she stalked a gopher, driven out of its underground habitat by hunger or some other reason. They were ugly things with large buck teeth, but at least they weren't particularly smart or swift. This one did not hear Fiona coming, and soon the witch lay teeth upon it, pouncing and snapping its neck in one swift movement.

Anselm skulked back to the hollow, a burning in his chest.

That he had set his teeth in another was of little consequence -- he felt no better.

Somewhere nearby, he caught the scent of Fiona. Since her induction to the fold, he had seen little of her. A good thing, considering how irritable he was as of late.

He caught her on the tail end of an execution. While his eyes were upon her, it was his nose he was paying most attention to. A change had come to the wilds, and he would not let Fiona be part of its answering chorus.

Movement caught Fiona's eye, and she found Anselm staring at her with those hard eyes of his. His nose twitched, and she wondered a moment if he didn't want her latest catch. Considering the last time she had tried to offer him a gift, he had more or less spat in her face, she doubted it. Still, offering seemed better than trying to play keep-away with him.

It's yours, if you want it.

As far as Anselm could tell, Fiona carried none of the heat-mad scent that clung to Heda. But he knew it would come to her, as it had come to Wylla, and as it had come to the other women in his earlier childhood. He knew too, that it would move men to do maddening things.

While he inspected her, he got the sense she was contemplating him, too. She was graceful -- far more than he as she offered him her fresh kill. He shook his head, face going dark.

I vill tell you this only vonce. Anselm began, a measured growl gurgling deep in his chest. Do not touch him.

He refused the fresh meal. Each time she interacted with him, a new layer of complexity revealed itself. Anselm was like a puzzle that got more difficult the more you began to pull the pieces together. It made no sense that way, but it was. She realized he wore fresh cuts across his face. She had not seen them at first glance, but she also did not let her eyes linger for more than a few seconds on his face.

Had Etienne done this?

Did he cut you? she asked. Did Anselm not wish for her to retaliate against Etienne for causing the injuries? Was that why he told her not to touch him?

Anselm, for all his thinking ahead, did not realize how it looked from the outside. His ears flung forward at the accusation. Vhat? He hissed, wincing as the contortion of his face stung the freshly nettled cuts. No.

He rubbed his tender cheek, exhaling bitterly through a stinging nose. This vas from a stranger.

Caught momentarily off guard, Anselm found his rage slow to return. He'd meant the threat entirely, but now it was misconstrued. He would not let the wind fall out of his sails on this. I meant you vill go in season. When that happens, His gaze cut across her ruthlessly. You vill not touch Etienne. He finished with a show of teeth.

It was the first moment she saw him soften, and she saw not weakness, but something else besides the thick rage that he put out into the world. Until that moment, she had wondered if perhaps there was nothing but anger. He corrected his meaning, and Fiona raised a brow. She had not expected him to be possessive of her childbearing capabilities, but she was not surprised to hear of it. That he wanted her for himself was only natural, considering she would be of age, and he outranked Etienne.

She wanted to say that Etienne did not interest her in the way that Anselm did, but she also did not wish for those flashing teeth to sink into her flesh... even if she sensed they were less threatening now.

Will you let me tend to your cuts? They will fester if you do not wash them properly. She knew those atop his nose he could not properly clean.

Anselm braced for an argument, surprised by the woman’s lack of dissent. He appraised her silently, woefully unaware that each party misunderstood one another. 

In his mind it was settled, then. She now knew he would not tolerate her getting close to Etienne. That was that; this conversation was easier than he anticipated. He remained blissfully unaware she did not realize his motive burned deeper than pure selfishness. 

She offered to tend his wounds. The idea of letting himself be vulnerable repulsed him, so he rose abruptly. No. She may have been here long enough to earn Etienne’s esteem, but Anselm was much harder to win over. Remember vhat I said.

He did not wait for protest. considering this matter settled, Anselm disguised the true extent of his soreness as he made to leave Fiona to her extermination.

He refused, and Fiona wondered how bad he would let it get before he allowed himself treatment. Perhaps he would die of infection. That would certainly be a waste. He was so peculiar, and Fiona was eager to learn more about whatever made him tick. Anselm moved away, and she plucked the gopher from the ground, intending to cache it for another day.