Nova Peak pou mwen ou fè pati

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: backdated to jan 18, final heat thread <3

the fight with the man had left mireille bruised and torn, but she had invited the fight. proudly she returned with the marks of the bites upon her, as she had done the first time. 
the first time, she had sought as many lovers as could sate her; the second, mireille knew she did not need to be gone so long, for there was one embrace yet to enjoy, saved for the last and the longest pleasure.
she washed her body in alpine streams and let her body call its longing cry upon the winds which would lift to sapphique. she did not call; she was assured @Val would find her in his time.

a new scent climbed into the wind, signalling more than any words could. val turned and pursued, his lean limbs carrying him up split stone and splintered shale.

an alpine stream; he found her draped across a bed of gravel, cinnamon fur fanning out against stones of mute grey and riverwashed ash. while he understood his role to play in sapphique and his duty to her, in that moment his heart burned -- for he realized he missed her presence in sapphique these last weeks more than he ever dared utter.

he reached for her with a gentle kiss. while you were gone, you had a visitor. he pulled away just long enough to graze the velvet of her ear, pausing as he realized a new brand of bite marks along her body. his blood chilled as he paused, this time riled with a different kind of anger. who did this to you?

mireille graced val with a small chuckle, leaning into his touch, his care, his embrace; "a man tried to make me his. he will live wit de marks of my teeth on him," the obsidian purred against the curve of his dark throat.
a visitor? "who came for me?" mireille asked, curious despite herself; she cast her tongue against the smoothness of one ear and folded herself closer to val with a little shiver of anticipation.
out of them all, he pleased her the most, and with the most consistency.

had he heard this before?

this world mireille stepped into when she left sapphique -- it worried him for the pack's daughters. what kind of world was this, where a man tried to make a woman his?

he shivered. whether it was the unsettling thought of a man upon her (or any daughter), or whether it was the gentle administration of her touch - val could not say -- but he leaned into it, finding himself alight with longing.

he was silent for a while, pulled into troubling thoughts. javelina -- druid. she said she is out by rivenwood, and that you should visit if the urge compels you. he pulled her close in a hug, breathing in the warmth of her flesh. mireille. if you keep coming home with scars, i will have to find this man myself. a half-joke, but the glint in his eye spoke of a strange kind of sadness.

this world was not safe for women.

javelina — druid. druid, mireille remembered, brightening with the memory of herself as a girl, galloping alongside caribou with druid and heda. it pleased her to think the woman was alive and well, and she marked the location in her mind.
val was roused for her; she saw the emotion in his eyes and warmed to it, heating beneath this display of care for her. not possession, but guardianship. "women of de sea wear scars," she murmured, nuzzling into his throat; "an' t'ere be no one man i return to."
he was gone, disappeared;
a smile curved her mouth, and she met val's eyes with a softness reserved only for him.
"except you."

val understood, but it did not mean he'd made his peace with the concept.

his tension unraveled as she pressed against him, sending a reverberation of excitement down his skin where she'd touched him. he wanted that feeling; he chased that feeling -- extending his muzzle along the soft arch of her neck in turn. she returned to him. this was all val could ask for.

a low rumble left his throat, but he said nothing in return as he reached for her.

val! 
even if she could not say the words, or would not, mireille loved him in many ways. for the second year now, val had marked her return to sapphique, to the seawater cleansing that awaited her body, for the anticipation of ripening flanks growing again with children.
val represented to mireille what men chose not to be: protective, kind, loyal, with an undercurrent of ferocity which ran through him as if it were a vein of gold in an ageless stone.
for this, for more, the aventurine saw more abandon in the obsidian than she shared with any other man. mireille was almost pleased for val to lead them once they both could wait no longer. the pleasure which foamed beneath all of her skin as if they were the long breakers upon the shoreline brought her to an euphoric, lingering end.
she lay thereafter with val in in the shadow of the mountain, her panting soft, her delight in him near overwhelming. all her senses were awash with him, and mireille treasured the feeling.

even after all this time, val prepared for rebuke. perhaps it was the less confident side of him that marveled and disbelieved someone like mireille would have him; perhaps it was the side of him that believed he was undeserving.

the pair moved off, rejoining as was their yearly custom. in these moments val’s skin rippled with fire, his senses heightened as he was consumed entirely by mireille — and for a long time after he basked in the golden afterglow that was her fierce aura.

she was the river, and he the stone — she might wander, but she always returned home.