‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

▬▬▬▬▬

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘. He's in there alone, thankfully, without the prying ears of anyone else. He's consumed himself in his responsibilities as if they were a drug that could numb him of the past, and all she longs to be is his remedy, to take away the ache she knows he feels. She closes her eyes and reroutes her mind to the sounds of him. The rustling of papers. The scrape and tapping of nails against a wooden desk. The timbre of his voice cursing as he works. It comes to an end with a blood-warming growl, a summoning of her to him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I‎‎‏‏‎ know you're there, sparrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The door creaks as she cautiously opens it. Morrow sits with his black wings drooping heavily over the backrest of his davenport chair, hunched over a vast map of Aelethia that spills off the surface of his workspace. He dresses in loose dark garments, the collar of his shirt torn wide revealing a claw mark doused in salve, most likely an injury given from his training sessions with Ronyn. His dark hair remains clean, yet a windswept mess of cowlicks and waves. In his ring-clad hand, he holds a piece of charcoal, one used to smudge in regions of the kingdom. He doesn't lift those meadowed hues to her as the latch clicks shut.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen tiptoes towards his desk, curious to what's been occupying his attention at this hour of the night. Morrow continues to colour in the various regions until they're unrecognisable, but she immediately solves his pattern. The blight. First he coloured in majority of Yestrea, then most of the southern and eastern sectors of Tabrien that threaten the city. Next, the rumoured regions of Eshon and Brecia, of what he knows has been infected in Scaerus, his gaze never breaking from the rough sketch of his charcoal.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen sets her index finger upon his wrist to pause him. There, she feels the steady palpation of his heart.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's getting late," she whispers softly, using that songbird tune she knows will hold him captive.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He grunts in response, then continues to fill in the map. It's haunting how much of it has been doused in his charcoal, so much that the piece has grown significantly shorter from so much tense use.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen takes a hold of his wrist again, this time squeezing her grip so tight that his fingers flinch. "Hey," she taps the bottom of his chin with her other hand. Immediately, her world is swarmed in hues of green, a summertime meadow daze. Her bond tightens, her creature and his inner wolf caught in a tight embrace on another plane of existence that they both can feel. "It's probably not best for you to lock yourself in your study like this."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎To her surprise, he surrenders and releases the piece from his hands. He leans back in the davenport, his focus never wavering from hers. "It's probably not, but what else can I fucking do?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She sighs, slipping her hand from his chin to cup his jaw. He tilts his head against her welcoming touch. "You can't solve all of Aelethia's problems on your own."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Neither can you," he says this on daggerish canines. "I can read your thoughts, sparrow. All fucking day long. You make it hard to forget that the answer to end the blight lies within Pailon, and I can't do shit."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's the one place he can't go, not even if he begs the witches to change his blood.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Thorn's already told me that I'd be dead if I even attempted to go there on my own," she admits.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He winces when she says 'dead', and her thoughts flood with his worries of what could come from his end of the bond. The phantoms of her screams remain shrill, but nothing bleeds her more than the crack in his cry when she never returns. It'll crush him, moreso than any death before.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He looks away then, his hoarse voice almost lost under brooding growls. "Then why do you still try to leave?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Perhaps she has lost her mind. Completely. Her yearning to eliminate the blight only gives her a new purpose and meaning, especially with the awakening of her magic. When she gazes at herself in the reflection of his study windows, she sees a different woman than the one the were purchased at that black market auction. There's a whole new air around her, this one stronger than before. If only Morrow could recognise it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen taps his knee. "May I?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He nods as she crawls onto his lap, curling up against his chest as her wings blanket over one of his biceps. Morrow nuzzles into her maroon locks of hair, then bites the curve of her pointed ear. A growl thunders from deep inside of him, the delicious sound causing her limbs to liquify.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She closes her eyes as he continues to soothe the tension between them with his wolfish noise, as if remaining in his embrace would protect them both from the woes of the world.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The blight will keep spreading unless someone steps up to rid Aelethia of Rhimme. Thorn may be powerful, but I know I am too. Our magic is alike, and it's strong. With the right guidance, maybe I can be enough to steer Rhimme away and relight the eternal flame."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"At the cost of losing you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's not certain, but—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He cuts her short. "Thorn's told me about Rhimme, and that bastard will have you on a stake in a matter of seconds if you go alone." The desperation in those meadow green irises sends ice through her blood. "But I promised you in Yestrea that I wouldn't keep you chained to my side, so if this is what you want, then fine. I'll do what I can to help. But sparrow..." He shakes his head instead of finishing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You can tell me," she breathes against his cheek.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She runs her hands up his chest, one of them finding the opening in his shirt. Her touch descends against the fresh claw mark while the other toys with his collar, pulling it aside to bare more skin.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It will kill me for good if you go there."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Those words shatter her own heart into bits, a vessel that can only be mended with the help of her mate. He always wanted her to stay, to protect her from the world that's destined to crush them. But time is not on their side with the spread of the blight. It could take months, but it will reach them again, and she won't let it take her friends away in its next wave.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Instead of answering, she places a tender peck upon his lips. As she pulls away, his mouth parts slightly, his eyes closed, searching for hers to connect again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Then we do it together."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I can't cross those borders."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You don't have to," Elowen adjusts herself upon his lap, straddling her legs around his waist. He releases a strained oomf, and ropes his strong arms around her waist. She becomes his sole focus. "We'll train with Thorn—you and I, not just me. He'll tell us everything we need to know about Rhimme so we can prepare ourselves for his deception. I'll try get better control of my magic, you with your wolf. We were meant to do something like this. I can feel it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It won't fucking work."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're doubting yourself," she rouses. "My magic is connected to you, to our bond, so I need you to be with me even though it seems like there's no fighting chance. When time has run out, I'll go to Pailon and try to reignite the flame to protect Tabrien and the pack."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's pout somehow turns grumpier. "And what the hell do you want me to do?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Do what you do best," she cracks a smile at this. "Invade my mind. Tap into the bond. See what I see and help me in whatever ways that you can."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His deadpanned face never changes, but she can almost hear the gears ticking in his brain. Morrow's always been a snoop when it comes to her internal monologue, so what's stopping him from intruding when she's in Pailon? She'll need his advice along the way, and there's no other were she'd rather have aid her in the impossible. Afterall, aren't they both a little crazy for attempting something like this?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Minutes go by with no answer. When she taps the outer edges of his mind, she's met with steel spires to deter her away, but the echo of one wolfish confession whelms her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Mine. Mine. MINE.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Don't go to Pailon," he murmurs, hardly making a sound. "Please."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What if it were you?" she breathes. "You would go in a heartbeat in order to protect the pack, wouldn't you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I've done so many things that no man should ever do, but you? You don't deserve that same fate."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Despite what you said, you don't either. What if you ask your moon for guidance? She'll show you what to do, but you already know what her answer will be." Elowen closes her eyes. "You'll die if we do nothing about the blight, and you've already endured it once. I can't watch it happen again knowing we didn't try."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎More minutes go by, only this time, he buries his nose into her shoulder, breathing her in and exhaling his heartbreak out. Claws become possessive, gripping into her skin and clothes with white knuckles. For once, it's the alpha of Tabrien begging her to stay where she'll be safe in his palace, where they can reside in ignorance to the devastation of the kingdom. They'll be happy, they'll thrive.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But Morrow's never been selfish like this before, and he knows he can't keep her under his shadowed wings forever if this is fate's duty.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He lifts his head with a ragged breath. He shakes his head, but the words he speaks counteract everything that his body says. "Damn you," he breathes. "The whole pack will think we've lost our minds for good."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She can't help her shy smile curving her lips, a lure that beckons him ever closer. "Maybe we have."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We'll train with Thorn, together. He's the only one who knows what we're up against, and I want to know every single fucking trick to use when it comes to persuading Rhimme to go back to hell."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods. "Convincing him to go elsewhere is the only way we can reignite that flame without having him snuff it out."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"So it won't just be physical training but mental. He'll be quick with us. We won't have time to think about answers, but the wrong answer will put us ten steps back when we need to be twenty steps ahead."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Again, she nods her head.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"When the time comes to go, we'll travel to Pailon, and I'll wait at those invisible walls for your return. Every moment with you in that fucking province will destroy me, sparrow. It'll take a lot out of me to constantly be at your end of the bond, but there won't be a moment in your fight that you'll be alone." He presses his forehead to hers. "My wolf is yours, and so am I."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She nods against his temple. "I am yours as well."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎To this, he bows his head.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Heat rises in the depths of her bones, then creeps up until it tingles the scar of Morrow's bite on her neck. It's a power she's felt so few times before, not magic, not anything to boast of her ancient abilities. It's a power derived from her status in Tabrien, the title laid upon her by Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Luna of Tabrien.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The only one the alpha will bow before.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This is his submission.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She weaves her fingers through his windswept dark hair, tugging it roughly so his eyes are forced to be met with her silver hues. His dilate with her brusqueness, his body honed to hunt her like a hunter stalking prey. For the first time, the alpha views her as an equal, a worthy mate to sit upon his throne. If one of them is to fall, so is the other, so they'll fall in unity in order to spare the province in which they've built their home.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's thoughts hit her in tidals. My Elowen. My mate. My sparrow. Mine.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Such a possessive were-wyng at this hour, but she can hardly blame the sudden switch in his persona. He wants to mate, something neither of them have done since he came back from his death. She wanted to wait until he felt ready, until his energy, strength, and stamina had been replenished, but even she can't help her impatience.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's clear to her now that he's ready.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Oh, he's definitely ready.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You are mine," she speaks in reverence, in authority. She'll edge him to the brink, toy him until his and her desires snap. "My perfect obedient were-wyng."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His forehead dips down to the curve of her throat, seeking out her mate's mark and pulse. "Yours."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Teeth graze against her skin, followed by a slow painting of his tongue. A heated growl rumbles through his entire physique as the room grows humid, her thoughts suddenly miles away from Pailon to claiming the alpha before her. Kiss after kiss he places upon her pebbling flesh will become her undoing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Only yours, he coos again down the bond.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She tips her head back, his addictive kisses suckling until they leave her marred and bruised. "Good boy."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The compliment fuels him to burn even more, the praise turning him into the image of lustful hunger. A calloused hand slips down from her thighs to her rear, hoisting her tighter against the hardness developing in his trousers. Her hips find motion against his, eagerly, desperately...

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His tongue licks the column of her throat. "Let me have one bite."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Their bond quakes as he brushes his teeth against her pulse once more, famished of her taste. He's claimed her once, but he'll do it over and over again to prove that she forever belongs to him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She hums, scratching behind his ears just the way he likes. He's a were-wyng with needs that desperately need to be taken care of, and she will, but she understands that this dominance she feels will only last for a few moments. She'll enjoy them, knowing Morrow's wolf won't let him be submissive for long.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen pushes her body off of his and seats herself on top of his desk, her thighs parted and dress half-hiked. Before her, Morrow remains starved. His snarl reveals fangish teeth, all while his nails dig into the already clawed arm rests. She gulps, refusing to let her gaze narrow on the tent pitched so mightily in his trousers.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She tilts her head, her smile coy and voice a lullaby. "On your knees."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎No hesitation, just full acquiescence to her command. The alpha drops in front of her with meadow hues glowing, his black wings making him a true fallen angel.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A whimper escapes him as he gravitates towards the space between her legs, but she hushes him with a tender shhh as she cups his jaw. "You'll get your taste soon."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Don't make me wait another second," his hoarse voice warns. "It's already been too long."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You need to practise patience."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sparrow, I can't." Another warning.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She hums and lets her other hand run through his locks of black hair while she tilts his gaze upwards to her own. The alpha will snap for her soon, that she knows, unless her resistance to him breaks first.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She leans in, her breath caressing his cheeks as he gulps in need. "Soon," she purrs.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow tilts his head, his gaze sultry and vicious. Then, without any hint, he slowly takes her finger in his mouth. His tongue swirls over the digit, followed by soft suckling. His brows crease in concentration, a ravenous noise rumbling from his chest as his hands find the sensitive spot beneath her knees.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Beg for it," she hisses.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He growls, his expression tightening as his wolf begins to reject his compliance. She removes her finger from his lips.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still, he meets her silver eyes. The word will kill him. "Please."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She's not sure if the word 'yes' had made it to her lips or if he simply tapped into her mind. He grips deeply into the backside of her lower thigh, hauling her closer so he can feast upon her. Arousal drips from her like honey, and she knows he can smell her heat from kilometres away.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He buries his face between the hem of her dress, his tongue licking upon a fallen wet bead.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"No panties?" he murmurs.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not for you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Excitement ripples down their bond, his wolf a little too giddy. "You don't need them. Never will."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A hand finds her rear, squeezing tightly and pulling her closer to his famished mouth. Morrow's skilled tongue laps against her folds, sweeping against bundles of nerves and causing her hips to search out more. He's like heaven and hell just collided, giving her an image of man so deadly yet so divine. She'll fall into his temptations, all while following his every lead to bring her salvation.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow collects whatever he can for a taste, then works on wringing every last drop from her by inserting his tongue deep into her core. She gnaws on her lower lip, holding back a lustful moan as her hand digs deeply into his hair, tugging the strands so they stand wild. Her white wings shudder with delight as he builds up her orgasm, drawing her closer and closer to the edge.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Needy little bird," he mutters against her heat. At the same time, he moves a hand beneath her dress and begins to work his calloused-tipped touch against her clit. "You've been in heat all week, and it's been driving me insane."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You could've done something about it," she grits as he laps against her folds.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He hums as he works, his teeth grazing her skin. "I am, aren't I?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's then he devours her, tongue and teeth feast upon her core, fingers and breath aligning in tandem just for her to reach the stars. Whatever gentleness he carries is thrown into oblivion as he holds her tighter, not caring if his claws will leave scars. She wants his marks, his cuts, his blood—everything that he dares to possess.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A little more, more, more—

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A grin spreads across his lips as she spasms in his hold in bursts of ethereal pleasure. She's crashing, her senses blistering around her as the high pounds through her, then dims into his warmth. An open mouth kiss presses against her inner thigh, then another draw of his tongue as he eagerly drinks up the aftermath.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When Morrow emerges from beneath her dress, he looks like the devil's saint. Meadowed hues grow dark, almost black, a sign that his wolf has come to play. He licks his wet lips, savouring the remains of her taste. He takes his time rising to his feet until he towers over her, a master ready to dominate his mate.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Mine."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His palm meets her chest, gripping onto her breast before shoving her down against the desk. Her wings and spine collide with the map of Aelethia, smudging against his charcoal markings. She blinks, her silver hues fluttering, but only capturing the venomous smirk of her mate. He hovers over the edge of the desk between her thighs.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I won't be begging for this," he growls as he removes his hands from her side.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She watches as he slowly unfastens his trousers and shucks them down his hips, just enough to let his cock spring out from the confines of his pants. Gods, she's seem him before and it still leaves her cheeks flushed with heat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He strokes himself, each movement languid, but what's to come will be anything but.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sparrow," he purrs. "Look at me."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Those darkened meadowed eyes now glow, flickering with desire in the candlelight. He takes his time as he leans over her vulnerable figure, slowly crawling above her until he's nothing more than a breath away. She wishes he wasn't in his clothes, wishes the friction between them would be enough to incinerate them so they'd be skin against skin. She longs to burn into ashes with him, the match to her flame.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His lips descend upon her own, his kiss and tongue searching for her stray moans to become his next composition. When they do, he smirks, breaking the mauling of a kiss with a gruff grunt.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He takes a hold of one of her legs, pushing her knee to her chest. "Remember that my wolf won't stop unless you say something," he manages to say, although the warning is lost in a growl.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods as he fixes a hand next to her pointed ear. Claws dig into her hip and lift it up to meet his form, his shadowed wings outstretched as the first waves of red pleasure careen through him. Black feathers bristle, a vision of ecstasy. He drags his dick through her wet entrance, taunting her, teasing her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This is far from enough to satisfy her needs. For days, she's wanted him in full, and that's exactly how the luna will lay with her mate.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's head falls into the curve of her neck, his breath hitching as his open mouth meets her mate's mark. A heady moan escapes his lungs as he grounds deeper against her core, the swollen tip of his dick pressing against her entrance as if he would just sheath himself inside of her with one powerful thrust. Another moan, followed by a salacious grunt as canines bite against the surface of her skin.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's hands search for something to hold, finding the base of his black wings. Delight swirls down their bond as she grips tight, closing her eyes to let the bliss of him lull her to euphoria.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She swallows and tilts her head back, welcoming those sharp canine teeth to her throat so they can bite her pulse point. "Please," she begs.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow adjusts her leg, hooking the one against her chest over his broad shoulder. Her tendons stretch, but she manages to contort herself to the alpha's demands. He's almost flush against her, and yet, she pines for him to be closer, to be heartbeat to heartbeat where their two vessels can twine.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Wet lips press to her skin, a surprisingly delicate kiss causing her skin to curl with desire. "Never will I wait this long to mate with you again. You are mine. Only mine, and there won't be a night you'll ever forget what you truly are."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎What happens next is far from the delicate kiss she just felt.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He thrusts his hips against hers, his hard erection driving deep inside of her dripping core, tearing a thrilled scream from the top of her lungs. The next, a hungered bite against her pulse as warm crimson liquid spills from her veins and against the lapping tongue of her mate. For only a moment, his body stills as the sensations of her flood through him—her thoughts, her feelings, and the catalyst to all of this, her longing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh, I missed you. Missed this. Missed what it feels like to be in you," he moans with full volume, then sinks his teeth back where they belong.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen grips his wings tighter as she meets his own frantic oscillations with her own. When she rolls her hips, it wretches another groan from him, followed by a series of growls as his pace increases. Skin slaps down below, a sound that heightens their own prose, her entire body aching for his release to fill her whole.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He won't last long, but she knows this won't be a one-round phenomenon. The alpha of Tabrien is reclaiming his mate for the second time, this time a healthy god of a man with the ability to go on for days. Hells, an alpha can probably go longer...

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Blood drips from his teeth as he pulls away from the fresh bite, his thrusts becoming a violent pounding that rattles the desk beneath them. A stray mug of cold coffee shatters to the floor, as well as a few empty bottles of liquor and pens and pencils.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sparrow," he drawls. "Do you feel that? Do you feel the way your cunt needs my cock?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She mewls with a nod. She drags her fingertips up his spine, wishing for skin, wishing she could burn his shirt from his flesh without leaving a scar

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He closes his meadowed hues, his face twisting with lust. "Tell me I'm a good boy."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎What?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This voice is raspier, more wolfish than human and takes her off guard. When Morrow reopens his eyes, his irises have gone from meadowed hues to black, his wolf taking over once more.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Does his wolf have a bit of a praise kink?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He growls and slows his speed when she doesn't give an immediate answer. "Tell me, sparrow."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She sighs the words out 'good boy', his whole demeanour becoming relentless. He moves a clawed hand to the place where their body connects, rubbing against her clit as another scream tears from her throat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"All fucking mine."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He doesn't slow, doesn't wait. As he resinks his bite into her mate's mark, the heat inside of her unravels in full bliss. She cries out, her nails clawing at the base of his wings just to keep herself grounded to this earth for the second time. And him? He's close, so close that his body becomes rough and his humid breath uneven. His heart pounds through his clothes, his entire anatomy becoming protective of the one that lays beneath.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's then, buried deep within his love, he reaches his peak.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She holds him as he digs his face against her mark, muffling the pleasured sounds of his gratification against her. Their bond remains warm, a comforting tether that she pulls on just to lure their auras closer. The sparrow and her wolf. Mates strung together by the moon, once thought of as a joke, now a novel.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When he's caught his breath, he slips from inside of her, his seed dripping down her legs. He lifts himself up and unhooks her leg from his shoulder, and places a quick peck with his bloodied lips. His eyes glow like fireflies in the night.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow breaks a sheepish smile, and she can't help but match him. "Do you want me to call you a 'good boy' again?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I won't stop you," he says, although the blush on his cheeks is evident. It's a hidden want that wasn't supposed to surface, but nothing will hold his wolf's desires back. "But first, let's clean up this fucking mess," he says this with a swipe of his fingers against her thigh. "We need to get ourselves to bed before I accidentally break the desk."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

▬▬▬▬▬

we all needed a morrowen moment to get us through the end of october lol so here it is! it's so different to be writing a version of morrow that accepts elowen for who she is, who can see that she's so much more than before, but i LOVE it, and it's very clear that morrow does too :)

now off to bed. enjoy the rest of your week!

ivy <3