Shadewood i. silver thracian thaw (m)
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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All Welcome 

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I had not expected this!!! Warning, warning, there is some sexual content ahead!


The world was awash in silvers; the sky built of layered graphite, blurred, a haze. Snow fell in thin waves. It acted like an eraser almost, fading everything from view once he'd left it. There was nothing remarkable here—but as a vagabond who had done extensive travel (a laughable amount), everything trended towards sameness.

The wolf was just as unremarkable. Warm agouti marred by flakes of snow; a barrel belly, four working limbs (a touch too long), a round face. Someone might have found him attractive merely for his girth, as that indicated good health... Asa, meanwhile, held out hope he would succeed in a different quest. Granted, if he did ever find a receptive female he would go for it (who wouldn't?) but—not on the agenda right now.

He trudged his way through a gulley of deep snow, most of which collected across his chest and clung haplessly to his outer coat. When it becomes clear he cannot go further without submerging himself in snow, he stops, reflects on his current route with a bored glance of his eyes around the vicinity, and with a huff he begins to backtrack. After hoisting himself out of the snow ditch he shakes the dandruff flakes of snow from his shoulders.

Another day, another waste of time.
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AT times, there was no way to shake the intangible grief of an argument or verbal fight. Like the invisible but unrelenting feeling of restless leg disorder, Niamh was dogged by an itching feeling that made her feel like she needed to writhe and cram herself against anything and everything abrasive that she could find, just to rid herself of the sensation. Unfortunately, of course, the sensation wasn't simply skin-deep, and couldn't be combed simply by running the length of her body along the coarse, scaled trunk of a spruce tree. While she was left with the pleasant scent of wintergreen, and her fur had been teased into place leaving her looking as slick as ever, it did not hide the itching, twitching feeling of some sort of internal, emotional parasite that begged to be squished. 

She left the pack's borders with a decidedly stiff gait, but when she caught sight of a male in the distance, whose coat and scent she did not recognize, she smoothed out her pace and curled her tail tip over her haunches. There was a completely different language used between fights and invitations, and while her energy level was through the roof, she knew how to channel it into a different area. Her heart thrummed as she scanned the new-to-her male up and down, taking note of his handsome, definitive markings and the breadth of his body. He was healthy, that much was easily visible- and tall too, just like her. Everything about his physique passed her assessments, though she continued to allow her honeyed gaze to sweep over him, knowing that even when he caught her looking, he might assume it as both a compliment and an invitation. She intended both. 

She huffed quietly, a playful, half-whispered invitation as she regarded him with eyes glimmering with piqued curiosity. Her tail waved from side to side gently, the tip swaying gently in a delayed reaction with the rest of her tail, to show her relaxed state. And while she knew she was not yet capable of conceiving pups, she knew that her time was nearing as she could feel her body approaching the threshold of its ability to contain the energy brewing inside her. For now, she saw safe- and she needed an outlet, but she also needed a test-run for her own sake. She begged him to forget any wariness he might have with a whimper meant as a playful plea, and lowered her chest in a playbow, to further encourage him and appease whatever nature he might have had.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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Well dang I can't match that.


The misted winter light coupled with the falling snow made visibility poor, not that it mattered. He'd be in and out of this place quickly enough. A perusal was all he was after; testing the air for useful scents, watching the trees as they shuddered beneath the weight of collected powder. He did not know this place at all. His chances of survival weren't drastically limited because of this ignorance but if he was going to make good time, he had to keep moving.

His search was brief, though. A glimmer of misplaced sunlight moved easily towards him, startling him. The shape took on a canid configuration; a tall, assertive figure brimming with confidence. They sized one-another up in quick succession... Asa passive but stoic. Curious but pointedly distant simultaneously-in case of danger.

Asa was no fool. Many men would assert that they were the better sex, but one look at this woman proved otherwise. She was bold and unafraid of him, or had at least deemed him inconsequential enough not to be afraid. He could work with that. It begged another question though: was she alone, or had his luck shifted - his quest, suddenly taking a turn for the better?

Her body reacted to his mere glance; she drew closer, bowing, curving her body and coaxing him to do the same. Her voice was not what he expected. A simper. Was she baiting him? Better question: would he let himself be baited? With a body like that, how could he refuse. Asa took a moment to glance furtively at the trees surrounding him in case of trickery, but relented in the next motion. Striding towards her now, ducking his head and angling his shoulders; not quite a bow in the same vein as her own, but he was accepting the invitation to dance — presuming that's what she was after.
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ah, g'wan, your posts are lovely! And I love Asa's avatar :D

She was relieved when she caught the male's attention, but was quick to notice that he remained calm and casual, which was exactly what she was looking for. She didn't want bloodshed from from secret psychopath, nor did she want someone who looked at her immediately with puppy-dog eyes, as she abhorred the idea of being followed back to her pack. If anything, she'd made sure to disguise her scent even just slightly by highlighting her aroma with that of wintergreen, though any reliable tracker would have been able to follow her scent straight back to the Copse. She didn't care. How bad would it have been, had she simply, with nothing other than the curve of her back and the flick of her tail, ensnared the interest of a potential packmate? The odds weren't that bad. 

Niamh felt that she had little to find intimidating about this male, due to the steadiness of his character and the level way he gazed at her. Ready, she hoped, but not willing to invite in chaos. Good enough- she could hide her chaos for now. He was simply a part of it- and she would use him in a way that would please him too, without either of them needing to fear the repercussions. She was moody and engaged, but she could tell that she was in no danger of conceiving just yet. That might have been a turn off for some males, the ones who wanted to leave a legacy behind- but she suspected that some males, possibly this one too, simply wanted to make an impression and stratch an itch. 

He scanned the area around them and Niamh allowed him to without removing her gaze from him- as though to assure him that they were truly alone. The two moved toward each other and she felt her hackles lift in anticipation as they drew closer and closer. Acknowledging the power of his sex, Niamh had switched from invincible warrioress to appeasing sprite, and had lowered her tail, but it flailed entreatingly from side to side near her ankles so that he would be assured that she meant no threat. By tucking her head and flattening her ears, she sought to reassure him that she meant no harm as she reached forward to bring her nose near his, and catch a hold of his scent. She paused there, allowing the tension to build within their proximity, before she ducked into a playbow, and then scampered a few feet away, tail high and waving, inviting him to attempt to catch her and win her over.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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Thanks!


It was clear by the woman's behaviour that she was after something—a specific something. It was a nice distraction. Asa knew he could not linger here for long if he wanted to conclude his own quest, but a small detour was not going to spoil much. She was entreating him with her eyes; grabbing for that loose thread in a tapestry of plans, trying to unravel him. By the look in his eye he could do with some unravelling. The woman was worth more to him than that, though. He did not know her and that made him uneasy, and she made no attempt to know him, but drew close and tempted at his base instincts - not a trick, then, but a powerful ploy, a manipulation.

Asa could not help but wonder if this was the way the world worked: no lasting connections among living souls. Get in, get what you want, and get out. His father had done it (so his mother had told him) and it was a common enough occurrence. Asa was no prude, nor was he unblemished when it came to such connections, yet in watching this beautiful woman goad him in to something like this felt wrong, somehow. He had not come here looking for this. Did that mean he could not partake? She was willing, and he could be willing, so why was he holding back now?

The woman pulled back from him, watching him, her tail waving. Playful antics which Asa almost did not recognize; when was the last time he had any fun? Maybe that was the problem with him. This stoicism in the face of a little happiness was unwarranted; he could breathe here, and need not be so worried about deviance. The man thrust himself after her in a feigned bow of his own following these ricocheting thoughts — giving in to the chase, seeking the sunlight of the mysterious woman as she took off before him.
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It seemed as though the male was looking for permission- but not from her, as her positioning already made it clear that he would be both invited and forgiven for whatever trespasses he took, but from himself. This wasn't something Niamh tended to do, so she found it just a tad offputting that he even took a moment to consider what it might mean...But so fleeting was his hesitation that she was able to simply assure herself he was just trying to tell himself maybe this wasn't a good idea because maybe she was drawing him in so she could attack him...But she made sure that she made no threatening gestures, and sought only to entice him. 

She needed this. She needed to shake off the gnawing guilt and grief that gripped her shoulders like a black shawl made of cobwebs and thorns. She was over-stimulated and overtired, and needed some way to cleanse herself of the turmoil that men had created by doing what she knew that men could do to ease those frustrations. She was beyond logic, and operated simply on impulse. She wanted someone to break the rules with, and maybe break her a little bit too, because she was tired of feeling so broken apart without actually having reason to feel that way. It had been long enough, but her first suitor real suitor had lied to her, and had filled her up with resentment and rage. Now all she wanted to do was punish him- by giving what he wanted to another man. 

So she skittered away, chased by the male who sent snow flying by his dark sides the way one might cruise through waves along the shore. He was powerful enough, then, and well worth her time. She sought the embrace of those strong forelegs, but she was going to make him use them first, chasing her through the silver woodlands as she bounded though snow drifts, and leapt over fallen debris, and plummeted down embankments, all the while keeping one coy eye turned toward him, making sure he did not give up on the chase. He'd begun to close the gap between them, which riled her up even more, in anticipation of their inevitable impact.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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The athleticism of the woman was divine; she carved her way through the forest with more ease than he could manage for himself. They were similar in so many ways. Long-limbed and strong, fully capable of handling the winterscape and all of its vagaries. It was easy for him to keep up with her — although what helped him the most was the ever-present glow of her body as it raced along. Even in the haze of falling snow she was there, illuminated, drawing closer because of his growing insistence.

No, he would not give up on this chase. He never gave up on anything when he set his mind upon it: and she had captivated him with one glance. She drew him along a path of her own creation, in full control. He ploughed through deep snow with ease and climbed across the exposed knuckles of massive root systems, always gaining, always faltering just when he was close—a tactic used to wear him down perhaps, and test his endurance. There were other ways to do that.

Asa would not try to overtake her position with force, he was not the type to do that. The chase was part of the fun. He came to that realization as he followed after her, his lungs full of frigid air while his pulse raced; and when finally he found an angle with which to turn and veer in to her path, he did so. Sweeping close and reaching with a playful nip at her haunch.

A convoluted game of tag.
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There were more nuances to the dance they performed than what might have been seen between hunter and hunted. Neither were spurred forward by fear, so she was able to carve elegant turns in the snow without having to zig-zag in such a way as to make him flounder. He flew toward her, following her path but sometimes stepping out of line just to gain a bit of ground, bounding through the snow with the ease of a stone skipping across the surface of a quiet lake even though both of them felt the rake of cold air as they drew each breath. And as she used a small decline in the landscape to slide her hindquarters forward in preparation of her next bound, she found herself facing the male, who had smartly anticipated her movements, and reached out to nip at her. 

Niamh didn't generally speak in such gentle gestures, though- nor was she skilled in the art of being subtle. In truth, this was her first earnest attempt at seducting someone she intended to pursue to the very end of the endeavour, and her lack of patience perhaps might ruin the moment. But once caught, she immediately could not resist the urge to cast their silly game of tag aside, and reached out to throw onw foreleg about his neck, mouthing harmlessly at his ears, before she slid away and pressed her shoulder into his, and lifted her head beneath his chin, rubbing against him as a tom cat might wind its way through a beloved owner's feet.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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Her eyes matched her coat: autumnal, aureate, but he caught the briefest gleam prior to her dissolution of the game they played together; a hint of mischief, maybe surrender, as she buckled before him and wove in close. Almost too close for comfort, he might have remarked. He knew to protect his throat in combat situations but this was not one of those, so when she snaked against his chest and drew her considerable strength so near his throat, Asa was a little bit taken aback. This was garish behaviour; almost a threat, almost a game.

She caught him by surprise when she rose up and grasped for him, mouthing at his ears; flame meet moth. Asa's racing pulse had become embrous, and he felt a creeping burn in his veins which soon nested in his belly, incited by the woman's presence - of this he had no doubt. Whether she was versed in seduction or not, consider him under her spell.

His mind emptied of his true quest for the time being. A welcome respite. She was weaving between his legs and pressing against him - and he drew her close. At first he would appear almost timid; he did not want to harm her, did not want to scare her off. Yet as he moved grapple with her he became more insistent, more impatient. Perhaps he was picking up on her own energy - or he was tired of the games.

It did not take much to draw Asa's desire to the forefront. He sought the physicality she offered, unable to stop himself, giving in to the fire that kindled in his belly which she had sparked and cultivated. A low rumble pulled from his chest - a triumphant sound, bestial, hungry. He pulled her close and in a mess of movements, aligned them together before she could stop him.
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It seemed as though as soon as she had his attention, she had him completely. His ministrations, tentative at first, quickly melted into a ravenous possessiveness, and Niamh did not tease or pull away, and instead as she combed her teeth through his fur she occasionally set her teeth so as to pull him closer with a selfish, hungry purr. Like a golden thread she wove herself into his embrace, melting against his sides and allowing the searing warmth of his breath to fan her cheek as he moved toward her shoulders which she arched in a rapturous plea for more.

She curved her body against him, banishing the cool air in its attempts to split them apart. Greedily, she leaned her side against his, tucking her haunches low to entice him further until she felt the comforting domination of his forelimbs hooked about her eager hips. Simultaneous with the flex of his limbs she braced herself against him, welcoming him finally to a place of long-forgotten bliss, and whispered a hoarse, prolonged sigh of necessity.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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Their coupling felt fortuitous due to the lengthy preamble, and he basked in the warmth of her for as long as she would permit. His forelimbs tugged at her luxurious coat, seeking the curves of her body as he pulled her close, until together they found a rhythm. He was eager enough for this moment - more so to please her, to watch as his affections overcame any doubts, to feel her every inch.

His possessiveness ebbed with his libido; knowing through the haze of his feeling that she was not his, that she was a stranger, that she was a temptress - but it was not against his faith to enjoy the sensations. Asa felt no guilt and would not be damned by this act. She had wanted it; she had called to him with her body and the spellwork had made him bold.

The afterglow would come soon, but he refused to think of that. Better to have these moments. The tenderness, the press of body against body, her's aflame beneath him - a pyre, himself the offering. The bliss soon overcame him and he could not stop the ragged manner of his grasping for her, constricting her against him while he too gasped; the cold filled his lungs as that fire burned through him, and when there was nothing left, he pressed his chin against the gilded mane of her shoulders.
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It surprised Niamh, how natural it felt to experience this sensation again. Without the complication of feelings and attachments, she was able to block- at least tmporarily- any shame or guilt, knowing that she was engaging in an intimate act with a complete stranger, and simply enjoy the physical essence of it. Closing her eyes, she refused to allow her mind to wander to anything familiar, and simply focused on the tactile sensation, each movement he made, and the scent of a wolf who bore no allegiance to her. For all the issues and triggers that Niamh had, letting go and allowing herself to simply act was something she could do. The moment intensified, met its precipice, and eventually began to fade, and she was brought back to reality. 

And it wasn't a terrible reality, at first. She knew she was still safe- she wasn't in heat, and wouldn't bear his children. She still had no idea who this man was, that she'd just seduced, but now all she could do was hope that he was civil, and that he hadn't just fallen in love with her simply because they'd enjoyed a sexual experience together. For now, she simply bore his weight, matching her breathing with his, until the tether subsided and she was able to step away, wherein she took a short moment to dutifully clean herself up, before she took another look at him. 

He was just as attractive as he had been before, with that dark ring circling his neck and half-masking his face. She felt relaxed, having finally shirked the irritating proverbial hornet's nest that had been buzzing around her head since she'd left her conversation/argument with Phox. She gave the man a small smile, and found herself chuckling softly. That had been fun- surprising, but fun.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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Heavy breathing. Skin-on-skin. The warmth of her fur pressed against his paler chest - and then they were through. The fire burned low between them. Separated from her, Asa adjusts his weight and feels the taut nature of his own musclature; strained from the exertion but pleasantly so, warmed all over, blissful. The woman does not hurry to clean herself so much as... Languidly take in the moment, and the pair share a soft glimpse. He cannot help but feel enamoured. Their tryst was like a soothing balm to Asa, and he could only hope he had lived up to whatever potential had brought the woman calling for him.

She had not spoken a word to him yet. Her voice came to him as laughter, but it was not derisive, and he found himself smiling in response. Now was his chance to choose what sort of person he could be for her. The mysterious stranger, tall, dark, handsome? Or perhaps he would go the route of the genteel charmer. Asa was not a social chameleon by any standard so he stood there, letting the pleasant hum drift through his flesh as he watched her; but gradually he became aware of how odd that must seem, how odd he must seem, for his silence. He did not want to spoil the moment or somehow affect how she perceived him - they only knew the carnal side of one-another, and Asa did not want to falter.

It had been a meaningless affair, he told himself. To her he comments, Nice to meet you. Which means, of course, he opts for choice number three: choosing to be his own lacklustre self.
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She tried not to study him too closely, or to begin to puzzle together who exactly he was. To do so would mean making more of something that had been intended as nothing more than a physical affair- but still, in the wake of such a rush, she felt herself relax into the calm, warmth of the afterglow, and he too seemed to feel no hurry to put up a wall, or peel himself away from her company. Normally, it was the time for cuddling and fussing, for whispering sweet nothings- and she did wonder if she wasn't supposed to still fawn over him a bit- if for nothing else, than for reassurance that he'd been good. Then again, she didn't really feel he needed that. They'd both enjoyed themselves thoroughly, and while they were both mostly spent from the whole ordeal, they were still both composed. 

He revealed a bit of a sense of humour, which was returned with a smile. Had she had more questions- either for herself or for him- she might have been more flustered, and she might have laughed nervously. For some reason, she found herself feeling as though this was something he'd done before, and perhaps he already knew how to politely but swiftly extract himself from the situation without getting entangled...And truth be told, she wasn't really sure what the technique was, in order to do so. Like him, she was presented with a multitude of options- everything from begging for more attention and hope to charm and pry an acquaintance from him (basically dragging him back to the pack with her) to simply nodding in agreement and going on her way...But she felt no need to rush anything or hide anything. This was their moment, and they were entitled to it. 

"The pleasure's...Well, I guess it belongs to both of us," She said, with a soft laugh, meeting his gaze just long enough to bring his thoughts back to the moment they had just shared. Just thinking about it- the thrill and chance of binding so perfectly with an absolute stranger tasted exotic and wonderful. Her gaze was drawn to a tuft of fur on his shoulder that she had tweaked earlier, perhaps a bit too hard- so the fur had been plucked from his skin, but still remained bound to his coat by its neighbouring fur. She smiled warmly, and casually leaned toward him, nosing the loose tuft from his coat, so that he would look a bit less ruffled, and took that moment, within that proximity yet again, to look up at him, and found herself exceedingly impressed once more- both with him, and with herself, for having found someone so exceptionally fit. "Damn," She said softly, her gaze roving down the fur of his chest, before trailing back up to his features again, and she nodded, jaw set in a satisfied and approving smile. "Just...damn," She reiterated. For picking up a random, she had done really, really well.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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She nosed at his coat, at his shoulder more precisely. Some fur must have gotten ruffled during their intimacy and he watched as she settled things back in to place, tender and mothering almost. Asa wondered what would come next - and he presumed she was thinking the same, or maybe her mind had blanked, as such a thing was a common side-effect to lovemaking. He wondered too if what they did even counted as lovemaking as they were complete strangers; it would be indelicate of him to add any sort of label.

The woman's quip lightened any residual tension that Asa felt. His smile grew broad, and he found himself huffing a laugh as she was left wordless. It was a nice ego boost. Not knowing what to say in response, he remained quieted by her good humor while his eyes lit with a touch of mischief. He cannot help but think about the sensations she managed to summon within him - and he mused aloud, Round two? But he did not initiate anything, did not close the distance or draw her close, leaving it up to her own discretion.

All of this had been her own design, whoever she was. That was alright with him. Asa was not one to chase after women for the sake of courtship and from what he had gleaned of this wildling, she knew what she wanted and how to get it. If she wanted more then she'd let him know - now, or perhaps in the future should their paths cross again.

Whether she reacts to his quip or not, Asa takes a deep breath and begins to scout the surroundings with his eyes again. One could never be too careful. It had been a good intermission, he'd blown off some steam and reduced some of the chill from his body by using her own... So what was left? If she had wanted to know him then they would have conspired earlier. He knew she was not a lone wolf by the thick scents draping her fine body, and at the same time Asa did not feel compelled to ask after her origins. He had no intention of lingering - not unless she made that call.

There were other things on his mind, although the ecstacy of their coupling left a mark upon him all the same. He would be thinking of her in the coming days; such memories were good for staving off the icy grip of winter when he would inevitably find himself alone again.
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His playful suggestion was rewarded with a laugh, and she nipped at his cheek gently. She assumed he jested- considering they had only just finished their first round, and he didn't accompany his suggestion with a physical gesture, but she felt complimented and wanted all the same, and she enjoyed it. "I like the way you think," She replied, though she too did not immediately reach out to instigate anything, as she was content enough with the way things were. Anything else might have felt rushed, and she wasn't so desperate for another round that she couldn't enjoy the afterglow of the first. 

Comfortable even with the silence that settled between them, she casually followed his gaze, but didn't sense any alarm or suspicion. She wondered if he was thinking about her, and maybe if he was contemplating asking more questions...But he remained quiet, and didn't break the silence with small talk or chatter, nor did he seem to feel compelled to ask her questions about her current living situations. Part of her wanted him to ask- because she wanted him to be interested...But then, wasn't that wanting more than what she'd originally picked him for? Niamh wasn't terribly patient, nor was she as content with silence as she liked to think she was. For her, it was an effort to 'play it cool' and keep from asking stupid questions, ruining moments and breaking comfortable silences. 

"Soooo..." She said, one ear flicking back and showing the first sign of some sort of insecurity. She wasn't uncomfortable there with him, but she also wasn't sure how long she was supposed to stay, or how long she should even want to stay. "D'you...Is this like...Your sorta thing?" All coolness gone. When she was focused on getting something, Niamh could be plenty suave and seductive- but otherwise, she tended to be a bit more on the awkward-yet-outspoken side.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
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The silence wasn't a true silence; he could hear the snow shifting against the trees, and the wind catching among their branches. Scratching bark against bark. The creaking of lopsided old growth propped up by the younger generation. He could hear nothing amiss - nor could he spy anything that might draw his concern. When the woman spoke again he turned to regard her too, trying not to study her face too intently, though he did want to commit every inch of her to memory.

Her comment made him laugh and he caught it before it could fully erupt, resulting in a snicker. The drop of his eyes to the dirt - embarrassment? Something like that. Asa sucks in a quick little breath. This — you mean, us? How presumptive of him to use that word; he could not help it. No, actually. I mean, you ain't the first I've... Y'know. Ah, but I don't exactly make a habit of it. That made him sound opportunistic, as if he would lurk in these woods on the trail of any woman hungry for contact.

He clears his throat, feeling more awkward with this admission. What about you? Seems like you know what you want... A flicker of mischief re-enters his vision as he looks her over, subconsciously intrigued as he goes over and over what they'd been like together in his mind. Asa licks his lips as if he might say something more... But this too is a subconscious tic, as he's distracted by the sense-memory of their bodies melded as one.
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In sheepish reply, Niamh rolled her eyes, shrugged, and nodded- yes, she was talking about them. If there was a them- which there wasn't, she told herself, except for the truth that they were two wolves currently in the same place. She couldn't completely remove the feeling of there being something between them, considering that this was a novelty for her, and especially considering the fact that she was a widow and he was the first wolf she'd experienced any sexual feelings for since Colt had passed away...At least, that she was willing to admit. She took a shining the look of other wolves, and her encounter with Asmodeus had intrigued her- but she'd turned him down, almost with a sort of stubborn vehemence. Why, then, had she chosen to go out and within moments of catching sight of Asa, decide that she wanted to have sex with him? 

She questioned that fact because she hadn't had time yet to consider, reflect, or even really remember how she'd felt when she'd left the pack's borders. She'd had an itch, and she'd found someone who had so satisfyingly scratched it, and now- in what seemed like a situation that was too good to be real- he'd was actually being cool about it. This wasn't something Niamh was used to, hence why she suddenly felt so unsettled. She'd just ventured down a path that she'd contemplated before- but had shied away from. 

There was an endearing sort of awkwardness to the way he explained himself, and she found that regardless of his pauses, she understood exactly what he meant, so she nodded along, and smiled fondly at him. He was kind of cute, when he admitted that she was his first 'random bone,' as Towhee might've phrased it. Niamh didn't have any better words for it, and felt that using Towhee's description might not exactly appeal to him, so she told herself to refrain from doing so. But...

She pulled back, oggled him with a raised brow and with excruciatingly dramatic mock-disdain, asked "Are you slut-shaming me?" She gave his shoulder a brusque shove with hers and laughed, releasing her pretend tension, though she still found herself feeling a bit vulnerable so she shrugged yet again, and shook her head. "No, actually, I, uhm...I've also, never, y'know? Of course I have, but. Not with someone who's not..." She shrugged again. She didn't want to finish the sentence and reveal too much about herself. (Widow). It was already obvious enough how self-aware she felt. So she deflected the attention, and put the spotlight back on him again. "But you mean, you said  you've done this before, right? The whole..." And her restraint went out the window, thanks Towhee, "Bone-a-random-sort-of-thing." She paused, and sighed, offering a wan smile as an apology. "Please tell me there's another word for that. And that you're not totally regretting the whole thing just 'cause I called it that?" She asked, with as beseeching a smile as she could manage.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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When she rebuked him for slut-shaming he was, briefly, flummoxed. It was not a term he had any knowledge of. Why be ashamed of something natural such as physical contact? They had both been willing, so to demonize her behaviour but stay mute in regard to his own was just plain stupid. She had sought him out and he had willingly - happily - taken part. The spin of his ears and slight crease of his brow fortold his concern; but her own tone was charming, light like her laughter. Asa did not know how to take it.

In the interim, while he tried to make sense of this new concept, she went on to explain a little bit. It was a jumble of indecisiveness. A far cry different from the self-assured and bold woman he had met initially. Had he done something to make her worry? Had he insulted her somehow..?

Maybe the only issue was that he had overstayed his welcome; the deed was done, they had their fill of one-another and the warmth of their final moments together ebbed away. Just by listening to what she was trying to say, the golden woman had not experienced this sort of thing before - not with a stranger, not so spontaneous.

Bone-a-random... Asa repeats with an incredulous look upon his face, the crease gone, brows raising. There is a twist to the corners of his lips, like he is trying to hold back the urge to laugh. Please tell me there's another word for that. She says through her own smile, and that breaks him - his deep rumbling laughter bubbles up from his chest in a low wave, his eyes drop to the ground briefly, but then alight upon her face where they linger.

Call it whatever you want, but I'd never regret any time spent with someone like you. Me - I just call it sex. And it was good. With a sly little smile creeping across his face, he reaches forth and nips at her sunlit cheek. I did not mean to imply anything contrary to that. Hell, he'd asked about seconds so that must have meant something. And if you ever feel possessed enough to go another round, I'll be here. I mean, somewhere... Wherever here is.

Cue another glance around; he had stopped being nervous of the surrounding forest ages ago, but he still needed to figure out his next move if he was going to continue his quest.
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So then find Dodge, then get out of it
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He seemed surprised by her casual but sudden drop in couth, which inevitably happened every time Niamh opened her mouth to speak after a wolf judged her for her looks alone. She appeared as a poised prize, emanating confidence and assuredness, but she often made it painfully clear how little tact ahd restraint she actually had as soon as she began to speak. She was aware of this by this point in her life, though, and felt disappointment grow within herself. If only she'd not lapsed into her natural behaviors- maybe then he wouldn't look quite so surprised. 

He, however, seemed to be fairly sure and comfortable about the entire topic, and insisted that sex not be reduced to vulgar language, but respected simply as it was, which reassured Niamh that she was neither inconsequential nor seen as being a lesser woman for having participated. He alluded yet again to not ending their escapade there- and this time, even lengthened his timeline to involve another day, another place, another time...Which hinted to Niamh that perhaps he didn't just want a round two- but he wanted to have her somewhere in his life. And for the first time in a long time, she was tempted. 

Had it not been for the unravelling of one of her closest relationships (albeit a friendship) only a day prior, she might have immediately insisted that he return with her to the pack. Hell- he was healthy, strong, friendly...But part of her wanted to keep him all to herself, even though she liked the idea of him being a wild thing, too. Someone who didn't come with ties and bonds, so she would feel as little pressure as she felt now. So despite all the conflict that his presence in the vicinity might cause, she smiled and nodded, leaning in to feel the warmth of his shoulder as she nipped just below his ear. "I like the way you think." She said, in a sultry voice. "And...I'd like that. My name's Niamh, should you ever need it," She said.
" Mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic. "
— GB Shaw.
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The flourish of her golden fur dawning across his shoulder made him smirk slightly, and he leaned in to the warmth of her body, brief as that moment might have been. He would think of her often enough in the coming days; wonder, too, if maybe he should have lingered a little bit longer or made more of an effort at a connection. It felt like there was something there beyond the physical - something that could benefit the both of them if they pursued it - but Asa had his mind fixed upon his quest, and he was certain this woman had her own life to go back to living. Whatever possibilities they might have at happiness together was evaporating as the moment wore on; he knew not to drag this on.

My name's Niamh, should you ever need it, she said as she introduced herself. A unique name for quite a stunning individual. He resisted the urge to rumble a soft and pleasant note when she nibbled at him, and with a deep breath he pulled back from her before he could be drawn in again. Asa, he murmurs, enunciating it a little too strongly - "ace-uh" isn't a complex name nor did it rival "neev" but, they could at least join forces in the "weird name club". Asa Morgan.

He wanted to say, 'It was good to meet you,' but that didn't feel right, not in the moment. He couldn't say 'It was good,' period, as he'd already said that. So instead he reached for her cheek and planted a little nip upon it, smoothing the ruddy fur that lingered there, and drew away from her with an air of finality. He gave her a serious-faced nod as his only farewell, whisked his tail, and set off again.
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His name, like hers, wasn't a common one, but she liked it- and felt that it somehow suited him. She particularly felt drawn to his surname for some reason or another, and when he pulled away from her, she nipped once more, in a playful attempt to draw him back to her, while still letting him go. To his serious expression, he was given a coy smile, and a slow blink, as though to let him knew she was already reminiscing about their encounter, as she felt she would over the next few days. Silently, though, she watched him go, knowing it would be best not to be clingy. Eventually, satisfied, she would do her best to un-ruffle her fur, tidy herself up, and head back to her pack.