'Souls RPG

Full Version: [M] Too hot? Hot damn, call the po-lice and the firemen
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: there be smut here.
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Ooc: Now that honrin is no longer an NPC - continuation of this [M] spicy thread - Backdated so so far, like so damn far
They were twining and tumultuous tension, and he kicked the door closed with an uncaring foot. It shut with a thump of sound and a fluttering of air. He couldn’t have paid attention if it’d been his life on the line to notice it, not with her parading and posturing across their bed at him.

In the semi-darkness, his teeth gleamed yellow-white, and Honrin bowed, part mocking and part serious,

“My Queen.”

He might have been an exceptionally made man, blessed of the Gods with a health and haleness that belied his years of life, but he was still just that, a man. A man enthralled by his wife and the sweet, supple lines of her that curved and rippled so exquisitely. The control was gone now, torn from his mind in the manner of his ripped shirt, or the pants she shredded from his body.

Truthfully he could no more have gathered it back than he could turn and walk away from her.

They were lost, together.

But, despite the grappling lack of control, he was still willing to play with her.

“Ah, ah.” He tsked through the gritting of his jaws, the whispering of his breath, and grabbed for her before she could skitter away. Pulling her up and against him roughly, knowing that if she got a hold of him that way there would be wasted spillings and he had no intention of losing himself anywhere but where it mattered.

Guinevere’s legs left the ground, all wrapped up in his arms, one hooked about her waist and the other threading its way into her wine-struck hair. He kissed her, hard and long, pouring himself into it so poignantly, feeling her bones and skin and flesh, delicate in comparison to his own, and yet, so strong. Solid. Real.

Guinevere was no day-dream to chase across the aurora-streaked nights. Though he would follow her forever, whatever the reason.

When he finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily, unashamedly so, and set her feet back on the floor before burying his face into her hair and muttering,

“To-Rah.”

His hands wandered down now, cupping her buttocks and jerked her firmly against himself. Headily, the fur of her belly and lower was so soft, downy, slick. Unabashedly he ground himself against her, groaning for the slide, so close and yet so far.

The sound bubbled up his throat, wrested from him easily as the love that rushed his veins. It was bright, and sparking, a tingle upon the lips and a touch taken in earnest, deep down into the heart and soul of him. Guinevere was his last sight at night and his first come the sun-rise, the scent that was always in his head, the itch that never left him alone, a voice in his ear. The taste of wine he could no longer drink.

For idle seconds the corners of his eyes grew moist as he considered on all of the happenings that had led to this point now, and the pain and sorrow that had drug him, willingly, down a wicked path. Then he was pushing them away, unwilling to concede himself to them in the face of the Here and Now and flung himself, whole-heartedy into the burning desire that pulsed away in his throat.

“Do you remember the night in the training ring,” He spoke, sibilantly, luxuriantly and his hand questing, bullying its way between them, and sinking into her soft depths ruthlessly, playing for keeps, “do you remember, Guinevere,” He hummed, pulling his head back from her hair to stare down into her flushed face, uttering her name lowly, the syllables dripping from his tongue like honey and wine, twisting his fingers teasingly to watch her face morph and change, to capture all the sounds she made.

“Do you remember how I chased you, and caught you…” Voice purring, teeth flashing in the dim light, he painted a picture they both knew, shivering with the memories of that night spent in rapture, the tone of him spoiled only by the catching of his breath, the utterance of his own sounds telling the tale that he was just as affected as she by this. And always his clever digits stoked higher the fire within her, keeping her on the edge of the livewire in delicious agony, holding off when she grew close only to press further when she regressed.

He tormented himself too in this, sound and scent and sight a cruelty all its own, wrapped up in this torrid, wicked longing. Honrin pressed and pressed in his carnal artistry and ultimately it was himself who broke first this time. Wound tight and ground low he pulled his hand away, leaving her heated body with a harsh, shuddering sigh.

Twisting them about, Honrin released her despite the bestial roar in his mind, and let himself fall backwards onto their bed, much used and comfortable, shoving himself back until his head met the wall and he half-sat to survey her, the proudest part of him jutting arrogantly up and outwards.

There he bared her a challenging smile-snarl, cocky and egocentric once more, and slapped at his thigh invitingly,

“You want it, come an’ git it then.”

Heart lunging in his chest, his golden eyes stripped her down, below her fur and skin, and let the wilderness cloud his mind. Losing everything but This, losing even the pain and the fear, and anxieties. The games were over and done with. His seething gaze promised that if she did not come to him then he would go to her.

~~~
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Ooc:: Here


Her nares were filled by the heady musk of him as she nuzzled into him, her tongue daringly dipping forward from the cavern of her scorching mouth to lick an almost delicate stripe just beneath his head to his slit, her attention solely focused upon him to see his response.

His shudder turned into an all-body movement that encaptured her against his masculine frame, their fur sliding across each other and one body morphing into the next.

Like a flaming tornado he was upon her, lifting and placing her just so in his arms, one limb hooked around her waist to curve her into him, the other threading into her hair and snagging it firmly to direct her head, and consequently, her mouth.

He kissed her then, all bite and passion as they came together. He may have had her imprisoned against his body, and she could feel the illicit shaft and the way it scorched her in the limited space between them, but she was not one to be stumped, and her hands were free at the moment.

She lifted them over his shoulders and around his neck, sealing them together as she carved her claws heatedly through his mane and hair, her lips curling against his to nip at him and growl.

All too soon he broke away, but granted the short intermission might have been needed, as their chests brushed against one another from their breathless panting. She was on the ground now and he brought her in close one more time, burying his head into her wine locks.

With his muzzle in close to her ear, now, he rumbled deep in his chest a word from his own tongue, Svinkan, a language she had grown fond of hearing in his gravelly bass voice. She recognized the word, and she soared, because yes, she was his sun, and she would crow that fact across the entire Fort, and she would fight anyone that dared to usurp her throne.

He was molding her ass between his hands now, squeezing and pricking the muscled flesh with his claws, and then he was yanking her closer to press into his erection, and obviously found her divine if he could hardly contain his groan of pleasure only seconds into grinding his length into her softened belly fur, and the little cleft of fur just above the juncture of her thighs that spelled out her condition to anyone without a nose.

He asked a question, a simple little thing, but the husk of his voice made it all the more. More had become a prayer between them, their theme and their mantra. They had both wanted more from life, from each other, and by Fenris, Artoi, and the All-Mother, they'd gotten it. She wanted to respond, to declare yes, and her muzzle even popped open to do so, only for a loud, involuntary moan to escape her suddenly shuddering body as her eyes glazed with pleasure.

It was too much and not enough, her maw propped open to continue gasping and moaning with abandon as he delved his digits into her repeatedly, asking more in his gravelly voice, and even just the sound of his deep tone had her core liquefying and heating even more to spread across her quivering insides and, of course, all over his hand.

He wasn’t letting her off that easy, driving her up and down like the fine musician he was and playing her body with a deftness that should have been terrifying. She was twitching and arching into him like a cat, all of her body practically boneless as she writhed in his grip.

As soon as he dared to release her, her lips were curled and prepared to drag him back to her, her mind hazy with anything except the painfully heated lust that filled her from nose to tail tip. He’d already thrown himself backward by then, and she only just paused long enough for him to bare his teeth at her and slap his knee in challenge, and bid her come forth.

Smoothly she mounted the bed, coming to him on all fours just as she had earlier, her gaze feverish and her maw parted to pant and drool with her instinctual heat onto the bedding. There was very little common sense to her now, only raw, infiltered need and lust, a feral give and take. She hastily licked her chops multiple times as she caught his scent, a shudder rippling down her spine.

Without giving him an inch in her posture she willingly bent to his shaft and she dipped her tongue into his sheath on the underside, stroking the sensitive hidden away portion of him before sliding her appendage slowly up his entire length and holding his gaze the entire time.

She didn’t mean to put it off by much longer, foreplay was nice and all but she was in need of him on a carnal level that she could only somewhat control.

Guinevere straddled him, his stone-hard shaft just pressed to the outside of her vulva, but she paused to pick up the hand he had used to torment her, and she lifted his fingers to her lips to clean her own essence from him, her gaze riveted to his, and her free hand found purchase against his chest with her claws slightly pricking the delicate skin beneath his lustrous white fur as she ground herself against him.

Without warning he slid into her, whether she had meant for him to or not was beside the point as she shuddered as though electrocuted and moaned, clenching her inner muscles down upon him like a vice as he finally filled her almost to capacity.

Guin swayed above him, clutching the hand she’d been cleaning before as a lifeline to ground her into the physical Now, her muscles fluttering all over around the length inside of her. Her hips ground against him on autopilot, and this motion brought a loud, wanton moan to her lips.

It didn’t take her long to adjust now, and she was smiling salaciously down upon her mate as now she controlled the rippling muscles around him. Her back arched and she used his hand for stability as she started to ride him, her free hand still braced also against his chest.

Beneath her fingerpads, she could feel the roughened texture of the scars around his clan marking. She glanced down to look. Seeing it now, in the height of her feral, possessive self, made her eyes narrow with intent as her claws extended and found purchase, though they didn’t dig deep just yet.

“Mine,” she hissed, her ghostly green orbs flicking from the old, faded mark to his stunning hawkish gold. She’d known about the mark and its origin for a while, though a name had never gone with the woman that’d given it. But Honrin was hers now, and such a slight, at least not without being met by her own, was unthinkable.




WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: there be smut here.
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Ooc: Wordtober Day 10: nocturnal
She did not disappoint, gliding towards him with determination locked there in her stare. Though some small part of him was bereft of another chance to revel in the chasing of her, the pattern of the Game was well and truly gone now, he would have his many Tomorrows to chase her across the grass and heather, to play at being the monster.

Neither of them was of the mind to offer up the white flag anymore, that coherency was long past them now. It would be Take and Give, of seed and blood and strength, a devotion unbound from its civility.

He was nothing but the excitement in his chest and the desire blossoming in his loins and she was the only thing he could see. The pale man gave a sound, sharp and hoarse, as she reached him and bent her head to attend him. Shifting restlessly against the familiar furs of their bed.

They were nothing but gold and green, meeting in the dimness and shattering sparks into the dissolution of the world. His was an exhale of breath, tautly bound and he could stay here forever and ever, with her rising above him, a match for his own ceaseless arrogance without hesitation or issue.

Guinevere had his hand, to do with what she would, and the probing quest of her tongue against his fingers was a jolt below his skin, flaming along his nerves, and with a will of their own his hips were pressing upwards, in futile frustration along with the rumbling growl of his own, searching blindly for what he knew was there. It was she who made the first, delicious, move.

His barked cry was loud in the relative quiet of their house, echoing in the spaces, and she was, she was… hot, far too hot sliding down over his flesh, and he was burning alive, and he didn’t care, bracing his feet against the furs, and undulating with the whole of himself, fording up, and up and in and through, the entirety of himself falling away to just… this.

There was no looking away, not even to glance at where they joined, Honrin was captured within the fall of her eyes, drowning in their succor.

He laced his fingers with her own, holding on tightly, and gasped as her claws dug into his skin, following her thoughts as she dipped away just for a moment, just to glare, heatedly, at the scars on his chest. He was lost in that moment before she returned to him, and though he raised an eyebrow, meeting her boldness and daring with his own, he could not tell her in this moment that there was no name or face to the scars. The other woman having been so unimportant as to be forgotten entirely.

“Y-yours..” Honrin agreed plaintively, breathlessly, voice twisting, stuttering, and rising on a whine. He had been hers, from the moment she’d twisted her nose at him outside his Wetu. He’d just not known it till much later, the blockhead that he was.

His free arm looped about her slender waist, grabbing tight and pulling her down on him as he thrust up, power reigning in every motion, their bodies jerking as she hit bottom again and again. The slap of their thighs a complimentary sound to the harshness of breathing, the gasps and grunts and groans he gave for her without shame. Their nocturnal activities were all that he needed, this and her love would drown him in joy.

Every twist of her hand in his fur drove him higher, higher, to touch the skies, and he became aware with a faint sort of desperation that he wasn’t going to last much longer. It, she, was too much, reducing him to nothing more than his basest senses, the building blocks of himself, whisking away his cares and worries.

“I.. ahh..”

He was just one man, one mortal man, to worship at the temple of a goddess. Who was he to attempt to grasp at the aurora before his time.

It was building low in his loins, rapidly wrenched from him with straining pleasure.

“Guin… G- Guin.” He begged her name to the warm dimness, pleading in desperate tones, and tightened his grips on her, hand and waist, hauling her up against him, closer, and buried his face in her chest, muffling the pleasure-pained sound he made with her fur.

His last thrusts were erratic and hard, filling her with the entirety of himself, until there was no parting or pulling away. Starlight burst behind his closed eyes as he shuddered and sucked in furious breaths, losing himself within her in a warm rush, the first of more to come, he was sure.

He would never let her go, never, ever and clung to her as tight as he could without doing her harm.

“Oh God..” Honrin mumbled against her fur, his tongue hanging loose and free, panting harshly. He had lost his head and spilled himself far too soon, like the heartstrong teenager he’d once been, and yet, it was her, it was all her, drilling away at his core of control.

Pulling back his head, though for the moment they were stuck fast and tight, it had not diminished the heat in his eyes, nor the fire in his body, he looked her full in the face.

“Kiss me..” Honrin commanded in a deep, fathomless tone, and, without waiting for her, set his fingers to her hair and pulled her face down to his, kissing her as he had earlier, hard and solidly, soulfully; and as before, his hand, once disentangled, wormed its way between them, and began to rub sly, teasing circles about the center of her pleasure. The indignity of losing himself so quickly was one thing, he’d not suffer her to remain shackled by it as they waited for nature to unclench.

~~~
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Ooc:


The sounds he made as she teased him were hypnotic and addictive, were she not in such a state she might have been more of a mind to force him into making those noises for just a little longer (or possibly all evening), but alas, instinct, whether by choice or by design, choose to intervene.

He was writhing beneath her as they met, all but breathless as she took him into her scalding heat and suffocated his length with her desperate need.

He reciprocated her claim, pledging himself to her with one stuttered word that trailed off into a needy whine. She didn’t have long to preen, for then his arm was looping about her and lifting her closer, pressing them flush to one another as though he could not get enough.

And then he was thrusting, filling her to the core over and over just as she desperately craved. Each movement was rough and meant to bottom them out together, jostling a moan from her chest each time as she arched her back within his embrace, and she was only elevated higher still as he continued making those absolutely delicious sounds, which seemed to be linked to the way her hands clenched with claws out, kissing his flesh with the pricks of their tips.

He was crying her name in a wrecked tone, almost begging, and she hissed her delight at the way he undulated beneath her, even more than she did with his throbbing wolfhood buried deep within her.

She knew by those pleas he was close, only confirmed by the way he grasped her even tighter still, not just pulling her down into him so they could thrust together but holding her as though he feared she were smoke, and she might disappear if he so much as let her go.

His face buried into her furred chest, she felt him shudder from head to toe and he strained against her, his hips rolling as he spent himself inside of her from the sheer overwhelming sensation.

Rather than be disappointed, she was sadistically delighted, incandescent that she’d been able to make him lose so much of his precious control and practically force him to finish first. He was panting now against her, his tongue lolled free to catch his breath, and she still felt his quivering beneath her as his cock continued to dribble its contents deep inside of her.

Some slight shifting confirmed that they were indeed tied together, and then he was looking at her, and despite the way his body had relaxed slightly in the afterglow of his release, none of the heat had left his gaze now in his need for her.

He demanded a kiss, his gravelly tone dropping even further so it vibrated her very eardrums and made her shiver just to hear it. Before she could follow through, or deny him, his hands were in her hair and pulling taut, forcing her face down to meet him so their muzzles touched in a hard, searing kiss of tongue and teeth.

Guinevere moaned into him, relaxing slightly into the hold of his hands and she rolled her hips downward against him, her need still very much pulsating between her thighs, but she could be patient. The point of this was to impregnate her, after all, and he’d successfully done that at least once so far.

Or, at least, her plan was to be patient, rekindle and draw out the flames of their passion into the evening. After all, more than one knotting would definitely up her chances.

However, the sly wolfdog beneath her had other ideas, something she only got an inkling into as she felt one hand release her hair and start squirming it’s way between them. She was struck down short, however, when his fingers deftly started to circle the singular nub of pleasure, her eyes shooting open in her surprise as she gave a muffled cry against his mouth, her hips bucking rapidly against his touch.

She gripped his chest needily with both hands, her smothered sounds of desperation filling the bedroom as he teased her, and her eyes slipped shut again as she let herself writhe against him, hoping, pleading that he wouldn’t torment her too long. All the while, he continued to kiss her, toying with her tongue in a dance.

He wickedly chuckled, deep in his chest.

“Sing for me, To-Rah, Tove,” he rumbled huskily, pulling them apart just long enough to speak, and he started to go faster. A throaty cry fell from her lips, one almost pain driven as he assaulted her with pleasure. He came back, manipulating her head with his other hand in her hair to give her another searing kiss and then he was licking and nipping down the side of her neck, his growls almost thunderous in her ears.

Without warning, the sounds of his greedy possessiveness deepened by an octave, and then his teeth were in her flesh, just so at the juncture of neck and shoulder, holding her pinned in place with a deep, satisfying ache that had her convulsing around his shaft.

Guinevere came apart at the seams, gasping and moaning to her shuddering completion as everything went white in her vision. She bucked and undulated against him through every second, hardly capable of sitting still as though her body had a mind of its own, only prolonged by the fact that he kept up his relentless circles.

Finally, after several seconds of his extra stroking, he withdrew from her southern region and carefully extracted his teeth from her flesh, and she promptly collapsed. She was shivering from overstimulation and practically boneless on top of him as she gradually came down from the high, her chest heaving from the intensity of her orgasm. Her shoulder ached where his teeth had dug in, but she had not the mind right now to check the damage.

“Fuck,” she panted, glancing at him, but she was smiling as she said it, and her eyes sparkled at him with a light of love, lust, and satisfaction.



Ooc:

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He could watch her forever, listen to her voice raised and touched with need and longing, knowing that he put the splitting desire into her cries. For this, he was endlessly arrogant, covetous to a fault and flaw.

She did sing for him, bolstered by his touch and she did not shiver alone, though spent and stuck he was still aware, sparks settling along his nerves and behind the point where his jaws met his skull. His teeth chittered together, without his guard, guided by a deep instinct. He could bite her, he wanted to, just there, just so, at the crux of her throat and shoulder.

His tongue was hot and wet as it took the journey across her skin, soothing down ruffled fur. Telling a dangerous tale, amidst the twist and turn of her rising crescendo. Unwilling to resist such thoughts as they came unprompted, his teeth laid down against her pulse and clamped tightly, carrying the current of his thunderous growls through them.

Guinevere fell to pieces in his arms, writhing and keening to the heavens above, though he was the only one here to hear her. Honrin soaked it all up, bathing himself in the glow of her and the myriad dancing upon his senses. She was a feast, a banquet spread before him, and he was but a starving man.

Honrin’s lips twitched, the corner curling into a smirk.

“That’s the idea.” He said slyly with an undertone of humor. His returning expression was soft, and subtle, tender for her.

A brief return to civility. He doubted it would last long at all.

Smoothly, a hand reached out, to gently tuck a loose tendril of hair back from her lovely face, and then enveloped her hand with his own, threading their fingers together and raising the gathered fists to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand reverently.

Between them there was no room for the doubts and worries to fit, they would be for others days, for dark nights and troubled sleeplessness. He leaned forwards to kiss her again, cradling her in his lap, joined together irrefutably by their loins, and by their love, and hopefully, by the children they’d make this day.

Honrin was not, however, a man to leave much to chance. Not when he could directly affect the outcome.

He petted her, and kissed her here and there, mumbling sweet words in whichever language came through his mind, until he could move more freely inside of her, and tug himself out with a wince and a groan.

The heat was already there, waiting, fuelling itself back to life as he drew himself up on bent knees and set her back on their bed, entranced by the spill of her hair as it tumbled where it may. Falling into the cradle of her body, Honrin groaned anew for the way her soft flesh gave way below him, and how she was warm and so beautiful, he pressed his face to her throat and sucked in her scent eagerly, letting it eat through his body.

“Tell me you love me.” He voiced, against the skin there below his lips and teeth, nipping delicately as he did, drawing a hand down the curving lines of her waist.

He wanted it, to hear her shape those words with her luscious mouth, and knew that she could most likely bring him to his peak from just hearing her say it again and again.

Pressing himself against her more firmly, he shuddered for the sound of her words, and voiced,

“Again. Please.” Honrin asked of her more quietly than the first.

His hands slid up, among the bedfurs, and each found her corresponding arm, lacing the fingers of both together, pressing them down firmly. Honrin’s lips twitched again, a sense of his salacious smirk returning.

Ducking his head to her, pressing his dark lips to the cusp of her ear, he whispered lowly, for her to hear him.

“You’ll have them, whether one or many. They’ll call you Mom, or Mama, or maybe Mahn. Girls, or boys, or both, it doesn’t matter. They’ll have red hair, like this, like you, or maybe white, or both. They’ll laugh with your smile, and when they cry, you’ll scoop ‘em up in your arms and sing them soft songs.

They’ll bring you their dreams and sorrow, and they’ll know that they’re loved, for forever, Guinevere.”


His voice caught more than once, falling rough and hoarse, at odds with the press of his body against her, ready and hot for her once again. With a soft breath, he rolled himself just right and sheathed himself within her again, searing into her with a distinct but solid urgency.



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Ooc:


He supported her without fault as she crumpled against his chest, cradling her like the most precious possession he’d ever have. It was true, but it made her expression soften even further as he cheekily responded to her.

His hand lifted then, catching the tendrils of hair that had spilled forth in the throes of her feral passion. She hummed and nuzzled into his hand before he retracted it to grasp her own and bring it to his lips, kissing the back of it reverently.

He watched her intently, his face warm and loving while he observed until he decided to sit up and bring them together in a kiss once more. Each one before had been some form of hot, needing, or demanding, all-encompassing of their combined essence.

This one was all warmth and softness, and he held her tenderly against himself in his lap, partially of course because they couldn’t separate at the moment, but she knew he’d have held her just as close.

Now, she knew this for certainty. He didn’t only want her body, or her to warm a place in his bed.

He wanted all of her.

Guin may have been in heat at the moment, taking them both back to their most basic instincts thanks to the hormones razing hell through her body, but the alternative would have been relaxing into the evening by the fire, or her mate worshiping her just as he was now, mind, body, and spirit.

His hands were enticing all over her, roughing up her fur, stroking her sides, her shoulders, her back, her breasts. His voice was low and rumbling in her ear, murmuring sweet nothings to her in whichever language swept from his lips.

Gradually he was able to tug himself free, garnering a wince from the both of them as he carefully slid out. She was already liquefying all over again, her core pulsating with the need for a round two despite just being filled, and missing the sensation of him lodged inside.

He shifted them both forward so he knelt on the bed, and he placed her against the furs so her hair spilled out in a cloud of wine lockes, and he nestled himself into the curve of her body, and he groaned as he pressed himself close. His nose settled at the hollow of her throat, inhaling her scent greedily.

“Tell me you love me,” he asked against her fur, his lips tickling and his teeth nipping, a hand drawing down her side and mapping out the curves of her waist.

“I love you,” she hummed in response, her hands coming in to entangle themselves in his mane and hold him. He shivered at the sound of her, pressing more firmly against her.

“Again. Please. he asked again, more quietly than the first, and she tipped her head to brush it against his.

“I love you,” she repeated again, without hesitation, and a hint of a knowing smirk touched her lips as his hands slid up the bedfurs to capture her fingers between his and pin them both down. She didn't see the way his own muzzle twitched into a salacious look, all she could see was the ceiling above her, his pulse in her palms and the whisper of his breath against her ear.

The rumble of his voice as he lowered it to speak to her, and only her, a secret only she could have even in a room devoid of anyone else. Her eyes slowly widened as he continued on, her breath pausing in her lungs as he stole her air away.

Guinevere gasped softly, observing as the ceiling gradually blurred more and more around the edges, taking his words and fully letting them sink in. Even he, as he spoke, caught more than once, his tone hoarse.

She hadn’t felt his shaft becoming ready again, eager to spread its seed, distracted as she was.

He rolled his hips and shifted, sliding himself into her as though he’d been made for her, slotting perfectly.

Guin shuddered and moaned, her eyes fluttering closed to conceal the drops of liquid that briefly welled up and over, soaked up by her fur or her hair as soon as they’d fallen. Her hands tightened on his.

“Yes,” she gasped, grinding herself upward as much as she could beneath his weight. Her muscles quivered and contracted around him, still hypersensitive from her intense release earlier, regardless of how on fire she felt now.

Her muzzle bent to nuzzle into his neck, rubbing her scent into him just as much as she took his own, and then lifting to kiss the shell of his floppy ear, her breath fluttering his tufted fur.

“And you shall too,” she murmured in return. “Red, white, black, yellow, even purple. Any combination would be nothing less than perfect. You’ll be Dad, Pa, Ghuranaya. You’ll show them your way with horses, and your secrets with the bees. They’ll want to go hunting with you, spar with you, to show off any skill they have just so you’ll smile and tell them you’re proud. You’ll share your clan, our clan, and your culture.” her chest was tight, and her voice struggled to come out smoothly.

“We’ll keep trying. Again, and again and again. I don’t care how long it takes. I want them all, Honrin. Please, give them to me.” she pleaded breathlessly, flexing herself around him. “I love you, Honrin. Take me.” she nipped his neck and moaned, her eyes flickering open.

The Game of their exchange had faded out before they’d even started intercourse, their cat and mouse push and shove, back and forth. But roughness, and power trips, dominance baiting, were not all they were about. They could be soft, in small moments like this where he held her close, cherished and worshipped her, and made love.

Her eyes were lustfully feverish, too bright like she’d been intoxicated, and her lashes were damp as she panted huskily, turning her head to seek out his lips for a kiss. “Give it to me,” she gasped, twisting beneath his hips to try and pull him in deeper inside of her, or trigger him into moving, to cover the fact his words had made her so emotional.

Stupid hormones, fucking around with her reactions and shit.



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She hummed the response, not once but twice as he asked, and he was undone by it as he always had been, and always would be. Honrin lost his breath there with his face bundled tight against her own. Love, to feel and know it, was a gift, and he was The Blessed to have it twice given.

The scent of tears was theirs alone, salty-sweet in his nares. Guinevere did not cry very much, nor without reason, she was not a woman disposed to burst to bawling at the drop of a hat, but she, they, had been wounded by what had happened. She gasped for him and it was one of his most favorite Guin-sounds, surprise and desire all wrapped up together, shot through with daring and dreams.

They were Queen and King here, in their solitude and private space. Away from everything else. Deference and domination coming in equal parts. He rolled his hips forth, seeking away in the half-dark and stalled to a stop when she began to speak too.

Gold gleamed in the shadows and his breaths were rendered harsh and heavy, sodden with emotions he dared not name. Next time, they had said, together, in the soft glow of tragedy.

“Yes… Yes, please.” He rumbled, voice deep and torn, begging in his turn for their heart’s desire. Whether pleading to herself or the Gods remained shrouded in mystery, maybe both in their way.

Please, give them to me.

Who was he to not answer her call?

Releasing one of her hands, he reached, groping blindly, for he could not tear his gaze away, not even for a moment, to grip hold of her leg and drape it about his waist, hoping that she’d get the idea and hold on tight with the other too.

His big body shuddered as she squirmed and held him tightly, lost within her grasp, Honrin set the arm back down, resting on his elbow so his hand was free to fist into her hair, the tangle of it wrapping about his fingers just so. If he tugged, ever so gently, she would feel it, and know that he was there, her own hand was free to wander where it may, to touch and tug at him too.

All of a motion, his head turned to claim her mouth for his own and the rest of him undulated slowly, powerfully, sacrificing speed and strength for the urge to be close to her, for the racing beat of her heart thundering in time with his own pressed close to his chest.

Swallowing down sound and silence alike, soaking up the softness of her eagerly, drowning happily within it. Waves upon her shore, the swell and retreat of him poised in greedy covetousness. If he was the Sun God, poised to illuminate the world then she was the blue sky he drifted through, the clouds and rain to wash him clean and bright and golden. A breath of spring, and light dreams of summer.

And when he fell, she would catch him at the horizon, in waning burnt light.

He pulled away only when the demands of breathing raised their notion and hung his head beside her own, rasping hoarsely against her neck.

“Guin-.. G- Guinevere..” He mumbled raggedly, for her, to her, in the way that the greater deity might be called to, reverent and humbled.

Every breath, every twitch of skin and muttering of voice, each motion forwards and back, the movement of hips and the tumble of them together, he would remember them all, frozen together within the bars of his mind, never to be forgotten.

His fingers tightened about hers, pressing the one hand he still held down, as if he might never let go, for all the rest of his dear life here with her. She wouldn’t, couldn’t leave him, not now, not ever, not at all.



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Though he’d begun to roll himself into her, to take them away on the waves of pleasure that just vibrated beneath her very skin, but it all came to a pause when she spoke to him in turn.

And she could hear, in the raggedness of his breath, what her words did to him. Thick and heavy he breathed against her, and she knew what he felt because she felt it too. He pleaded agreement to her, his tone wrecked.

He released a hand to trail his grip south, groping for something until he found what he sought, the subtle curve of her calf and ankle, using it to hike it around his waist and hold it there. She picked up the message with a slow grin, and she leisurely lifted her opposite leg to mirror the one he’d moved, crossing her ankles behind him and squeezing him close.

Honrin shuddered above her, this great pillar of a man brought down to his knees, and just for her he would bow, snaking a hand to tangle in her hair once again but only loosely, she’d feel it if they moved, and he came to her muzzle to muzzle. Seeking her like a dying man of thirst, and she a tall drink of water.

He moved above her, rolling his hips powerfully, taking what she’d willingly given to him. Her free arm slowly snaked around his neck, holding him close and tight as her fingers threaded through his mane, her claws tugging carefully at the skin. Their sounds were hardly distinguishable, panting and groaning together, eagerly drinking in each other at their most vulnerable moment.

Oxygen was, however, still required, but when he pulled away he did not go far, dropping his head to hover beside hers. There he rasped her name, breathlessly panting into her neck and groaning. His hand still clasped in hers tightened, pinning it anew down to the bed furs as though she might try to slip away.

Her lips quivered against her teeth, a slow, rumbling growl building itself in her chest as he writhed against her, filling her over and over again and steadily ratcheting her pleasure higher, and higher still. She always matched him, fire for fire, when they clashed together.

The seed of her possessive streak raised its coiled head, voicing its claim through the sound bubbling in her throat. Usually, she was quieter about such things. She made sure he was hers in more subtle ways.

And it wasn’t jarring, the noise, as she nuzzled closer to his ear. In some ways, it actually sounded like a purr from a cat. Her muscles clenched around him, milking his shaft as he took her, and she rubbed her nose against the outer shell of his ear.

“Hon...Honrin…” she gasped, needily, her hips jumping under his as sparks began to fly under her eyelids, but she wasn’t there all the way just yet. The sound from her chest had cut off, now replaced with panting openly, her tongue loose from her maw, and her eyes rolled.

The building was slow to rise this time, but rise it did, all the same, excruciating in its slowness, and in each moment she clung to him tighter, her desperation for him mounting in the way she writhed beneath him and used her legs to pull him closer, deeper.

Her head fell back against the bed, baring her throat to him as she groaned and shuddered, unable to keep still hardly at all now. The movement, of course, pulled roughly at the hairs he’d entangled in his fingers, and it was like a sudden spark to gasoline.

“Honrin...Hon...Tove...I’m gonna…” she mewled, unashamed of the need and lust lacing her tone.

And he shifted, just a little, to make it better, and this time he was the victor as she fractured beneath him, catapulted into an abyssal ocean of pleasure that rose to drown her entirely, and she writhed with abandon while clinging to him desperately, practically howling as he continued to move inside her, seeking his own fulfillment.

He chuckled breathlessly, and she vaguely felt the tug against her scalp disappear, only for his hand to encompass her muzzle and clamp it shut, trapping her sounds in the palm of his hand.

“Tut tut,” he murmured, a streak of mischief reentering his tone. “Don’t want to wake the whole Fort, do we now, oh baby?” She didn’t care if every single canine in Casa knew what they were doing right now, not even the shops attached to either side of her own.

However, thoughts like that were thrown straight out the window as he reinforced his grip on her, pulling out to grind against the outside of her for just a moment before sliding back in, and renewing his efforts.

It was like being fucked by a jackhammer, though he didn’t move much he was forcing her pleasure to continue climbing even as she was in the midst of a climax already. And it worked, her eyes widening and her muffled shouts reaching a new crescendo as she somehow orgasmed for the second time in only the last couple of minutes.

The waves took her away, lifting her into the sky in a vision of white, and she rippled around him and strangled his shaft in a vice-like grip, involuntarily returning the favor, and somewhere in the back of her stunned mind, she felt his body stutter as well in his movements.