she wears fury like a second skin

^^When she woke, Morag knew fury. She had known fury all of her life, knew it as it curled through her veins and bled with violence. Fury had been one of the things she had been taught growing up, born into an Army and used to wage war. Fury helped one in battle when it wasn't mindless. Mindless fury was for the weak and Morag was not one of those. She hadn't been born from the weak and had not grown as the weak, she had flourished in strength and that's where she would stay. Even then, though, the wolf could not help the feel of absolute fury as it thundered through her veins. She had woke in a land she did not know, blood that was both hers and someone elses coating her face, chin and chest, clumps of fur and skin stuck between her toes, and fury had rattled her brain when the memories came flashing before her.

Morag was an honourable fighter when it suited her. Morag knew how to play dirty, to force the tides in her favour. Yet this fight? Oh, she had been so terribly confident that her opponent was too righteous to fight dirty. To bring in reinforcements outside of the battle rules and take the crown of victor so dirtily. A part of her was furious she hadn't done the same and another part of her was furious for their audacity. She had killed one of them and more than likely seriously harmed another but it had been enough to bring her to her knees, crimson and flesh on her tongue before the sound of rage was a dull ache in her ears and then she had known no more.

Before she gasped awake in the lands where nothing felt familiar and she had torn through the trees with fury, as if her killers were here and they were her oxygen. She would devour them; them and their families. Now? Morag stalked through the trees with a fire burning in her chest, she felt both lost and found in her plans but how could she enact them? She was clearly somewhere else, somewhere that wasn't home and they were likely nowhere to be found. Angrily, Morag rose to her hind paws and grinded her claws against the bark of the tree with an irritated rumble in her throat. She should, perhaps, clean off the blood, fur and flesh. Was she going to? No. For now, Morag wanted to rip apart the tree and if she were to get cuts and splinters, well, she didn't care.

Honourable fighting be damned, she swore, not again will I give them a benefit of the doubt. She wore her loss on her shoulders yet it wasn't a complete loss; she had taken one with her. It wasn't the outcome she wanted but it was still something that wasn't disappointing. Had she been killed and had not taken anyone with her, Morag would have forfeit her life then and there.^^
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^^

He roamed in and out of Blackwood Reach as he sought for recruits to add to their numbers. He wandered the marshes in the North before turning back to the mist before wandering too far away. He entered the mist of the fields that neighboured his, welcoming the Warlord in its familiar embrace until he found the woods claimed once more. The fresh chill of the mist giving way to the blackened skies clouded by bare branches and needles shrouded in that same familiar haze.

A scent caught his attention which drew him in, turning his course toward what he believed was an unfamiliar woman who was now roaming his woods. Their scent luring him in, enraging him how they could have wandered in beyond their borders and how he had to be the one to catch them as opposed to any of the other members who roamed the mist. The flesh along his muzzle crinkled in rage, a low-key excitement bubbling up within his gut as her scent grew stronker.

When his eyes adjusted to the fading light, something that came quicker now as he spent more time in the hazy woods, there he could see the ballsy bitch marking a tree with her claws like some feline. The hairs along his back rose as a snarl tore through his face, pushing his ears back as he pressed on with quicker paws than before to close the distance between himself and the woman.

Due to him suspecting her to be defacing his trees, marking them with her scent which did not belong to him - there was no need for talk. Immediate action was taken as he lunged for the back of her neck, the part of which would have been exposed to him, and see if he could pin her against the tree with his body pressing against her back.

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When logic would reign once again, Morag would soon fall back into another bout of fury for allowing herself to be so unaware of her surroundings as she tore into the tree. It was within moments that she felt it, the sharp twinge of teeth in her scruff and a body slam against her own, pressing their weight on her back and her belly flush against the tree. It was no easy feat for most to encompass Morag, she was a woman of height and meat, afterall. Morag snarled as her chin snapped against the tree, "excuse the fuck out of you," she gripped, attempting to buck her hips against him to unbalance him, wanting to throw him off of her. This was a terribly unfortunate position, one she didn't want to be in - especially since she couldn't see her attacker as he loomed behind her. Morag could smell him, at least, rancid and suffocating to the point she swore she had just walked through the old battleground where both new and old, rotting dead bodies lay. "Fuck," Morag snarled, frustrated at her disadvantage.

"Get the fuck off," Morag snapped, determined to not stay still and squirm as much as possible as to not make it nice and easy for him to keep her pinned against the tree. "I did not get murdered by cowards only to die before I paid them back in kind," cowards who when she found them, she would wear their skins and eat their bones. At least I took one with me, she thought sourly. She continued to squirm and to kick, moments away from slamming her head backwards in hopes to crack against his own. It was another wolf, that much was obvious, the feel of him so terribly wolf and beneath his rotten strench, she could smell the same smell wolves carried.

Who did he think he was, to come up from behind her? There were instances where she didn't mind being beneath a man but this was not one of them, and especially not when she was attempting to take her rage out on the tree. Morag's nose flared as her head swam, wondering what she had done in life to deserve this. Born to be a solider, a body, a weapon, she had done as she was told (with some attitude, fire and opinions, mind you) so why did the soldier not get rewarded for her service? Fuck.
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^^

With her flesh between his fangs the Warlord couldn't help but grin at his success. Feeling his body press against hers, cornering her against his body and the tree. She was on his lands after all, at his mercy. At any moment not only could he do as he pleased (his thoughts) but if she chose to fight him, he could easily call the pack to his aid and make an example out of her as he did with Sam upon entering the mist.

But then again... he always liked breaking the tough ones down. As he did with Eldra, he could do the same to this one too and see how she would react. His lewd thoughts didn't fade but only added fuel to the fire burning in his loins as her hips bucked against him. As she struggled between him and the trunk of the tree, sandwiched between them both - he gave in to his primal desire to mount the woman in a carnal desire for dominance in his lands.

Though she did not make it easy. His hardened member only brushing against her briefly as she wiggled and squirmed, fought against him and bucked with an added headbutt against his muzzle, letting both his paws and fangs lose their grip. Even if with only the lingering strands of hair sitting upon his tongue as she was now free from his grip, his attempt to humiliate her failed - the point was still made. “You dare to leave your mark on my territory,” he growled in turn, tongue slipping between exposed fangs in a quick flicker.

“I have every reason to treat you as I please.” He roared, spittle seeping from his tongue as his excitement did not fade, not yet, not as his blood boiled with her trespassing and demanding attitude.

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Vengeance HP (round 2 roll): 19/20 | Morag HP (round 1 roll): 8/20

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Morag had not anticipated to feel it. By it, she meant him. His thickening length against her as she squirmed, her fury pumping through her veins. He must have known, must have felt his own body as it hardened and he did nothing as to pull away from her. He instead fought against her body, his own holding her with all the advantage in the world. Morag's belly stirred, furious yet touched by his body, his gal, his fucking audacity -- not too often did a man bigger than her manage to find himself in his position and she would be a liar to say that it didn't stir her belly in a way it hadn't been in a while. Yet she was still furious at his audacity as he mounted her, her hips bucking as to both encourage and discourage, because what the fuck what happening?

He was a man and they often felt the need to project their fragile masculinity and prove a point. Morag's fire was not one that could be contained for long, if ever and she was not to be beaten down by someone who was coward enough to advance upon her at a blind spot -- no matter the warmth they blossomed in her loins. Sucess came in a small dose as his teeth released her and his paws fell, his gargantuan frame dropping from having her pinned and Morag snarled at him as she turned, his words vibrating in the air as she narrowed her fire-filled gaze washed over the beast. And beast he was, nothing about him that wasn't beastly. "You own the land but it does not make you owner of me," she snarled at him as the fur along her spine rose, "forgive me," she spat as she stepped to him, "for being in a confused rage from waking in a foreign land when my last memory was of being attacked." Morag's tone was mocking and furious, a raspy edge to the words signalling that she hadn't been unaffected by the feel of him against her; no matter how brief the touch had been.

"I am a wolf, a soldier, I am rage -- not a toy, not a pet, keep your teeth and your cock away from me least you want to use them again," Morag's tongue slipped from her mouth and over her lips as her gaze observed him from head to toy, purposefully and angrily. "Unless you say please," the soldier cooed, jaw ticking as she wished to push him, to push him again because that's who she was -- but also, she had rage she wanted to release and what better way to release it than push a beast into his rage and to prove that he could do as he wished, so long as she was willing to let him try?

Her fury at him, at being killed, at being outnumbered before her death, at only bringing one with her, at allowing herself to be pounced upon from behind was coupled with her desire to feel him again, if only to release the fire that roared in her belly.
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^^

Her actions before they parted didn't help to calm the fire that raged within. Normally he was unbothered by the lack of success, he was all about humiliation instead of gratification, the degradation of pride in one so strong gave him the ultimate pleasure above all else. After all, if his erection did not subside, there was always bound to be someone out there he could abuse instead, dead or alive it did not matter. A body was a body after all so long as warmth still lingered long enough to offer release.

For now, as she faced him. Teeth bared and venom poised to his ears, he would ignore the sensation between his legs for now. He was more than just a yearling incapable of thinking with his dick, it was a tool just like any other. She snarled and he returned the threat, teeth clashing against one another in a threatened bark, saliva stringing from his excited lips like some rabid dog while offering a faux lunge to communicate he was not afraid to approach once more.

“I own all who dare to tread through here.” He correct swiftly. Whatever throne she placed herself upon, it was a throne of ash blown by the wind as long as she lingered here; for he was king of these woods.

Her threats did not affect him, perhaps if he wasn't already excited by finding someone so deep in his lands these events would have gone differently. Perhaps if she wasn't marking his trees with her foreign scent, he would not have acted to viciously, unforgivingly even if she asked for forgiveness - and yet that too was not the case. She threatened and he dared to approach, swallowing the little distance between them. “A Warlord does not plead, they take.” And take, and take, and take until there was nothing left within their reach - until the cold fingers of death stopped their greedy hands and let them rot where they laid.

And Vengeance's threats - were not empty ones.

She teased with her tone and words, those eyes longing and provocative - he could feel it throbbing with her gaze. He was sick, a sick man who believed through his twisted thoughts and skewed sense of reality at how she yearned to be ravished and was simply playing hard to get. Oh how he loved that game. With a new found desire he lunged once again, this time as she was poised and ready to fight back. He'd make her submit. She was a warrior she tells him, let him see her fight, let them both be covered in blood and cum by the end of this encounter.

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His bark of threat did little to deter her, instead she snapped her teeth forward in a returning, sharp bark of her own as she felt the saliva in her mouth pool and twist along her teeth and tongue. His correction as her lip curling and her chin lifting, the constant state of fury only growing the longer she was in his company. "No," she returned sharply and simply. Did he think himself a God? Morag was not one with a lot of sympathy for others but had she been a wolf with less of a fire, less of a back bone and with lesser skills -- she would have stood no chance against him, God or not. He was no King, not her King, anyway, and she was not beneath his rule. Accidents happened, though clearly he was not a wolf who cared for accidents.

Not that she cared, accident or not, she was to defend herself.

A King he was not, she mused, as he called himself a Warlord. Looking him over, she could see how he would call himself such. Though certainly the Wardlords from home were of similar appearance, they did not smell quite like him. It was as if he carried the bodies of his war on him, their scent clutching to his very skin. He ate the difference between them, much like she thought he'd like to eat her flesh, quick and easily, her chin lifting as to even them out. He was used to taking, taking until there was nothing left and she thought that when the day came, where there was nothing left for him to take, she wanted to be there to smile. Now, though, she still smiled. Her darkly spotted snout crinkling as she did so, "saying things does not just make them true," she cooed teasingly, sharply, her lip curling into a toothy smirk.

She could see why he was a Warlord, why creatures would seek to follow him. For his power that he so clearly radiated but Morag was not a beast who would so simply hand over her loyalty; not to a wolf who could not prove it with more than a cowardly shot at her back and forceful words. He lunged, showing his intention as he readied himself for an onslought. Morag dipped her head with a flag of her tail behind her, her shoulds risen as she lunged forward with thick paws thudding against the Earth as she feigned going straight and instead lunged for the flesh of his side with opened jaws.

His side was her intent, keeping her ears tucked and eyes narrowed for protection. If he wanted to play, she would play, and perhaps she'd get a taste of more than just blood in the mans veins. Her belly roared with desire, longing and fury. Morag never claimed to be a good wolf, a proper wolf, her views were brainwashed and easily accepted by her upbringing and her personality only furthered to fuel them. So if there was a God and he was gazing down upon the dance, she would not bow and beg for forgiveness -- she would laugh and tell him to beg for his own forgiveness.
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She refused his claim, what a shame. He was not one to argue but take action instead. Where his power laid was in his body and abilities, not in his mind like most leaders did. Where he excelled was battle, and here he would show just how he claimed a title such as Warlord. Where they could agree was that words were empty. They meant little if you could not back up your bark with just as powerful of a bite. Even if the dice lords of Discord may be mean to the two titans as they clashed with terrible rolls - as she prepared immediately with the new round in their battle, her willingness to fight and not roll over in fear only excited him further.

Blood and cum. Pleasure and pain, they were one in the same in his eye. As they collided, fangs sinking into his side he roared some kind of strange mixture of thrill and pain, this body burned with desire as disgustingly enough his erection dribbled with ooze, pre-cum dripping in a thick substance as they wrestled. It was almost painful in itself and it yearned, pleaded for release. His body feverish with hunger for everything she could offer him even if it was against her will.

From where she bit his own reach was blocked to his frustration. Letting his tail fall just enough to protect what was behind, ears flattened as this took a more serious turn - he shook violently with a whole body tremor to shake her off of him. Fangs clashing, hungrily with a maddened fury, biting in her direction with the desire to sink his own teeth into her flesh but only managing to graze it for now. For her own sake the Gods above better smile down upon her, as should he be victorious this time around... the things he would do to her to make his point come across clearly, were heinous and perverse to say the least.

^^

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Vengeance HP (round 3 roll): 9/20 | Morag HP (round 2 roll): 6/20

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He said nothing as to refute her, seemingly choosing to speak with his actions and not his tongue. A pity, she thought, she was beginning to like that tongue of his. Morag had been trained for this, born into it and nearly bred for it, too, but she had been too useful to put out of commission. That and Morag wasn't about to let someone less than stellar provide her with children, someone had to be worthy in order to touch her and though they were soldiers, that did not automatically give them worth. Worth to even touch her, breathe the same air as her -- so what made this beast worthy to breathe her air?

The ghost touch of him at her rump had her belly twinging and her mind wondering just how this was going to end. A part of her wouldn't mind seeing him dead yet that was more so her just wanting to be a blood thirsty, enranged bitch from dying than actually wanting him dead. He was a delightful one, even if he was one who was perhaps sitting higher than he should, she mused, but she had a taste and it was for rage and pleasure. She could not be blamed, not when he had been the one to come up onto her but she could admit to pushing him. When she had the means to, why wouldn't she? She had things to work out and there was a willing participant looking to prove his worth, his strength, his ability.

So why wouldn't she let him?

The direction that she come from was too awkward for him to reach, the angle awkward and she smirked into the grip, aiming to hold onto him from her angle and though he shook, he did not loosen her grip enough to dislodge her. Morag held on as well as she could, aiming to give a shake of her own as to do some damage before her grip would finally be relased from him. Would he be infuriated at his inability to reach her, to shake her? The glint in Morag's eyes told her desires, the desire to make him lose control, to push his temper, until he decided to prove his words of Warlords taking what they wanted. Would it occur to him that he would only get it, if she let him? She thought not, but this had so far not been terrible; she was holding up her own. You know, on his side.

Morag wanted to hold for as long as possible, his teeth only grazing her, keeping him within the awkward reach so that his temper would continue to flare. Was that what was going to happen? Gods, she hoped so. Morag did like to get her way.
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Even if the pain that pulsed from the gaping wound along his neck offered a different type of pleasure - his anger grew to think that he would be bested now while he flaunted his power and pride earlier. His title and abilities just to be shown up by the woman he had attacked and only had the upper hand against when her back was turned. He was furious to think that this would taint his name, his pride, within his own woods too none the less.

It was time for a Hail Mary. With a single shove with his shoulder, violently thrusting his body toward her, toward the bite to shake her loose once and for all. He sacrificed his own skin and blood if it meant a possible victory. Letting her fangs sink in deeper if it meant hitting her nose with full force to make her let go. He wanted victory. He wanted to take what he had threatened to earlier, to take her under him in an act of utter submission to him. And he would do anything for that sweet taste of triumph he hungered for.

As soon as her teeth slipped from his skin, the man, no, the beast would whip around with hunger in his fangs. Reaching for to grab onto her once more in his own grasp this time. To hold. To wrestle down into submission. She would soon regret waking up here of all places, to have challenged his abilities and prowess and understand that some were indeed capable of much more than simple words. Though he may not be able to tame her rage, that fury of her own, he could match it just as well with his own outrage that burned just as bright as hers.

With gritted teeth and heavy breaths, strands of saliva oozed from his maw as he growled with her skin held tightly in his jaws, he demanded with a primal rumble for her to submit or die.

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They wrestled and Morag let out a growl of frustration as her paws slipped from her angle and his weight, his teeth clutching onto her again in a similar grip to his first. Her teeth, bloodied from his flesh, were glistening with both blood and saliva as she curled her lips in anger. Both fury and craving burned in her veins as she refused to give up so easily, despite him clearly having her down and with a rage filled howl, Morag gave the last of her movements to shaking and swing her body beneath him, uncaring to the teeth in her scruff. When it became too much, his weight bearing down on her and her chest rose and fell with exertion, she stilled beneath him with a simmering flame of fury.

"Does the Warlord have a name?" Morag griped, lip still curled against her teeth as her nose scrunched and crinkled and if there were any wiggle room, she would attempt to twist her neck as her face pushed into the ground to peer at him where he loomed above, clutching at her neck. Her voice was laced with a raspy tilt, breathless with the same fury and craving that her body had mirrored only a few moments before. Morag would be resigned to her tension if he'd leave her unfufilled but she thought that it would be easy; to find a creature to sate her need even if they couldn't give her the very same anger and passion that moments before had been oozing from the clashing bodies.

Still, she supposed the Warlord would be interesting to get behind, to be a soldier for if it came down to it. Morag was one of the greats and how else would she get to evolve it if she remained a lone wolf?

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She refused to submit right away, fighting until the bitter end as she shook and growled, swinging her body around and yet his grip was firm. His body caging hers with muscular limbs on either side of her body, rooting him on the spot and his still excited erection rubbing against whatever was down there now with her thrashing about. He didn't care what it was, as she finally submitted and was left but a simmering flame beneath him.

Her head twisted in his grip, demanding for them to meet eye to eye and only then did he let go. Loosening his grip but not moving away to give her space just yet. No, there he would remain so they may be face to face, eye to eye. The woman requested his name and his locked jaws needed time to relax enough in order to speak properly, letting his tongue slither through its ivory cage a moment before those same rumbling tones followed through. “Vengeance.” 

The woman's blood could still be tasted upon his lips, dancing across his tongue as he could still taste the sweet nectar he had drawn from her. The pain in his neck fading to that familiar wet sensation where his own wound bled through thick chocolate fur. With this he couldn't help but press on, letting his weight press down on her before his own question would be uttered. “Does the soldier have a name?” Freshly bloodied lips twisted into a toothy grin, almost disguised as a snarl with the rippling skin along his muzzle and pulling at his nose. 

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^^Morag could not help the fire of rage and desire as he caged her, the evidence of his arousal flush against her and causing her to ache. The raw strength and ability had her able to look past the stench of death that he carried, enabled her to look past his audacity and cowardice of approaching her from behind. Not often did she get bested and it was enough to encourage her curiosity -- and her want. She cared not that he was a strange, the tussle had been igniting and infuriating and Morag loved the fight.

He released her as she twisted in his grip to peer to his own fiery depths, his teeth loosening their grip upon her and her nose flared, in both annoyance and acceptance to him remaining where he loomed above her. Morag gave a short, throaty laugh. "How fitting," the woman drawled, lips curling into a half-smirk. Vengeance. She could see it, she thought. "And here I thought you would be called rabbit," she dug, teasingly, sharply, not giving up an opportunity to continue to dig at him. Morag felt his weight continue to press on her and with little hesistance, she arched her back against him, rubbing her rump against his hardened loin. His made her quiver, her tongue slipping from the confinements of her teeth to roll over her lips and nose as she heard his question.

At least he saw her for what she rightfully was, a soldier. "Morag," she replied, tone rough as she kept herself flush against him. "What will you do now, Vengeance?" Morag drawled, a hint of challenge in her tone as she looked to see if he would be the one to relieve her or if she would need to find it elsewhere. After it was said and done, she thought she might ask him of his Warlord status and see if he needed a solider to add to his ranks -- depending, of course. Morag had other things to deal with right now and that was the fire that had grown in her belly, making her hips twitch against him as she held back the whine that wanted to so badly escape from her throat. She was better than that, not yet would she whine for it.

She would want and get in other ways.^^
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There is a weee bit of power play near the end, if it is too much please let me know and I will happily edit!

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^^

Fitting, yes it was. Better than his birth name. Leaving the child behind of who he was years ago and into the new life of man of war he was. He was retribution, he lived for revenge, and most of all, he was the nemesis to all who opposed him. The Warlord's own visage twisted into a vicious, yellowed grin. Teeth slicing between each other as each perfectly fit along the other as Morag showed she had a form of humour herself, teasing that he could have been called "Rabbit" of all things. A soft, tender, prey like thing.

She moved against him, grinding in anticipation over what he had to offer, what he had threatened her with just earlier. Fuelled with adrenaline and only recently subsided rage, he teased in return. Touching her warmth with his own but not quite taking the plunge just yet as they still had a few other things to address first. He was not an impatient youth after all, nor was this a spur of the moment or rush as it was earlier, or with Eldra - now there was a form of purpose in the both as their bodies ached for the other's pleasure.

What would he do now? Her question made him huff in amusement, grunting humorously before speaking into her ear as if it wasn't already obvious what was to come. “Take what is mine.” Then, with one final grunt he pushed himself into her in one swift motion. Giving no time for her to adjust for his girth but instead be immediately a part of him. Only once he was fully within her at length did he pause to feel her pulsating body around his, thinking back to their previous conversation of pleading and taking. Oh how things eventually came around pleasantly in the end despite their initial excitement and how it made him grin wickedly.

He paused only long enough for a brief thought, letting his body take over from there with merciless strikes, moving his arms from caging around her to holding her hips firmly and pulling Morag closer to him with every deep thrust. 

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^^Morag wasn't sure what this foreign lands was or why she had woken here after what she was certain was death or even what powers were at play to enable it -- but at this moment in time, Morag wasn't overly fussed on the why. The tension and anger she needed to release after her fight and her brush with death had been fed by Vengeance and his attack of her, his hulking frame pulling at her seams and demanding her attention. There was no way this wouldn't end in some form of release for her; she had exerted her need to fight, to rip her teeth into his flesh and feel the bite of his own and now it was time to feed from him in another way. A way he had threatened her with yet he didn't know that she wasn't a wolf who cowered at a threat. She was the wolf to bite back, to test the waters and demand actions followed the words.

He was more than capable, she assumed, from the way he carried himself, to follow through. His grin was feral and vicious as his lips spread across his teeth and she thought he enjoyed her image of him as a rabbit. They both knew he would not carry such a name yet it was funny all the same. He was anything but a rabbit and so was she. They were predators, forces of nature and they had collided; their winds harsh and biting against each other. He had won the overral dominance but Morag did not remain as embers. She would continue to ignite, to roar, to push against whatever was forcing her. It just so happened that the current force was Vengeance.

His grunt and words had her ears twitching, warming at the tips and Morag let out a sigh of excitement as her lips curled over her teeth, anticipation lining her veins before she needed to want no longer -- he pushed himself past her walls and Morag's head tilted against the Earth as she groaned. It had been so long since she had been filled with the warmth of someones flesh and his was unforgiving as she encased him, unwilling to let him go so soon. Morag was not a wolf who so readily fell into ownership and for the sake of fury, passion and sex -- she would let someone think she was a thing to take and claim, especially when it made her feel like this. "Fuck," she whined, breathless as her body jerked with his movements and Morag tried to keep herself in line with his thrusts, wanting to feel him to the hilt.

"More," she demanded, attempting to shove her head against his chin in order to push him further, she wanted to feel his teeth as he rode her, wanted to feel his sting and his warmth all in one. She did not try and move away from his grip on her hips, letting him tug her as close as he could as she growled lowly in the back of her throat, "prove your ownership." Mark me, she demanded, let her wear the mark of their play on her nape, her shoulder -- anywhere his teeth could grab. Hold her tightly, forcefully, show me, she thought, show me what it's like to be owned by vengeance. She could not help the stuttering breath that left her as her belly coiled tightly, her chest rising and falling with the sensations he caused to flutter through her veins.^^
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^^

There weren't many who purred under his punishment. Who egged him past a fight they lost for something more. From pain to pleasure, letting themselves get completely ravished by the beastial man without clawing and begging for an escape. They were both abused, bruised and bleeding on one another as his neck poured onto her skin from his position along her back side. Each movement stinging in pain and pleasure as they became one in the same with muscles aching under the constant stress they were placed under since the beginning of their encounter.

It was carnal. Savage and feral, lacking all signs of love or adoration as each thrust didn't lose its momentum from the last intending to send vicious waves through both their bodies. The woman's words could barely be heard as blood rushed his ears in a deafening heat, losing himself in the moment but her demands would be satisfied regardless as he dug his fangs into her skin, sinking them deep into skin and muscle with the intention for pain in its placement along the back of her neck - lacking the previous desire to kill.

Hot breath huffed from his maw as he held onto her neck with zero regard if he was suffocating her or not with his hold, unaware of where it truly was in his furious state while hind claws digging into the ground for stability and the front dug into that sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Clawing for complete control, to keep her where he wanted her until he was at least finished with the hedonistic ritual. It didn't even matter that his weight would bare down upon her completely as he didn't care to think of holding himself with his own damn legs to relieve her from his burden. Should she be crushed under his pressure, so be it.

Every now and then his grip would need to be adjusted as new bites and claws found fresh skin, she would be marked that was for certain. From nape to thighs to the swollen and abused entrance of hers, there would be no doubt who she encountered by the end of it all. He was a man who would be difficult to satisfy, having little time in between action which had his endurance reach a ridiculous peak. Even with Eldra he had not finished due to it being nothing but a punishable action for her stupidity, however with Morag he continued until every bit of him was released in her in waves, leaving her oozing with his seed by the time he had finally released his grip upon her neck and hips.

Muscles ached from the previous fight and now stress-tested in a sinful act of adultery. Though they quivered, he still stood strong with ripples muscles pushing against their will. Huffing while the mist coiled with each sickening breath as his lungs thirst for oxygen as saliva and blood dripped his maw where it pooled from his grip along her neck; there he stood once all was done, crimson eyes lit as they affixed to her.“Be my soldier.” He demanded finally. He was here after all, proved her worth.

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^^Primal and savage was the words she could use to describe it and the beast held no complaints to his movements nor his skill. Morag had ensured that he would have the evidence of her own teeth on his skin, just as she had encouraged his own mark upon her. It was something she liked, leaving evidence of her existence upon someone elses skin. Like a trail, a map of where she has been and those that were worthy had the best of them all. Pain and pleasure had all melted into one, Morag's mind a haze as she let her feral instincts take control of her movements.

She felt the sting of his teeth and it was enough to send the woman into a frenzy as she relished in it; in him. The taut pull of his grip had Morag's breathing laboured but she did little to stray, enjoying the sensations that were crawling up and down her spine as she gave him full reign of her body. She was certain her thights would be cut, bleeding small droplets of crimson from his iron grip but Morag didn't care, favouring it above despising it. His teeth, his claws, they left their own trail on the map of her skin and she squirmed against him, gasps and snarls leaving her in sync. Perhaps it was horrific of her, perhaps it was beastly and cruel but Morag could only be fully satisifed when it was like this. Raw, feral and purposeful; soft and gentle simply not something that had ever gotten her breathless.

The wounds would heal, some may scar, leaving little evidence of Vengeance's touch against her skin and Morag could only hope that she had scarred him too. It would only be fair, wouldn't it? The thought had her smirking amongst all the relief and delight, his body still a cage around her own as her belly coiled and she joined him in the end, his seed joined by own delight as she gasped and panted beneath him. His teeth released her as he drew himself off and Morag's legs felt light and jelly though she pushed herself up; uncaring to the blood and seed as it clung to her thighs. She panted, orange gaze ablaze as she peered to him, all of her wounds throbbing and earning a shiver of delight to splice up her spine. She met his gaze evenly, purposefully, his demand settling in the air and Morag could not help but smirk, lazy and pleased.

"Whatever my Warlord commands," Morag cooed, mocked playfully, humour twisting at the edges of her satisfied lips. He would have to know that she wasn't going to zip up her attitude as she pledged her sword to him, the man had to know the beast in which he was letting into his ranks. Morag respected the man despite his initial cowardice, unable to fault him in his skills -- both battle and otherwise. He was a man with power and Morag would always keep with power. "Perhaps you'll find me whenever you find yourself particularly... furious," The Soldier tilted her head to the side, her smirk obvious. A fight or a fuck, or a fight fuck, she didn't care -- she'd pledge her sword to a man who could carry it. So very little wolves were worthy of her loyalty.

She wondered if there were anyone of similar tastes to the Warlord; so that if he didn't wish to take her up on the mutual offering, she could still get some of her primal desires fulfilled. Either way, Morag would pledge herself to a Warlord on that day, her bloodied lips staying in their satisfied smirk as she appraised him. No subtley in her gaze and she only hoped he didn't disappoint her. She would hate to regret pledging herself to him, especially after how well the first impression went.^^
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It was perhaps one of the strangest way he had recruited someone, but not completely out of character either. It felt natural to him at least. Knowing they were willing to give in to the acts of violence and sex that would come on a whim without withdrawing. The life of a mercenary was too short to live it under a certain belief code, keeping their bodies intact and unsoiled for some higher purpose bullshit. To let the body enjoy what it craved was what life was truly all about, at least for him.

To take what he wanted, satisfy what needed to be satisfied. To eat, to fuck whenever that itch needed to be scratched. It was as normal and natural as it got. To claim more land for the sake of obtaining more resources and more bodies to guard it. That was what he hoped his legacy would be. An empire of strength and desires all fulfilled.

Perhaps Morag here would help him with that. There were many ways she could after all, both as a warrior and as a female. 

He grinned at her offering, not surprised by it one bit as she seemed to have enjoy herself through it all despite the loss. “Likewise.” Because certainly she had her own desires to be fulfilled at other times. he could only hope the other men of the pack wouldn't catch her eye instead - and for now he would not be particularly obsessive, that was something for another time as their numbers grew. 
 
“Make yourself comfortable, you have marked a tree with your scent already after all. I will find you once I have a task in mind.” One of which would be sooner rather than later which involved heading down to Elkshire... 

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