Grouse Thicket drinking at a playground, tequila for one

 

set for the day after their return, after colt

It is finally apple season.  Although the Thicket isn't really filled with the best memories there are some shining moments that draw her back to her favorite haunt.  The orchard is touched with memories of Raven's kindness, and of the drunken day she spent with Screech.

Which is weird to think about now. If he weren't already dead, she could kill him.  Taking the strange woman's life had done a number on Ceara.  It had bent her but not broken her, and she believed herself stronger for it.  When it had all happened she wasn't sure if she'd be able to take another life, even despite her love for Raven.  

Now, she wasn't sure if she'd think twice about killing someone if they were proven dangerous.

It was that thought that disturbed her.  It takes more apples to have an effect when they are still ripe.  She devours them quickly and before long she is a drunken mess.  Beneath the turning leaves of early autumn she rests at the foot of a tree, too tired and drunk and sad to do much else.

A month had more or less passed by, so Bruges began to haunt the Hinterlands, curious to see if his brother had had any success in joining the pack and succeeding beyond Niamh. Naturally, he wasn’t going to waste too much time getting involved with his little brother’s life- what Ambrose did was of little concern to him- unless he could make his brother prickle or lose his cool. That, he did for fun.

So he wasn’t surprised to see another packmate in the area, chowing down on apples. This wasn’t a novelty for Bruges, who had dabbled with apples and other edibles before in his life. He was tickled, though, to see such a pretty girl indulging- and all by herself. If nothing else, this was the perfect opportunity to get under his brother’s skin. 

He approached, a certain fluid grace to his swarthy step, and he nodded his head in a greeting, regarding her with and amused, allured grin. ”Those certainly look good...Mind if I join you?”

The appearance of another causes her to prickle.  Her pale eyes have a dangerous glint as they sweep upwards towards the oncoming wolf, and she worries for a split second that it's someone like Colt or Raven, and she'll have to explain herself.  

It isn't.  It's some stranger.  She doesn't recognize him by scent or appearance and he does not offer his name.  She's so drunk at this point that it might not click anyway; Niamh had only mentioned him once in passing and she was yet to spend much time with Ambrose.  Her paw moves protectively over one of the few apples she has left.  

Suit yourself.  The words aren't exactly welcoming, but with a sweep of her foreleg she moves both herself and her apples to make room for this other man.  What brings you out this way?

Wow. The girl definitely had to have some more apples, in Bruges' opinion, because she definitely needed to loosen up a bit. She didn't seem to begrudge the company, but she didn't look as though she was pleased to the tits that she'd scored a handsome companion. But, like everything, it slid off Bruges' shoulders like water off a duck's back and he flashed her an appreciative smile as he seethed forward, scouring the ground for more apples, intent on finding ones that were more on the ripe side...Unfortunately, it looked as though she'd taken advantage of those, so instead, he began nosing about the base of the apple trees, looking for another target. 

To her question, he glanced over one glossy shoulder and winked at her. "You're not the only one looking for a little somethin' somethin' for fun," He said. He managed to find one apple that looked a little hard done by, and wolfed it down, before he located what he was really looking for. He pressed one paw down into the grass at the base of the apple tree, revealing a couple small, harmless-looking fungi; he glanced back at her, tail waving and smile growing. "Ever tried these little fellas before?"

If she were sober, she might have remembered Niamh's warning about her brother Bruges and his mushrooms.  She might have even remembered saying that she absolutely wouldn't do anything like that ever, yup right.  Good news for Bruges was that she was drunk as fuck, because she still was trying to find out what her limit was and she'd passed that some time ago.  Oops.

Mmmno, she says with a definitive shake of her head, I don' deal with plants like that, usually.  But what good was she if she didn't know what they did?  Are they somethin' like these?  She takes one of the apples from between her forelegs and smacks it in the stranger's direction.  She's definitely more intrigued than she lets on because despite her apple impairment, she still hasn't quite forgotten how it feels to rip someone's throat out.  Literally.

The firey femme seemed somewhat hesitant, but he knew he could bend that. The fact that she'd offered him one of her apples, after all, meant that he was getting somewhere. Start with her giving her an apple, and eventually work toward more. He appreciatively crunched into the sweet fruit, taking just one bite to start with. The tangy-ness implied that perhaps it was a bit too soon to get too much off them- but the way she spoke and looked at him also inferred that she'd managed to get more than just a bit of a buzz from the apples. If she was already half in the bag, then the mushrooms would certainly do it. 

"These? Oh, they're better." He said. He grimaced slightly, though "They don't taste nearly as good as apples do- so you kind of want to chase them down with one. But believe me, you think over-ripe apples make you feel good...Wait until you try these," He said. He reached down and carefully plucked a few of them from the earth, shaking some of the dirt out of the little roots that hang like threads, and dropped a couple at his own feet, before he tossed the others over in her direction. "They're not poisonous, I promise," He said, before he picked his up, tilted his head back and gulped them down, chewing quickly to avoid tasting them too much- and quickly thereafter finished the apple she'd thrown his way. He then shook out his shoulders, and sank to the ground into a sphynx-like position, to wait for the effects to hit. He gestured with a coy smile and a brief flick of his muzzle. "You game?" He challenged, voice sultry and low.

Better than apples?  She offers him a skeptical look, unsure if she can believe him.  She's still so terribly young and naive; she hasn't experienced most of adulthood's finest treasures, but like many other girls her age she believes she's seen it all.

She watches him bend to the earth (already half-impaired, her gaze lingers a beat too long on his legs that stretch on for miles, the moonlight in his dark pelt.  When he faces away from her, for a moment she thinks that he could be Raven.  Her chest tightens for a moment before she concentrates on the roots pulled from the ground.

There was no way  she was ready for whatever this was about to do to her.  She was nervous, but she wasn't about to bitch out in front of this (kind of really attractive) guy.  After he's eaten his share and settled down, he asks her if she's game.

Of course she is.  I'm down for anything, baby, she quips before she grabs the mushrooms and tries to mimic how this strange boy had taken them.  They're earthy and malleable, they fall apart in her mouth easily much to her distaste.  He's right, they're not very good.  She chases them down with an apple.

For a while she felt nothing, and then she was queasy; the world around her seemed to turn (although that was from the alcohol setting in).  But because thirty minutes is a long time and because these are wolves, it didn't take long for her to notice something.

The moonlight was somehow both sharper and more diffused.  It cut the paper moon of the dark stranger's eyes into shards.  It blanketed him in a cloak of moonbeams.  Oh, she breathed silently, taking in the rich blues of the world around her, Wow.  And then all she could do was smile.

Perfect. Not that Bruges had any bad intentions for the female- but getting a strange, very pretty stranger to take mushrooms for hi- especially with it being her first time- was definitely high up in his books of fun things to do. She imitated his actions, downing the mushrooms quickly, and then crunching into an apple to quell the sort of musty, dirty taste of the mushrooms. It would take some time before the mushrooms kicked in, especially for him as he was going in from a sober standpoint, but it didn't seem to take the female much time whatsoever. But with a metabolism like the one they had, tie passed quickly. 

She seemed to experience the effects first, and her comment came just as he began to slide into a state of giggly, giddy happiness. He smiled at her and rose to move closer, so he could be by her side as she experienced everything. "That's it," He said calmly, his voice reverbrating on the air and causing him to utter a small laugh. It sounded like he was speaking with an echo- and he knew, then, that he was starting to feel it. She was smiling, and that made him inexplicably happy. He reached over to touch his nose gently to her cheek, a featherlike, innocent touch that caused him to giggle, his voice light and high. "Look at you," He said, eyes browsing over her fur, which seemed to flicker, wave and bend, blending down into the greens of the grasses beneath her. "You're beautiful," He said. His words were soft and drawn out, slower than he would normally speak, but filled with warmth and wonder.

 

I've used this theme before for a similar thread, but it super fits here.

This wasn't the only "first time" she'd shared with a stranger who called her beautiful.  She always wondered if they meant it.  She knew she was striking, but she also knew that she was an absolute disaster.  She felt that her ugly, raw insides did not match her enticing exterior.  Being beautiful was not an act she could keep up for very long.

The drugs made it easier, somehow.  Every worry and guilt she carried melted away.  Time itself seemed to expand and contract at will.  Her heartbeat was strong as it drummed against her ribcage, and there was a brightness to her demeanor that had abandoned her some time ago.  

The boy's voice lifted and wrapped around her and a warmth built in her chest and burst, its remnants trickled down her every inch from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.  She curled the latter when he touched her and emit a low note that spiraled around, expending into laughter.

Nothing could bring her down from this.  You tell that to every girl you meet?  Abruptly, she thinks of Sunny and her giggling takes on a hysteric pitch.  You're ethereal.  And she didn't even know his name!

Bruges' gaze didn't falter or leave the fiery femme, too enthralled with the look of her and the way the colours of her pelt seemed to swim before his eyes. The little light mark on her forehead was enchanting, and almost looked like a third eye, when he considered the silver hue of her orbs. As enchanted as he was with her, he couldn't help but join her in giggling and laughing when he heard her speak, and fall into a gale of laughter herself. He shook his head- slowly, though, as there was already too much visual calamity happening before his eyes. 

"No," He said, and reached out to touch her forehead gingerly, where the white mark trailed down her forelead like a small, white gem. "You're amazing. Amazing," He said, breath fanning over the top of her head before he pulled back, but continued to gaze at her with a calm look that was both present and vacant at the same time.

As he stared at her, she could see the white part of his chest yawn and open into a pale void.  She shouldn't believe him but she does, because how could someone so charming and alluring have anything but the purest intentions?

And even if he doesn't, a small voice asserts from somewhere far away, at least he isn't afraid to touch you.  The physical nearness of this boy made her feel both wanted and valued, and those were so scarce she'd take what she could get.  Most often it was Raven who made her feel those things, but it hurt coming from Raven right now.  Ceara still wasn't over her, and she didn't know if she'd ever be.

She closes her eyes as he brushes the spot between them, and as he pulls back she moves to rest her ear in the hollow of his throat.  She can hear his lifeblood.

She is close enough she can taste it.  She could catch him off guard, clamp her fangs around his throat and let leak like a waterfall.  

It's enough to nearly send her into a panic.  She tenses, then pulls back to concentrate on anything but that.  There are a million questions she wants to ask him, but her tongue feels heavy in her mouth so she opts to explore what length of his buttersoft body is available to her with her nose.  When she moves the fur between his shoulders she can see the blue-brown undertones to it.  His pelt shimmered with every shade of the galaxies in the night sky.  You're phenomenal.

The air between them seemed to vibrate, and it was enough to finally make him cave in and move nearer to her when she touched her brow to his chest, as though to listen to his heartbeat, as steady as it had ever been. Bruges, having experienced the drug before, knew to keep focused on the present, without allowing himself to delve into any of the thoughts that passed through his mind, fleeting as they were. Like silver fish below the surface of water, those thoughts were quick, and had the potential to pull him in- but instead, he kept his gaze focused on the general, on the surface of the water and its beauty. And even in just the surface of what was going on, there was a siren-song beautiful enough to keep him enthralled. 

She pulled away a bit, and began to run her muzzle over the fur of his shoulders, reminding him of a mother's gentle touch, and he couldn't help himself but utter a soft, gentle moan as she did so. She spoke again, but the words flit past his ears like butterflies, the words obscure but the tone calm and endearing. Slowly he leaned back, lifting his head with a gentle, calm motion, and brushed his muzzle against the cool, fiery fur of her cheek, half expecting the touch to burn and surprising himself with how soft and feathery it felt. Unable to stop himself, he gently kissed her cheek, and began to comb his teeth through the fur behind the nearest, ginger ear, trimming his teeth carefully along its fine edge.

The distraction worked.  She was able to (lose) focus by parting his furs and listening to the sounds loosed from his lips.  The more sounds he made the more she felt powerful; to have such a fine and handsome young man melt beneath her was something she did not know she had desired until now.

He moved slowly and touched her again, and she couldn't help the way she was lit aflame by it.  He surprised her again by making a move, first with a kiss and then by teasing the paper thin edge of her ear.  

The fur along her spine rippled to life, the canine version of goosebumps.  She emit a pitched whine, then a breathy moan.  She leaned against the mushroom-dealing boy and watched as her flametouched pelt encompassed the darkness of his.  They were beautiful, intermingled like this, and she wished that she could stop time altogether and stay here where she felt mystical and prized.

She turned her head and found the bulb of his ear with her teeth, then traced her nose down the side of his neck. She knew that soon would come the part where he teased her and fed her flame, only to walk off and leave her wanting... but until then, she would devour whatever she could.

Everything felt smoothe and delicious, and Bruges forgot completely about the plans he'd had in mind for this Redhawk member, and simply lost himself in the moment. All thoughts about tooling with his brother's mind left, and he was able to throw himself completely into the current situation and tsunami of sensations. Any pre-conceived notions he'd had about fooling around with a stranger went straight out the window as she lipped at his ear, causing him to chuckle softly; her soft touch tickled him slightly, but the sensation was fabulous. 

He tilted his chin back as she trailed her touch down along the side of his jaw and the side of his neck, and he felt his hind foot twitch slightly, the way a dog's will when you scratch just the right spot. He couldn't help himself, then, and was possessed by an unstoppable need for more. "Want you," He murmured, reaching back to groom the soft spot just between her shoulder blades. He wanted to grab the loose fur and skin there, and hold her against him, but he couldn't give into that sort of urge. Any false move might tip her off, so he kept his touch gentle and inviting.

Bruges is quite lucky that while she lingers near his throat that she knows nothing of this bet he made with his brother.  She's come to enjoy Ambrose and his company (though it's still much too early to see him as a true romantic interest), and she does not want to admit while she is still hung up on Raven that he is as handsome as the man before her.  One day, he might be able to break her heart just like everyone else that has handled it.

Pride swells inside her as she looses the desire from his lips.  She wants to tease him and make him wait but it has been a long time since anyone has even truly looked at her this way (if they ever have) that instead she goads, Take me.  Come morning she likely wouldn't remember it enough to regret it. 

Being as mercilessly lost in the midst of this trip, all senses blended into one, Bruges' normal ego had no way to work its way into the situation. Oddly enough, Bruges was much more sincere when he was under the influence of something- as though he forgot about all the douchbagerie that he'd developed over time. The drugs took him back to some sort of primal form, which was surprisingly more docile and tender than sober Bruges was, fortunately for Ceara. In this state, all semblance of pride was forgotten, and he truely was completely invested in his current company. 

Once given permission, he gave into his urges, and with all the care and devotion in the world he tended to his companion with an urgent but gentle touch. He tended to her, carefully and slowly, tuned into the little nuances of her movements and sounds, flexing his experience to its fullest. Passion spun them together like threads of gold and ebony, until it finally released them against the ground, where he lay by her side, his breath heavy but steady. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off her, enthralled completely by the image of the fiery beauty he had managed to possess even for just one day.

He didn't run away, or confess at the last moment that he actually had a secret lover back home he was totally head over heels for.  No, it was her he was interested in.  The stranger did not wait to mount her and she held her breath in anticipation, releasing it as he took her maidenhead.

She'd never have an experience like this again.  Not only was it her first time, each sensation was heightened by the drugs.  Her lover was careful and attentive.  Every bit of fear and apprehension melted from her as their bodies tangled together.

Once they had finished she lay exhausted and breathless on the ground next to him.  Blanketed by tiredness and utterly spent, she blinked her heavy eyes at him.

I never got your name, she murmurs, pulling close enough to rest the crown of her head under his chin as she thought about whether or not it'd be more beneficial to stay put or head on home.

Bruges was quiet for a moment or two after Ceara spoke, but her words caused him to smile softly, and as though trying to find his way through a fog, he continued in silence as she relaxed next to him. She was snuggled up beside him, and he could feel the warmth rising from her skin against his chin as he rested his head gently atop hers. He finally managed to utter a soft chuckle, and tilted his head to the side so that he could sweep a kiss across her brow. "I never got yours either," Came his quiet reply. 

For some reason, even in this state Bruges was somewhat unwilling to give the girl his name. Given the situation- having acheived his goal, he wanted to keep his identity to himself until the right moment happened. He wasn't sure when that would be, but he knew that eventually, it would come to pass. And if it didn't, and he never saw the fiery girl again, it wasn't like it would matter. All he knew, as he began to sober up, was that he was happy with his present company- and didn't want to complicate things by giving her his name.

She thinks the game is innocent in the wake of all that has happened.  Fire, she begins slowly as she feels her high becoming tapered and paper thin, is what my family nicknamed me.

She traces his jaw with her nose and plants a playful but halfhearted nibble at the corner where his beautiful bone structure meets the cup of his ear.  But, I go by Ceara.  She was taken more seriously that way.  

Ceara wouldn't press him for his name.  She was too tired to put up much of a fight, anyhow.  

Fire. Bruges had to chuckle softly at that particular name, given the fact that it suited her so well. She had another name, but he preferred to think of her as Fire, as in his opinion, it easily fit her better. He kissed the top of her head again, and began to preen the fur just behind her crown, hoping to soothe her into slumber. The two would need some rest, especially her- as she'd been plenty drunk on apples before he'd even mentioned the mushrooms to her. His eyes began to slide closed, slowly, and eventually, he would lower his head, murmur something soft, gentle and caring, before slipping into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.