[M] Panic!

Alister Callow · 08-29-2012, 09:58 AM

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OOC Added a bit to the end so it made more sense. (This song is great for this thread, I keep listening to it over and over when writing it http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cp2QHf9ePn8)

Word Count → 000

He kept a bit of distance between them on the couch. Most men would have lost their minds by now, but Alister, he wasn't most men. He was still innocent, and knew little and less about women, so he hesitated. He was a gentleman and knight above all else. Honor was everything, but what was honor in the face of a woman's love? Even the hollow, selfish love of her heat. It meant nothing, it was just a primal urge that Alister had no idea how to counter, how to control. He was a man who'd always done everything in his power to rise above his ancestors, both feral and domestic. He was...civilized. Of all his three forms he was almost always in Optime. Secui he used only sparingly for hunting and the very few other activities where four legs were actually beneficial. His lupus form he'd never re-visited, and most likely never would. Instinct was not a foe a man could engage with a blade and so the wolfdog was at a loss. He ruffled his mane again, unaware that he was even doing it as she looked at him with her dazzling amethyst eyes. He somehow managed not to drop his jaw and gape at how gorgeous and exotic she looked. He had at least that much control over himself, but little more.

Alister cared for few of his belongings over much, save his sword and the pendant about his neck. It had belonged to his mother, a woman who'd died of a broken heart when he was just a babe. He figured it the symbol of some pagan diety, and despite the fact that he wasn't all too religious himself, it had been hers, and that was enough to make it special. He never took it off, and he never would if he had a say in it, that was. He didn't notice the woman's eyes as they admired its beauty, its detail. His sword on the other hand, however well tended, was rather plain, with only a leather grip and no device, decoration or even inscription. It was a weapon, nothing more, nothing less. But one he cared for daily, polishing and sharpening until the edges were razor sharp and the steel shone bright.

He hung on the woman's every word when she spoke, as she seemed to draw out every delicious syllable. Little was said, the both of them preoccupied by the wants, no needs, of their bodies. When she got up from the couch he couldn't help but stare as her body straightened, his eyes traveling from her rear up her gently sloping hips to her bare chest. Hazel eyes darted away swiftly to avoid any notice, but when her back faced him they resumed their inspection. God, the way she moved! It was almost too much, but as her lithe figure vanished into the other room the man was granted a bit of a reprieve. The scent still lingered in the fibers of the couch but the absence of her presence served to clear the fog of his mind. What was he doing? This was a mistake, he hardly knew this woman, and he certainly didn't love her. The average man would feel no shame, but Alister, again, was not the average man. He couldn't help but think, what if...something happened, what if he lost control, got her pregnant? And if he sired another litter of bastards like himself..? No, he couldn't, couldn't do that to a child. He felt uneasy, a pang of anxiety sweeping over him suddenly, not letting go. It kept him in its suffocating embrace as he listened to the muffled sounds of her rifling through the cabinets. His eyes swept the floor to his pack, its contents spilling out in sad array. Hmm...He could leave, he could be gone before she came back into the room.

It was too late however a fresh wave of her delicious fragrance wafted into his nostrils as she sauntered up behind him. Her fingers blazed a trail from his shoulder down his chest and a pleasant chill crept down his spine. He forgot his uncertainty, forgot everything. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with the whispering of her breath. She took him in readily, breathing in his earthy scent. His breath hitched, and before he could react she was gone only to reappear on the couch, glasses in hand. He couldn't stall her any longer, and he swallowed his anxiety as she promptly removed the cap from the liquour and took a swig. Even the way she drank was sexy! She hardly so much as flinched. He took the flask from her, "I do now..." Even his own voice had become a seductive purr. His accent both sophisticated and sensual with its hard consonants and long vowels. He lifted the flask to his lips and, closing his eyes and took a swig. He hadn't been quite as graceful as she, the liquor burning down his throat, but he swallowed it down smoothly, placing it on the table with a satisfied sigh.

Her body leaned up against him, causing a tingle to creep along every inch of him that her body touched. His hungry hazel eyes followed hers to his straining laces, a hard blush burning his cheeks. He looked away shyly, his stomach knotting at sight of her wide grin. She knew the power she held over him, and she was using it to her advantage. He busied himself with the bottle of wine. The cork he clamped tightly in his jaws, tugging the bottle until it came free with a faint pop. He grabbed one glass after the other, tilting them so as not to spill a single drop.

Her face came close to his and his ears shifted forward swiftly with her whine. The glass he set down, hazel eyes meeting hers full on. A hand rose tentatively, reaching out to her.
He caressed her cheek tenderly, eyes following the trail of his fingers as they ghosted down the side of her neck. He took one of the long braids that was foremost on the side of her head and placed it on her shoulder, his fingers lingering at the end. His gaze darted down to her bare breasts. He looked away, uncertain, before trailing his fingers back up the side of her neck until finally they departed from her silky fur and he turned away slowly picking up one of the glasses from the table and holding it out to her. "Ladies first."

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