Dragoncrest Cliffs & all of the ghouls come out to play (mtr.)

More individual bonding rounds from Aure. Just paging @Vercingetorix!
Setting The apothecary, close to evening, before this.
Time Post-war/excursion, 12/30.

Haunted. That's what she'd become, when she wasn't taking time to rest -- like she should be. But how could she, when visions of flesh torn from marrow veiled her gaze; not when Rakk had reveled at the sight of her blood? Of Tux's?

As it was, though, she nevertheless trekked from the sequoias to where she recalled Rose's hospice was. The nightmares she had tried to cast off nipped at her thoughts; taunted at the edges of her vision. In the back of her mind, she sleepily remembered that she still hadn't had the time to rejoin with Verx. Despite having pointedly kept her eyes on Antumbra during her terse summary on the excursion, she couldn't bring herself to give him a flicker of thought; only a few, fleeting glimpses his way. Her heart gave a muted beat for him -- she'd missed him, truly, but until she was at some sort of inner peace, yeah right she wouldn't be able to give anyone or thing a second inkling.

She knew she was half-way to that blissful point, if she were able to at least find what she needed from the hospice soon. Dragă, her mind whispered, listless and far-away.

Regardless if opkepa was present or not, Aure made her presence known with a soft murmur -- and then made a single-minded beeline for the storage area in the back of the apothecary. The kru  so focused on her personal task, that she wouldn't have noticed if there'd been anyone who greeted her on her way. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't have noticed if there'd already been anyone in here.

Subtly, she regressed into the nature of the healer she'd needed to be during the war -- of course, though, much more complacent -- but nonetheless stressed.

Ragwort, or seed of poppy. That would help her sleep. She hoped.

He was hurt. Not any of the wounds that had plagued him during the war, but a new one, incurred during a hunt gone awry. Just a surface injury, really--a jagged crescent along the left side of his ribcage. But it stung like a motherfucker, and he knew it would get infected if he let it fester.

So for once, he did the sensible thing in his life--he went to the Opkepa again.

Instead of finding Rose there, though, her scent purled through his nostrils like incense, and all of the sudden he wanted to tear himself open and lay himself at her mercy forever. Did she know healing? She probably knew everything. Fucking Aure. Fucking perfect Aure.

Hei, he greeted with some semblance of calm, giving her a lopsided smile. What're you doing in here? Is Rose around? Fuuuuuuuuck.

She hadn't been able to sleep, and her mind was numbed by her fervent search for poppies, as the ragwort was low. Nothing would be able to quell her trance - except his voice. That low, spine-tingling voice that brushed along her nerves, kicked her entire system into overdrive; the one that made her dazzed, made her utterly dazzled. All at once, she felt an abundance of emotion, of urges; to collide into him like a star and nestle into the darkness that was him him him.

And she was feverish now; doing a meger job of hiding how her nerves made her tremble; a stark contrast to her stiffened, stressed shoulders. 

'What're you doing here?', 'Aching for you,' is what she wanted to whimper. But she inhaled softly, drawing in a steady breath, and turned to him. Kept her eyes averted as she tried, "I-" faltered, tried again, "I don't believe so. She may be out gathering herbs at ze moment." Only when she (hesitantly) trusted herself again, she veiled the addled emotions in her eyes as much as she could, before looking up towards him.

Him, and the damned, heart-stopping, crookedly come-hither smile he always wore— but before she could lose herself in it, she got to her paws, gaze flitting along his strong flank. "You're hurt," she lent, voice leaving no room for arguement; her jaw working, flushing, "You weren't supposed to get hurt while I was away. D-dragul, please sit down." The look on her face didn't seem angry, but more or less... ready to fuss over him. As if all of the pent-up emotions from the week away were being tugged from her, taking on the guise of fretting.

And her command was weak, nevermind that she didn’t have an intimidating bone in her body. Instead of waiting for him to reply, she whirled away from him and returned to looking through the stores for what would be needed. Tried to ignore the warmth of him, how he made her heart roar in her ears; how sensitive he made her feel under her fur, even from all the way across the apothecary. ”Lovely to see that you’re taking my words to heart, cheka. I wonder what other sensible qualities you’ve acquired while I’ve been gone?” Her voice left her, oddly prissy and nipping and chiding and—fuck indeed, she’d missed him. Him. What the hell was she saying? What was he doing to her?

You could have cut the tension with pool noodle into thick slices for all to enjoy. He burned, she burned, as they each teetered on the edge of spilling the contents of their hearts--among other things. He nodded, and then his mouth drew up in a wry smile as she scolded him, and then doubled down. Verx primly settled back, watching as she looked for herbs.

So salty, bounkola, he remarked, ears swiveling. I got this catching your dinner. And if we're talking about sensible. . . He shook his head. You're fooling yourself if you think that word will ever describe me. Born to be wild, babygirl.

How had someone like her ever fallen for an idiot like him? He was well aware of his physical charms, but the things that left his lips left much to be desired.

wOOPS forgot a lil paragraph

Blood seared through her breast to her head, flourishing at the endearment: bounkola, bounkola. She wanted it pressed into her temple as he’d done before, and she wanted his breath on her jaw, and the weight of him on her coiled shoulders, too. But she kept herself as poised as she could possibly bear, even as his words massaged up up up the ridge of her spine like a lovers’ touch. How she wished.

If someone were to have moseyed on by and declared that she’d fallen in love, the not-opkepa would’ve surely packed on the salt into their wounds. She wasn’t in love; how could she be? She’d listened to the great romances of those who came before her, tangible or myth, looking into the eyes of northern bards from her haven. But... never felt it herself. Never believed the chance might provide itself—never allowed herself the courtesy of that possibility. And if love was what made her eyes shy from his own, made her feel so deliciously helpless, so completely vulnerable, she....

How was it that someone like him could have been drawn to her? He was the guard of Antumbra; she was... a once-heiress of her own haven who could scarcely defend herself. Nothing but frost and bone with a wispy pelt to top it off. It was one thing that he tended to be a dim-wit, supposedly, but he was also a natural heartthrob. And her heart was not immune— 

Yet she set her jaw, because it couldn’t be love, the thing that terrified her more than never seeing him again, and finally trailed over to where he was situated. The directness of his gaze already making her feel flighty, even more feverish as she came closer. Aure kept her eyes steadily, carefully upon his figure instead, keen to see how the rest of him had healed so far.

Placing chervil and webs down, she merely mused, ”Need to clean ze wound,” before leaning low, canting her head, and beginning to lavish her tongue along the raw hurt. ”You’re fooling yourself if you think I’ll forever think you sensible,” she breathed against his fur, pressing her tongue in just a bit more for effect while her muzzle faintly creased with incredulity. ”You...” Her breath came out shaky, unable to finish whatever it was she tried to snap at him. 

Just like last time, before he could reach her, she wrenched herself away with a sharp breath, and instead turned her attention to her roots and webs after packing the poultice into his wound; quivering.

Mmm, it hurt but it felt good, to have her tongue lave the jagged edges of his wound. That kind of pain that you relish because it's part of something nice. His eyelids fluttered shut, not opening again until she had darted away from him with a statement that trailed off. You--

Me? he asked wryly, raising a brow at her turned back. Usually that word was followed by an expletive. He wasn't used to silence. Do I wanna know?

Verx's tail beat slowly against the ground, the heat flooding through him as he registered the close quarters, their proximity. Not quite as tight as the redwood, but it would do. What are you looking for? he asked, rising to his paws. Can I help? He drew alongside her without asking for permission, glancing her way with a smile, half-smirk, but genuine.

”You,” came the trembling, prissy reply; the bright she-wolf seeming intensely intrigued with the properties before her. Just as her mind began to ease into the familiar healer-motions, she heard the words he had to say; felt them caress her, just as he did nigh a moment later. He had to feel her trembling, had to know it was from him—him alone—and how her breast fluttered for too-warm air. Undeniably feeling awoken, but there was something intimate, hushing that ran beneath the yearning in her veins for him.

For a moment, she was able to still, tongue and throat working to speak, ”I—... I was looking for poppy seeds,” she murmured, feeling the closeness of him; the shadow of him next to her, behind her, peering over her shoulder. The upward quirk of his brow should have been vaguely enraging; but it devastated her, just as devilishly handsome in execution as the beholder. She swallowed a bit timidly, daring to bat a lash over a thin shoulder to add, ”Having trouble sleeping. It... it helps with sleeping. There should be some in the stores, ahm...”

Her whole being began to stutter, the longing within her suddenly muted by the proximity; something more...amorous. Her gaze flit away, like two stars glancing from the sea-made eyes that were his own. Whether or not he did as she bid, she continued, quietly, remembering from their week-ago farewell, ”There was something I saw, for you, when... when I was away.” Of course, those words he’d spoken had probably been meant as some fanciful nothing; but as with everything, she took it seriously.

There was, of course, a cure for insomnia that she might enjoy. Verx thought that, given the circumstances, it might be uncouth to suggest it. Though. . .perhaps she would welcome the idea. He held his tongue for now, just in case he was wrong in his supposition.

Her change of subject took him off-guard, and he squinted at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Saw for me. . .you mean on your trip? he asked, cocking his head. What did you see for me, bounkola? Tell me everything.

Aure nodded, just a slight motion of her chin, "Da, dragă," the endearment charmed from her, unthought of, like one sparrow chirpping to another, "A cave of— of stars. Q-quartz. It was as if ze end of ze world had stilled, captured forever in a time that they had fallen to earth. As if... something had plucked them from ze sky, all of their own making. As if they were... suspended there. Waiting." Feathery, thin ears fluttered back and forth along her finely-molded skull. 

She couldn't help but stare openly at him now, with the same Let-me-chart-you look that'd begun to trail her actions with him like a second, less ivory shadow; the new scarring from Rakk holly-bright, twined along the old from Dennan. And then, as if realizing how vulnerable the evening light made on bone-taut skin, she inhaled shakily, a glaze of tears drawing over her pale irises; but she couldn't look away, and did not let them fall. "It was... beautiful," she whispered, bones straining at the throat, feeling and looking so far-away from herself.

She may have told heda of the male who incessantly hunted for her, had wrested with Tux; and there was nothing more than she wanted than to confide in Verx about him. She trusted comoara ei. But... her throat closed up at it. "I wish you had been there with me." 

Damned if she wasn't enchanting. He found himself holding his breath as she spoke, the cave coming to life around them. He saw the sparkles in her eyes, the moonbeams bouncing off her pelt. It was only when he noticed the tears on the verge of spilling that he let out a shuddering breath, his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

Had he hands, he would have cupped her chin in them, turned her back to him and kissed her deeply. As it was, he was not blessed with opposable thumbs, nor palms with which to caress her face. He was a brute, an animal, and knew it. But he could be gentle.

Did he want to be gentle? Yes. . .for now. While she was vulnerable. He wouldn't burst down her walls, now; he'd take them down, brick by brick, while whispering in her ear--

Me too, he said gently. With a whine, he dipped his head and pressed his muzzle into her throat, under her chin. She could have him down in an instant; his body softened with submission. And for once, he didn't know whether he was just playing a game or whether he truly, honestly meant to submit to her.

At least for now.

In the small time it took for her to look and know her soul would wade forever in the depths of his eyes, Verx had taken it upon himself to nuzzle into the snowy crook of her jaw, mouth pressed near her flickering pulse point. She seized up, a quiet, broken breath leaving her while her heart thrummed throughout her entire being. He had to feel it; she wanted him to feel it, how it thrashed with anxious abandon in her breast.

”V-vberx,” came the weak, ardent bumble of his name. The herbalists’ eyes shuttered into crescent moons at the initial contact, warmth searing down her throat as a timid whimper left her for this. It was hard to breath; where air should be, only his scent existed in her lungs. ”When I returned,” the salt of her tears stinging, ”there was nobody I longed to see more than you. Whenever I return, I—“

In the time she’d known him, on the stance of power and rank, Verx had never been one to submit—as far as she was aware. She’d never heard him whine; it made something heavy-lidded and self-indulgent and longing, low within her, want to groan in answer.

So she took notice of his bent posture, felt just as helpless and willing, but made no other move. Not yet. Not when he was so near and dear to one of the most sensitive parts of her body; overloaded with it, quivering hard against him. But... she curled her elegant neck over him, a thin shoulder twitching of its own accord. Unable to help how she faintly writhed for him—wanting to flee out of instinct at his dominant aura, but finding this irrisistable and staying, regardless. She’d become an entire knee-jerk reactor upon him.

Then, she pulled away, lavishing his cheek and jaw with little kitten licks as she went. Eyes full of rapture, rounder than full moons, somehow able to gently pant, ”A-Aurëwen.” Breathless, as all of the missing-him and hoping and wistfulness peaked, making her voice warbling, ”I was born as Aurëwen.”  

Take me down, take me down gently. She could do it; he would let her. Let her have her way with him, as he had allowed the wild woman to do so. She began to speak, and he suddenly hated the concept of words, dividing their flesh like a barrier. He almost shushed her when she pulled away, giving him little kisses upon departure.

Aurëwen, Verx said, sliding along the unfamiliar syllables a little clumsily. That's pretty. Aurëwen. He lifted his chin, smiling. Not the easiest name to say, kind of like mine. Is Aure your 'Verx'?

Hypocrite. He'd railed so hard against words a moment ago, and now he was speaking like a child, without care for the things that slipped from his mouth. Yet there it was still, a barrier between them. What would it take for her to finally give in? Was she from one of those kind of cultures where purity and chastity reigned supreme?

Yikes, if so.

last of the nit-picking from me! i promise ♥ some sentences just didn't sit/translate right for me riprip

This feeling, here; all of them. She felt like this even when they were apart; and something wicked and torturous in her reveled in the restraint, the wait, the holding out. She was the “temptress” that he may have accused her of—but she was entirely unaware of her effect on him. Aure stilled at his words, pupils billowing, breath coming quiet; almost as if she could scent the questions on him. A ravenous look, lurking beneath all the ardent tenderness. If she’d known, she didn’t want to take him the way some “wild woman” had—she flared at the thought, body wracked with cupidity. A look of: I-don’t-like-to-share. Purity? Maybe because she was virginal, and she’s never trusted someone so much... A look of: Chastity be damned, especially in Rhaesuial.

But she lowered her head, gaze ebbing into him in a moment of softness, her breath stuttering. ”Only if he wants her to be.” Her voice was lust-love-ridden, and she pressed herself back into his embrace. Despite her own hypocrisy, she eased down onto him, her throat pressed to his jaw for him to consume. Where his body was lax with acceptance, her own was likewise softened; all for him, only him, to mold to his will and want.

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Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sexual themes & filth language, plot if you squint.

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A soft, throaty moan left her, if he mused his way from her throat, maybe to her jaw, and back again; her chin nuzzling between his ears. Her breath left her lungs in muted, heavy pants; a sudden nudge of his head snagging another, voiceless plea from her. All the same, she pressed a paw into his shoulder, his weight over her causing an arch in her spine. Bleary eyes flit to the entrance of the apothecary, and for a moment she dared a damned soul to find them as they were; wanted to see how she, ever-changing and borean and full of frost, wanted the teeth and claws and loving, ferocious savagery that this great shadow-of-the-sea could give. What love he could give, if it was there—and more. That was what made one wild.

She wanted the more. A slight frown of desire creased her muzzle, her brow. A primitive, dull thought of mine he’s mine I’m making him this way I’m making him make these noises, they’re mine rattled through her addled brain like a new constellation being strung up. She’d begun to mouth at his ears, shoulder leaping when he nipped at her pulse, a sound lower and weaker from before, moaned into his ruff.

”Please,” she whimpered, not even knowing what she was asking for. But she let him hold his weight over her, crowding her into the loam of the apothecary until she had no other choice but to ease onto her back. Breast heaving deep and slow, Aure drew away to teeth distractedly at his forelock, tail flickering and pressed between her thighs as she squirmed.

All the while she gazed up at him with a fucked-out, vestal, heavy-eyed expression—and they’d barely gotten anywhere. “You,” she strained, tongue laving sensually up his forearm, continuing to eye up at him. Again, she didn’t finish herself, and instead ended the accusation with a lovebite to the rise of his bicep. Breath warm, tongue warmer as she closed her eyes, pressing a soft moan into it.

She began to submit to him, and he laughed, voice echoing off the walls of the apothecary. Somebody's gotta take command, he said softly, rolling his eyes. Funny, that; most women relished the opportunity to be given the reins, for once. But not Aure.

No, she would be commanded--so by God, would he command.

Get on your belly, Verx whispered, setting his teeth into the soft skin of her nape. If she did not move, he would move her himself. He had not the time nor the patience to wait, to take things slow. She had teased him long enough, and she knew it: she was no helpless young girl.

He came down upon her like a terrible summer thundercloud, broad and black and relentless. His forelegs were planted on either side of her, his hips--already straining without his volition--brushing the backs of her thighs.

He murmured something in the midst of some dizzying staccato of her heart slamming against her ribcage; she was already moving before the words left his heated mouth, her motions clumsy with obedience and her own sensual docility. As much as he may thrive for the bad, she simply wanted to be good for him; wanted him to see how good she could be to him, letting him take her here like this, where anyone could walk in. Most of all, she wanted him to claim her, deep and resolute, wanted a tortorous pace that made her plea for her release.

All her addled mind knew was an order and she was more than willing to submit, to carry it out; absolutely anything to have him closer, in her, become one with her through and through. She worked her willowy frame underneath his looming figure, fluttering chest and thin ribs molding into the loam. The herbalist rested her weight into her foreams as her belly followed suit; her spine arched, before she poked her hips up into the air for him. She kept herself dutifully quiet, only moving her head a fraction to eye back at him; soft ears flickering back against his muzzle, his cheek. Whatever came out of her mouth from this moment onward would be meant for his ears alone.

A ragged breath left her, his fangs at her nape, the fronts of his thighs straining at the back of hers. Quivering so hard beneath him, in anticipation for what was to come; for all that she didn't know and everything that she wanted to feel. And then— and then the length of his cock nestled against her core, slipped along her sex with every breath he took. Whenever he meant to shift it to her entrance, her breath became almost choked, stuttering; the anticipation peaked to an all-time high, and all that ever mattered anymore was just Vercingetorix finally inisde of her, pressing into her and filling her up—

happy post 200, big boye

She obeyed, just like he knew she would. Chuckling, Verx took a firmer hold of her neck and found his mark, pressing inside with a low groan. He took three or four slow, measured strokes before losing control, thrusting frantically as sensation overtook him.

I swear to god I usually can go lo-ohhhhh, my fuck, the brute burst out, orgasm choking off the rest of that sentence. Still knotted, he breathed hard, trying to regain composure. Longer, he murmured, as an afterthought. Damn you, beautiful bounkola, I usually go longer. Next time.

He slipped out and collapsed beside her, sides heaving. I'm not usually a ten-pump man, he laughed, giddy with post-coital euphoria. Finally--finally!--he'd done it. They'd done it. And she'd felt as amazing as he had imagined.

lmao best way to celebrate amirite

Every thrust was deep and hard, claiming, her groans quiet and muffled in the back of her throat. God, she wanted to kiss him, touch him further, but the only thing she could do was to lean back into her hocks, grip him like a vice. And then she came with an airy, soft cry just as he and his knot did, rubbing against every sugary spot inside of her—still wanted him deeper.

Aure tugged gently against him, letting the weight of him press her ever further into the loam. His words made her give a few little ruts of her hips, quivering at gasping with oversensitivity but still want-want-wanting... and whimpering at the loss of stretch within her.

After he’d gone to earth, she trailed after him in suit, and wasted no time nestling into him, her own breath shivery and unfocused. Trying regain some sense of herself, trembling as she was, she curved herself towards him, tail feathering modestly about her—fuck, even his laugh made her want to rip into him all over again.

”As gorgeous as you preformed,” she breathed, edging closer and pressing herself into the gasping column of his neck, ”I want you to make a mess of me next time, comoara mea. I want you to feel me around you longer. And I want those darling noises of yours again. Mine, as they should be,” she lowed, speaking entirely without filter; peering up at him, ravished and dotingly from under her lashes.

”I would like a third time, too,” she breathed, unaware that she was alluding to this—him—having been her first. ”I never want to not want you, make love to you. Even like this, you make me feel...” The pallid she-wolf became bashful then, giving a tender shake of her head; as if lecherous words hadn’t just been strung from her chords. With that in mind, Aure eased herself into him and began to preen demurely at his throat, murmuring softly; a gentle growl purling from her own.

He listened to her talk, trying not to drool all over himself in the process. Damn, girl, didn't peg you for a freak, he said, running his tongue along the edge of her ear and adding, in a whisper, 'Make a mess' of you. Don't tempt me, bounkola. You haven't had my best effort, yet.

Damn, he was already getting hard again. Would he break it if he went for a second round this early? What was, like, the ideal turnaround? He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to drill a woman this many consecutive times in a row. And no, he didn't pick up on the fact that it had been her first time. He would have never guessed it.

You're going to give me a heart attack, he groaned as she began to groom his throat, arcing his neck. You're gonna make me explode. Like fucking hell, Aure. Keep doing that, he commanded, pulling her closer.

The ear he murmured into quivered against his lips; the warmth of his breath sending a feverish ripple down her spine. "If I tempt you, will you promise to ruin me, comoara?" Her breath went raspy, accent became guttural, tone taunting and girlish. A gentle snarl pressing into his jaw as her hackles shivered to life. "Ruin me like I know you've been wanting to?"

A laugh left her, sensuous and worn as she simpered, "Has a virgin ever given you a heart attack, Verx?" Aure could feel him at her belly, the inside of her thigh, and she couldn't help but clench around nothing. Her claws pricked into his broad chest as she pulled herself ever closer to him, arching a svelte spine to tease herself back against him, a low, broken moan leaving her. "I-It—f-fuck- it doesn't sound like a bad way to go, d-dragă." Her adoring leer was lost in the fitful gloam of him, and she did as she was bid since she was good. "Best effort or no, just know that you're mine," she snipped, breathing hard with avarice. "Mine."

She couldn't help but dribble, at least a little bit - he smelled so fucking lovely. "You're so beautiful like this," she groaned weakly, inhaling deep. She licked the bit of spittle up with a snap of tongue and teeth, before nipping into his neck once more; her fangs biting lovingly into his jawline. Her breathing turned pitched, erratic, as she nestled on top of him further, eyes flaring with insatiable hunger as she feasted on the sweet, soft part just under his ear. There, she began to nibble and nurse on his tufted lobe, the rest of her stretched luxoriously out along the trembling storm of him.

But, then it passed through her heady mind - Rose. Apothecary.

Shivering with restraint, she kneaded herself away from him with a heavy pant, wrenching herself from his embrace and pressing her little snowshoe paws into his plush ruff. "Rose will poison me if we keep ravishing another here for hours. And I won't let you have me in a hollow," biting her lip at it, as if it might actually be worth it. 

Still arched against him, she merely stared at him, pupils blown, a crease in her velvety muzzle, and amour-et-eros charted all along her face, scars and all. "Follow me, dragostea, if you'll have me?" Aure hummed indolently, cinching her claws tenderly into his ruff; an impish, soft smirk curling at her lips.

It's a guarantee, he responded, and then he pulled back to look at her, astonished. Nuh uh, Verx said, grinning. You're way too freaky to be a virgin. But to answer your question, sure. It's-- He broke off, laughing. I won't go into it. No anatomy lessons for you today. You--

He broke off yet again as she rose, giving a lot of good reasons why they should probably depart the apothecary for somewhere more private. Vercingetorix rose and cast a rueful look at the slight mess they had made before following after Aure, a moth to a lamp. Boy, those memes sure died out quickly, didn't they?

I'm assuming you have somewhere nice in mind, he called out, feeling himself twitch with anticipation. Lead the way, gorgeous. If he wasn't ready before, he sure was ready again now.

fade this one out for a new thread?