Hideaway Strath [m] We've been rollin' deeper than they'll ever know
Saints Of The Dying Light

The Harbinger
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#1
Conception 
@Kynareth Deagon
forward dated 4 days to 2/3

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: sexual references


They had followed the river south from the lake, and as the forest changed into something more familiar, she could tell they were close to home. An excitement had began to simmer in her stomach. But the feeling was more intense than she had ever felt before. She noticed other feelings were more intense, too, as they made their way through the trees of the sweep. It was as though someone had turned up the volume on everything she had already been feeling. She found herself crowding Kynareth's space more than she normally did. She would suddenly become overwhelmed with her love for him and be completely unable to stop herself from offering him a quick nuzzle to his shoulder, occasionally following it with a playful nip. She put it off as just being happy to be home—it was strange how she considered Ky's home her home now, but she was too distracted by other things—mostly the hulking mass of handsome at her side—to really be able to give it much thought; she just wanted to be home and to steal Ky away to their den and demand all of his attention.

She didn't notice yet the shift in her scent, but others would by the time they reached the borders. As they moved through the opening to the strath, she was overcome with the need to for her mate's attention. She slowed to a stop and offered him a playful glance as she dropped to the ground and rolled over on her back. She rubbed herself on the ground a few times before jumping back up. Assuming he had stopped to figure out what the hell she was doing, she trotted forward and rubbed her entire body against his chest, passing under his nose and ending the affection with a brush of her tail against his muzzle. She gave him an inviting look over her shoulder before taking off in a run towards the den. She ran full sprint, releasing small strings of laughter as she moved. And once they were close enough to the den, she had every intention of letting him catch her. She would gladly fall under his weight wherever he caught her and offer him playful nips to his chin from wherever he ultimately pinned her; she wanted to play, and she knew he would oblige.
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Saints Of The Dying Light

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As of late he thought nothing of it, but Simmik’s presence begins to change slowly but surely. He didn’t notice her more frequent touches, the insatiable need to be around him at all times. He is fairly dim after all, but when he finally does notice her being a bit too sweet he wonders what exactly she wants. He even has the balls to think about asking her what exactly she wants from him. He doesn’t though. To afraid she’ll shy away if he asks. So he silently enjoys it. His own eyes gleam with content and his smirk is soft when she presses herself against him lovingly — much more frequently. He would even cock a circular brow at her when she’s being horribly sweet to him. The Grandmaster almost wants to tease her for it, but he refrains from doing so, again, so afraid to loose her attention he desires so bad. 

Yet, it’s only sometime later that he becomes suspicious. He’s five years old, he knows his way around a woman. He’s educated enough to know what happens once or twice a year. So when her scent begins to subtly shift he squints his eyes in suspicion. He might have even noticed it before her. Too obsessed with his beautiful wife not to take in her sweet scent every time he sees her, he definitely notices the change. 

Today though, it’s become official. He knows what’s happening and he connects the dots easily enough. Especially as her eyes playfully glance over to him before she throws herself to the ground, exposing her soft belly to him as she rubs her back along the ground. He eyes her curiously, almost suggestively as his hawkish orbs trace over her sleek form shamelessly. 

His auds face forward and he even jumps a little in surprise when she’s bouncing back up and heading towards him. Pressing herself fully against him. “Darl-“ Darling he’s going to say, but is just in quite the shock as she flicks her tail over his face. “Darling.” He says incredulously, smooth surprise obvious in his voice as he grins down to her. Meeting that mischievous glance she gives him.

His jaw drops when she begins running and, of course, he takes the bait with his own mischievous smirk. His black tongue falls from his mouth as he follows her, large canines fully on display as he pants. Though as the chase continues, he can tell she isn’t trying too hard, so he indulges her. Moving faster to catch up briefly, he moves to tackle her as softly as he able. 

She nips him playfully and her beautiful laughs make him almost melt. Kynareth Deagon, who has literally killed entire packs, slaughtered men, women, and children without a guilty conscience. Somehow he has found a wife as beautiful and as strong as Simmik. He wonders what he’s done to deserve this. Wonders when it’ll end and karma will catch up to him. Or perhaps he’s just a lucky dog and will live happily ever after. Either way, he doesn’t think about it too long as he gazes down to her playfully.

“Simmik,” He whispers her name. “you’re being so sweet and playful. What’s the special occasion?” He asks even though he believes he knows why. His voice deep and suggestive as he leans down to nuzzle into the floor of her neck. Giving it a few bits and licks.
Saints Of The Dying Light

The Harbinger
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As she had suspected, he wasted no time catching up to her. She laughed again as he gently brought them to the ground, turning as she fell so that she could be on her back and look up at him. He whispered her name, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Again, a more intense reaction than she would normally have. She loved when he said her name. Normally, he called her a pet name, like darling or peaches; she never minded that, but her name was hers. Even so, it would have normally pulled a smirk and some teasing, but all she wanted to do was bury her face in the fur of his chest in breath in his scent. She found resisting to what she wanted to do almost impossible, so she nuzzled her face into his large chest—it rumbled against her as he spoke, and that sent a shiver down her spine too. It clicked then. His question in combination with how aware she was that this was not her normal behavior. Was she? Is this how it felt? She remembered discussing it with Mal last year, and she had been afraid of not being in control, and she really didn't have much control. She felt overcome with her need to be his sole focus and to be close and to engage in the more physical part of their love. But there was no fear at all; she trusted him implicitly. 

She pulled back after leaving his question unanswered and nipped playfully at his jaw. Do I need a reason to want your undivided attention? she asked softly but with a hint of teasing in her tone. His attention was usually pretty divided, and she understood and accepted that most of the time. Now was not that time, though. She buried her face in his chest again, suddenly very aware of every place she felt his warmth against her. She swallowed. Ky, I think— she paused and pulled back again, love in her gaze as she lifted her eyes to search for his. I'm pretty sure I'm in heat. She swallowed again, suddenly overcome with excitement. They had discussed children and decided they would have them, but now it was real. I feel like I can't control myself. Desire filled her expression. Her heart started to race. I want you right now, and I feel like I can't think about anything else. She pressed her face against his chest once more; it was the only thing that soothed the burning, and even then it wasn't completely gone.
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She’s blatantly rubbing herself all over him and he’s laughing along with her. The deep base resonating against her as she nips his jaw. “Well, no, but...” He starts. Wants to say that she’s being just a tad more affectionate than usual, which he could definitely get used to. 

Then all of a sudden she’s being all shy and he gazes down to her with a conniving smile on his maw. Golden eyes gleaming with joy and perhaps something else a bit more suggestive.

Ky, I think...

He begcome serious at those words and his gaze becomes horribly curious. Allowing her as much time she needs to say what’s on her mind. 

...I think I’m in heat.

He practically shits himself. His eyes go wide and his brows raise. “Oh shit.” He says dumbly. Then as she explains further and rubs herself into his strong form even more an excited smile splits his face. “Oh shit.” The exclamation repeated with more enthusiasm as he laughs. 

Then his expression darkens with desire and love at her expressive words. His smirk becoming devious — less innocent. “Who am I to say no to you, princess.” He hums passionately beside her ear, his words suggestive as he burrows into the fluff of her neck.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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His reaction was a little unexpected. When he first spoke, she grew worried that he might have changed his mind. There had been plenty of time to think about it—what if he decided that he didn't want to have pups with her after all? Just the thought made her chest tighten. Even when he repeated the expletive and sounded less surprised and more excited, she was left wondering. 

But the smile he offered her said something quite different. She couldn't help but heat under his appreciative gaze, and even more so as he spoke again. She nuzzled the top of his head as he pressed it into her neck. The worry lingered still. Do you want to say no? she asked softly, her internal fretting finally showing on her face as a frown wrinkled her forehead. You seemed surprised before, and so if you've changed your mind... She drifted off and swallowed. It was getting difficult to really think straight, but she had to make sure. It's okay if you have. It wasn't really okay, but she wasn't going to force children on him if it was no longer what he wanted.
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He can tell there’s something wrong the moment Simmik begins feeling it. With her hurrying her head beneath his chin, he struggles to look at her, but doesn’t dare move away. 

Do you want to say no? She asks meekly. Kynareth’s eyes go wide and his brows furrow. “What?” He asks back incredulously. Not mad, but more surprised than anything.

“No, no, no. I want this so bad.” He whispers down to her, passion overcoming his voice. “Why do you think I’m having second thoughts? I don’t want anyone else like I want you, Simmik. Don’t ever think otherwise.” His last sentence is almost chastising, but the rest is littered with passionate confusion as to why she believes he wouldn’t want this with her.
To have his own pups with Simmik — it would be a dream come true. To watch the little fur balls grow into strong beasts, to train them into savage, ruthless, killers is his goal.
Saints Of The Dying Light

The Harbinger
I've learned to lose you, can't afford to
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She had been holding her breath while she waited for his answer, and when it became clear that he definitely hadn't changed his mind, she finally released it—a slow, soft sound against his shoulder. She studied his face, something that had become a habit for her. Even when he wasn't showing the world his emotions, she could usually read them on his face. But what she saw only matched his words. The passion in his voice showed in the simmering heat of his gaze. Again he told her that he would never want anyone like he did her, and she could feel the promise just as firmly as he stated it.

She gazed up at him as a shy smile curved her lips. Good, she told him. She really did like it when he said stuff like that. It's just something that will tie us together forever. I wanted to make sure your surprise had nothing to do with doubts you might have formed. She reached up and nibbled his ear before nuzzling under his jaw. I really want this too, she pulled back a fraction to say. Then she offered soft kisses to his cheek.
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She releases a bated breath against him and watches him closely, something he finds her doing often. Almost as if she’s trying to study his mannerisms, to pick apart his brain and decipher what is going on inside of it. He doesn’t ever stop her, but he’s becoming more aware of it as they spend more time together.

For all he cares, she could crack open his skull and dive in. She practically already lives in his head by how much he thinks of her. Yet when he sees the worry drain from her features he smiles and nuzzles into her as she does the same to him. 

“No, I want nothing else more.” He hums into her fur. Then his expression turns absolutely devilish. “If this is what you want then you will get it.” His tone is horribly suggestive as he laps at her ear and neck.
Saints Of The Dying Light

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He nuzzled into her and spoke into her fur, his breath heating the skin underneath even more than it already was. By this point, she was practically one raw nerve ending. She wanted this so bad it was painful. 

His suggestive words, followed by his kisses on her ear and neck only served to make things worse. She found she could no longer wait. He loved her and wanted children as much as she did, and she loved him so much her heart might burst in her chest; no other words were needed. 

She nuzzled into him more and then shifted under him to indicate that she wanted to be let up. Assuming he let her, she rolled over and stood up. She gave him a flirtatious look. Well then, my Lord, she said with invitation in her voice. Why don't you come make good on your promise. Then she turned and slowly made her way into the den, making sure to offer him a seductive sway of her hips as she moved.
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Saints Of The Dying Light

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Even though Kynareth is quite the tyrant, he is obviously easily swayed by his lover. Anything she asks, she will get. So when she moved to get up he’s eagerly chasing her. His face becoming dark with lust as she uses his rarely used title and sways away from him. 

“Oh, darling, you don’t have to ask me twice.” He hums deviously, moving to step behind her and into the den. The rest was history and babies were made.