Private Tales Feral Animals

[Yavanna]

Warm fingertips curling, nails biting into skin. Hot breath tickling the ear.

The sleeping elf stirred, arching back into the warmth, pressing deeper into it. Craving, from the depths of slumber, any pleasure. Any heat. Anything but the cold and the pain.

Yavanna's head tilted as she moved and a nose brushed against her cheek. Then lips. This must be some waking dream. She turned into it, chasing the fantasy.

The softest of moans cooed from the bow of her lips into the silence of that hollow.

Sable

 

[Sable]

Her hips rolled subtly against Yavanna’s. The hollow was silent around them, broken only by ragged breaths and the faint rustle of leaves outside, while Sable remained lost in a dream that blurred desire and exhaustion into one unrelenting current.

Her hand roamed, up over ribs and breast, until it curled around the smooth curve of Yavanna’s throat. Her lips brushed the side of the elf’s neck, warm and hungry... And then her teeth sank in, not enough to break skin, but enough to mark, to anchor, to claim in the dreamy haze she didn’t yet wake from.

 

[Yavanna]

Pressure on her ribs, painful against a bruise, then it rose higher and the pain melted away as fingers curled tightly into her neck. The tendons of her throat pressed against the offending hand. Yavanna stirred.

Was she dreaming?

Hot breath, then the sharp press of teeth against the soft flesh of her neck.

Yavanna let out a sound, not quite a whimper. Her back arched, hips rolling back further. Leaves crunched and stirred beneath her.

Where was she?

Why did her body ache and-… unnff. Yavanna bit her lower lip as the sensations of foreign hand and teeth washed over her.

Sable

 

[Sable]

The rustle of leaves snapped her back to reality.

Sable’s eyes flew open and her body went rigid, the heat of the elf pressed too close, her mouth far too near skin it had no business being near. For half a heartbeat she didn’t move, just breathed, hard and uneven before awareness slammed in alongside pain, poison, exhaustion, and the very clear fact that something had gone wrong.

She tore herself back with a sharp hiss, forcing her weight up onto one elbow despite the screaming protest of her wounded shoulder. Her free arm came down automatically, bracing across Yavanna’s throat, pinning her, holding her flat against the roots with practiced force.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped.

Her face hovered inches above the elf’s, flushed and furious, sweat slicking her skin, grey eyes sharp despite the fever burning through her. Whatever had happened in sleep was gone now, replaced by control and barely leashed temper.

 

[Yavanna]

Yavanna froze. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. The arm over her throat constricted her breath, painful and crushing against her trachea. She tried to shift, but that only brought another flash of agony as the wound in her shoulder flared.

"Me?" she managed to hiss out, aghast as she looked up at the face of the human. Her captor. The one who abducted her, chained her, and stabbed her. The one who beat her. The one who... who... She could still feel the lingering warmth on her neck from a hand. And lips.

"Your mind is addled by poison, human," Yavanna bared her teeth at the woman, "I was asleep."

Sable

 

[Sable]

For a heartbeat longer she held her there, eyes locked on Yavanna’s face, jaw clenched so tight her teeth ground.

Asleep.

The fury in Sable’s expression cracked, not gone, but fractured, something ugly and unsettled bleeding through it. Her grip eased, just a fraction, enough that the pressure on the elf’s throat lessened from crushing to merely restraining. She searched Yavanna’s eyes like she expected to find a spell coiled there, a trick, something.

But the collar still gleamed mercilessly at her neck.

A sharp, shuddering breath tore out of Sable as realisation hit. Heat rolled through her again, too intense, too wrong, her pulse roaring in her ears. The poison wasn’t just burning through her veins, it was clawing at her head, warping instinct, blurring lines that should never have blurred.

Why else would she be here, hovering over an elf, noticing anything other than how easily her neck would snap? Why else would she look at her and see anything other than revulsion? Her ears were disgusting, yes, but it was difficult to deny that the elf's face and body were easy on the eyes.

With a low curse, she pulled away entirely, rolling onto her back with a grimace as pain flared in her shoulder. She dragged in air like she’d been drowning, forearm thrown over her eyes, chest heaving.

“Fuck,” she growled, the word scraping her raw throat. She needed water. Her skin felt fever-hot, sweat cooling too fast against the night air. She clenched her teeth, riding out another wave, anger now turned inward and vicious. The poison was trying its very best to kill her, but she refused to allow it. She had not been poisoned by almost every known toxin, suffering through every one of them to allow it to take her out. Fuck no.

Just another few hours..

"Go back to sleep." she hissed.

 

[Yavanna]

"Why?" Yavanna snapped back. "So you can put your filthy human hands all over me again?"

Her amber eyes stared back defiantly. She'd scarcely slept at all, maybe two hours, but it had done wonders for her reserve of rebellion. That... and the feeling of this mortal's lips on her neck. Yavanna tried to maintain her glare, but recalling the sensation made her swallow suddenly, chest rising and falling softly.

"Is that what you were planning on doing all along, or is your brain just so meddled by poison that you'll hump anything with a pulse?"

Grinding her shoulders back into the dirt, one grazed a root and sent a flash of pain up through her injured arm. She bit back a gasp of excruciating agony, then promptly clamped her mouth shut. Trading barbs with the human was fine when her skin had not been covered in bruises and a damned dagger wound in her shoulder.

Rabid ferret.

Sable