Sun Mote Copse Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats

Hoping for one of the newer members of the Malkaria! Maybe @Akirea, @Asherah or @Tuwawi Photo reference of the shrine: here!

In an almost covetous manner, Ar-Khalba had hoarded away the skull of a fox -- the same that he had taken on his hunt the night the Malkaria had decended on the wilds. The remaineder of the bones had been cracked, broken, and made useless. The head, however, remained intact. It was not with selfish desire that Khalba kept his little trinket under watchful protection. He intention was to offer it to Molech. Though small -- he hoped it would express his thanks to the many armed God.

He retrieved the skull from a boulder from which he had carefully layed it out to be bleached by the sun. It had been allowed enough time; the sinew that had once clung to the hard to reach nooks and crannies was nearly nonexistent. Bleached white and pure, the man took it in his jaws and carried it to shrine.

It was a massive stone, reaching up to the heavens themselves. This discovery of Arunik'ra had been a sign that they carried Molech's favor. It was of Khalba's hope that this favor would remain upon them until the Ekar-Aji carried her sacrifice to term. 

He stepped forward and placed the skull neatly atop the boulder that lay before the giant stone slab. He adorned his offering with grass and wild flowers until it was aesthetically pleasing. With his offering prepared, Ar-Khalba bowed his head and prayed for Molech's blessings.

Meeting with the female Eshamun had filled Asherah with hope. Her venture into the world of Molech was tentative, though. She was unsure of herself and unsure if the many armed God truly wanted her. She felt unworthy, unsure. Things that she knew did not befit a follower of Molech, not by looking at Eshamun. She was confident, undoubtedly worthy. Asherah had heard of the shrine that was now marked for Molech and had decided she would help to decorate it as well. She'd found tines from antlers half buried in the forest. The skull was nowhere to be found, sadly, but she hoped these would please her God. It wasn't a full set, the other side must've gone with the skull, but it was large and unbroken. She'd washed them in the river, clearing them of dirt and then carried them to where the shrine should be. She hoped to find Eshamun and get approval for her offering. Was this good enough? Should she find something else?

As she approached, the antler held in her mouth, she noticed another wolf before what was undoubtedly the Shrine. It was a male, red in color like Eshamun. His head was bowed before the Shrine and a skull decorated with flowers. It made her feel better, the antlers would not seen so out of place if the skull was there. She padded closer, slowly and quietly so as to not disturb the male's prayers. Her eyes moved over the great stone, and she said a silent prayer that molech forgive her doubts. She waited for the brute to open his eyes and finish his prayers, unwilling to disturb him. She stood a polite distance from him and the shrine, not wanting to make him feel cornered. She dipped her head a little, waiting for him to turn.

It was in the old tongue in which he prayed. The language of this place and of the wolves who inhabited it -- it was too uncivilized to offered as praise to the many-armed God. His mumblings had a poetic rhythm and a song-like timbre, but his concentration was soon torn away by a sound from behind. He stopped, opened his eyes, and turned his face to see a stranger.

She resembled the sisters whom he followed, but had not traveled with them from Canaan's Tophet. She bore their scent, but it was faint. She was unfamiliar; and though possibly a newly inducted female of the Malkaria, Ar-Khalba regarded her with caution. However, his eyes trailed down to the offering she brought to the shrine. Had she come to worship as well?

"Have you come to praise the many-armed God?" He asked, curious of her intent at the shrine. Had she been a sister, he would have skirted away to make room for her to worship, but in Khalba's eyes she was unproven.

Going to assume that at some point Eshamun told her her name, but not her title, will change if desired!

When the male turned to face her she dipped her head and flattened her ears backwards in a respectful and submissive fashion. The words he'd been whispering had been enchanting to her, had drawn her ears forward and made her strain to hear them. She didn't understand them, of course, but had felt their pull all the same. His eyes fell upon her and she slowly lowered her head to place the antler at her paw. She moved her eyes up to meet his and then sent them back down to her gift. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but audible.

"Yes. I...I brought this antler to offer. Eshamun found me, shared with me the glory and the hope that is the many-armed God. I am new to...to this faith. I...Is this a decent offering?" She gestured to the antler. "I would not want to offend the many-armed God. There is much yet I still do not know, but Eshamun assured me it was He who lead her to me. I believe her, and I believe in the Many-armed God. My name is Asherah." It was clear she was a timid female, full of uncertainty. Molech had much work to do with her, but her words were sincere and the will to be changed and to follow His word were bright and clear in her anxious eyes. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'm sorry, I tried to be quiet."

She glanced to the skull at the others feet, took in the flowers and decorations. It was, she assumed, the way offerings were meant to be made. It was attractive to the eye, though she knew nothing of offerings she though it was fitting. Perhaps her own antler could join the skull, to mirror the horns of Molech. She'd have to search for another, to complete the image, if so.

It was strange to hear another sound so deferential -- especially to one such as Khalba, who had pledged his life to be nothing more than a servant to the sisters and Molech. It made him uncomfortable, but he did not make his feelings evident. Instead, he invited the woman forward to approach the shrine. She had been selected; called by Molech's will. He could see it now that he knew that she had been selected by the Ekar-Aji herself.

"Come close Asherah," he spoke. Voice soft as always. It was hardly a command -- it was not his place to make such statements within the Malkaria. It was an invitation. "Place your offering upon the stone and I will help you adorn it." It was now that he gave her a soft smile as he waited for the initiate to approach. 

After a brief silence, he spoke again. "I am Ar-Khalba Nasser," he finally introduced. "But you may call me what you like."

The male moved aside for her, voice soft. She glanced back up to him and picked her offering up. She could tell from his words that he was not commanding her, but merely inviting her closer to him and the shrine. He politely offered to help her, and gave her a soft smile. She returned the smile awkwardly around the antler, and did as he had invited. She moved forward and glanced over the shrine.

She lay it to the right of his skull, resting it against the skyward shooting rock. From certain angles it would look like it was connected to the fox skull. She glanced to him for approval. His name was interesting to her ears, but sounded much like those she had heard from the females before him. "Ar-Khalba." She repeat to herself quietly, deciding his name would be best. She looked to her offering and then back to him. "Is that placement fitting? I'd be very thankful for any help you could give to me."

She stepped forward with offering in tow. After she placed it upon the ritual stone, Ar-Khalba took a step back to admire the offering in full. Like some marvelous, yet ill-proportioned cryptid, the antler appeared to belong to the skull, and in turn, the skull belonged to the antler. Perhaps most importantly, each piece belonged to Molech. With their two offerings becoming one, Ar-Khalba was sure his God would be pleased -- the only thing missing now was the sacrificial blood of Molech's children, but that would come in time.

As he caught her glance, Khalba gave the woman the approval she desired with a nod of his head. He smiled and stepped forward, plucking a few wild flowers from the ground as he went to adorn the altar. "It is fitting," he spoke, placing his earthen bounty upon the shrine. "The blessing of Molech will be upon us."

He turned back, his soft gaze catching the woman's own. "Do you know the story of your name Asherah?" He asked. Though a male, he considered himself to be somewhat of a historian. Well learned and taught by the high priestess Ashtorath herself, his knowledge was far reaching. This woman, she was new to the Malkaria, but by her name he knew she had been chosen to be Molech's own since birth.

The male nodded and smiled at her and she returned a nervous grin. Her tail flicked softly once or twice and she watched as he plucked flowers from the ground and planted them near and on her offering. She took a few of her own and placed them within the tines where they allowed for it. She looked over the piece entirely now and felt pleased, it looked good. She wasn't sure how she knew this, other than the male's approval, but she was sure that Molech would look kindly upon the offering.

She nodded her head to the male's words, dipped her head and repeated his final words in a whisper. "Blessings of Molech be upon us."  She lifted her head to meet the male's gaze and smiled softly again. Asherah found the male handsome, but she tried to keep the admiration from her eyes. He asked her about her name and her eyes lit up, instantly interested. "I don't," She said, shaking her head slightly. "Only that Asherah was Molech's beloved, and this I learned from Eshamun the night we met. I am sad to say I never thought to ask my parents. Could you tell me, please?"

I'm trying to keep this as accurate to Caanonite belief as possible, but there's not much literature on the lore, so I may have to deviate a bit :P

With their offering set, Ar-Khalba drew away from the shrine. The site had been made pure -- his prolonged preasence would only taint his offering to the all-consumer. He did not wish to invite Molech's wrath, so he set himself a short distance away. Dropping to his rump, Ar-Khalba seated himself and allowed his gaze to fall on the woman as she spoke. She was pleasing on the eye, much like her namesake suggested. Soon, she would bear Molech many children and their God would be pleased.

He invited her near with a motion of his muzzle before he began to explain. "Asherah is one of beauty," he said, smiling. "Much like yourself." He let his statement linger for a moment, but it was no coincidence in which she had been named. Molech had chosen her just in the same way the Asherah of old had been chosen. "She is the Goddess of fertility and is indeed Molech's betrothed."

"She is both the moon and the limbless tree -- Molech saw her beauty and desired her. She is the mother of nations, bearing many children unto the All-Consumer." He paused for a moment and his shoulders rolled forward. "Perhaps you will also bear fruit for the Lord." It was not an implication to be made lightly, but the women of the Malkaria had a duty to their God just as Ar-Khalba had to service.

I've noticed that! I've tried to research myself. Sounds good to me though!

She followed him easily, enchanted by not only his handsomeness but also the knowledge he held. She was starving for information for her new life, thirsty for the word of Molech. The male sat after pulling away from the Shrine and she followed suit. She was enraptured, like a child at storytime. As he spoke of her beauty her skin flushed red under her fur with heat and she glanced bashfully away. It was obvious she appreciated the comment though as a smile bloomed on her face. 

She offered a quiet thank you to him, wondering if her parents had looked upon her and thought the same. Had they thought her truly fitting to bear the name of Molech? Why had she never heard the God's name before now? Could Molech be the unnamed God that her parents had whispered prayers to? She'd never been taught any word of any God...but it seemed she had been meant to follow Molech's will from the day she was born.

His comment on the possibility of bearing fruit for Molech surprised her again, much like his comment on her beauty. "I...I would be honored to bear children for Molech." She did not know yet what that meant, what the purpose for any of her children could be. It was something any female would want though, pups born from a believer as handsome and knowledgeable as Ar-Khalba...certainly the Lord would smile upon that. "Molech has been present in so much of my life without my knowing, I feel that I have only just now opened my eyes to see the world for what it is. I am humbled by my name, by Molech's grace. For him to grant me children would only further my blessings." She shook her head, breathless. "I do not feel worthy." She whispered, confiding in Ar-Khalba.

He nodded, happy to see that the woman was receptive to the thought. Soon, she would not only be receptive in mind, but in body -- and Ar-Khalba would be sure to be there. "There is no greater honor than to be called," he spoke. It was something he knew personally. The queen would bear his children for Molech and their blood would anoint the altar. The children wrought from his own flesh would cleanse this place and glorify the great consumer in one bloodsoaked swoop.

Despite the beauty that Molech had blessed her with, Ar-Khalba felt the woman wise to feel unworthy of such an important task. "No one should feel worthy of the Lord's might. Molech is to be feared." Her gifts however, would please appease the God. Surely, Molech would abstain from inflicting his wrath upon his most loyal servants.

"Find me when your time comes," he said. "The Eight-Armed God will call to you." Though it did not matter who planted the seed, he hoped it would be him. He was ruled by these desires of the flesh.

Asherah nodded her head in response to his words. She felt such a great sense of honor that she didn't feel she was worthy to bear it. Who was she but a wolf who had lost her family? Who knew not even what her own name truly meant? Still Molech had shed his light on her, had guide her paws to this very spot and this very day. How could she measure up to what Molech deserved? Ar-Khalba spoke of her worry, her unworthiness and she nodded, lowering her eyes. Such a great God as Molech could take just as well as give, it only made sense. If she had been blessed with so much was it not equally believable that she could have all taken from her?

His voice reached her again and she felt the heat rise on her skin once more. She knew which time he meant, what he spoke of. She glanced up to him, surprised. His desire was plain in his eyes and she could only manage to nod. She would seek him out, he was handsome and he seemed interested. Yet she knew little of the ways of mating and breeding under Molech. She would need to confer with her Sisters, to be sure that there wasn't some way she could offend their God with union. "I will find you." She whispered, glancing away bashfully, nervously. Yet there was desire in her own voice.

"Tell me, Ar-Khalba...is Molech a vengeful God? I would never think to cross The Many Armed God, but I want to know. My blessings could be taken, my life? What...what punishments to those who cross our God receive?" There was nothing but intent to do good in her heart, but like a child who wanted to know what the consequences were, she needed to hear them. "What should I look for in those who have been cursed by Molech?"

He saw it -- the brief flicker of desire lighting in her eyes before she turned away. She need not hide it from him. Such a thing was no crime. No sin against Molech had been committed. Though she turned from him, Ar-Khalba knew in this moment that his prize was secured. Soon, he would serve this woman the same as the sisters. She would prove herself to Molech in time, and then, when she was ready, she would be blessed with her season.

"Good," he muttered under his breath. All the while, a smile played across his handsome features.  

Her questions that followed were numorous. Khalba, being a well learned consort of the Malkaria believed it to be his duty to explain the best he could. Her inquiry into Molech's vengeance was of the utmost importance, as it knew no bounds. "Molech is a vengeful God. Yes," spoke the man. "But the one who consumes is fair." One would not inspire his vengeance unless there was good reason. "However," he continued, eyes trailing downward. "Those who have been cursed are fated to death. The faithful should not consort with those who are followed by Molech's eye."

His whispered word sent shivers down her spine and she couldn't help the twitch of her mouth, the darting of her eyes to his face. Soon she would understand her role more fully and she would come to him, perhaps still bashfully, but to him all the same. She was still so new to Molech, so virginal, and she was too nervous to displease Molech. Once she understod she could gain her confidence and enjoy her role. Molech had claimed her virgin's blood first, by being the God who gave her life and gave her purpose...but perhaps it would be Ar-Khalba who claimed her madienhead. Her thoughts were far more innocent however, all this was as yet unplanned, but soon they would turn to lust and reproduction when her time came.

Ar-Khalba did not disappoint her and came forward with answers. She nodded, though there was no fear in her eyes. She understood the wrath of Gods, even the nameless one who her parents had worshiped had been capable or wrath...or so they said. Asherah herself wondered if perhaps they had simply been mistaken, and if Molech had punished them all those times for not seeing his light. Surely, if her name was what it was they would know of Molech? Had they turned from his light?

"The faithful should not consort with those who are followed by Molech's eye." She nodded firmly to this, resolute. If her parents had known Molech and chosen another path...they had met the fates promised to them for doing so. It saddened her, she wished she could turn back time and change the fates, encourage her parents to pursue Molech. Perhaps they would be saved. Her mind tumbled as she thought of her parents and their ill-fated faith. She would gather her thoughts and discuss this with her sister, or the priestess. Perhaps they could enlighten her more, for whatever reason she felt almost ashamed tell Ar-Khalba about her parents, to ask him.

"You have been so helpful, Ar-Khalba." She said, smiling up at him. "I look forward to what the future may bring us, what Molech may bring us. I am still very untaught and fresh, but I hope to soon be well versed in the ways of our God. Is there anything else you believe I need to know? I am so interested in anything that you can teach me." Had she been more confident, that last line would have been more lustful and flirtatious. As it was, it was purely innocent...for now.

He did not know of her birth, nor the circumstances that led her way from Molech's embrace at the hands of heretical parents. To Ar-Khalba, this woman was an outsider. An unproven woman -- still an initiate. However, her interest in learning the ways of the Malkaria stirred something within him. It was respect. She would do fine among them. Like her name suggested, she would be one of Molech's chosen.

And so, he would serve her unceasingly -- happily -- just as he did with the sisters Eshamun and Arunik'ra. He smiled. Rising to his feet, he drew near to her. With the tip of his muzzle he lightly trailed across the scruff of her neck, whispering, "There is one final thing."

He pulled back; his motion teasing. "There is a social order to be upheld. The women must be exalted above the rest. It is my purpose, as a male and sole consort of the Malkaria, to ensure this." Ar-Khalba occupied the bottom rung in their society, but he relished in his position. In more ways than one, he was greatly rewarded. "It is my purpose to serve you and the sisters in whatever you desire."

His muzzle drew over her neck and she gasped lightly, the sound soft in the air. She shivered at the touch, though it was not unpleasant. His whisper was hot in her ear, burning her insides and sending her heart thumping and dancing in her chest. She met his eyes as he pulled away, her own orange bright and flickering with that same fire. She swallowed lightly, understanding what he meant, what he insinuated, and not understanding it all at once. He was to serve her, to bow to her wishes as a woman. It was strange for her to imagine being in control of another, to be capable of delivering orders.

And the breeding, she realized, it meant he would lay with both her and her sisters. Her parents had been mated in the traditional way, had told her of one day claiming her own mate against the world. Of course, some could be unfaithful they warned. A true mate would stay with her and only her, as her father did for her mother and mother for father. Yet this too her parents had gotten wrong. Molech liked his followers to share their bodies freely? He wanted the males to join all the females, the females to join all the male. They would all connect on a primal and base level. Her thoughts were swirling through her head, and it was likely obvious she was thinking this over by the look in her eyes. The fire had slowly lessened, giving way to thought.

She exhaled breathily, her desire buzzing under the surface. It was pushed down by her curiosity, which was stronger. "Me...and the sisters? All of us? Molech...wishes the sisters to share mates? Do...do wolves mate under Molech or...or are we all connected?" Her mind was mulling it over, mashing it into a shape that was manageable. She'd be lying if she said it didn't appeal to her. To be connected with all of the followers of Molech...to let Molech truly choose who would father her young...it was frightening but an exhilarating thought. She had lived her life in fear and worry, and the idea of tossing the very option of pups, of life, to the Many Armed God seemed...divine. In truth, she had always feared being mated as her parents had. It had so destroyed her mother when her father had died. She had already seen so much death and couldn't imagine losing one she deeply depend on. If Molech was her lifemate...she could never lose her God as she had lost so many others. And the needs of her body could be tended by others, others she might grow to love but not lean upon as she leaned upon Molech.

"Lusting...does the Many Armed God frown upon those who lust for another?" Her eyes pointedly flashed to his and then away, it was clear this time she was concerned for her own reason. Molech wants us to live, she thought, wants us to enjoy our life so long as we serve. The Many Armed One will feast on the joy of our soul and our offering...and the feast can only be full if our souls are full of life and emotion. Of lust. Of love. Of devotion. Her heart soared as she waited for Ar-Khalba's answer, full of love and awe for the God that had chosen her...if she thought correctly.

Among the Malkaria -- the true believers, there were no mates who committed themsleves to one another. There was no love among them but the love given freely to Molech. Such emotional trappings and entanglements would only complicate their way of life. This was something that Ar-Khalba not only understood, but embraced. There was a simplicity to pursuing pleasure.

She responded to his touch much like a fish on his hook. He had her. Now he need only reel her in. "We all belong to Molech and to Molech alone," he explained. Though he was bound to serve both her and sisters, she claimed no ownership of him -- nor did he claim ownership of her. In the eyes of Molech, she was free to do with her body as she pleased.

He returned to touch her once more, trailing his teeth through the soft fur of her flank. "In fact, such passion is—" he paused to sensually pull through a knot in her fur. "Encouraged," rumbled the man after a beat. It was then that he calmly drew his muzzle further across her body as he worked his way closer to her fragrent shrine.

Her head was swimming, her throat was dry. She felt a longing deep within her belly that she'd never known before. He confirmed what she thought, that their sole love should be for Molech. Their souls themselves were Molech's. To be truly and wholly devoted...one could not take a mate. It would distract, take away from the bond with God. Her heart thrummed with love for Molech, with understanding...and with lust.

She felt his touch like a burning brand, like lightening alighting on her side. It sent her insides shivering and moving, squirming in a way that was warm and pleasant but uncontrollable.  She felt her eyes go closed at the touch, a soft sigh escaped her. How long had it been since she'd been touched? She'd never been touched in this way, never had someone able to move her insides with their breath on her side. But before Eshamun had been lead by Molech to her at the river, she hadn't been touched since she left her mother's side. She had not shared an embrace, had not leaned against another for support.

This was an entirely different touch...but the lack of physical connection in all the months before made it all the more powerful. She felt that Molech was smiling down upon them, approving of their actions, of their emotions. Ar-Khalba's growling voice made shivers flash across her, she could feel his rumble within her very bones. The word encouraged drew forth an unplanned growl from her throat. The noise surprised her, she'd never heard herself sound that way before. It was needy and mewling but demanding at the same time. Her tail flicked on her rump, as if her body knew more than she.

"Molech would want us to enjoy our bodies." She murmured, lost in the ecstasy of his touch. Her thoughts tumbled through her head but she did not speak. "Our love and devotion belongs to the Many Armed God but our passion is ours. And you must serve me, and my sisters. You must help us tame the passion of our bodies." She leaned into his touch now, only slightly. She was nervous, her hind legs trembled but she wasn't sure which emotion caused that. She knew what could come next, she wasn't daft. It frightened her how much she wanted the weight of him upon her, the touch of him where no one else had touched her.

"I have never..." She half-whispered, her voice breathy. "...never...been served...in such desires." She adopted his words, shying away from more vulgar terms. She felt her skin blushing hot, or was the heat from him touching her? She wasn't sure. Her entire body was an electrical current, snapping and dancing around the grounding pole that was Ar-Khalba, magnetized to him.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sexualy explicit content ahead! Not for the faint of heart!

Further he went -- his body alight with a nervous, anticipatory thrum.  It was then that he became more aware of his heart rapidly beating in his chest. It did not matter whom he courted; be it the Ekar-Aji, the preistess, or the woman now who trembled beneath his touch -- the feeling was the same. The excitement consumed him.

But he -- he would consume her.

"Yes," he whispered in agreement. This is what Molech wanted -- and in turn, it was what Khalba desired as well. Though she was grossly inexperianced, by her own admission no less, Khalba was more than willing to pick up the slack. "Let me show you," murmered the man as he continued to run his teeth through the fur of her flank, inching closer and closer to his final destination.

Though young, he was an experianced man -- and it showed as he let his tongue linger teasingly against the soft lips of her labia. It was his purpose to please. He had been taught by the great high priestess Ashtorath within the privacy of her own chambers -- lashed until his technique had been perfected. Surely, it would show now as he partook of this holy communion.

Asherah had never been a woman who let her lusts control her. She'd gone into heat before, but rarely. She had lived such a life of stress and constantly moving that her body had never really had the chance to cycle. She knew of her heat though, knew what it meant and what it caused. The couple times it had come when she was wandering she had found herself a hideaway, caves or other such places. The first time it had hit her she had understood why others seemed so reckless during it. Her mind had felt foggy except for the need that had grown within her. She'd never felt the weight of a male on her back, or, really...anywhere near her feminine area. She had rubbed her sides along the cave walls that time, fighting to keep herself hidden. She didn't want a brute to come and take her, she wasn't to choose who to be with. Yet, she hadn't imagined her first time would be like this.

Her parents had preached that she should run with someone she felt a bond with, that her body should be for her mate and God alone. To hear Ar-Khalba say the opposite, to speak of Molech who gave you permission and encouraged you to seek your own pleasure. It only made sense. Why would a God want you to suffer and rub your sides bare within a cave to save yourself for a wolf you may never meet? The feeling that overcame her here, as he inched down her side, teeth trailing her skin was the greatest thing she'd ever known. Her life had been full of pain and sadness, she had never known such heights. She felt the warmth growing within her, not heat, but pure desire. 

Her tail moved to the side, her entire body driven by longing. She was beyond words now, simply able to emit soft growls in her chest. She was drunk with it, high on it. She knew only of mating in the sense of a male climbing atop her, she knew not of the other activities that could be partaken of. Ar-Khalba would change this though, he would teach her. A soft warm touch sent a shock through her, her eyes snapped open in surprise and she turned her head to look at the male positioned with his muzzle between her legs. Confusion colored her face, mixed with interest. Her hips twitched backwards towards the touch, but she knew not what this was.

She started to question him, to ask what he was doing. Yet she felt the love of Molech shining down and them and knew she could trust the male. He would teach her. She continued to watch him, enticed, her eyes full of her want. "Teach me." Her voice was a whisper, it was the wind. They were as Molech had intended them, as ancient as any tree could ever be, as primal as hunger. They were desire. She leaned back into him, inviting him as she watched.

Teach me

He would do just that -- awaking both her mind and body to the blessings Molech provided. She moved in, toward his touch, and Ar-Khalba needed no further prompting. The lapping of his tongue became less teasing in nature in favor of more deliberate motion. He wished to drive her up, higher and higher... to bring her near the furthest reaches, only to bring her down once more. He willed her anticipation to build as she carefully walked the edge.

The taste of her collecting on his tongue only drove himself further into her trance. Whatever she desired he would do, but not yet would he draw himself over her back -- that time would come, and soon. This passionate dance was a thing of careful restraint. Soon, he would give himself in full to her, but she needed to be ready. He needed to hear the fruits of her pleasure first; her moans and mumbles.

Then, and only then, would he give her what she wanted.

She was a flame, an uncontrollable fire. It bubbled forth from her loins and tore through her stomach, up the back of her throat and spilling from her mouth in heated breath. It burst behind her eyes, white and hot, blinding her. Her legs twitched but kept up, stayed strong, she felt them spreading wider, allowing more of herself to be devoured. She had watched him lean back in and had felt his tongue rock her forward over and over. The warm touch was at times rhythmic and then not. It touched all the right spots, danced away and then returned. 

She was growling still, feeling the fire burning brighter and hotter. It flamed and roared, rising and rising with each touch of his tongue. She found herself bowing, arching her back towards him. Her tail twisted from side to side, twirled atop her back, thrashing. Slowly her growl rose, as did the flame. She began to pant and then to whine, the fire spilling from her belly and into the world. Her first moan surprised her, so loud compared to the gentle and quiet of Ar-Khalba's lapping. She fought to quiet herself, the whining and grunting back again. She opened her eyes and glanced around at him again, watched him work. He was consumed in the act, in her. Watching him made the fire twist in a new and enticing way. She could not control herself as she watched him, as she saw the pleasure on his own face. Her moans grew louder, she felt as if the fire could go no hotter, than it would explode from her and she would be consumed from the outside. 

She leaned back into him further, grunting and moaning, commanding and begging. "Yes, yes, more. There. Molech....Ar-Khalba...." Her voice was breathy, high, full of her longing.

She responded to his ministrations in the way he so desired. With easier access granted as she spread her legs, Ar-Khalba slowly increased the pressure of his tongue against her. His motions quickened both in pace and passion, and he soon heard her moan. She gasped -- begged for more by arching her back and pushing into him. Ar-Khalba gladly granted her just what she wanted. 

She was dripping wet with desire. By the time the name of their God passed her lips, Ar-Khalba knew she was ready. His motions slowed a moment before he drew his head away. It was then that he threw a forelimb across her back and began to climb atop of her. His forelimbs locked around her waist and he drew his hips near. 

Slowly... Teasingly, he slid the length of himself into her warm, wet embrace. This woman, a stranger no longer. His eyes shut as he let his breath escape from slightly parted lips. Now, not only would he not only satisfy the woman beneath him, but he would take satisfy his own desires.  Holding on tight, he began to thrust his hips against her. He started slow -- easing her into this passionate dance, but slowly and steadily, he began to take her with more force.

He did not withhold what she wanted. He gave as she begged, as she commanded. His tongue danced and pushed, the ignition and tinder to her fire. Her thighs were wet now, the air was filled with the scent of her desire. After a moment though, Ar-Khalba slowed his tongue. She half-whine and half-growled her disagreement, leaning backwards once more. She had been so close to something. She knew not what, but something that had seemed wonderful.

He drew his head from her and she hissed a sigh of protest through her lips, opening her eyes. She looked at him, and watched as he raised and threw a limb over her hip. She nodded, understanding, eager. The first had been so good...so this could only be more so. His legs held her hips possessively as he settled himself along her back. She grunted in pleasure, she liked the weight of him on her, the feeling of him. His hips moved forward and she felt the first probings of her womanly shrine. She braced herself, then gasped as his hips drew forward and he was plunged into her. He moved slowly, but the feeling was not, at first, entirely pleasant. 

She'd never before had a male. Her body was taunt and virginal, unfamiliar. He slid slowly for her though, and she grimaced only slightly at the sudden pain that came at his first entrance. As he moved further, though, chills swept through her. Her fur rose and she moaned, a surprised breathy sound. Her eyes snapped closed as he slowly increased his force, as their bodies entangled deeper. She felt that same fire burning higher than before, consuming her again. Surely it would consume them both now, him within her, and they would burn as one. She could not control her moaning, did not try to. She had expected her first time to be more painful, but she wondered if his attentions with his tongue had helped the transition to be less pain and more pleasure.

He was filling her deeply now, the force of his thrusts jerking her body forward as they connected. Stars began to burst behind her eyes, universes dying and being born again behind her lids. His momentum continued and she felt her breath leave her, she gasped at the air like a fish without water. A shuddering pleasure spilled into her, her legs trembled but did not give. She came, screaming incoherently, and tears tumbled from the corners of her eyes. The pleasure was so much, the feelings were so intense. She teared at her blessings from Molech and from the sex. More so, she screamed her joy and pleasure to the sky. Unafraid if any heard, uncaring if they came to see. She was one with Ar-Khalba, she was one with Molech. She was living, and she was dying. She was the world, and she was nothing. The shudders continued to come, dying slowly and allowing her to catch her breath only to rise once more and fill her again.

Unlike his careful ministrations by the tip of his tongue, Ar-Khalba's motions were less controlled. The moment of his hips were no longer guided by his latent desire to please. Instead, selfish desire coursed through him -- taking hold of both his mind and body. He lost himself to the motion and moved himself against her, within her, without thought. He was possessive in his passion, but not in a conventional sense. She was not his, not permananly at least, but as he rocked her body forward with his rhythmic thrusts, he laid as much a claim on her as any. With his jaw gripping lightly on the scruff of Asherah's neck, Ar-Khalba tightened his grip as a rare and low growl passed his lips.

Regarding the women of the Malkaria, Ar-Khalba treated them gently -- but now, he was far from gentle. He eased her into the throes of pleasure in preperation for this, of course, but he now took her roughly. However, his selfish motions seemed to resonate within his lover as her voice poured loudly from her lips. Her climax was violent -- its power rivaling the intensity of the All-Consumer -- so much so that he could feel the aftershocks wrack her body as he continued.

She quaked and quivered beneath him as she surged with holy pleasure --  but he was not done with her, nor would he relent until he had had his fill of her.