Bramble Falls Thunder of Guns

She let him get through the whole spiel before revealing his misunderstanding, but he only scowled at her blunt correction. Frustration bubbled up at not only her rudeness but also the very subject she was referencing - that he had been trying desperately to ignore. It had probably contributed to his wilful misinterpretation of her question, because it had been easier to focus on her political problems over her hormonal ones, because the latter were a lot harder for him to deal with. He didn't get an opportunity to bite back with equal scorn, though, before she lurched forward and all but stumbled into him - feeling riled up by her antagonism and her raging heat and his own rant, he embraced the conflict.

When she pulled back he was already moving forwards, a rolling thunder in his chest as he aimed to barrel straight into her to exploit her momentary lack of coordination. A leg sweeping down to knock her own aside to unbalance her, he rammed his chest into her shoulder from the side, intending on bowling her over and firmly placing the bitch on her back with him on top. His jaws were open and teeth bared with eager aggression, but they would never do anything more than rake through her dense fur, flecks of spittle flying.

Sex is just another form of fighting, after all.

No matter how much practice she put in he was always going to be one step ahead. A stumble and a shove and her world turned upside down. As was to be expected he didn't let up, moving to stand over her to reinforce the point. Lips pulled back to bare teeth in defiance, a leg pressing up to gently rake toes through the pale fur on his stomach. The muscles that made up her core tensed in a last ditch attempt to press her blunt nose against that vital point where head met neck but she knew if she managed to rise up at all it would only be because he allowed it. He was too familiar with her tricks.

When all else failed, she knew the safest path was to simply tip back her head and let him see her throat, but she wasn't feeling particularly smart today, and the way his warmth wrapped around her was familiar and she knew she was safe. At some point her snarl had morphed into a smirk. She was glad @Craw had come into her life, if only because he always managed to remind her she was far from invincible.

She wriggled and lashed out with muzzle and paws, but in no desperate efforts - he snarled at her every attempt, snapping his jaws in the air and shifting his weight and limbs to keep her firmly on her back. He could tell that she felt secure and comfortable, that she trusted him completely, in how little she truly tried to fight back, how she re-used tactics he was more than familiar with and knew how to deflect. Seeing the satisfied, smug expression on her face, he stopped wrestling and simply pressed into her, trapping her forelimbs with his chest and one of his own, using his weight to keep her down, lowering his head to bring his lips to her ear.

"The answer to your question," he hissed, "is still yes. Though I can rip your womb out if it inconveniences you that much."

Pushing off her, he stepped back, giving her plenty of room to get back up. Sliding down onto his elbows, his tail rose high in the air, inviting an attack, he bit at the air between them, his jaws clamping together with a sharp click. It was a familiar ritual with her, and one that, right at this moment, he welcomed. They did not normally brawl outside of the pack territory, partly through convenience and partly through safety, but he suspected that she needed it as much as he did. Ears pushed forward, teeth bared and fur bristled from excited aggression, he lowered his head and simply growled; she didn't need verbal encouragement anymore.

Of course he thwarted her attempts at retaliation, the way he pressed down against her only stoking the fire that coursed through her veins. As he leaned in close she took the opportunity to snap her teeth by his ear her smile growing as a growl grew in her chest. "Oh yer know I love it when yer get rough with me." It was mostly a tease but she had to admit, the regular civility others treated her with did tend to get boring after a while. At least @Craw always kept her guessing.

When he moved to let her up, she rolled onto her paws but kept her body close to the ground, her tail sweeping out behind her as she snarled and snapped at the air, turning her head left and right. Her own rump was inching higher as he snapped at the air and when he finally growled she leapt forwards, feet flinging up the snow and mud in her wake. She would try to veer around his bow and slam her shoulder into his ribs, but if she slipped at all she would expect to be seeing the sky again. Or maybe that was what she wanted? No, he'd see straight through her falling over her own feet again. 

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(This post was last modified: Mar 29, 2016, 09:14 PM by Morganna.)

The anticipation grew taught between them in those few moments until she sprang forwards, like a rubber band snapping free, and he waited a heartbeat to see where her momentum was taking her before reacting. As soon as she began to turn, he leapt forwards to meet her, their feet scrambling for purchase on the soggy snow-ridden ground, little grace or delicacy in any of their movements. She slipped, but when he put pressure on her, she recovered, so that was acceptable. He was trying to turn her into a fighter, not a damn ballerina.

It was a sublime way of distracting the both of them from the very same problem, and indeed Craw knew that a brawl was far more satisfying than any rut, in terms of the act itself - the twisting and lunging and feints and intoxicating thrill of overpowering another creature was shared with both acts, but this was somehow more primal, even more base, more raw. It wasn't the mounting of females which had Craw foaming at the mouth, but the legacy which came afterwards. The immortality.

Together the willow wolves jousted and shunted and shoved each other, pushing each other into the dirt and leaping back up until both were running on empty tanks, sides heaving from splendid exhaustion. He could feel the comfortable heat in his muscles, feel the pounding in his chest, and knew that she much be feeling at least half again. But she was getting better.

Satisfied, the pair made the journey back to the willows.