Arrow Lake [m] cool about it
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Conception 

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hoping for an @Etienne!! <3

mother nature had a funny way of sticking her nose where it did not belong. mere days after wren had discussed bearing children with @Silvertongue, her own nerves came alight with the familiar flare of her season. and so an agreement had been made, a promise;
they would do this together.
they set out side by side for the mountains, and at the cusp of twilight they reached the cut of lakewater wedged between the sunspires. they would be gone from riverclan for at least a week.
when they came to a secluded place to rest, wren's paw leapt out in search of the warmth of her wife. y'think any sexy bachelors roam around out here? not that wren would know, decidedly.
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to seek out a man for something only to give, not for the man's sake himself, was a new path for silvertongue. immediately she would have chosen akavir or arric or crowfeather over this. but she did not know how to approach the mayfair, and did not want to seek out his brawny counterpart for fear she would run into the golden-eyed wolf again. and crowfeather — but she had shelved the anguish for this excursion with wren. by now the flames beneath her skin were tangibly hot. her gait had to be adjusted for the missing leg, and when wren spoke, she took the moment to rest, pulling a face at her wife's mention of sexy bachelors. "so long as he does not follow us home, i will be pleased," silvertongue smirked, though for a moment she pondered that perhaps they should choose an attractive man.
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It was with an air of anxiousness. Etienne had set out from home. His paws still hurt, but they were better now. Amazing what rest could do if you let it.

He had heeded requests and found himself quietly roaming without thought or care. Something he didn't often do.

But in doing so, found himself among natures nectar twofold. A call of sirens. A scent men would spill blood for and kill brothers for.

And he felt the familiar swoop of stomach. The ache that began. He was still a man even if a she wolf did not stir his heart. And he was met with two not one. He felt the coating of his throat.

That uneasy disgust he felt when this scent found him. And the crushing guilt after for it wasn't their fault. And shame tenfold for not being normal.
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The season taunted him. While Viinturuth knew he should be committing his time to Swiftcurrent, he could not resist the aroma of a receptive wolfess.

He followed the river upstream, his stride lengthened by purpose. And when the pale wolf happened across not one but two she-wolves, he eased to lift his muzzle and regard them with curiosity.

They were made of silver shades, though there was not much time for the rogue to study them before the scent of another male came wafting his way on the Winter breeze. Viinturuth lashed his tail and averted his gaze, studying the frozen edge of the lake for competition.
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i'll fight 'em off, such was life when one has a beautiful wife anyways, wren supposed. her teeth poke out in a jagged grin. they get one good look atcha before the door smacks 'em on the way out.
there was relief in the anonymity of this, of seeking a nameless — donor. a transaction. wren thought of the last male lover she had taken and of what she may have seen in him. he had been nice enough, gentle enough, until he wasn't, and by that time her path had crossed with silvertongue's. these days she questioned if she had ever truly known what it meant to love someone before her.
and they were not alone for long. wren could feel it breathing down the back of her neck, the sense that there were others here. she swallows and finds that her throat is dry.
if you don't like the look of a guy, just let me know. there's always plenty of other ones. she said it more for herself than anything as a cold wash of fear began to sober her. silvertongue could handle herself; wren began to worry that she could not.
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not wanting any actions to be inimical to their goals, silvertongue resolved within herself to make a game of this. after all, she had been a courtesan. perhaps moreso than wren did she understand how best to please a man, to charm him, to lure him into granting all she wanted while giving nothing. but silvertongue was weary of them; she wanted this over, to be back in riverclan as soon as possible. awareness sharpened, first in one direction and then another; she fought the stickle of her nape and glanced at wren with arched brow, before she let her voice lift in a seductive croon that invited those near to show themselves. her wife would want choices, after all. "if any of them are forceful," silvertongue purred in that same tone, now for wren alone. "they will not go home."
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Etienne frowned in thought when the other male arrived. And though he was no threat to the other males breeding rights. He could understand how it maybe considered he was.

But as much as the man probably disliked him being here. Worry for the femmes in front of him drew him a few paw steps nearer.

You be okay 'ere if I be leavin'. If you not be feelin' safe, i be runnin 'im off.
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Every instinct burned in him to chase other rogue males off, to flag his tail and assert himself. Frustration pulsed through him to at last look upon the competition: a young wolf - a boy - likely inexperienced with the company of she-wolves. Viinturuth fixed him with a silent and unwavering stare, tension keeping him rooted as he considered how best to navigate the situation.

He wanted the women. He wanted to share in their company, and he wanted them for himself.

Only if they wanted him, too.

Despite the irritation he felt at the proximity of male competition, however, he was unwilling to fight. He blinked, breathed deep; seeing the youth veer their way, his nostrils flared and he pressed forward too. Viinturuth lurked, a pallid ear cocked to catch the remark about "running him off". He grit his fangs, fought the urge to scoff. There's no need for hostility, he announced, pausing at a distance where he felt safe from any who might lunge his way. Burgundy eyes flitted between the trio. The she-wolves had each other, and he did not regard them with sympathy because together they were not vulnerable. He settled his dark gaze on the silvered pair. If you want, I'll stay. If you'd rather I didn't, I will go.
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two men, two; they came to the newlyweds like vultures, and wren felt something flare in the recesses of her stomach. but neither were insistent, both were handsome, and the best part of all was that she did not recognize them.
she gestures first to herself, and then to silvertongue with a swoop of her head. both of us, or neither. it took only her wife's approval now.
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the first to approach was a young man, hardly more than a boy. polite, with a fetching accent, he exhibited none of the usual grasping masculinity which accompanied such scenes. this she liked. the second was undeniably a man, and in his prime, with a pretty coat and an appealing voice. wren gestured and silvertongue sidled forward to exchange breath first with the boy, and then the man. but when she took his scent, it made for her the decision, at least one. the older of the pair was a perfect stranger to her, but the valley and the creek were wound to his pelt. he would be far too close should their paths cross again, and there was a high chance of that given the proximity of their packs. and this younger man; would he even know what to do? silvertongue supposed he could be taught. her body moved against that of wren, and their eyes met in silent communion.
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Etienne furrowed a brow at the man. Whose bein' 'ostile. Dere be no denying women get all kind unwanted advances durin' dis time. I be askin' dem dey feel safe. Dat is all.

He shook his head. But froze when the smaller one came forward into his space. He blinked surprised, but didn't move.

Wait, wait a minute. Did she think? That he would? Oh lord. He took a breath and another, but their scent filtered in and it made his pelt itchy. He couldn't and yet he briefly wondered if they were like his granmes, but was to shy to ask.
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The boy's confidence was admirable, though Viinturuth doubted his intentions to be pure. He blinked down at him with a cool stare, certain in his mind that the young rogue felt the same possessive urge as he himself did. It was the nature of a bachelor to seek the company of receptive females and as he dismissed the boy with a disinterested sweep of a rugged ear, his attention shifted to look toward the she-wolves in quiet expectation. He was willing and keen to involve himself with them, yet neither gave voice to their wants.

He waited, allowing the wolfess with lovely eyes to move in closer to investigate. Viinturuth inhaled deep her aroma and her proximity set his skin aflame. To her he rumbled a low sound, willing them to choose him.
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wren made her own moves, at first leaning toward the grizzled man and then extending herself to the boy. it was strange, getting so close to another. primal. nothing at all like what existed between she and silvertongue.
she notices the glimmer in her wife's eye that lingers on the boy, the one smelling of cedarwood and salt. but he is nervous. unwilling, it seemed, almost. was he only going to waste their time?
the elder one reminded her, strangely, of akavir. he smells of freshwater and pinesap, and when a pang of recognition should have hit her, she chose to bite it down. he offers an eager rumble and wren follows with a press of her nose to his cheek.
one arm slinks over the shoulder of her wife, and a longing, hungry gaze flicks between both men. do not make me wait. do not make me regret this.
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whatever awareness silvertongue felt wren should have, her wife did not. perhaps it had dimmed beneath the urgency of the season. to her knowledge wren had not felt the near desperate compulsion toward akavir shared by the sharpfang; it was only this that formed a sort of aversion for her toward the man. she was paranoid, somehow, that he would tell akavir. that — no. silvertongue forced herself to consider only his handsome lines and the compelling sound grating low in his throat, and when wren included the boy in her final regard, silvertongue finally pushed away the last of her misgivings. "you have not been with a woman before, have you, chamaco?" she purred, touching her tonguetip to one of the younger's earlobes; "suppose i teach you, ready you for my wife," and now she looked to the other lady aquilanera for assurance, a mischievous bloom on her mouth. the pale man was given another approving once-over, but she had not yet decided if she would overcome her hesitance to couple with him as well. so long as they both shared one of these men, their goal would be fulfilled, and her glassblue eyes moved sibilant between the other three as if for final confirmation of their involvement.
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Etienne felt a sharp sense of ill will eeking from both the man and the one woman. Perhaps it was impatience, but he hadn't entirely wanted this day to include frolicking with women. And he was about to leave when the other said wife and a small feeling of gentleness unfurled in his chest.

He gave a soft chkchk in his throat. I 'ave not nor 'ave I wanted too. My tastes lie elsew'ere. But you be like my family wit' wives. I will 'elp you. But must be taug't.

He saw no reason to be ashamed of his lack of experience. And though he didn't want them to be rude of his sexuality. He still held his head high. Despite the small sense of shame.

And he would help them. He would just need to imagine an entirely different scenario. And he was lucky to have a very active imagination.
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Viinturuth lifted his dark eyes to regard the larger of the two she-wolves, curious as she moved to step his way. He tilted his chin, allowing her to inspect him. His tail gave an eager sweep at the air and he reached to test the scent of her too. Whatever interaction the other wolfess initiated with the boy was drowned out, lost to him; his focus was on the way he was touched. He assumed it to be acceptance, and his body thrummed with anticipation.

He emitted another low sound and inched closer, tentative should he have misunderstood, yet eager to begin.
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by now wren's misgivings were all but thrown to the wind. the purl of her wife brought a surge of red heat to even the darkest corners of her body, and for a long, lingering moment she could not focus on anyone else.
the admittance from the younger man brought her back to the present, and for him a knowing, teasing grin crossed her features. she now leans toward his open ear to whisper, between you and me, so do mine.
if it had been possible, wren would do it herself; watch her wife grow round with her young. bitterness raged within her at the reminder that this was necessary, and so henceforth came her decision; both of them. she would have both of them, as would silvertongue. but first, for her, came the eager man with the darkened eyes.
her back arches as she presses herself to his chest, and from her throat came a low, crooning signal. the brown eyes told the nervous boy that she would be ready for him, too; that she would pick up where her wife left off.
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ah — her eyes brightened. he was like them, like she and her wife, and this sweetened silvertongue on the handsome young dancer, more than he knew. in affection she reached to trail her teeth in a sharp hot nip along wren's flank, grinning slyly; and then they spun to their respective companions and she filled her ears with each sound the pale man might manage to unwind from the sinuous long throat of the woman she adored; and the sharpfang herself set to complete focus on the pretty one with the accented tongue. she woke them both with slow touches, pausing if it seemed he was hesitant, encouraging otherwise; suggestive, now, that he allow his eyes to watch only the other man, for silvertongue would not be parted from wren's presence and did not think her wife would allow it otherwise; perhaps such visions might be instrumental, useful, until the embrace was at last true. she would take him through the most sensual of her practices, for though it was not her nor her body he wanted, it should at least be memorable in sensation, or so she believed.

***

wholly enlivened, wakened, warmed, silvertongue kept the lovely other close afterward, if he wished, allowing him to set the terms of their contact until wren had turned back to her, and laughingly — ah! they passed one another with a heated kiss, and now she set her eyes on the pale man and teased him with an arch of her brow, a brazen wetting of his lips with her tonguetip, a gentle laugh as if to ask if he needed another moment to collect himself.
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She understood and like a good pupil he took her ministrations and lesson to heart. Though she burned fire along his body and spine. He thought only of a cool mountain stream. The cool snow of winter frost on mountain top. Immovable. Sensational. Sunrise eyes.

She swung him to watch the other man so she could watch her wife and he smiled sweetly at their love. Etienne did not find joy exactly in this coupling. A sense of relief. And where most men would be hard and demanding at times. Etienne was gentle in his touches, hesitant and unsure, but hoping to help the two wives. Hoping he learned enough to at least make her feel good even if her were clumsy and he didn't feel right.

Once he panted quietly beside the one with lilting language. Then he would meet the other Wren in the instinctual dance. Only providing what they couldn't provide each other, but not asking for anything in return. This was his gift to the two wives. So they could have what his granmes had.
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The world around them blurred, Viinturuth's focus only for the she-wolf who'd so willingly presented herself. He moved to embrace her with more confidence as she pressed herself against his chest, reaching to gather her waist into the circle of his strong forelimbs. Viinturuth leaned into her with a shuddering breath, hot among the rugged guard hairs of her nape. He enjoyed her, every sensation she provided, and worked hard to make her realise that her decision to choose him was worthwhile.

When their dance was over, he mouthed at her flank with a crooning note - though was quick to become aware of clearwater eyes upon his hide. The silver wolfess had not seemed as eager to choose him as her companion before, but perhaps she'd been spurred by the caress of her inexperienced young lover. He gazed right back with bedroom eyes, the sweep of his tongue over a canine enough to communicate his intentions. She tasted him with a snaking tongue and the fire within him burned brighter.

Viinturuth was more careful with her, aware suddenly of the absence of a limb that could unsteady her, though as they began he was no less passionate. He growled his satisfaction into the space between her shoulder blades, encouraged her pleasure to mount with his own, and by the conclusion of their coupling he was warmed and content.

Never before had he enjoyed the company of two she-wolves, so he would linger for as long as they would accept his company. Viinturuth was more than willing to share his body again if they so desired, and he flitted his burgundy gaze between them to determine whether they wished for him to remain.
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the pale man was sensual in his ministrations, rough in all the right ways and gentle in others. wren's darkened gaze never once leaves the warm face of her wife in the hopes that she will like what she sees. burning, ravenous; mouth dry and thighs quaking; but by the time he parts from her and moves toward silvertongue, she is more than ready to tend to the inexperienced boy.
it became more for his pleasure than hers when she turns to the blond, moulding him and shaping him in her hand; biting with a sharp nip that is then soothed with a kiss. for his sake, she hopes that perhaps she looks enough of the part for him to gain real enjoyment from it.

in the haze of afterglow, wren is eager to return to the side of her wife. a nip to her ear, her jaw, her neck; a wordless love letter that says i will do for you what men cannot once we are alone. she makes it known that only she is allowed to be tender with her; that she is her home, and that, as promised, from here on they may only look and bask in her glimmering beauty if they wish to linger.
but a careful look is reserved only for the shy boy, the one who the wives felt a camaraderie with. she gives him a small, playful grin that says thank you.
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the man was practiced in a way the boy was not, and his pelt was thickly scented with wren, pooling heat in syrupy sensation along her belly. his rumbling tones vibrated the delicacy of her wanting flesh, and it was with her own zeal that she moved serpentine before him, back into his embrace. much as she had done with the pretty dancer, silvertongue took the ivory man through the pleasant, deeply satisfying convolutions of body and muscle which came to her almost through memory, hoping to bestow a series of memorable moments. she had watched wren; now she watched again, simmering. the man's breath scorched her hackles as the silver wolf thrummed beneath him. he did not need her guidance; she felt the care with which the stranger treated her, and her enjoyment of it was clear.

***

the pale man was pleased, eager to remain. but silvertongue rejoined her wife, turning into the kiss, the caress, with a sharp and audible intake of breath, eyes darkened with a desire that burned only for wren. and like her mate, she too grinned toward the young male who had so pleased the pair of sapphics, though for the alabaster man her eyes leveled in silent approval of how he too had twined with them. she was ready to be gone; time would tell whether or not they might be given new life, but silvertongue was rather sure that the efforts on the parts of all four would bring forth fruit.
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answering this one so you can start with preggo threads.

Etienne moved away from them all once they were satisfied. He didn't ask for names or where they lived. He would disappear into obscurity as he had shown up. Find a lake or a river to wash the scent off, because though he had been pleased he had made them happy. A part of him was truly not okay with it. Moore proof that he was not into women at all. But that was okay.

He made sure to offer a smile and well wishes. Before he stepped into the shadows amd dispersed.
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Concluding here :)

The other male was ready to leave and moved swiftly from the area, vanishing from sight. Viinturuth watched him go on his gangly limbs, feeling some sense of superiority. He wondered if the boy was even of an age to reproduce, and felt confident that his own seed would give these she-wolves the litters they so desired.

His dark eyes returned to them, watching with interest as they leaned into one another's embrace. There was love between the duo, passion and appreciation. It stirred something within Viinturuth, who clung to his independence yet often wondered if he could ever find it in him to settle.

He stayed for a short while, tired but keen to shield the others from any brute who might try his luck. When it became clear that his presence was no longer required the ranger moved on, content to have participated.