Bearclaw Valley [m] everything i wanted

@Cole *insert eyes emoji*

with the thaw of spring came a stirring as old as time. a tight coil in Winslet's gut that slowly, over the week, had become increasingly difficult to ignore. it was a primal thing; all encompassing, unrelenting. a need that was nearly feverish, a desire to keep by her man's side every moment of every yearning minute. she'd kept him cooped up in their den for days now, as it was simply too painful to let him leave. when he'd stir, she would whine and plead gently in a way she knew he could not resist.

in the early morn, before the sun had even began it's slow crawl into the sky, he'd slipped away. a dutiful hardworking man that rightfully couldn't be chained, not even by a doting wife. she could not blame him—but she could not ignore the pain of his loss each time, either. Winnie would curl into the furs that lay heavy with his scent, letting it bathe her in comfort. and now, in a burning desire.

the kind that made her stomach ache and flutter, the kind that blinded her rationality. all she could think of was him. his strength, his quiet intensity, his devotion. each reverent kiss and gentle touch that scorched her skin in the rightest way. her scent had naturally thickened, deepened. an allure meant to keep Cole closer than they'd ever been. to have him entwined with her in the most primal, intimate way possible.

she lay outside the mouth of the den, heavy-lidded eyes watching the willow tree's boughs sway gently in the breeze. her body seized with an overwhelming sense of urgency that only her husband could soothe. and so she call for him; her song gentle, needy, beckoning. come home to me.

The sound cut through the morning haze—soft, aching. Not a cry, but a call. His name in the shape of something older than words.
Cole froze where he stood, halfway through inspecting the scent of elk tracks along the glade’s edge. The warmth of spring hadn’t yet touched his bones, not really. Not in the way her voice just did.
He was a hard man. Worn leather and grit. There were things he didn’t let himself want unless it was carved into him. But Winslet—she didn’t carve. She eased. She settled into his ribs like something that’d always been there. And now, hearing her voice, his chest ached like it was missing a piece.
Without a word, he turned.
By the time he reached the den, his paws were caked in damp earth, breath steady, jaw tight—not from anger, but from restraint. His eyes found her, curled and waiting, bathed in the scent of home and longing. That soft, honey-laced look she only gave him when she wanted something she couldn’t name.
He stepped toward her, quiet as ever. Shadow and sinew. Tired eyes but alight with something unmistakable.
Didn’t mean to keep you waitin’, he murmured, voice rough like the gravel beneath their den, I’m here now.
And without fanfare, without a second glance at the rising sun behind him, he lowered himself beside her, pressing his brow to hers. Steady. Grounded. Hers.

he's a stupid man... he hasn't smelled her yet cuz he's a bag of bones.

the moment he'd come around the bend, Winnie felt as if she could finally breathe. his form carved from weathered stone, resolute and strong in ways only few men could understand. and he was all hers. she'd never been the selfish or jealous type. at least, not until she became his wife. only then did she understand the possessiveness of calling a man your own. of having claimed a heart that even a soul as gentle as she would fight to keep. 

she stretches luxuriously as he approached. silently preening for the only man she'd wished to impress and enchant. plush, willowy fur pulled taut over a slight frame, tail askew just the slightest so her scent may reach him. a heady and primal thing. it had been quite some time since this urge had met her so fiercely. her first heat had been taken by a cruel man, there was rightfully a flare of nervous energy. a worry that perhaps she couldn't provide herself to Cole in ways she'd failed to satisfy her first. but she knows this is nonsense as Cole had never been a heartless man. never with her.

with a blinding smile, she eases against his muscle and heft with the gentlest of purrs. his fur windswept and ruffled from his travels, though it only added to his irresistible allure. head turning so she could card her muzzle through those dense hairs, inhaling a greedy lungful of the same scent that's crawled beneath her skin and taunted her. a shiver trembles down her spine; there is no doubt now. she wants Cole to take her in a way more intimate and transcendent. "it's alright," she murmurs.

a white lie, as even a woman as patient as she could only be denied or instinct and desire for so long. 

the heat beneath her skin is overwhelming, like an itch she cannot scratch. her from pressed snug against his, a soft whimper escapes her. betraying the need she wasn't quite sure how to handle. "i didn't mean to pull you away from your duties." muffled words against his neck as she peppers it with feather-light kisses. "but i need you." heavy eyes of sage meeting his own, praying that he would understand.

and praying that he'd need her, too.

It hit him like the sharp end of winter—unrelenting, cutting through the grit of his usual composure. The scent clung to the air thick and wild, curling in his chest, coiling like a match ready to strike. Cole’s breath hitched in his throat. Not because he hadn’t expected it—he had. The seasons turned, and so did the tide of instincts. But still... seeing her like this...
Her voice, soft as it was, carried too easily on the breeze.
He was beside her in two strides, muscles taut beneath a scarred frame that knew battle in more forms than one. And this? This was another war entirely.
Cole's nose pressed against her neck, his breath hot and heavy as he inhaled her—like he could bury her scent within himself, protect it from the world. But it wasn’t affection that sparked first. It was something uglier, older. Born from every fight he’d ever had to win. Every damn thing he’d ever had to keep.
His voice was a low growl—gravel dragged through his throat. You best keep your voice down, he said, quiet but clipped, eyes flicking to the tree line, the open wilds beyond. Don’t need another sonuvabitch thinkin’ they can come sniffin’ ‘round what ain’t theirs.
Because she was his.
His to protect.
His to soothe.
His to keep.
And God help any man who thought otherwise.
Cole’s muzzle ran down the side of her jaw, grounding himself. His pulse thudded in his ears. He hadn’t meant to sound harsh—not to her. But it was in his blood, this deep-seated need to claim what was his, to defend it from the wolves of the world.
He exhaled sharply and murmured lower, steadier. You didn’t pull me away from anything that matters. A pause. His chest rose with restraint. I’m here now, ain’t I?

the gravel of his voice only served to stir that inferno within. it did not startle, as she could never fear him. not even in moments like these where his temper runs hot. that protective instinct of his that she loves rearing its ugly head. in a different time, she might have chided him for the behavior, the tone. but right now? she cannot. not when it makes her ache for him more. she's quick to rise to her feet, to glide her side against his. making sure that selfishly, her scent was heavy upon him.

a sign that for whenever he leaves for his work, that everyone knows he is claimed. that their bond secured and sacred to her heart. with a smile that burns so bright for him alone, Winnie devours his touch with a need unfamiliar. instinct drives her, as does her devoted love. she wishes to engulf them both in it. 

"would you fight for me?" her voice leaves her in a gentle and bated breath. adding kindling to his fire so she might be burned by it. her mind feels like mush, and as a woman who takes no pleasure in violence, something indescribable overtakes her at the thought of him fending off suitors. not that she would take any man other than her husband, as she is nothing if not loyal...

but gods above, why does the thought arouse her so?

it's maddening. a fire that threatens to dismantle her, but she does not allow it. not yet. Winnie's tail curls teasingly beneath his chin as she circles him. cocooning herself around him in a heady vice. all shyness prior to her heat gone, now replaced by a surmounting need. "i am all yours, Cole."

a promise she'd prove time and time again. there wasn't a man that she could ever yearn for, the way she does with Cole. 

"you are," she coos. "but i wish you were closer." almost a teasing smile, accompanied with another brush against his muscle, before she's retreating with a sway of her tail.

Cole stood still as stone, but his chest rose—slow, deep, heavy with something far more dangerous than desire. Her touch ignited him, not with fury, but with that bone-deep need he’d buried beneath layers of duty and restraint. And now she called to it, coaxed it out with the fire in her voice, the brush of her body, the ache of her scent.
Would he fight for her?
His gaze dropped to meet hers, steady and sure. There wasn’t hesitation in the look he gave—there never was, not with her.
I’d kill for you, he said, gravel in his voice and something molten simmering beneath. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. A truth spoken not in rage, but in conviction.
The curve of her frame around him, the heat of her scent as she pressed close—he took it all in like breath, like warmth after frost. His nose ran the line of her spine as she circled him, reverent, letting the bond between them wrap tight around his ribs. Her words struck something sacred in him. I am all yours.
You’d better be, he murmured low, rough as bark but quiet like prayer, his breath hot against her ear. Ain’t no man alive gonna take you from me. Not while I’ve still got teeth in my skull.
When she pulled away, taunting with her tail, Cole’s gaze didn’t follow immediately. He stood grounded for a moment longer—rooted by love and instinct and the weight of the vow he’d made the day she became his wife.
Then he moved, following with the certainty of a man who did not chase—he claimed.

I'd kill for you. A heavy truth that she could not deny, as he'd already killed for her. The bones of coyotes lay in piles because of him. The reminder of his devotion scrawled on her flesh in scars. Imperfections that don't wound her anymore, but rather serve as a reminder.

"I know," she exhales. "I know you would." And the raw, violent truth of it curls tighter in her core. An inferno that rages beneath bone and flesh alike. She didn't even need to ask; he would save her from the jaws of death himself, and this she knew deep in her very being. 

His voice of gravel and steel is met with the softest of smiles. Her heartbeat heavy within the cage of her bird-like chest. A drum that would not cease. She would not lie to him. He owned her, and she owned him. A bond that would only be broken by death. A vow that would not break. 

She pushes gently through the swaying boughs of the same willow tree they'd dug their home beneath. A veil that would encapsulate them; a curtain in which she wished to be claimed behind, as only they should bear witness to her need. Her eyes dance within something new as she twirls on graceful feet to welcome him. Crooning as she dips her head to brush it beneath his jaw.

Perhaps it is the heat that drives her so. She wants her sides to grow heavy with his children—a topic she hadn't brought up before, but had always dreamed of. Children of their own to care for and dote on. Their legacy sheltered beneath the willow. 

Would he grant her that wish?

"I love you, Cole." Her voice is reverent. "And I want to show you..." Kisses trail from his throat up to his ear. "Will you let me?"

Cole's breath caught somewhere low in his chest as she came near—soft and reverent, like the hush before rainfall. He hadn't needed her words to know, but hearing them, in that voice only he was meant to hear, struck something deep. Something older than his bones. His head dipped to meet her touch beneath his jaw, her scent curling through him like smoke through timber.
No, lil' lady, he rumbled, voice rough but steady, I ain't lettin' you do a damn thing tonight.
A beat passed. He leaned closer, brushing his nose along her temple, pausing at her ear with something like a sigh.
I'm takin' care of you.
He meant it. In every way. He would shoulder the world to keep her safe. If her heart ached, he'd be the balm. If her body cried out, he'd be the answer. There was no question anymore. Only the steady rhythm of a vow he'd made long ago, wordless and eternal.
His jaw clenched against the swell of feeling, and yet he softened as he pressed against her fully, drawing her in beneath the sanctuary of their willow.
You want this? he asked low, not to doubt—but to hear it again, to feel it spoken. You want me?

His rebuttal is met with a soft, bubbling laugh. Of course he wouldn't allow her to raise as much a finger tonight—it was simply the way he was. So giving in ways she was grateful for. So caring in ways she loves him for. Usually, it was she who pampered him with gifts, affection...

So to be on the receiving end, and to be able to let him lead this carnal dance. Well, it only serves to make her blood sing with something ancient. Something meant only for him. 

"You are a stubborn man, Cole." She teases. There is no bite, as it's become one of the many qualities she adores. 

There was a time once where Winslet would have been frightened by this intimacy. A time where her craving had been snuffed, as her wings had been clipped and she kept in a cage. Her body used not for pleasure but for a man's insatiable, violent need. 

But there is no hesitation tonight. Not here, not with him. He'd proved time and time again that would not hurt her, and that he would not keep her flightless. Her man, her life, her love. 

He's breathtaking. Always has been, but in that moment, with him framed by their willow's boughs that have begun to bud and flower...it's a vision she aims to keep. Forever hers, a selfish desire. Her breath hitches as he draws her closer—it always feels as if it isn't enough.

"Yes," she murmured. Eyes soft with reverence as she tilted her head back to meet his smoldering gaze. "I want all of you."

Cole chuckled softly, his hand steady on her back as he pulled her closer with a firm, yet gentle grip. There was a softness to his movements, but an undeniable intensity in the way he held her. He wasn’t one for extravagant words or gestures, but with Winslet, he didn’t need to be. Everything he wanted, everything he needed, was right here in front of him.
You say that like it’s something you don’t already have, Cole muttered, his voice low, thick with affection. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his gaze locked on hers.
His eyes softened, yet there was a fire in them—an intensity, a promise. It was always her. It always had been. The time when she was frightened, when she had been held back, felt like a distant memory. Tonight, she was his equal, his partner.
Always, he whispered, his voice thick with the weight of all that was unspoken, all they had shared. There was no cage now, no fear—only them. And that was all he ever wanted.

fade in this or your next?