Swiftcurrent Creek aim; it's a one shot take down
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#1
Conception 
occurring during this thread/right after so, @Jakoul would be there... and open for anyone else who might want to join them

Arric was at the border—the current wolf of his Beta’s focus was impressive in size—and given the D’uandris’ pleasant demeanor for the moment, their conversation was going well. Akavir, however, sidled up beside Jakoul, a rumble in his throat as his jaws gently found purchase to her hip, teasing—soothing. She got under his skin—he could admit that.

But he didn’t know her, and instincts were pesky little things.

So he moved closer to her, though his eyes remained upon the two men a ways before them. Instead, his muzzle pressed to her cheek, his mouth nipping her ear before he whispered to her: “Let him earn you, buaireadh,” was what he offered her, leaving Arric to deal with the northern man.
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#2
She sought Akavir with her teeth.

Warm and welcoming, they wished to turn and grapple at silver tassels. Those that hung from his inky fur in complimentary ways.

She wished to show him the strength of herself, and test the strength of him against herself! A low, inviting rumble vibrated deep within. A harsh lash of her tail against her hips and his own too, if he stayed near.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#3
Her teeth sought him—he tussled with her, luring her away from the men and their parlay of words at the border. She was a distraction—he should have been there, too, talking with the man Arric was currently enlisting. Instead he was here, pulled once more to the sleek ebony she-wolf with little words and a great amount of persistence.

It was a delicious moment, and his own rumble would offer his enjoyment of it to her, his solid frame bowing down to invite a bout of play, should she accept.
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#4
If he had learned anything about her, it may have been that she moved with a sharpness. An arrow that always found its mark. An axe made to split the firewood.

He slid down in a bow and she wished to topple him in that very moment. Sought to rush his side with a speed that did not lend a direct strength. She was far too willowy to topple him by pure force.

She just had to hope he was truly willing to play along.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#5
His movements were more docile then before—a test to gauge how angered she was with him—had he insulted her before? His invitation was met with the Delta speeding toward him, looking to tackle him. He allowed so, gruff with a growl and yet appeased and determined to allow her the top hand in this current match—allowing the wisp of a thing to pin him and surrendering to her for the moment, eyes sharp upon her as his tail lashed the snow.

Her scent was heady—his senses were heightened and dulled all in one go. She was a flame and he was a moth—and she would consume him, he was sure.
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#6
She would hold him there, as long as he did not fight back.

There was the thought to be cruel and remove herself from him at once. So that he might see how it had felt for her. Yet she could not bring herself to.

Instead she lowered her head, so that she might press her forehead along his own. A soft but low rumble in the back of her throat.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#7
She held him—he waited. She considered—he could feel it in the uncertainty of her muscles if for only a moment, and then her forehead was pressed to him. Forgiveness, perhaps, but least of all it was camaraderie, which was what he craved from all of his pack mates. The creek would grow to be tight-knit—to trust one another.

And so his own rumble was released, as if it were a purr. And so he remained—his own breaths soft, the chill of the winter air stinging far less now than it had moments before as the frost between the two seemed to deteriorate.
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#8
The warmth grew between them.

He rumbled back to her.

It was then that she moved all at once. A quick darting away, her tail now a banner. She did not run off entirely. Only enough to put a darted gap between them. Her head turned now to look over a bony shoulder. Eyes wide and wondering.

Would he come back to her another time?

Did he feel what she had?
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#9
She was there—an inhale, an exhale. Perhaps this was some of the meditative zen Arric seemed to refer to when he spoke of it. And then she was gone, and Akavir blinked to empty air.

His muzzle swung in her direction—his eyes following her languidly. Lissome, willow-y, perhaps uncertain of the appeal she had. The invitation was there when she did not run far, and when her eyes flashed back to him, Akavir had only a moment to decide.

And so gut instinct he went with, and shooting forward, the man gave chase, a spray of snow from his large paws some of the only noise in the otherwise quiet winter.
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#10
She did not mean to run far.

Nor did she run to evade him.

Only to move to a lonelier part of the Creekside. When her pace slowed at last, in the soft snowy stretch of land along the creek, she expected him there on her heels. Some part of her braced for a tumbling impact or a clashing of shoulders.

All she knew for certain was that she wished for him with even more of a ferocity than the first time — when he had seen fit to try and send her off.

What had changed his mind to come back to her?
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#11
When she finally settled on a place—having lured him to the seclusion of the creek, Akavir was short behind her, coming up along her side and allowing his flank to graze hers, gaze rapt upon the dark arrow. When there was a stretch of silence—he finally dared it: "What do you want, Jakoul?”
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#12
She found it horribly silly to ask.

She had been clear, she had thought. As clear as she could be given her rough speech. Then he had called for others and she had kept distance like a moon. Orbiting him until he had returned back to her.

But she dared to allow herself to speak.

To bring it forth into existence and hope he would not be so cruel a second time.

You. No test.

Her voice was low, a cold whisper between the space they still had left.

You.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#13
“Me? Or puppies for the pack?”

What did having him entail? He remained rooted to the spot—structure unmoving, despite his want to move closer to her, pull her closer. But while she hoped she was clear—and perhaps she was, and he feared the real answer from her—but he could not commit to another. Not yet. Not now.
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#14
She could only take as much as she was given.

This she saw in the way he asked. So she took the easiest path, the one that did indeed gave her what she wanted.

Even if only in part.

Puppies. Creek puppies.

A pause.

Trust you. You...give Jakoul? Creek puppies.

She did not wish to make a fool of herself and beg so horribly.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#15
She wanted puppies—spurred, no doubt, by the season. Logic was thrown out the window at the best of times during this part of the year, but the raven waif was no stranger to her heat, he doubted. He began to prowl, a growl rumbling in his chest. He did not seek a mate—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a connection.

“Yes,” he offered, his own voice pitched lower with the decision.

And so he waited, pale gold eyes upon her form, waiting for his permission to touch her now—when before, he might have had unspoken permission—but he would allow her to lead now. After everything that had transpired between them.
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#16
edit to tag the thread marker as conception instead and fade in your next post? <3

She burned! Scalding, flamed. Radiant beneath the champagne falls of his gaze.

She turned to grapple at tousled tufts of fur, woven by his day of work. Enchanted by him all over again as he offered himself now.

She would not have to face another.

She welcomed him fully with a low croon, beckoning him to come finish what had been started between them. And she was not sure that she would relinquish him for some hours to follow.
Swiftcurrent Creek
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#17

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 reference/fade

Her invitation was a low croon—the sweet scent that had always been her only heightened now with the onset of her heat, and Akavir gave in to the age old call of nature. Encircling her before from a distance, now he moved to become one with her, regaining the warmth that had been lost prior—the sharp angles of her body alluring to him, just the same in which she moved. Giving in to the exploration he had begun prior, the man was more than willing to finish what had been started—and do so just as much as she would allow over the span of their time together.