[M] things we keep between our teeth

POSTED: Wed Jan 23, 2019 7:32 pm

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.

The winter storm that blew over Salsola the night Khael returned left the territory incased in ice and utterly inhospitable to the thin-furred jackal. Irritated about this – and irritated in general – she curled up on the makeshift couch, wrapped up in a thick pelt, and sipped alcoholic cider that didn't seem to warm her belly enough. Though the wind was no longer howling outside, the house was cold, and all the wood for the stove was piled outside where Khael did not dare to venture. She would have to wait for her wife to return home.

Katinka did when the sun was still climbing bright and early in the sky, carrying a small pile of logs and shaking the snow from her thick fur. Her Scandanavian wolf ancestors kept the freezing day from touching her, though her nose was so cold when she kissed Khael hello that the jackal flung the pelt up around her head and growled ferociously.

Warmth eventually began to fill the house. The cats sprawled out in the sunlight streaming in from a window, while Katinka sat on the couch beside Khael with her own cup of cider. She leaned her shoulder gently against Khael's, lapping the spiced drink and sighing. Almost thought we lost some of the sheep, she said conversationally. Three of them got caught out in the storm. They were shaking so hard they almost couldn't walk. She rambled on, describing the measures taken that morning to make sure none of Salsola's precious livestock had been lost, talking gratefully about the shelter provided for them. Going on a tangent about a Portland winter that lost her family two milk cows to hypothermia, she eventually noted Khael's silence.

It wasn't unusual, Khael being silent. But usually the jackal was engaged with Tink in some way, even if that wasn't listening and conversing. Her ember eyes would study Tink's face and narrow with amusement, and her face, non-emotive to most, would shift in minute ways that Katinka had learned to read as Khael formulated her own thoughts.

Now, though, she was hunched up in the furs, glowering into her empty cup of alcohol, unresponsive. Her pupils moved and narrowed and expanded in her bright orange irises, and her fingers tightened on the horn-hewn cup, but Tink might as well have not been there.

Is something wrong, älskling? the wolfdog asked, tilting her head and frowning.

Khael stirred. She lifted her head and flicked her bangs out of her eyes, then glanced over at her wife. She briefly contemplated telling her. She'd spoken some words about her past, the way that she'd been raised, but never offered details she thought were personal. Whereas she knew all about Katinka's many siblings and their relationships and various anecdotes about her life on the Holt family farm, Tink barely knew that Khael had siblings.

It would have taken too much to explain; that was an easy excuse. Khael thought, too, that to offer up something of herself was to welcome weakness.

It is fucking cold, Khael said instead.

Katinka blinked her bright blue eyes then laughed, the sound almost singsong. She set her cup onto their table then pulled her legs up onto the couch, leaning more of her weight into Khael. Peering through her pale eyelashes, she smiled. I'm sorry, she said, teasingly, as if offering apology to placate a petulant child.

The mischievous note made Khael narrow her eyes again, but she smiled a little, and uttered a world-weary sigh. You are not sorry.

Oh no?

You like it when I get too cold. I see you smile. You horrible creature.

Katinka was not quite able to argue against this point. Her smile was broad as she watched the jackal woman – a creature who rarely showed vulnerability. It was a treat, in a way, but she only tutted then rested her hand on Khael's leg. I could make you warm again, she said, and shimmied her shoulders innocently.

It never took much invitation.

Khael made a throaty noise, like a growl, and allowed Tink to shift closer. The wolfdog licked and nibbled at her neck, her hand stroking up her leg, though when it inched up further Khael pushed her away. Another creature as selfish as she was might have welcomed the touch, but she found that such ministrations gave her little pleasure. Something else set off the spark.

Lay down, she ordered, and Tink complied. She settled on her back, bracing herself up with her elbows, and smiled as Khael leaned over to kiss her.

This was brief, as Khael rested on her stomach and hauled Tink closer with her arms under her rear, causing the cowherd to shriek and giggle. Resting her cheek against one of Tink's knees, Khael began to push up her skirt, her slender hands taking their time to trace flesh. Though her face was sleek and narrow, her coat plush, Katinka was soft and plump in other places that Khael enjoyed. Salsola life meant that she wanted for nothing, especially food, and her diet included fatty milks and cheeses that made her body a cushion against Khael's litheness. Her hands ran up beneath the girl's clothes to her stomach, then back down her thick thighs and rump, kneading as she placed a kiss at her knee. Her touch was possessive.

I have a wife, Ossidael. What do you have?

Katinka was breathing heavily by the time Khael bunched the skirt around her pelvis. The cowherd wore longer and more covering skirts and dresses these days. It wasn't so fast to throw them back to get what she wanted.

Resting between Tink's legs, Khael paused, as always, to marvel – her pupils blown.

The girl shuddered as she lapped her tongue against the beautiful mottling of bruises covering her inner thighs where the fur was thin. She kissed and pressed her teeth against the gradient, old faded yellow, transitionary green, purpling spots like blossoms. She pressed new reds and pinks with her fangs, while Tink murmured and occasionally drew a sharp intake of breath, intermingled pleasure-pain.

I have this, she thought, licking Katinka's sex before pressing her teeth back against the fat of her thighs. This is mine. What do you have?

She could feel it now – pleasure, heat, finally thrumming throughout her own body. She let Tink touch her sometimes, because it made the girl happy, but this was what she desired. She tugged Katinka closer and buried her muzzle between the quivering thighs, drawing in the heady scent of arousal, listening to her moans and whimpers. Heat danced in her pelvis. Her own breath quickened, and her lips peeled back from her sharp teeth. Desire was warm, but hate was hot, and with each stroke she thought of her brother and how much she wanted to make him see this, make it the last thing he saw before she gave him the spear.

Katinka suddenly flinched and yelped. Her legs quivered, but not from arousal, and she started to squirm beneath Khael's grip. Not so hard, please, she said breathily, trying to inch away as teeth pressed too much on the tender flesh.

What do you have, Ossidael?

Khael! she exclaimed, higher-pitch. Don't bite so hard.

Mine, mine, mine.

Please, stop!

Khael sank her fangs in deep.

[1243 words]

but between my soft hands they die.
The Henchman (NPC)
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Luperci Milite Mate to Katinka
in her eyes were embers