Firefly Glen a cathedral

lorcan trots through the glen, the rabbit swinging limply from his jaws. a prize for @Envy. he's kept her fed over the last seven days of their journey from mountain ridge to valley, unbeknownst to her seeking to fatten her up for the winter.

the valley stretches quiet around him, frost clinging to the grass like a thin veil. the mountains are gone, the land flattening into softer curves, but still—it’s never enough. never satisfying.

he slows, scenting the air. his ears flick forward, his golden eye narrowing as he sets the rabbit down with a soft thud. thick paws step over it, sinking into the mush of snow and ice melt. the blood-scent of his prize mingles in the frost-bitten air.

his gaze slices over the evening horizon, cutting like a seasoned blade. his chest, shoulders, flanks rise and fall with the ease of his breathing. it's still. quiet.

serene.

elowen lingered at the mouth of an abandoned den, paws curled neatly beneath her body. her breath curls in soft tendrils against the cold, catching in her throat when she spots him—lorcan, standing there with the rabbit. her chest tightens.

she doesn't move closer, not yet. just watches. the way his frame cuts against the dying light, the way he claims the space like it's his own. the way everything about him feels effortless. a sharp pang twists through her, something she doesn't want to name.

it’s silly, she thinks, bitterly, that her gaze keeps slipping to the rabbit. it’s not like she’s starving; she’s fine. she’s been fine. but it’s the care behind it, the thought—directed somewhere else. not hers. never hers.

her ears pin back slightly, her tail low. she clears her throat quietly, enough to announce herself, though her voice, when it comes, is soft. subdued. 

"good hunt?" her gaze flicks to the horizon, then back to him, though she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. "envy’s lucky."

lorcan stiffens when he hears her.

golden eyes snapping toward the den’s mouth where she lingers. the rabbit lays limp at his paws, but his attention shifts fully to her.

elowen.

dove.

she followed him here. followed envy. it doesn’t surprise him—he’d scented her trail days ago, faint but unmistakable. he just didn’t care to address it until now.

dove, he greets, his tone low and edged, but not unkind. the faintest curl of his lip hints at amusement, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he doesn’t move toward her, doesn’t claim the space between them. she’s watching him like she’s waiting for something, but lorcan offers nothing easy. never does.

you’ve been keepin’ up, his voice is smooth as velvet, droning on. at mention of envy, he offers only the flick of a wretched ear. nah, he hums. envy won't miss it. you hungry? with a single paw, he hooks it beneath the warm carcass and slowly pushes it in the direction of miss elowen. his own hungry eyes settle on her, steam-rolling across her. instead, he gestures toward the rabbit with a small tilt of his head.

winter’s coming, dove. gotta keep your strength.

elowen stiffens too, though it’s less of a choice and more of an instinct. she doesn’t retreat, but she doesn’t move forward either. she stands there, a quiet tension drawing the space between them taut. his gaze sweeps over her, and she feels it like heat, though she keeps her eyes trained on the ground instead of meeting his. she doesn’t want him to see what’s there—whatever it is she’s trying to hide.

she was always hiding something, though. dismissive and timid, through and through. "been okay," she murmurs, her voice softer than before, like she’s saying it more to herself than to him. there’s an ache somewhere deep, but it’s so subtle, she could almost ignore it. almost. "you don’t have to…"

but then he offers it to her—gently, almost carefully, though she knows he’s not really the type to be careful. she blinks, once, twice, as if the offer might disappear if she doesn’t look at it long enough.

it stings a little more than she expected. hunger? she wasn’t sure what she felt anymore—hunger, jealousy, or something else entirely—but it gnawed at her all the same. her gaze flicks from the rabbit to his face, and she can’t tell if he’s truly offering it out of kindness, or simply because it’s easier than answering whatever’s passing between them. the way the words hang between them, cold like the glen itself. the distance distance—growing, growing still.

the girl chuffs. she's half tempted to decline, push it from her from mere spite, but the rumble of her stomach forces her paw. when he nudges it closer, she drags it closer by the ear to rest it at her paws.

elowen hesitates, her weight shifting awkwardly on her paws. her head dips slightly, shy and unsure. she’s quiet for a moment, the silence stretching, until she finally gathers the courage to speak again.

“i, um… i brought you something.”

good,

at her next words, his ear flicks, the faintest crease of surprise crossing his scarred face. “i, um… i brought you something.” you brought me something? a warm bravado fills his voice, and only then does he grow closer, a specter upon the wind.

a single paw comes to whisk beneath her chin and lilt her eyes to look upon his face. his smile is wide and poisonous. well, let’s see it, dove, his voice is soft as downy feathers. y'know i'm not the patient sort.

elowen flinches slightly as his paw brushes beneath her chin, her breath catching for a moment before she straightens, her face turning up to meet his. there's a soft blush that blooms beneath her fur, though her eyes are steady—calm, even if her heart races a little faster.

she hesitates for a heartbeat longer, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes now—a faint, fragile spark that wasn’t there before. she shifts closer, just enough to bridge a little of the space between them.

from beneath the soft ruff of her fur, she gently pulls out a small bundle of mallard feathers, carefully tucked and preserved. 

"they’re... just some feathers," she says, the words a little too rushed, too light to cover the uncertainty threading through them. they’re vibrant, even in the fading light, shimmering with hues of green and blue. she sets them down carefully, nudging them closer to him with her nose before retreating a step. 

"you—you don’t have to keep them or anything. just… thought you might like them." she explains, her voice barely above a whisper. her gaze flits to him, tentative and uncertain, before quickly dropping back to the frost-covered ground.

lorcan watches her, his golden eye sharp but not unkind, tracking her every movement as she shifts closer. when she produces the feathers, the soft iridescence catching in the dim light, his gaze lingers on them, then flicks back to her face. he lowers his head, sniffing them briefly before nudging them with his nose, careful not to damage their fragile edges.

they’re not just feathers, dove, he offers elowen, then, a nudge to the cheek with a cold nose. you wouldn’t have carried them this far if they were. a smirk settles on his face. his paw shifts, brushing the feathers closer to him, though he doesn’t pick them up right away.

thank you, elowen. shortly thereafter, he laughs, as if embarrassed. a rough, but all the same soft, sound that lilts from his timbre. why don't you join us, hmm?

elowen's cheeks flush deeper at the nudge, his words sinking into her like the warmth of sunlight breaking through the frost. she glances down at the feathers now resting closer to him, their edges ruffled just slightly from his touch, and she feels her chest tighten. her tongue flicks out to catch the top of his nose before she can stop herself, a fleeting kiss.

“you’re welcome,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the quiet of the glen. her eyes lift to his for just a moment, catching the smirk on his face, and it pulls something small but tender from her—a faint, fleeting smile of her own. 

his laugh surprises her, rough but soft in a way that feels unguarded, and she finds herself holding onto it, replaying the sound in her head. when he asks her to join them, her ears flick up, uncertainty flashing in her eyes before settling into something quieter. 

her ears twitch, and she lifts her gaze to his, a soft laugh of her own bubbling up. “what, n' third wheel you two? gag,”

realization dawns, slow but certain, like the creeping light of dawn over a frost-covered field.

jealousy.

the corners of his scarred lips curl upward in a knowing smirk, the revelation stirring something amused—and perhaps a little wicked—inside him. his muzzle lowers, his tongue pressing firmly against her forehead in a slow kiss.

are you jealous, dove? a whisper that is soft as fresh fallen snow. his muzzle remains close, his breath warm against her fur as he watches her reaction with rapt attention.

elowen freezes at his words, her breath catching as his tongue brushes her forehead, warm and deliberate. her ears press flat against her head, her cheeks burning beneath her fur.

"no," she says too quickly, the denial tumbling out before she can think better of it. liar. her paws fidget before she rolls onto her back, exposing her belly, tail curled slightly against the earth. a deflection, a distraction.

her gaze flicks upward as she leans closer, her nose brushing his jaw before she plants a soft, fleeting kiss there. it’s a nervous act, one that carries more vulnerability than she wants to admit. "should i be?"

the quick denial brings the faintest smirk to his scarred lips. her fidgeting doesn’t escape his notice, and neither does the way she rolls onto her back, the exposed belly drawing him in; moth to a flame. upon his lips comes a husky laugh, warm like the flicker of firelight and it ghosts upon her pale fur. her distraction works; of course it does.

he lowers himself closer, her kiss against his jaw welcomed by a short rumble of please. she is within his grasp in only moments, helpless to his pursuits once more. lorcan presses his face into the delicate curve of her neck, and his hips find hers.

maybe, comes a murmur and his eyes betray his intent with her. depends on what you want, dove.

her heart thrums in her chest, a wild, fluttering thing, and for a moment, she can’t think, can’t breathe. his laugh lingers in her ears, husky and low, curling around her like smoke.

"lorcan," she breathes, her voice trembling, caught somewhere between protest and surrender. she feels his face press into the curve of her neck, his breath hot against her fur, and her body betrays her—tensing, then softening.

her paws hover for a moment before she rests them lightly against his chest, as if to keep some semblance of space between them. her words falter, her gaze darting away.

"what i want?" she echoes softly, her voice barely above a whisper. her eyes flicker back to his, searching his face for answers she’s too afraid to voice herself.

"i don’t know," she finally admits, "what do you want?"

you, he murmurs, the words like a low growl. his nose drifts across her pale fur, brushing so lightly it’s almost teasing, as though he’s painting her in his image, shaping her into what he wants.

his touches are fleeting, there and gone again, like whispers against her skin, coaxing her to lean closer, to ask for more. his golden eyes glint as they trace her features, his breath warm and steady against her throat. he feels her heart beating there. pulse rapid like a spooked bunny.

his teeth feather through the fur at her neck as he breathes her in, short bursts of her scent pulling him deeper into lust for her.

you to be mine, he breathes out, teeth chittering together as if he can barely contain himself. lay with me. hunt with me.

her breath catches, chest heaving as his words settle over her like a heavy cloak. you. they echo in her mind, consuming her thoughts until there’s nothing left but the rasp of his voice and the fleeting touch of his nose against her fur.

"yeah?" she whispers, his name barely audible, her voice trembling with uncertainty. looking for confirmation, truth. her pulse thrums against his lips as his teeth graze her neck, leaving trails of fire in their wake, coaxing her to lean into him, to close the space between them despite the warning bells ringing in her head.

mine. the word sends a jolt through her, and she swallows hard, her ears flicking back as her wide eyes search his, saccharine sweet. she’s never heard him like this before, never felt the weight of his desire so heavy, so consuming.

"want you, too," her voice lowers to a murmur, the admission is soft, broken, her heart pounding so loudly she wonders if he can hear it. yours. let me be yours. she wonders—is this what it feels like to fall?

lorcan’s breath deepens, his chest rising and falling against hers as her words, so soft and trembling, wrap around him like the pull of a tide. he feels her pulse quicken beneath his lips, her heartbeat pounding a rhythm that matches the hunger stirring inside him.

yeah, he repeats. the amusement in his eyes unable to be hidden. he feasts on her trembling breath, drawing each one in with heavy flares of his nostrils, and tentatively nudges at her cheek with his cold nose. her uncertainty doesn’t dissuade him—it draws him in, stokes the fire already burning low and steady in his chest.

his teeth trail along her neck again. and i'll be yours too. he whispers, before rolling over onto his back. dark fur, nearly black, smudging through cold snow; strong legs dragging at elowen to pull her atop him, where he nudges her cheek again, before rasping his tongue along her face. 'nd we'll have a family. just me 'n you, when time is right. when you're ready.

a smile. so sweet its genuine. yet lorcan's mind is racing. he doesn't know the true weight of what he's just signed himself up for. he only hopes he can be what she thinks he is.

her limbs are frozen in place as he nuzzles at her cheek, his cold nose sending a shiver down her spine, but it’s the pull of his words—simple, deep promises—that leave her breathless. "mine," she murmurs, barely able to process what it means, what it could mean. the flicker of uncertainty dances in her chest, but it’s overshadowed by the need to be near him, to stay, to feel that connection that seems to pulse between them.

before she can say anything else, he’s shifting, pulling her atop him. though a part of her feels the fleeting doubt, it quickly fades beneath the warmth of his embrace. the cold snow around them seems a world away as he nudges her cheek again, his rasping tongue trailing along her face, and she can’t help but close her eyes, melt into the warmth of his neck.

when he speaks again, those words—family—the concept sinks into her like a stone. it’s heavy, yet sweet. the way he says it, like it’s a promise, like it’s inevitable. she can barely think, can hardly form the words to respond. all she can do is nod, try to hide the kindest smile into thick tufts along his throat.

she doesn't know the true weight of it, doesn't know the life she’s agreeing to. but in this moment, with him, the thought of being his—of belonging to him—feels right. even if the future is unclear, the present is enough to hold onto. and maybe, just maybe, they’d figure it out together.

and in that moment, she knows—there’s no going back. good. she didn't want to.

he buries his nose into her fur one last time, drinking in her scent. she feels so small against him, so soft, yet she stirs something fierce inside of him—a protectiveness, but one different from what he feels with envy. perhaps this was what he was missing, even if he didn’t realize it until now. a low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, muffled in the warmth of her neck. the thought of what they’ve just done, what they’ve agreed to, lingers in his mind like a flame threatening to catch. settling down wasn’t exactly in his nature. he huffs another laugh, brushing it off for now.

no point overthinking.

we’ve kept envy waiting long enough, he says against her cheek. his golden eyes glint as he pulls back to look at her, nose touching to hers. but i'll get you alone again soon. i promise. he doesn't necessarily hint at what he means. her heat would come eventually, and with it, his own hormones would spike.

when they rise to their paws, he stays close to her side, brushing against her as they begin their slow walk back.

what do you think? he asks suddenly. you think i would make a good father?

elowen feels his breath on her neck, the warmth of it seeping into her skin as he buries his nose in her fur once more. the feeling is soothing and intimate, a comfort she'd long for over many moons. it settles in her bones, makes her feel wanted and cherished at the same time, like she belongs here, with him.

she stays still, letting the moment linger for a beat longer. it was so simple when it’s just the two of them—no expectations, no pressure, just them. the moment doesn’t last long. his chuckle rumbles against her, and she can’t help but smile softly. the reality of what they've shared, what they’ve just agreed to, still hangs over them like a cloud. she wonders if he’s overthinking too, but she doesn’t say anything.

his words pull her from her thoughts, and she blinks up at him, catching the glint in his golden eyes as he pulls back to look at her, their noses brushing. a shiver runs down her spine, and she feels her pulse race again. soon, he says, and the promise in his voice sends a thrill through her. an ache.

when they rise and begin their walk back, the quiet of the valley surrounding them, she stays close to him, the warmth of his body brushing against hers.

she’s quiet for a long moment as he asks his question, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. the question catches her off guard. it’s unexpected, but she knows it’s genuine. her heart skips a beat, and she turns to him, her voice soft but steady as she speaks.

"yes," she says, her gaze meeting his. "you’re a strong man. a good one, when you will it. i see it in the way you look at me." she pauses for a beat, her lips curling up into an inquisitive smile. "would i make a good mother?"

strong, good—those aren’t words he’s accustomed to hearing, much less believing. yet, the way she says them... they're almost believable. he offers her a faint chuckle, heavy like mud in his throat. you're sweet, dove. he nudges her ear when he speaks, rasping a tongue across the backside of the pale digit. almost make a man believe that.

then she turns the question back on him, and his steps falter just slightly, his golden eyes shifting to hers. her smile catches him off guard, inquisitive and soft, and he feels a pang in his chest he doesn’t quite understand.

it's far too early to call it love. and it's funny, that he'd tied himself down to a woman he couldn't say he loved just yet. but he knew if he had to, he'd rather it be a woman like elowen over any other. soft-spoken, pliable. a honeybee to his raging wasp.

he's moving again, pressing his side into hers. you'll be an amazin' mother. and he means it. he means it when he says it. his thoughts spiral. he’s never thought of this before—of having a family, of raising something fragile and small. it's absurd. him? a family man? and yet... he glances at elowen, and it feels okay.

he hoped it stayed that way.