Duskfire Glacier [m] diet mountain dew

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lousine hunted for @Faust this time.

she had never been very good at it, admittedly. if faust were to ask her, she would likely have told him she couldn't hunt at all and spare him the trouble — but she wanted to impress him. care for him.

he needed to be nurtured too.

the glacier's massive expanse was flat and so vastly open that one cannot help but feel naked. there was nothing around lousine save for the big, cloudless sky, the endless ice plains, and the sun. she felt Him here, Sin, her beloved, and she allowed herself time to embrace his presence before she began to follow the trail of a flock of bighorns.

she miraculously returned to their camp with a lamb.

she didn't seek faust out just yet. her dainty paws and sharp teeth worked to strip the skin from the meat until she was left with perfect meat. then, she tore it into smaller, easier to eat pieces. she rolled atop the leftover skin to lay it out, and carefully nudged as much of the meat as she could onto her 'platter'.

when she called for him, her voice smiled.

faust emerged from the mouth of their shelter, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep as he followed the sound of her voice. his eyes flickered over the scene before him—meat, stripped and portioned neatly, arranged atop the lamb’s pelt like some ceremonial offering.
he lifted a brow, stepping closer, the scent of fresh kill filling his lungs.
what’s all this? his voice was gruff with sleep, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe even something like amusement. lousine, delicate little thing that she was, had gone out and hunted for him.
his gaze slid from the platter to her, sharp and assessing. she was proud of this, he could tell, the way she carried herself, the way her voice had lilted when she called for him.
he grunted, lowering his head to inspect the offering. didn’t think you had it in you. it wasn’t cruel, just blunt. honest. he nudged a piece of meat with his nose, testing. how long did this take you?

and there he was, her faust, her handsome faust. her stomach fluttered when their eyes met.

not too long, she chirped. her eyes were bright. and i know, i know. but i wanted to surprise you. she pulled him down to her level with a forelimb wrapped around his shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

how did you sleep? she was giddy, energized, thrilled by faust's presence alone. she'd almost forgotten she'd even spent her entire morning hunting. he did things to her, this man, this powerful creature who bloomed before her into something soft and sincere.

she was starting to really, really like him.

faust let himself be pulled, feeling the warmth of her pressed against his side. she was always so eager, so full of life—it was contagious in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight. his ear flicked as she kissed his temple, and he exhaled through his nose, something between a scoff and a sigh.
well enough, he muttered, though the weight of sleep still clung to him. his gaze swept over her, the brightness in her eyes, the way she practically vibrated with excitement just to be near him. it made something tighten in his chest.
he tilted his head, brushing his muzzle along her jaw. you went through all this trouble for me? his voice was quiet, rough like gravel, but there was something teasing beneath it. he glanced at the meal she'd prepared, then back to her.
what do you want in return, then?

he seemed surprised. lousine blinked at him, but her smile grew larger. for you to eat it.

she wondered if his mother ever did anything like this for him. she pictured him as a baby, a little round-cheeked chubby kid with a dribble of snot running down his nose and a pouty brow. an angry priestess mother, cold and unyielding. a son who wanted nothing more than a little love.

she watched him eat the way he so oft did to her, studying his movements and trying not to let him see the gleam of her eyes.

he hesitated.
his gaze flickered over the offering, the neatly arranged meat, the care taken in its preparation. in his world, a woman hunting for a man was not a simple act of kindness—it was a statement. an acceptance. a declaration of something unspoken but understood. a recognition of courtship returned.
his tongue ran over his teeth, mind working through the implications, the weight of it. did she know? had she meant it that way? or was she simply trying to care for him, the way she did with everything else in her life?
he sat, finally, slowly. body hitting the ground. measured eyes never left her as he finally leaned down, taking the first bite. chewing, swallowing. you know what this means? he asked, voice low, measured. but there was something else beneath it—something unreadable, something restrained.

no, lousine responded simply. her eyes grew wider and her face fell — what if she'd done something wrong? what... does it mean? is it bad?

to lousine, it was simply what wolves did for each other. growing up the way she did, reliance on one another was simply a fact of life — you trusted each other, you trusted the Gods. no one was ever alone.

to think that this concept was perhaps unfamiliar to faust made her feel as if her heart might crack open like a ripe pomegranate.

but there was something in his gaze that made her feel like that wasn't the case. she holds his attention curiously, a tiny half-smirk ghosting across her dark lips. is it good?

he stared down at the array of meat, then back at her, gaze unreadable.
when a woman hunts for a man, she accepts their bond. the words were heavy, weighted with something that went beyond mere explanation. mateship.
his tongue swiped over his teeth, watching her reaction, waiting. did she know what she had done? had she meant it? or was this another one of her careless, thoughtless acts of kindness—the kind that made him want to shake some sense into her, make her understand the way things worked?
but lousine, with her wide, curious eyes, was already tilting her head at him, that small smirk playing at the corner of her lips.
gods help him.
his jaw tensed. his breath came slow, as if trying to steady himself against some unseen force. he could tell her no. tell her it was a mistake, tell her it meant nothing. he could push the platter back toward her and pretend this moment never happened.
or he could accept.
he held her gaze, then, after a long pause, finally answered. it is good.

well that was certainly news to her.

lousine's eyebrows raised and her mouth opened, implying she would speak, but she did not. not at first. she sat there staring at faust with cheeks hotter than the surface of the sun.

oh, she peeped quietly. i didn't know that, but...

but.

that simple word was full of so much. that was such a heavy implication — mateship. marriage. which had been forbidden in artashat. her chest felt tight.

i-i don't really know how marriage works, she suddenly blurted out, immediately doused with the sobering waters of shame. i mean, it wasn't really a thing that we did growing up. but it... sounds nice. i've always wondered what it could be like.

she fell silent yet again.

faust exhaled slowly, staring down at the neat arrangement of meat she had set before him. marriage. a foreign thing to him, at least in the way she spoke of it—with wonder, with curiosity.
i don't know either, he admitted after a pause, lifting his gaze to hers. men took multiple women where i lived. it wasn't about… this. he gestured vaguely between them, between the unspoken thing that had been weaving itself into place since the moment they met. it was about power. children. alliances.
his jaw tensed, something bitter creeping into his voice. his father had done the same—taken women as one might collect possessions. it was expected. it was normal.
but...
his gaze softened as he looked at her again, at the way she sat, small and unsure but wanting. but i don’t think i could do that. the thought of taking another woman alongside a beloved felt...wrong. a betrayal of something he couldn't name.
i think, he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, if i took a mate, i would only want one.

multiple women for the sake of power and children.

it made lousine grimace, her face scrunched up into a disgusted pile of skin. that was one of the things that always frightened her about aging in artashat — pretty soon, she would've been expected to go out and have her first litter. take her pick of men she won't know at all and have to see them again in her children.

she wondered if her mother asked herself the same questions.

she wondered what a life outside of that would look like.

she liked the idea of soft love. the kind where you dance in the rain and never sleep more than two inches apart, the kind where you care for one another when sick. the kind where you go grey together and your twenty kids take care of you.

she wanted that with faust.

she had been silent for a while, thinking, before she muttered, yes. i... accept your courtship. but only if it's not in either of the ways we grew up with.

because i think i want something new. something better.

she was young, still untouched by the world in ways that hardened wolves like him had long since lost. he had been shaped by something colder, something crueler—he knew nothing of the softness she spoke of, the kind of love she seemed to want.
he wasn’t sure he was capable of it.
but she had hunted for him, initiated his courtship, and the weight of that was not lost on him. still, he shook his head, slow and deliberate. not yet. his voice was firm but not unkind. i will not go further with you until you are a woman.
she would have to see more of the world before she decided if she truly wanted him, if she wanted this. he was not a good man, and she was too young to understand what that truly meant. so he would wait. he could be patient.
he lifted his chin slightly, eyes locking with hers. when that time comes, if you still want something new, something better… a pause, a breath. then we will have it.

do you think i'm not a woman? lousine's tone was not accusatory, but merely curious — perhaps a twinge of hurt lie in there somewhere, if he cared to look for it. i've lived more life than you think i have.

it wasn't necessarily a lie.

she had seen death. she had seen war. she had seen pillaging and rape and violence. she had seen it happen to her own people. they all thought she'd been too young at the time to remember.

she wasn't.

her face got sharper, more serious. frustrated. but she did not say anything more.

she stood up, and if he did not follow, she would leave him there.

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faust huffed, rolling his eyes, but he followed. because of course he did. because whatever fire burned in her had caught onto him too, and no matter how much he wanted to snuff it out, he couldn’t. he walked after her, his steps heavier, more deliberate to alert her, until he stopped right in front of her.
he exhaled sharply through his nose, gaze dropping to hers, firm. you have no idea how frustrating this is for me. his voice was low, gritted between his teeth, thick with something unsaid. something barely restrained.
his jaw clenched. she had seen things, she said. lived things. maybe she had. but she still looked at him like he was something he wasn’t, still carried softness where he had none. she didn’t understand, not fully.
and yet, gods, how he wanted her.
how i can't fuck you. it is— a breath, he looks away.
his breath came heavier, but he didn’t move. didn’t touch her. not yet. he only held her gaze, waiting. testing.

why couldn't he understand? why did he have to press?

he could have shrugged this off as some teenage outburst, but he didn't. at least he had that going for him. lousine tried as best as she could to retain her composure, her gentle confidence and her thick skin, but she could not hide the tears that began to form at the corners of her eyes.

i'm frustrated, her voice was tiny, muted, and it wavered, but it was there and it was resolute. i just- i know i'm younger than you. and i know you think i'm... soft. but it's not because i don't know what this world is like. i choose to find beauty in it. i choose to love everything i come across. because that is the one thing that can never be taken away from me.

she closed her eyes to force the tears out of them, a shaky sigh escaping the wall she slowly began to rebuild as calmness returned to her. b-but,

and then the bomb dropped.

what? she sniffled. hope returned to her eyes — joy, that infectious playfulness, even if only a sliver of it. what rule says... that you can't?

song i've been listening to

even over his heavy breaths he would listen. a flick of an ear would indicate as such to lousine. delicate, delicate little star. burning so bright, so hot, that the planets would rotate around her like their own very sun. throat bobbed as she explained her choices.
did that mean she was choosing him? a stranger, a bastard, with scarred legs and tethered morality to none other than his own self-ambition. he thinks of the huntress, failed huntress, briefly, to how even she hadn't chosen him over a gruesome male. would lousine do the same? even when his heart, bursting— bursting!— to shower love.
he stepped closer when the tears fell. a magnetic pull. they streamed her delicate face, white furs turning gray, and he never wanted to see it again unless she was writhing, pulsating beneath the touch of his lips.
breath fans her cheek, hot breath, smoldering, just how his groin did. because, he moved again, nose trailing along her shoulders, her spine. you see beauty, vague.
you have much to give the world, stargirl. he? there were no gods to uplift him, only to answer the hummed prayers of his restraint held back by a thin, thin wire. i do not...want to take that from you.
head rested, forehead pushing, against her hips. nose lilting to breath in guardfurs of her underbelly. i would not be able to let you go.

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gods, she couldn't stay upset with him.

instantly he moved to her aide and lousine felt herself fall apart all over again. she allowed it, the closeness, pressed her face into the broadness of his chest and stayed there. she felt the vibrations of his speech through his ribs.

she raised her muzzle to his jaw, his chin; just a moment ago she was crying and now she was all over him, forelimbs tossed around his neck. am i not giving to the world when i give to you?

she trailed lower, dropping an arm down to rove his abdomen, his hips. do you want me to show you how grown up i am, faust?

she was not understanding him. gruff sound from his chest when she nuzzled there, arms draped around his neck like she'd belonged there her entire life. she had, he those thoughts must be kept at bay; else he would leash her and fuck her to oblivion—
you don't want to— breath palpating from his ability to speak, think clearly. experience others? i— fuck, she smelled so good. 'cause i'm...
a paw to his lower abdomen. muscles taut, ready to fire.
i'm just gonna fuckin' keep you.
selfishly.
but was he really when he offered her the door? and no man'll touch you but me. ever.

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his resolve was dwindling, and lousine knew it. she wanted to exploit it.

yeah? is that so? she laughed, that rich, syrupy laugh that she knew got him on his knees. i like that idea. first and last. my only.

and it was true. she did like it. this brash, gruff, abrasive older man. the man with the priestess mother and no father, the man who was raised for death. the man with nothing to lose save for her. she wanted him to claim her.

fuck everyone else. i want you, faust. everything. all of you.

forever.

her touches only went further and further south. take me. make me yours.

faust growled low, a warning, but his grip on restraint was slipping—fast. her words, her touch, the way she knew what she was doing, how she played him like she had all the time in the world to break him down, piece by piece.
lousine. her name came rough, a rasp against his throat, but his paw closed around her wrist, halting her descent.
he shook his head, again. firmer. no.
his body said otherwise, his breath, the tension winding tight in his muscles—but he wouldn't let her win. not like this.
if i'm gonna do this, we're doing it my way, his grip loosened just enough, letting his thumb brush slowly over the inside of her wrist. not rushing. not just ‘cause you want it now.
his gaze locked on hers, heavy, dark with intent. nice and slow. 'm gonna treat you like a woman, yeah?

perhaps yesterday she would have obliged him, but today lousine didn't want to listen.

or, her voice was lilted and smooth as molasses compared to the audible struggle in his. her eyes were bright and playful, yet hooded. we could try something else. do you trust me?

she hadn't realized until now just how powerful he truly was. his grip was so strong yet so gentle; he could have easily smashed the bones of her wrist when she pulled her paw away and yet he chose not to. right now, he was choosing not to hurt her.

he didn't want to hurt her.

it all came crashing down then, that realization of what he had been trying to communicate this whole time. it wasn't that he didn't see beauty in the world — he did not see beauty in himself. lousine, in that moment, made a vow to change that.

she looped her forelimbs around him and slowly, methodically, she began to kiss every part of him that she could reach. his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the lobe of an ear. the veins that popped out in his foreleg when he flexed his muscles, the ruff around his throat.

has a woman ever touched you like this, faust? she suddenly asked, tracing her long nails along his shoulder blade. ever made you feel good?

faust stilled beneath her touch.
not because he didn’t want it—gods, he wanted it—but because he had never been attended to like this before. not with softness, not with purpose beyond pleasure or possession. women had wanted him, sure. wanted his strength, his blood, his claim. but lousine wanted him.
and it fucking terrified him.
his jaw tensed as she moved, kissing along the battle-worn edges of him. his pulse thrummed beneath his skin, slow and heavy, like something restrained. he felt her nails along his shoulder blade, a slow, deliberate drag, and he exhaled sharply through his nose.
his first instinct was to scoff, to shake her off, to turn this into something rougher, something easier to understand. but he didn't. he let her linger, let himself feel it.
yes, he admitted, voice rough. he turned his head, lips brushing against her ear as he rumbled, but it wasn't you.

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it wasn't the answer lousine wanted — no woman wants to be reminded of her lover's prior trysts — but it was the answer she respected. she hummed in acknowledgment. her touch dipped below his waist.

soon, so did the rest of her.

she wanted to imprint herself on his body. to leave her own mark in his memory, yes, but more important to her was the exploration. the kisses in places that had never seen the light of day. his reactions. how he handled her. she wanted him, all of him — and what better way to start?

faust, my faust, she whispered against his skin. my lover boy.

brow lifted, the flicker of amusement in his sharp gaze betraying the gruff set of his jaw. lover boy? the words rolled slow off his tongue, low and edged with something unreadable.
he wasn’t sure what to make of that. of her.
his past was no secret, nor was the fact that he had never been a man to linger too long in another's embrace. yet here she was, whispering his name like it was something precious, something sacred. my faust. the way she said it, claimed him without hesitation, without doubt—it sent a strange heat curling in his gut.
his paw tangled loosely in her fur, a touch neither urging nor stopping her. just feeling her. testing the weight of her devotion, the way she mapped him out like he was some great discovery.
his voice, when it came, was a grumble, half-scoff, half-breath. you always talk this much? but he didn’t pull away. no, he let her continue, let her have him, in this way at least.

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lousine didn't answer above a hum.

she let him be as rough or as gentle with her as he wanted. she sought his pleasure and his alone in that moment. she was merely a vessel. and she liked it that way.

when she finally parted from him, she nestled at his flank, preening the fine hairs of his shoulder with her tongue. she kissed the fissures in his skin. the meat sat untouched, still, and it was only now that lousine realized. crows were beginning to land nearby.

her gaze caught his for the first time in a while and she could not help but break out into a grin. perhaps it was merely the afterglow, but she thought she could have died happily, right there and then, so long as this moment was her last.