Take me on a rollercoaster

 As her hormones budded, Valmúa felt angry. She had used this anger to catch a squirrel. She had brought this mediocre snack to @Kuhn, after speaking with @Ragnar in the hopes that he might leave with her to what had once been her mountain. She asked for nothing.
 Yet, she wanted everything.
 Wandering toward the cavern that the pair had spent much of their time in, she dropped the squirrel rather unceremoniously at its entrance. She then hunted for Kuhn, her eyes all about, scanning the horizon and its bits.
 When she found him, she promptly rushed toward him and launched her body at him, aiming to attack with a mouthing, playful mess at his neck. His warmth was all that she wanted. The day had tired her, and her body grew hot and confusing.

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Not far away, he was on his way back at the time.  Coming into the small clearing that opened up to the cave, he was immediately greeted with a familiar attack from his princessa. The red woman, wasted no time, nor wasted any words before launching her attack.

Tilting his head back in initial surprise, he didn't try to hard to defend himself, letting her have a good part of his neck. Wraping an arm over her shoulder he aimed to grapple with the woman, chuffing happily.  Because he had already trusted her to take his neck, the striped beast decided to go high grabbing one of her ears in his mouth.  Tugging gently, the cat rumbled playfully, whiskers probing the top of the wolf's head and neck.  

Finding a moment of pause, he did notice that today she had a different scent about her, it was both new and familiar but oddly good.
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 Growling and odd, playful noises followed as he wrangled her with an arm. Her ear was swallowed up by his tickling whiskers and sandpaper tongue. Her tail wagged in girlish excitement, twitching as she shoved herself at his side like she was trying to meld her body into his and make them into one frankenbeast.
 “What did you get up to today?” She asked, standing with his arm over her as her tail waved slowly from side to side.
 Valmúa had spoken to Ragnar and would go to the mountain where her brothers had once been soon. She was thinking about them now, wondering if they had been blinked out of existence, or if they had been swept up into the storm, never to be seen again. The thought had troubled her the entire day, but she said nothing. Having Kuhn in front of her distracted her, and she no longer felt angry.
 She eyeballed the squirrel idly while she waited for an answer. It looked.. funny to her somehow. All dead and meagre.

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His grapple was quick to transition into a gentle embrace, relaxing himself into the fire woman.  Not shying away from her closeness, he glided in as close as he could.  Ejecting her ear from his mouth, he planted one last lick against the back of her ear, before placing his cheek against her own.  "Scared a pup. Took a bath.", he replied, relaxed in tone, moving his cheek up and down against hers, making soft contact ticking the static between them. 

"Can you tell?", asked the tiger, with his freshly bathed coat.  He had even went through the effort of rubbing himself around in some mountain mint, going so far as to chew on the plant.  The fresh flavor in his mouth still very much present.  

Eventually, his eyes drifted to what the woman was looking at, and he to took a silent moment, to look over the squirrel.  He never could catch those things.  
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 She was quick to melt into his playful and familiar embrace. He was warm, and kind, and good to her. He was more than any wolf had ever been to her, and it had started to make her trust wolves less. That is, until Ragnar had chosen to come with her to see the mountain that had fallen in place of Mordfjall.
 “You do look scary,” she answered, eyeing him for a moment before she rubbed the side of her cheek against him.
 “Absolutely terrifying,” she went on, noticing the strange herbal smells that he had planted on himself somehow. She wanted to be distracted by him, to be overwhelmed by him, to be wanted by him. Instead, she played at a different game, even though her body said something else.
 “I am going to the mountains, where my brothers were,” she said. “I need to know whether they are dead, and what is there, and... I do not want you with me for it.” Her request was clear. As she whispered it to him, she said it as though it was a love poem, her voice peppered with spice and smoothness.
 She wanted him then, and she waited for his response to her demands.

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Though she didn't say anything about his clean coat, or fresh breath.  But, she was fast to return his affections.  It hadn't really gotten old, this wolf was both one of his best friends and an unperishable object of desire for him.  At her touch, she could make that familiar fire move down his spine... to the tip of his tail.

Maybe she had a point.  Lately he had spent so much time around wolves that he probably forgot how some might see him.  That pup certainly saw him as a threat.

By now he knew the woman well enough.  Her soothing pattern of speech and the language of her scent.  Raising his tail high, the big cat tightly circled the woman, like a coiling serpent. Dragging his tail across her chest as he rubbed against her from all angles, the cat practically coiled around her, as if he planned to consume her. 

Arriving at the opposite side of where he started, his ears where cupped to her words.  Putting his muzzle under her chin.  "If you feel like that is something you need to do alone... I understand.", he spoke deeply, his breath dangerously close to her throat.
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 The suncat coiled about her like a snake. She seemed almost to melt into his advances, pressing against his body as he moved such that she felt she was with him as he went about. They were together and part of one another in those moments. When she swallowed, it felt almost as though she could taste him on her lips, despite that being impossible.
 He placed himself beneath her chin, and when he spoke, her eyelids shuddered for a moment, embracing the ecstasy of his touch. “I need you before I leave,” she demanded. The wolf pressed against the side of the tiger that had engulfed her.
 Where he was at her throat, she moved enough to press the side of her face against his. This was a distinctively feline movement, one where she made sure to brush the whiskers of her muzzle against his neck and face. She extended her head forward such that he had intentional and easy access to her throat again.
 “We cannot have young, but it should not stop you from trying,” she said, tossing the words to him while grinning.

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Just a moment ago, she had called him terrifying. Now, she taunted him with her exposed neck, demanding him.  Letting a moment pass, that static shot like lightning down the long spine of the cat, setting him on fire.  There was only a moments notice when the striped beast's whiskers clung to the woman. As fast as he would catch any prey, his jaws snapped around her neck, seizing her in his grasp.

Practically pouncing on the woman, he swung her weight around forcing her to the ground, with a ferocious snarl.  Planting her to the floor on her back, he stood over her on all fours, caging her under his large limbs. Quickly, the big cat released his vice like hold, swapping his jaws with a large paw firmly fixing her head to the floor. The cat's claws showed their full length, their points firmly resting against her skull and the base of her jaw, as he seemed to grip her head.

He was careful not to cover her eyes, allowing her to look up at his face. For a moment, he was calm then, the cat let loose a threatening hiss moving his snout closer to the woman's eye, as if to show her the fangs that would disassemble her.  Not breaking his gaze, nor relenting on his grip he let the moment linger.
 

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 Valmúa was not an easy woman to be around. She was a snake in the grass at the best of times, always finding opportunities where she should have been silent. In these moments with the suncat, she felt true, and real, and like all of her was everything.
 She did not defend herself, despite the sound and feel of his jaws about her neck, despite the smallness of her so apparent beneath his bulk. But Valmúa snarled, showing teeth and spitting about him as though she would tear him apart, all while he pinned her to the ground and onto her back. She did not appear meek. She did not back down, not really. He held her between his legs and she let him do so. But as she felt his claws against her, she wobbled in her resolve, and for a moment, a very real and decadent fear took over.
 He could kill her. She had always known this. A part of her wanted it, or at least wanted to know that a beast far more powerful than she would take her, rather than old age or a poor warrior who had got lucky. It was in this power she found a strange solace and desire, her eyes widening as she took in this incredible beast that would have her severed limb to limb should he choose.
 As he hissed, she let loose a nasty snarl. It was guttural and low. Its basal nature reverberated through her, and her desire became heated, and desperate. She could feel his whiskers threatening her face. She pushed her leg against his thigh, for it was all she could do, entirely destroyed by his power, by his male nature.

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The wolf under his claws thrashed back and forth admirably, as if her life depended on it. The tiger's claw filled grip on the woman's skull adjusted for her physical protest, firmly counteracting the warrior woman's motion, the large muscles in the chest of the cat aided to pin her skull to the forest floor below. 

A flurry of conflicting senses assaulted the cat, rushing though every fiber of his nervous system.   Returning her vicious snarls with his own guttural, vicious, growls, the striped features of his face wrinkled into a cold preparatory desire.  Along with the deadly sounds that traveled from the chest and slipped past the teeth, a distinctive strand of saliva, ran from his lower jaw.  

The scent of his woman's desire along with a distinctive reek of primal fear drug the big cat's mind to wonder what it would be like; to be coated in her blood, devour her piece by piece. Her flesh would be forever intertwined with his. Muscle, bone, taught sinew, beneath a striped coat.   She would be his.

Pushing against the sensitive inner thigh of the tiger, the woman's leg sent heat into the man's stomach, causing both his tail to lash and his body to finish readying itself for his wolf. Massive paws did not relent their pressure, nor did he halt his saliva coated growls.

With the woman there on her back, helpless against the deadly frame of the cat, he would take what he wanted from her.
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 As the tiger's face contorted, so did hers, until she was as wrinkled with fear and destitution as he was with that salivating craving to end the chase. The fire that had always lived within her was both bolstered and harmed. It was as though the wood upon which it burned was damp, impossible to catch, smoking and filthy. But the flame crackled anyway, finding life within the thin shelters of dry fragments.
 They had done this dance so many times, and yet there were never any times where it was not dangerous, particularly for her. She adored him, though she never said it aloud. She was also frightened by him, forever entranced by the power he could hold over her, who often thought herself as the most powerful woman on earth. How fitting that she had chosen another species to be hers, how delighted she was at his every touch, even if it was violent, even if he one day would tire of her and end her meaningless life.
 There was such pressure on her that she probably would not have been able to resist, but she told him with calm, soft, meaningful growls where she was at. They had always played this game. And in this moment where the beginning of a heat was taking her, she felt, for perhaps the first time in her life, love in that horrible sense of the word she had long despised. The word that had never entered her consciousness when her body did not demand it this way. She wanted to kill it, but in this position she could not, and so she relented to his love.
 She watched his huge paws surround her, and he held her there, chest pressed to her as all of her guard extinguished in his ecstasy. Fear became passion, and her desire for power became the pleasure of his heat, amalgamating like a blaze that consumed them.

---

 She rolled to her feet, and stumbled, drunk on his everything. How would she ever rule anything when he so much ruled her? What had he done to her?
 She did not say anything, moving only to move at him and drown in the aftercare he had become so good at.

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The big cat typically tried to conduct himself with grace, keeping his claws metaphorically sheathed.  However this woman of fire, knew how to light the primal fuel that existed deep within the large predator.  When the flames became an inferno, the cat's tempered way of being could not compete with what he was born to be. Claws that should be sheathed, and fangs normally hidden, where not restricted or unused.  Sparing nothing for his wolf, every bit of the demon that was meant to be was on display.  For her
 

---

When the fuel of the fire was consumed, the cat's way of being slowly softened. Eyes that once almost spoke of his desire eat her alive piece by piece, now reflected something just as potent.  His soft gaze and deep rumbles betrayed the possession he felt for her even after the fires had ceased.  He loved this creature, he loved his wolf, his Princessa.

Smirking softly, he looked proud of what he had done to her, watching her stumble and sway from his work. Though, through the look of pride he was projecting, the fondness in his eyes could not be missed.  Laying on his side, he only invited her to come to him.  The violent, striped beast would give the woman all the gentle affection that a cat could offer, until sleep would overtake them. Even then, she would be trapped in his embrace.
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 It was these moments between the chaos that she savoured most in her life. The coolness of his gaze and purity of his beastly nature drew her back as a fine perfume would. Time and time again she had found herself unable to resist his effortless way of being. He had changed her, perhaps in ways her former self would not have liked.
 Their blaze waned to candlelight, calming and subtle and flicking in the coming darkness as the sky grew purple and navy about them. He was beautiful. She rolled herself against his orange, sunlight coat while he tended her. If she could have paused this moment, she would have, if only to drown herself in it, if only to remember that she knew how to be alive when he was around her.
 When sleep took them, she might have been the happiest she ever had been. She might have been perfect. The clouds rolled. She would leave with Ragnar soon, carrying Kuhn's scent with her.

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