and in hell, she flourished

set some time after "since you're looking i'll put on a show" and noki and i have already discussed how that thread ends

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Morag had figured that the throwing up was a sign, that and the aversion to rabbit -- a food she ordinarily rather enjoyed -- was one of the giveaways. Vengeance's desire to father more children was to be true, now, if Morag was right in realising the symptoms in which her body was experiencing. Her tryst with Aries was a factor, of course and though there was a slim chance the children were his, Morag knew Vengeance would eat them. She had fucked Vengeance more during her heat than she did Aries but in the end, she wasn't overly fussed. That's if she wasn't just experiecing a stomach bug and he'd sowed the seeds he had wanted to.

The way she had been punished for her actions had been both expected and unexpected. She knew Vengeance would never have let her get away with it and Morag had counted on it, she enjoyed the rush she got from a fight and Vengeance was a worthy oppenant. What she hadn't anticipated, of course, was the place in which he'd wanted to bite and mark. Had it gone on any longer, she was certain it wouldn't have recovered but thankfully, she'd have full use of one of her favourite parts. Vengeance, on the other hand, was now down half an ear and had an array of scars -- more, from her than before -- as payment. She was amused, in part, for his audacity. Only Vengeance would think of going for that, wouldn't he? Morag had been in half a mind to repay the favour yet she knew she would miss out if she was to bite it off.

Aries was unlikely to shag her now that she had drawn him into the game between her and Vengeance -- which was a shame, given that he had been fun. There were little else creatures here that would be fun enough, she thought, which was once more... a shame. It was a good way to pass the time, when she wasn't keeping herself up to the standard of the Isles she had been born to, the body of a soldier, but she supposed she needed to do some more things with her time, musn't she?

What, though, was the question?

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The World Eater has just gotten done with a successful solo hunt. His masked face covered in blood as well as his neck and chest, even front paws too. He couldn’t help but take his anger out on the poor deer. He ripped her body to absolute shreds; entrails spilled all over the grassy forest floor, limbs broken and ripped off the mass of her sleek body. She was such a pretty thing too; all white — so pure — with a pink nose and light fawn markings. Now her pale visage is stained with the scarlet of her own blood — unrecognizable. The dog-beast took no mercy, as per usual.

Now though, he would be found walking with one of the deer’s whole, and very bloody, hind legs in his massive jaws. Dangerous fangs sinking into the meat of its thigh as he moves languidly across the temperate. Tail bobbing at his hip, long legs taking purposeful, heavy strides, and a massive head hung even with broad shoulders.

The prince would notice the beautifully colored shewolf as he walks, only just barely missing her. But he is too close to make himself unknown as he walks past her, seemingly trying his best to ignore her. A comfortable few meters separate the two and Alduin would make a show of turning a wide head to watch her as he goes. He wants her to know that he’s seen her just in case she would try anything funny, but there’s no true threat in his borderline emotionless and hard scarlet orbs. He’s merely passing through.
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How fitting, she thought, that another demon dressed in crimson should be wandering so close to the Nightwalkers. He walked with purpose, with a lazy confidence and quiet tongue that she would have missed him, had he not so outrightly walked before her. Something of him was off, she noted as he walked. He was wolf but not, it felt like, as she observed him. He walked without a word and the she-beast's lips curled into a half-amused smirk as he stopped, turning his head in acknowledgement. Curiously the beast watched him, eyed his curled tail and wider features as she drawled, "full of manners, I see." Morag, in truth, wasn't particularly bothered by his uncaring nature, if he was no conversationlist then boo for him -- she would find better to entertain herself but for the moment, Morag was curious.

Had he been hunting on the lands that the Nightwalkers called theirs but not quite their claim? How daring, she thought, given their stench could be smelt for a while. Interesting indeed, the she-beast mused. She lowered herself to her rump, lazily yet purposeful as she watched him. Would he continue to walk or would he speak? ^^

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Full of manners, I see.

At her words he would grunt out a rumbling “Mm” around the limb in his maw. It’s a sound of acknowledgment, but an almost dismissive one at that. Though, it doesn’t sound too horribly rude, he makes it to let her know that he’s heard her at all.

It seems even looking at the oddly coated (like he’s one to talk) woman wins him enough interest for her to speak with him. How unfortunate. Yet, he’s here now and it probably wouldn’t be in his favor to deny her request at conversation.

He would only watch her for a few more seconds as she offers the prince her full attention and plants haunches on the ground casually. She has a confident smile on her face and an interested lilt to her silky voice.

Well, if he’s to indulge her, he would rather be close enough to hear her easily. Oh so bravely, he would take a confident, but casual, few steps towards her. Lowering his large set head, he sets the deer leg on the ground, and a dull, purple tongue flits out to lap the dripping blood off his chops. He settles his fiery red gaze upon her with mild interest — eyes practically emotionless as he does so.

“My apologies.” He purls in that seductively deep and rumbling tone of his. It holds a borderline teasing tone to it — he’s actually being playful for once.

“Didn’t think you’d want to converse with a mutt. Not many do it seems.” His voice is strong, terribly so, maybe even confident. The rich base holds no malice or signs of irritation at his own self degradation, but his tone his terse. But it’s always terse isn’t it?

Then he’s being oh so polite again. “Alduin.” He confesses his name. “Yours?”
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A man of so few words, she thought, as he just about managed a grunt of acknowledgement -- though something more than the simple look her had given her. How curious, Morag mused. So far fairly different from the men of the Walkers and gods, the ones of the Isle had been so... boring. Too soldier, she had long since thought. Morag was a soldier, through and through yet she had retained her cheek, her jest and her fire. He was quiet in his confidence, in his decision to approach her. She had offered no sign of aggression, going so far as to easily plant her rump to the ground so really, what threat had she offered him to earn his distance? Her lips twitched in amusement as he approached and as he spat out the leg he had been holding but even more so curious was the shade of his tongue. Through crimson, purple reigned dominant and she hummed lowly in the back of her throat, once again thinking wolf, but not wolf.

Red eyes, she noted, like every other man that seemingly walked these lands. Vengeance, Aries -- did Almight too? Of that she could not remember but perhaps the red meant more than being just a colour. Touched by the devil himself, she mused, for both the other men were hellions. Little else of him was similar to that of the Nightwalkers, broad head, shorter muzzle and that tail, a funny looking thing if there ever were one though not something Morag despised. Curious yet oddly appealing, she mused. He spoke, his voice a deep rumble and one that dared to house a touch of play, quirking Morag's brow as she tilted her head, observing him.

He'd not remain too quiet, it seemed, giving into the conversation that she had begun. It only served that his voice rumbled, deep and delightful. A mutt? She hummed lowly as she gave a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, "a wolf but not a wolf," she mused, "a mutt, in your words." She wanted to laugh, he seemed a tad bit bitter but then; the fuck did his genes mean to her? So long as he was useful, entertaining and not terrible to look at, what the fuck did it matter to her? Despite being a mutt, he was tall, perhaps a hair taller than she and riddled with muscle. A mutt he may be but so far, he did not look to be any weaker than your ordinary wolf. Perhaps, though, that was simply his voice and he didn't care what anyone thought of him.

"What you are doesn't matter to me so long as you are not a bore," Morag drawled easily, uncaring as she kept her head tilted, watching him with a fiery gaze. Alduin, different but then wasn't he? "Alduin," she mimicked, slow and steady as she tested it on her tongue. "Morag," she returned just as easily. Morag, as always, liked to test. To see if their backbone was made of more than brittle bone. "You are a brave one," she noted, "or stupid." Morag added with a playful lilt to her voice, "hunting so closely to taken lands." She eyed him, curiously, tilting her chin and peering at him through almost predatory eyes. ^^

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Alduin can tell she’s just looking at him. Maybe she’s sizing him up, maybe she doesn’t trust him to be so close. If it’s the latter, she hides her suspicion easily. Something Alduin is also good at. The only emotions usually found on his face or in his eyes are anger and irritation. He never seems to express much more than that. Hardly ever smiles too. It’s a shame, he might be more handsome if he did. He can’t help it much. The rage that boils within his breast is a constant and he’s accepted that it’ll never go away. Not that he really wants it to. It helps him fuel his desire to take a life, to fight much more aggressively — it fuels him.

With her first words, she concludes and correctly assumes what he means by mutt. He would offer her a single and meager nod to confirm this. Surprisingly, it seems to not bother her. Or at least he assumes so, judging by the way she takes in his figure — eyeing down every inch of him. Something he cannot help but do in return.

Her eyes are bright against the mask of black that spreads across her muzzle and the eyeliner like markings around those fiery orbs catch his eyes the most. She’s definitely an interesting one and, by what he can tell, she’s a warrior too. He can see the strength held beneath her pelt in a beautifully athletic figure. Although he looks, he does not make his staring obvious. Not like he would care getting caught peeking. He just doesn’t let himself inspect and scrutinize her any longer than necessary.

What you are doesn’t matter to me so long as you are not a bore.

He hums a low sound of interest at that bold statement. So, it’s entertainment she’s looking for then? He’s sad to say that he’s no jester or bard. Hell, he’s hardly even good company — with his emotionless eyes and stone cold expression.

What does seem to catch his interest is the way she tries out his name; slow and tantalizing. He inspects her further, eyes meeting her own curiously, but such curiosity doesn’t show. When she offers her own name, he files it away in his memory. Alduin only nods his thanks in return instead of trying it out himself.

Only then does he see her eyes catch fire, his brows twitch unconsciously and he wonders what she’s about to say. His curiosity is quickly sated and her statement is what seems to be a compliment, but not for long. He takes no offense from it. It takes a lot more than that to offend the brindled brute. When she states the reason why he can’t help huff out a breath through his nose, one of which could be considered a laugh even though his mouth stays in perpetual neutrality.

He inspects her words and makes a show of looking around them in what appears to be a joking manner. It’s then he decides to truly take in her smell. He knew something on her smelt familiar and his mind supplies him of the ragged, caramel furred, and bloody eyed giant that dismissed him so easily. She watches him with a predatory gaze, Alduin would not speak for a few seconds as he locks his eyes back onto her own.

“Yes, taken. These lands are taken.” He supplies uselessly. “I ripped open that deer an hour south of here.” He admits lazily. Only then would he just slightly squint scarlet eyes at her. “Then you are familiar with the ragged wolf of earthen tones and red eyes?” The World Eater’s tone hardly heightens in a way that signals a question. It’s more like a statement if anything. “I’ve been sure to steer clear. He doesn’t seem fond of the ‘wolf but not wolf kind’.” He quotes her earlier words in a teasing hum.
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It wasn't a pattern that she hadn't ever seen before but it was a pattern that she had seen rarely. Brindle covered him, interestingly and unsurprisingly she could not stop looking at his features. So wide, she thought funnily. At least he wasn't of delicate bone structure, huh? That would certainly be a weakness. Though he perhaps was one of very little words, emotion did not escape him. He made a show of things, of the way he held himself to the way he drank in her words. It was subtle but it was there and Morag inclined her head curiously, what kind of beast had she stumbled upon? Her tongue slipped from her mouth and effortlessly ran over her lips as she eyed him, a contemplative look washing over her freckly masked features.

The man did not laugh in obvious ways, his lips remaining resting together yet the exhale through his nose sounded awfully like an amused sound and Morag's lips twitched; did he try so purposefully to not show he could laugh or was it just the way he was, she wondered? He was not a worried beast, taking his time in rolling those red eyes around them with what seemed to be an act of jest and Morag was not one to hide her laugh, so hide she did not -- though lowly it did fall from her mouth.

Alduin spoke of Vengeance, that much was obvious. "Ah yes, you have met our vicious Warlord," she mused as she thumped her tail on the ground as she listened to his latter words. "Oh?" She drawled, "it does not surprise me that he would have some pickiness about him." Yet she could not wonder in curiousity on the why, as Alduin was big, muscled and likely capable -- so what did his blood matter to Vengeance when he could be of use? Perhaps she would ask him. His alliance with Elkshire did not seem so confusing then, given that the Queen of the Deer held a distaste for those of white fur -- Vengeance seemingly wasn't fond of those that were not wolf. "A pity," she pouted, "you seem as capable as the next." Morag lowered herself slowly to her belly, getting comfortable as she stretched out her lean limbs.

"And pretty, too," the she-beast teased as she snapped her teeth in his direction. "What else are you then, wolf but not wolf?" Mo inquired plainly, dropping her rump to the ground as she crossed her socked forepaws over each other and upon him her fiery gaze remained, her posture uncaring and at ease.^^

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They shamelessly drink one another in. Though the prince is less subtle, he can’t help but notice how her eyes rarely, if at all, stray from his unique form. It’s as if she’s taking in every single detail about him and, truly, he doesn’t know why she would. Sure, he knows he’s good looking, has a striking coat, and has many different parts compared to a pure blooded wolf, but he didn’t think he was that interesting to look at. In these new lands, it seems that’s what everyone’s focused on the most though: his looks. Many have focused their disgust on him, but so far, she has not.

Yet, as he looks at her, anything but disgust has shown on her attractive face. At one point he even swears he’s seeing her running a tongue over her lips as she eyes him down. He just hardly catches the motion with his eyes, only subtly though. Even when he mentions the man and his dislike to his kind, she allows an easy laugh to fall from her lips. He wouldn’t say he outright likes the sound, but it is more pleasant than the threat of teeth. Not that Alduin cares who bares his teeth at him. In a one on one battle, he’s willing to take on whoever dares to challenge him.

Right after, she finally offers a name to the that denied him so. Vengeance. Of course he would have such an edgy name. Though, she does not sound surprised that he dislikes him solely for his dog blood. Which Alduin finds absolutely useless. If he can fight, then why should he care?

A pity. She seems to pout, it catches his ears. You seem as capable as the next. Short auds, shift in a way that shows he’s listening — she’s catching his attention. Good for her, not many seem to be able to.

Hellfire red orbs follow her down as she lowers herself and stretches. He even takes a second or two to appreciate her powerful form and said attractiveness of it.

And pretty too. She adds teasingly with a playful snap of her jaws.

At that, he would offer a, barely there, upwards shift of his lips and a short, deep, but lazy, rumbling laugh. He doesn’t dwell on it much, but as soon as she asks her next question his face relaxes into his usual resting bitch face. Her question is interesting to him, but there’s no context within it so ultimately he wonders what she means by that.

“What else am I?” He wonders out loud, parroting back her question with a quirk of a white brow. “That’s too broad of a question to answer the way you want me to.” He offers in a tone that could be considered a purr.

Continuing in a more serious tone, his brows furrow slightly as if in thought. “I cannot remember much of my past life, but a few pieces have come back to me. I was a leader, cruel and merciless, much like your Vengeance —” He offers grimly. “a warrior.” It comes out as a scoff. Perhaps he’s a bit bitter about being lost in such unfamiliar lands and having everything ripped from his grasp. “Now, I am reduced to wandering a land that is unfamiliar to me.”
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In truth, Morag couldn't fathom why Vengeance wouldn't want the man on their side. Was the fact he wasn't entirely a wolf more important than the reality of the man? Big, muscled, capable -- surely those meant more than what blood flowed through his veins? Fuck, it didn't make sense to her but then why should it? She wasn't the leader, it didn't matter to her... but it did, in a way, she thought in annoyance. Strength was strength and if the body carrying the strength may look a bit different, why did that mean that they shoudn't harness that strength, that power? Perhaps she would seek Vengeance out, ask him what his deal was. Morag thought that barely anyone may have a chance at being able to change the Warlord's mind but she still wanted to see, get answers and make a point.

That's who she was, after all.

His laugh was low and lazy, falling from his black lips slowly and Morag's own mouth twitched with obvious pleasure in hearing the sound. Ah, so the man knew how to laugh in more ways than an exhale from his nose. Interesting. Cheeky, too, she decided as he strung his next set of words. Too broad indeed, Alduin. He knew what she meant, she was certain, but the man liked to play with his words and in turn, play with her. Morag didn't mind, it wasn't vital to her being that she find out what else he was aside from wolf but then, would he even know, she wondered?

Ah, so he was similar to the Walkers, to Vengeance. Cruel, dark and twisted. A leader, too. She hummed lowly, his tone slightly bitter but then could she blame him? She too had woken in a land so foreign but not for long had she been wandering. "Many woke here, it seems, knowing fuck all on why or where," she commented easily. "Tell me, Alduin, what is it you wish for?" Morag inquired curiously, "do you wish for a home, do you wish to pick up where you left off as a merciless leader?" Her tail thumped on the earth, slowly and lazily as she cocked her head to the side.

Morag inched forward as her belly touched the ground, crawling towards him with a confident grin as she waved her tail above her bodice, "would you be content in being a follower now, instead?" he intrigued her, that was for certain and Morag wanted to both speak and play. Should he not move away from her advancing form, Morag would slowly lift up to her full height, hopefully completely in his personal space as she grinned, "tell me," she mused lowly, "all your hopes and your dreams, Alduin." It was a tease yet there was a curious lilt to her voice as she seemed genuinely curious as to what he would want from his life now that he had woken in these foreign lands.^^

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She’s interested in what he has to say, so she gums thoughtfully. Offering something about how many others also wake up not knowing shit about anything. At least he’s not the only one.

Only she continues in a tone that interests him even further, her words that much more odd. Even her lips curl around his name as she hums out such a curious inquiry.

Do you wish for a home, do you wish to pick up where you left off as a merciless leader?

The prince would tilt his chin up at her and offer her a borderline scrutinizing gaze. Hellfire red mixing with bright sunset orbs in a blaze of fire. He watches her closely, eyes quickly flicking to the plume of her tail before looking back at her tilted head. He raises a brow, but his eyes are both suspicious and begging her to continue. The World Eater doesn’t say one word yet, remaining stoic — he assumes the shewolf has more to say.

And he’s correct to assume so.

Except she begins crawling towards him, her full tail waving above her back. She inches towards him with a smirk, one that’s confident and teasing. He can’t say the sight isn’t appealing, ‘cause it is. A beautiful woman crawling on her belly towards him, it almost makes him feels powerful. Yet, he knows he has no power here, what with her pack only a measly howl and a minutes wait away.

Would you be content in being a follower now, instead?

At that, he would allow a hardly perceivable hum to rumble low in his throat. He wouldn’t move as she slinks into his personal space, much too close for comfort, but he can’t say he’s not intrigued by her. Even as she lifts herself closer to his face the prince’s gaze doesn’t waver. A playful heat shows itself in fiery orbs as she smirks at him and asks her final question.

Tell me all your hopes and your dreams, Alduin.

Looking at her down the short bridge of his nose, a smirk would bravely flit over his face and his eyes would grow predatory. If allowed, he’d lean in close to her, chests barely touching as he settles his maw next to her ear. His nose and lips graze the shell of her auds as that seductively deep voice rumbles from the very pit of his chest.

“I hunger for blood. I hunger to kill. I hunger to destroy.” He purrs to her then. A flash of a memory flickers behind his eyes; his old life coming back to him. He wasn’t a wolf in his life before this, he was something so much more.

“I hunger to become The World Eater once more.” It’s dangerously husky and yearning the way he says it — dark and otherworldly.
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Despite the fact he was not someone who wore their heart on their sleeves, Morag thought she could tell that he was feeling something, thinking something -- just by watching those red eyes of his. Or watching his features for any movements, no matter the size or how subtle they were, she watched him. It was interesting, to say the least, and she was not going to complain about the canvas in which he had been painted on. When his gaze was upon her, she did not quiver nor cower, watching his chin lift and toss her a look that was almost scruitizing.

He waited, like a patient man disguised as a beast. He knew there had been more to come. His eyes did not leave her, not as she crawled towards him and Morag felt the feeling swirl in her belly. She had always known she was pretty, perhaps not your most conventional type -- she was not little, petite -- dainty, but she held a beauty that had been useful to her many times and in that moment, she supposed he saw it too. Did it matter to her if he thought her attractive? Not entirely yet a small part of her did, that vain little niggling part that so very rarely rose it's head for Morag was a confident beast, knowing who she was, what she was, and what she brought to the table.

Yet she thought if he were to move his red gaze from her, she'd rip them from his skull and keep them for herself. A punishment fit for the crime, no? Yet... it would be a shame, for the red truly suited the monochrome man. A rumble, she thought she heard but she couldn't be sure as she slid up to him with no fight from him. This close, she could take in his scent even more and watch the fur as it bowed to the puff of her breath as it fell softly from her lips.

He looked at her, easily and unwavering and Morag returned his stare just as easily, as a devillish smirk drew upon his lips. Morag swallowed as her tongue flicked across her lips briefly, finding that the smirk suited him just fine. More than fine, she thought. He leaned into her and Morag did not move, not even as the soft fur of his chest brushed it's ghostly touch against her own briefly, his mouth settling near her ear and Morag's stomach clenched with anticipation. Fear did not settle in her veins, but suspense.

Deep and rumbling, his words danced on the delicate flesh of her ears and she swallowed thickly, her lashes fluttering as she drank him in. He hungered, for blood, to kill, to destroy, he said, and Morag felt a growl bubble at the back of her throat though not of anger nor threat, but for yearning. Many words could be used to describe Morag, feral and unhinged could be the main two but how could she be blamed, when beasts like him existed to light her fire? She would lean, as if to brush her ear against his maw as he spoke again, dangerous and full of yearning.

Oh, he would not settle to be a follower for long, she thought in amusement -- no, this beast wanted to sit at the top of the world. To do so, he would need to remove the others, Elkshire, the Walkers -- or find a way to exist with them in their plans and his. "World Eater," she murmured lowly, the words a low rasp as she rumbled a laugh, slow and easy. "So you do not wish for much, then?" She teased softly, pulling her head back and in doing so, she drew her nose along his cheek if he let her, her teeth aiming to deliver a light nip to his maw. "Simply the world," Morag hummed as she appraised him, not moving from his personal space and a part of her hoped that he would not wish to move from hers, either.

"Tell me, World Eater, do you hunger right now?" Morag asked in a whisper. So long as he had not moved, she would duck her head beneath his chin, pushing up against him with a challenging smirk upon her masked features. Morag enjoyed power. She was power in herself and it was why she had chosen to fall beneath Vengeance's reign, because he was power. He was fun, challenging and as unhinged as she was -- a place she could flourish. Yet this beast was seeming to be one of them, too, if his words weren't simply words. She hoped that they were not, for it would be a shame and a waste.

Hunger, World Eater. ^^

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Anyone with eyes could tell the two were into the game they’re playing with one another. Dancing about the other with a flirting tone about their voices and a fire in their eyes. Oh, such an interesting game indeed. One Alduin finds himself ensnared in, and shamelessly so. It’s a good thing he decided he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of her, considering how vain she would’ve been if he had, but he doesn’t know that of course. What he does know, is that he’s horribly, and admittedly, trapped in her sunset gaze.

Even as he rumbles those low words out teasingly into her ear, he feels his own type of anticipation build within him. And oh— when she shamelessly growls deep in her throat does that ball of anticipation coil so much tighter.

She would lean even closer then, whispering his title, announcing his hunger as some easily obtainable thing with a breathy laugh. He would mirror her own, except his is much deeper, shorter, curt.

“Simply the world.” He parrots sensually back. The words said so simply but the meaning anything but.

He silently gives her her wish, not even the slightest desire crosses him to break away from this trance they’ve put one another in. Only, she would purr out the most peculiar words then. Ones that light a fire elsewhere within him. It burns bright and causes the longing of the flesh to travel up his spine like electricity. The curious and tempting woman would push her head against his his chin and brush it further against his jaw. She walks a dangerous line, getting him closer and closer to the edge and soon enough he’ll fall and leave caution to the wind.

He would hum pleasantly as she moves against him, confidence radiating from her as she looks back to him with that smirk of hers. The Prince offers his own smirk, heat dancing within ruby orbs as he dips his head just a pinch.

“I always hunger.” He growls to her, tone terribly husky, reflecting his words.

If allowed, Alduin’s teeth would roughly nip at her scruff — teasing. “Only now, I hunger for the desires of the flesh.” The prince would hope to firmly grasp her scruff then, pressing her oh so close to him, crushing their bodies together. Only then would he release her, rasping a demonic purple tongue over the offended area deceptively soft.

“But I think I’d rather have you fucking beg for it.” It’s playful, but his tone is dark and lusty, shameless in his desires. Why would he be? She hasn’t it seems. After all, he likes to dance, but getting to the main course is always so much better. But everyone needs a spicy build up, so if she wants to continue prancing about one another, he wouldn’t oppose to it. This game is oh so entertaining and he’s dying to play more.
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This was not how she had anticipated spending her day; finding that rarely did she speak to anyone that wasn't a Walker. She was terribly unsocialised, wasn't she? Today, though, she had been blessed, blessed by the presence of a man that matched her energy without complaint. She found that she didn't need him to be a chatterbox, his eyes being expressive enough for his mouth to remain closed for a minute or two. It was an interesting ability, to talk with ones eyes but... she could say she liked to hear the rumble of his vocals as they rolled from his throat. They were enjoyable and rough, just as she liked.

The parroted words meant nothing and everything all at once. Morag had a feeling that he would make good on his desire to have the world but whether or not the man was successful... the she-beast had no idea. She supposed, though, that his future didn't matter. Not currently, anyway, since in the present he was a beast and one that she was enjoying. He made no move to escape her company, instead he allowed her touches and hummed against her. Morag's lips twitched as her smirk turned coy, knowing that was she was doing was likely getting her the results from him she craved.

How could she not? It was her nature to push, to pull, to walk a line of danger with a primal need to taste power and punishment. When faced with a man such as he, who graced her with a game and an easy conversation... how could she not want a taste? Though truth, she enjoyed talking to him... but that was for later, maybe. Right now the man dipped his head and growled, i always hunger. The tone, the words -- it sent a shiver up her spine, rattling her bones and making her belly coil tightly. He nipped her scruff, a taste of what he could do and do, he did.

The desires of flesh, her flesh being the unspoken words, and with ease his teeth gripped at her scruff more roughly. She let him pull her, crushing their bodies together in a way that Morag rumbled a sound of approval lowly in her throat. Alduin released her, slipping his tongue over the offended area in a way so different from the way he grabbed her and Morag's nose flared, her chin dipping as she breathed heavily. He wanted her to beg and for that, she was not surprised; a man such as he would always want to hear please. But Morag? She didn't say please to men who didn't deserve it and so far... he was on his way to.

"You want me to beg," she cooed softly, curling her tail over her rump as she arched her head to draw her tongue along his shoulder, "what makes you think a woman like me begs, World Eater?" Morag lured, her voice soft and warm as she rubbed herself against him, making no move to leave him. This is what she wanted, he wanted her to beg for him? She wanted him to make her beg. Demand, force, prove to her that he deserved her pleading. "That's cute," she teased, flicking her tongue against his fur. If he was used to getting what he wanted, the man would find a way to make that happen, wouldn't he?

She was a world, devour her. ^^

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Oh, The World Eater has decided that he wants her and he’s almost sure he would get her. With a little convincing of course. With the right play of words, he’s sure he would get her within the grasp of his unforgiving jaws as he fucks her senselessly. Or at least that’s what he wants to do.

And his loins would light on fire, making that thought more hopefully as she rumbles lowly in what seems to be pleasure. His maw drags her close, pressing her against him and he knows she like it — he knows she wants it, but she’s playing hard to get. He fucking loves it and he’s willing to work for what he wants. After all, no one gets anywhere being a lazy fuck. He could definitely see himself sparing some effort for her — putting in some work just to see such a beautiful and deadly woman beneath him.

You want me to beg, She purls. Alduin chuckles softly, rasping a tongue over whiskered lips.

They’re pressed so close to one another, inhaling the others scent. He wants to rub himself all over her as a little ‘fuck you’ present to her king — to Vengeance, but is that really an adult thing to do? Probably not. Is he going to try anyways? Absolutely.

Morag would dip her chin, shifting to lap her tongue teasingly over a muscular shoulder.

What makes you think a woman like me begs, World Eater?

He positively grins then, but it disappears just as fast as he hums out his pleasure once more. Oh yes, he wants her to beg. He wants her baring her backside for the taking. The World Eater wants to consume and be consumed. He wants to ruin her, to make her scream, and revel in his power over her. Or perhaps she wants to revel in her power over him. Maybe she wants him to beg. He would, if only for fun, but his pride has too strong of a grip on him that he wouldn’t allow himself to stoop to such a level. Perhaps she’s the same, or maybe she just likes to play with her victims before she feasts.

That’s cute. She ends playfully with another lick to his flesh and he responds by nipping at her neck all the way up to her ear with an interested “Hmm.”

His tongue would lap over her ear once more. “Perhaps you’d want me to beg instead.” He offers the insight playfully — huskily. “Perhaps,” Alduin begins with a soft pause. “I could change your mind.” It’s hardly even a whisper, voice breathy as he speaks.

It seems obvious she likes it rough and the idea of blood and destruction excites her. He would choose his next actions with confidence if she plays along. If allowed, he would try his luck at snatching up the loose fur of her beautifully colored scruff. With the skin in his jaws, he would attempt to drop her to the ground, crawling on top of her dominantly. If she doesn’t allow him that, he would tilt his lips skyward teasingly as he prowls towards her.

If he’s settled atop her, he would dip his head down to her, humming lowly in his throat. “You look good on your back.” It’s a tease, but in his eyes hold a determined promise to show her how worthy he is of her begging. A nose trailing down her neck to lap down her chest and perhaps even further towards her belly. All the while, candy red eyes stare up at her with a fire blazing within them. He wouldn’t go any further though, getting his rocks off by seeing her reactions and soaking them up is a must for him.
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She could not help but wonder where he came from, given that he was so very different to wolves. In looks, of course. He held that feral blood that her own kind held, that much was obvious. A shame, really, that he'd been driven off by Vengeance. Power was power, strength was strength no matter it's wrapping. It only helped that Morag found it's current package very delectable. Had she known the thoughts that were cycling through his head, Morag would have laughed and agreed to be a chaotic bitch; but then she was no mind reader. Luckily, Morag liked to rock the boat and was pressed up against the dog with very little care for the way he would linger on her body.

Morag relished in the attention he gave her, the way he hummed after her and the way he nibbled his way from her scruff to her ears, her spine tingling as she shivered. From her mouth came a hitched breath as he licked her ear, so teasing, so devilish, and his words had her marred lips quirking as she craned her neck to eye him. Isn't that what she wants? To lord the power she held over him despite him feeling that the power was all from him? They were in this because she had crawled to him, because she had swayed the way he had been silent. Because it is what she wanted. Morag was an awful creature, full of fury and violence yet she was a woman, too, and a smart one. 

He could change her mind, she thought, but for once... she wanted the long game. The man was not entirely wolf and for that, Vengeance would not allow his presence within the Nightwalkers. Morag wanted this creature to remember her, to thirst and to feel her when she wasn't even there, when they parted ways. She wanted him to be so thirsty for her taste that he would return some day, laying his body and dignity on the ground for her. Men like Alduin were the fun ones, the dangerous ones, the ones that could make her fire roar higher and hotter than anyones but in the same breath, men like Alduin saw women like Morag and were excited at the prospect of a demon just the same as themselves in a body so pretty. It was not just her desire to make him yearn, because in truth - from the short interaction she found she didn't loathe his person.

Alduin seemed like the type of creature she could stand to be around outside of exploring each others bodies, so how could she not want to be held so closely to him as his tongue made her squirm? Another time, perhaps, because in this moment Morag wanted to play.

He grabbed her scruff and Morag made no move to fight him, her athletic frame being forced down at the mans mercy. A willing victim, is that what they called her? Morag groaned lowly as her shoulders met the ground, her paws curling towards her chest out of instinct as she watched him as he moved to stand over her, holding himself in a way that said look at me. So she did, her orange gaze ablaze with fire, lust and mischief. Morag shifted on her back as he spoke, his mouth dangerous with both words and tongue as he trailed down her body, leaving tremors where he touched. Breathless, Morag eased a low laugh from her lips, "I look good anywhere."

Her tongue slipped out from her mouth to roll languidly over her lips as she shimmied her hips to touch her flesh against his chin, "you have me where you wanted me, Alduin," she rasped, "what do you plan to do with me?" Morag cooed, knowing full well she had to hold herself tighter -- should she like his touch too much, her plan would be ruined. Still, she rather wanted a teaser of him and what he could do. "You were doing so well with your tongue," she pressed coyly, a low whimper bubbling from her lips as she urged him to continue. He would get a taste but with it, he would get a craving. ^^

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Oh, if she left him hanging he would definitely remember her. Even if she indulges him to the fullest extent, offering her body to him in every sense of the term, he’d still remember her. After all, how could he forget a beaut like her so easily? She’s much spicier than he anticipated when he first saw her and it draws him in shamelessly. Plus, he has to give her kudos for breaking him out of his shell. Sure, most of the time he’s a raging asshole, but when a certain type of game begins other interests come to mind. A way to distract himself from the tsunami of emotions constantly whirling within him that always keep him away from others. Occasionally, if he feels like his time and effort are worth it, he could be convinced. It just so happens that this woman strung him along so nicely that he threw inhibition to the wind. She’s much too tempting to resist.

And, oh lord, when he has her on her back it only confirms his thoughts and actions — spurs him on more like. She lets him too. Let’s him drag her to the ground and climb atop her like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her attitude attracts him just as much — confident and conniving yet playful. Oh, does it make him hunger for her. But of all things, he is not desperate, he too likes to play. He has every intention to show her exactly why her deserves her to bet for him.

So as she stares back up, sunset gaze ablaze with heat and mischief. Oh he loves that. Even as he’s peppering her in kisses and bites she finds it in her to laugh and goad at him, mentioning that she looks good anywhere and he has to agree to that. Offering a playful hum but in agreement as he laps at her soft underbelly with a peer of his eyes upwards. Only she shifts her hips then, wordlessly brimming with excitement he supposes, only she says the most noteworthy thing and with a purr of his name too.

You have me where you wanted me, Alduin, — what do you plan to do with me?

Oh, he has a few things in mind. Her breathy words make a chuckle rumble through his chest as he gazes up to her and aiming a particularly pinching bite to her left hip just in between the junction of her leg and belly, so much lower than he was even moments before.

You were doing so well with your tongue,

It’s an unsaid suggestion to get on with it — to give her what they both want. A taste. Oh, yes he’d love a taste and he plans on going through with it. He can’t help but hum lowly in his throat when he hears the hardly concealed whimper from her, she’s becoming impatient, he likes that.

So, and oh so brazenly so, he would suggestively lower his body into a resting Sphinx posture, confidently wrapping think arms around both her legs to rest enormous paws on her hip and belly. With a flex of his arms, he’d pull her impossibly closer, lips still teasing her.

All he would give her regarding her coy suggestion would be a teasing smirk as he plays with her some more. Going everywhere besides where she wants him the most. Even brushing against her mound tantalizingly with the side of his muzzle before smoothing over the skin beside it softly. He’d do this until she begins squirming or becoming impatient, he’s got all day, doesn’t know if she has a schedule or not, but he could care less. If she wants to play with him, he can throw it back just as easy.

Only finally until she protests, surely about him getting on with it he’d offers a teasing purr of his rumbling voice before finally diving in like a man who hasn’t eaten in weeks. He doesn’t lack finesse in his urgency though, rather the first few licks are solid, but terribly rough or clumsy. A demonic purple tongue would rasp over her slit, pressing his muzzle closer to her so he has more control occasionally nosing her flesh with the end of a leathery nose.

He wants her to reach completion at least once like this, so he puts forth the effort. And he fucking loves it, every once of his being says that he loves it. Especially as a groan leaves his maw and his eyes become half lidded during his administrations. Tonguing her passionately as if he couldn’t quite get enough of her, which is practically true. Occasionally flicking his gaze up to her to soak in her noises and expression, which just makes him even hotter under the collar. Only, it gets him so much more into it and she can probably tell. Especially as he presses his snout firmly against her and allows his tongue to dip into her savagely, licking up her walls and savoring her taste, feeling her shiver below him. The power is absolutely intoxicating.
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A lesser being might be labelled a whore or a slut for allowing a man so close to them on their first meeting -- but those times of sexism and misogyny had been done and dusted with. Morag had never viewed sexuality as a sin or something to hold her back, or to hold so close to her chest, never letting anyone close enough to give her a taste. The she-beast had found early on how much she enjoyed the attention, the touch and from there, she had been unwilling to go without a taste of it again. With it came pleasure and power; two things so dear. Certainly one might look at her decisions and think, 'what the fuck'? if one turned their judgmental gaze to the Warlord who stunk of death and blood, of course and wondered how she could stomach being so near to him for so long when he smelled the way he did yet Morag could stomach it, ignore it for what he brought to the table. Power, pleasure and a good challenge.

Attraction was not always in the small things, after all. Yet gazing upon the beast before her now, he was different and similar to her previous lovers in all the ways that mattered. He was big, he was strong, he was conveniently pleasing to the eye with his brindled markings and dark colouring yet his scent, he did not smell of the Nightwalkers like Aries and he did not smell of the promise of death like Vengeance, but did it matter? He made her stomach roll and ache, yearning for his touch like an addict.

Peaking from the dark mask were his ruby red eyes, remaining upon her like there was not a power in the world that would tear them away from her. He had matched her in every way, standing to the challenge that Morag always presented and with her fire, he fought with his own flame and set her skin ablaze. His tongue was just like him, sinful as he mapped her body like he had just found new land to claim and Morag exhaled deeply, her shoulders quivering with what was promised. 

She watched him through hooded eyes, her breathing uneven as he stretched his form out leisurely, sensually and with those dark, massive paws of his he draws her closer with a grip on her hips - unwavering in his own desire. Morag made no move to complain or fight him as he pulled her closer, letting him do as he will. He smirked, so teasing and tasteful and Morag's own lips curled, coy and demanding as she watched him as he trailed down, keeping away from the part she so desired. He was playing, that much was obvious and wherever his tongue lapped and his nose touched, a trail of fire was left behind.

"Alduin," Morag demanded, breathless and throaty, moments before he made her body quiver. His tongue lapped at her, exactly where she had wished for and Morag could not help but whine. It was -- had it been forever since she had been tasted, touched and devoured? No, it wasn't yet she could never get enough and especially not of him as he got his moneys worth. She thought for a moment that if he could go further into her, devouring every inch, he very well may have as he feasted on her like a man who had not eaten in weeks. Morag's hips strained against him, her hind paws coming to clutch at his sides as her breathing came out laboured, both loud and soft as the different sensations clawed at her, begging for a release in the pits of her belly. 

She would leave him wanting more, likely to mess her own desire up, too, but before she would do that Morag would savour the feel of him against her. She had thought right in calling to him as he passed her, engaging with him in a game he hadn't realised was being offered until he had turned to her, trapped in Morag's desires. "Fuck," she moaned, her chest rising and falling as she drank in air like it was water, her throat dry as she whimpered. It was easy enough with him doing as he did for her mouth to part, her belly to coil even tighter and with uncontrolled movements, Morag's entire body quivered as she came.

"Fuck, Ald--," she started, her voice getting trapped in her throat as she moaned out her release. She was almost certain that her claws left grip marks on his skin from where she held him so tightly against her but she could not find it in her to care as she gasped, her body thrumming. ^^

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