Moonspear [m] better off (with you)

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: failed attempts at boinking.

They didn’t spend every night together, though sometimes Treepie enjoyed curling up beside @Kindle to sleep. She was particularly glad of his warmth when she woke to six inches of fresh snow this morning. Pie gently brushed the dusting off herself, then her slumbering companion, before huddling closer to him.

She peered out at the winter wonderland, admiring its pristine beauty. The peace and quiet was nice, though an urge began building inside of her. There was undisturbed white everywhere she looked, just begging to be imprinted. It made her feel frisky and frolicsome.

Eventually, she grew impatient and tugged at Kindle’s ear with her teeth. She then hopped to all fours and leaped from their little niche, indulging the Zoomies™ that quickly overtook her.

If you a) mind the powerplay and/or b) don’t have time for a thread, just let me know and I’ll tweak this.

ETA: Now post-dated for the solstice (12/21).

He slept better when she was with him. Oh, sure — sometimes she made it exponentially harder to actually get to sleep. That was a given. But once he did, he always slept deep and near-dreamless, and woke with a sort of peace and clarity that he'd come to appreciate.

Except that, sometimes, it meant there was little drowsiness to save him from feeling the cold. He could not drift back into sleep when she woke him, yet he persisted in trying to return to that blessed embrace. Partially because it had been so nice! And partially out of impish pique. He squeezed his eyes shut and smothered a grin, only giving in with a laughing shout when she pulled on his ear.

"Hey!" he growled, snapping at the air where she'd been just a moment before. He stretched into absolute wakefulness before giving chase.

"You're gonna get it, woman," he called after her, abandoning a full-on chase in order to hunt her more stealthily. His ears twisted to follow her progress through the snowy woods.

Her eyes flashed at his playful threat, though Treepie certainly didn’t slow. She pelted about the clearing for a minute longer before streaking toward a nearby stretch of trees. She zigged and zagged among them, her two-toned tail flung high to entice Kindle.

When her energy began to flag—and she was ready for him to capture her—Pie slowed down to a lazy trot. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him in the middle distance. Keeping her back to Kindle, she planted her feet and waved her tail, glancing mischievously his way.

Her pounding heart skipped a few beats as she wondered whether he might be picking up on the suble hints she was giving him. In case he wasn’t, Tiuttuk suddenly arched her back and dipped forward into a playful bow, still facing the other way. Her snout touched her own patchy shoulder as she attempted to give him her best bedroom eyes.

She didn't make it easy on him. Kindle huffed to himself when he realized he was going to have to give chase or admit defeat, but there was a grin on his face despite this inconvenience. He gave it his best — but she was faster and more agile than him in the trees, and he was a ways behind her when she finally slowed.

He slowed as well, just enough that he wouldn't bowl her over when they met, and then a little further when something about her posture rang bells in his hind brain. He trailed his nose down her flank as he reached her, his breaths coming faster —

and dropped, some minutes later, back onto all fours. He was embarrassed and confused.

"I can't figure out how to, uh..." he tried to catch her eye despite feeling he'd really rather not, hoping she might have some insight. Worried that it would be the wrong kind.

He came to her, trailing warm puffs of air along her ribs as his snout skimmed her side. His touch lit up her insides like a match strike. Pie’s skin flushed as she arched her back, an invitation and accommodation. Kindle lived up to his name, quickly pulling her to him, then underneath him. She squirmed like a livewire, all excitement and nerves.

Cold reality soon snuffed out the amorous fire burning just beneath her skin. Kindle stepped away from her, leaving Treepie standing there feeling awkward and exposed. She quickly righted herself, tail whipping downward to cover her traitorous neithers, and slowly turned to face Kindle.

Pie couldn’t bear to accept the sensations she’d just felt or what they meant for her. There were far too many horrible implications if this didn’t work. Breathing a little harshly, she stepped forward and pressed her nose to Kindle’s cheek. Rather than electrify her this time, the touch grounded her.

Can you… we… please try again? she whispered.

No advice. That was fine. Kindle let out a quiet breath, relieved that she was not annoyed with him but worried, increasingly, that it was not his own ineptitude making this impossible.

"We can try again," he assured her, though his ardor was flagging. "Just..."

He pulled back a fraction, just so he could look her in the eye.

"You have to tell me if I'm hurting you," he urged her, remembering what she'd said during a recent mishap.

Feel free to PP them forward!

I will, she hastily agreed, eager to the point of desperation.

She began to turn, prepared to present her backside again, when a thought occurred to her. Maybe it was just a matter of angles. Treepie stood there, frozen for a beat as her thoughts swirled. A few seconds later, she abruptly slung herself to the ground at Kindle’s feet.

Maybe this will give me more leverage? she said rather nonsensically, her voice full of hope.

He seemed willing enough to indulge her, though her anatomy continued to thwart them. Even when all the attempts left her with a horrible pit in her stomach, Tiuttuk didn’t want to accept defeat. How could she? This was about so much more than chasing pleasure or even bonding with Kindle.

Finally, Pie went limp beneath him and slumped over in the snow. She panted shallowly, her yellow eyes glazed as they peered toward the nearby forest. Fresh snow began to fall, powdering her. Treepie didn’t move or say anything, just sprawled there and let the snowfall slowly bury her.

Unfortunately, leverage almost made things worse. It became clearer that Kindle had lost some faith in the process, and the care he was taking not to hurt her was more apparent. Still, he kept trying — and his guilt increased alongside his excitement, as their efforts were still stimulating, to him.

When she went lax, Kindle held in a sigh and forced his body to still. Frustration and grief warred with passion, mixing to form a strange cocktail that welled in his throat in the form of words.

He knew, suddenly, what he wanted to say.

Instead, he laved a slow trail down her throat and over her shoulder, down and down and down —

It didn’t make much sense, yet Treepie suddenly, desperately wished her anaa was here. If Sialuk didn’t know what to do about this predicament, she could at least comfort her stricken daughter.

Merv chose the perfect moment to make a reprisal, whispering, Is that even the right word? I think this proves you’re not a woman, not really. And you definitely can’t birth children if you don’t even have a birth can—

Stop! Tiuttuk moaned, sitting up abruptly.

She froze when she saw Kindle, surely startled by the sudden movement. Pie only now registered the damp trail from her neck, down her shoulder and toward the curve of her hip. She hadn’t been talking to him, though she was glad she’d called him off too. The last thing she wanted right now was Kindle’s mouth—Kindle’s anything—near her abominable anatomy.

I’m sorry, she found herself whispering, tears turning to icicles on her lashes.

The outburst was not entirely unexpected. As much as he wanted to do this with her — do anything — it all felt so wrong. He was reeling over this revelation, unable to wrap his head around it despite having wondered about this very thing for so long. He'd been so pragmatic at first, but faced with the reality of disappointment, he almost couldn't stand it.

"Don't be," he replied, trying tentatively to close the distance between them once more. But this time, he only wanted to kiss her cheek, to try and tuck her against his chest — where he'd to come to feel she belonged.

He was sorry, too. And he didn't know what to do.

Kindle’s words made her eyes even blurrier. She couldn’t make out his expression because of her own tears, though she could hear the concern in his voice. He sounded a little lost too, though there was no agitation or disappointment. Treepie probably felt enough for the both of them, anyway.

When he pressed closer, she leaned into him, letting herself find comfort in his touch even as her mind reeled. Her worst nightmare was unfolding. Not only were they not sexually compatible—grounds, she knew, to part ways—but this almost certainly confirmed she lacked the female anatomy necessary for reproduction.

Treepie felt like she couldn’t breathe. Still pressed against Kindle, she bent at the middle, a foreleg wrapping around herself. It wasn’t just that she wasn’t sure she could be Kindle’s girlfriend any longer, she suddenly wasn’t sure she was a girl at all.

Woman, she corrected herself in a wretched whisper.

She breathed in sharply and made a wounded noise. Her other paw balled into a fist and jammed against her mouth, trying to hold back the scream she could feel about to wrench loose.

His own grief, he was aware, must be shadowed by Treepie's. He could, theoretically, move on and find a wife who could bear him children, as expected. Treepie, though... well, maybe she would have to do the same thing. But she'd wanted this. And, he hoped, she'd wanted it with him.

But Kindle could not imagine it. He could not imagine her with someone else any more than he could imagine it for himself. There must be some mistake, surely. He must be doing this all wrong.

He knew better than to say any of that to Treepie, who was already having some kind of conversation with herself. Woman, she said, and his chest burned and his lungs ached.

I love you, he thought again — but again, he did not say it. What help was his love now? All he could do was bend with her, as if the space where her womb should have been was sucking, vacuous thing.

I love you, he thought, helplessly.

She swallowed convulsively, tucking the scream back down inside herself. Her paw fell away only when she trusted that it wouldn’t burst out of her. Pie was afraid that if she started, she would never be able to stop. She took several shaky breaths.

I, she tried to say into the dismal silence that had fallen between them, even though their bodies were tucked close.

For a little while, she couldn’t choke out another word. Pie focused on steadying her breathing, her yellow eyes staring straight ahead as snow kept falling. The wilderness was even more beautiful now than before. The fresh powder wiped away their footprints, as well as the impressions their attempts at lovemaking had left behind.

I—I’ll ask a healer to examine me, just to be sure I really… Treepie finally croaked out, realizing she should have done that long ago. I was so afraid this would happen, she continued in a small, teary voice, head ever so slowly tilting to look up into Kindle’s face. I know this changes things…

It didn’t just change things, it changed everything.

Though he'd been expecting it, though he'd been thinking it himself, the bottom still dropped out of his stomach when Treepie told him this changed things.

I love you.

Would it change things again if he said it? Would it be kinder to simply step back and let her go? Perhaps his own priorities had shifted — but Kindle could not give her what she wanted most. Not for all the love in the world. She would have to find a woman for that.

"I know," he said, his voice low and hunted. He wanted to say something that would make this better. Something that would make her feel better, at least. But his heart was breaking, and it was hard enough to muster the effort to keep himself together, let alone to comfort her.

Kindle didn’t deny or refute her. Although this stung a little, she knew they were both trying to be as pragmatic as possible. Then again, this wasn’t really the time for reason. Tiuttuk had too many feelings right now to deal with any more godforsaken logistics.

She tucked her face against his neck, making the ragged sounds of someone trying not to cry and failing. Treepie rocked against him a little, pressing more silent apologies against his throat. She knew that she’d been so caught up in her own feelings, she hadn’t really given him any sort of platform for his. Pie wanted to offer him one, though she felt too fragile.

Instead, she just clung to him and sunk into the snow, gently pulling him down with her. If he tried to leave, she would let him go, and a piece of her heart with him. But if he stayed with her, Treepie knew the snow would eventually cocoon them. There was no avoiding the reality of the situation, but maybe they could hide from the world for a little while, delaying its inevitable end as Tiuttuk knew it.

He tensed at her next movement, worried that she would try to pull away. When he realized it was quite the opposite, though, he was grateful to sink down beside her. To hold her in the still and cold and quiet, their breath and their bodies an island of warmth in a cold and newly cruel world.

He would wash the tears from her face for as long as they continued to fall. A wet face, at least, was something he could fix.