[ P ] Alone with you

He had to learn how to live on his own. As much as Valois hated his father—now and since he was old enough to see the rampant favoritism that his half-siblings received—Valois had always relied on him. Never straying too far from their clan lands, the russet peach had stayed there if only to throw what little weight he had around. While at first he had been sheltered from the belly of the underground beast that Lachlan ran, Ana's death had thrust him into the thick of it. No longer did he have his mother to share meals with or sing to him at night. Instead, Valois had been forced to fend for himself—either by going rogue or joining in on the family "business". The latter came naturally, his vicious personality and relentless desire to beat others serving him well. He'd been a natural at helping to move drugs and other illicit compounds, and he'd found buyers at the brothel in Inverness while serving as a cup bearer. Valois' work in the guild had been fun at first—then alarming at others—but it had served him so long as Lachlan's shadow stretched beneath his paws. But Valois would no longer permit his tongue to use that name for his own gain. If he did, he'd promise himself that he would cut it out. That, and he feared what Lachlan would do to him now that their bridge had been burned. So he needed to get out, to find safe harbor somewhere else. The brothel was an option. He was just barely of age—it would work, Danya would take him. The Madame was kind as well, her sightless gaze oddly comforting when paired alongside her sweet smile. He could survive there, he knew he could. But... well, he had no experience. How did he take on clients for that when he didn't know what to do? He knew what it sounded like, it was impossible not to when working in the brothel. But, try as he might to catch peeks, he had always been shooed away. All Valois had ever gotten to see was the aftermath of self-satisfied wolves lounging amidst the petals, moss, and straw. So he would just need to get some practice. Or advice. ... I doubt he'd know anything, Valois thought as he peered through the ruddy bushes at a young man of age with him. Perhaps he was feeling competitive but he refused to believe that this wolf was more experienced than him. But—as Valois hated to admit—the man was striking. Bathed in an intricate pattern of black, white, gold, blue, he stood out amidst the sunset forest. His eyes were similar to Valois' but colder in color, sharper. Valois knew he should have left but some part of him wanted the stranger to be just as impressed with him. "You're not a soldier are you?" Valois mused, stepping out luxuriously from around a bush, his expression poised and unbothered as if he'd materialized from the russet forest itself. "They've been rounding up everyone with four paws these days." "speech"

art & table ☓ bunny

A sigh escaped him as he strolled along the woodlands, not even attempting to hide his immense frame from the view of others, quicker to turning someone into a chew toy that dared bother him rather than hide his splendor from the world. Unfortunately, it seemed, his other half had found her way away from him again. Letting free a bull-like snort as his eyes gently passed from one bit of foliage to the next in case the little pixie had decided to hide close by. There was a chance she was with their mother dearest, knowing his sister to seek solace in the arms of her and for once he could not blame her at all with that little shit show that had transpired when they first arrived in this land not long ago.

A smile nearly touched his lips at the memory, recalling his other mother’s pure rage. There was no part of him that felt sorry for instigating that blunder and it only made things easier that she played right into his paws and to think he thought she would be wiser than that. But all of them had tempers, it was just a matter of finding the right pin to press in just the right way to make them squirm but if it kept Faeryn under his paw, then he felt he had done nothing but the right thing.

She was the one at fault for running off. She was the one that didn’t even show them an ounce of love after a year of not seeing their faces. His anger was righteous. He was doing his sister a favor from her being hurt far worse later when she would likely leave them again.

There was suddenly a presence that would catch his attention, causing his strides to slow and his ears to bend slightly toward where the feeling of eyes burned into his flesh. Sapphires glinted, leering from the corner of his eyes at the one that wished to gain his attention, showing little emotion at the sight of a man bleeding out from the matching surroundings. A brow would raise slightly in his direction at the mention of soldiers and drafts, letting out a bitter tch under his breath. “Hardly,” his baritones thick and heavy as he raised his head high to look downward in a near intimidating fashion, taking in the smaller male’s appearance in full, turning with an elegance to face him a bit more.

“Hmmm I’ve heard whispers of fae within this travesty of a country, but I never thought I’d witness one form so freely before me, little leaf fairy,” his head canted just a touch, feeling like this boy was the leaves themselves, having never seen a wolf with such a vibrant shade of autumn so evenly painted upon his coat. In any other environment, he would be stark and harsh upon his eyes, but he was almost pretty with the backdrop he stood within accompanying him so well. It was his eyes that stood out far more. A cool tone warring against so much warmth. “Have they caught you?” he inquired, assuming if he was asking that meant he was hiding but he knew not what this critter was after as he turned his head away from him, appearing disinterested and yet he did not leave.

You Will Listen

Art by Kumiho-Kami/Ashon | Table code by Zodiac

"Hardly." The rogue's baritone seemed to rumble through Valois' chest, the sensation surprising at first and then not wholly unwelcome. Despite the stranger's size, Valois had not anticipated the man's voice to be so deep—but he did not dislike it. A new interest sparked within his bright, blue eyes as he took in the dark wolf with gold and rust accents—and that gaze that was akin to his own. Although the moniker of "little leaf fairy" was grating. Narrowing his eyes, he stalked up to the stranger, unafraid to stand in front of him—although his chin did tip up from the sizable height difference between them. But, be it for hubris or practice staring down a muzzle far uglier, Valois felt no fear. "Does it look like I have little wings and slippered feet to you?" He challenged, not wanting to be seen as some daft, idiotic mythical creature. And the next thing he said... he didn't know why he said it. In fact, he knew he shouldn't have, this wasn't the way that men talked to eachother. But it was. He'd seen them couple up in the lobby within Danya's brothel. "You're too handsome to be superstitious," Valois quipped before trying to slip to the side, as if walking a half-cricle around the man (if only to make him have to turn slightly). "No—they haven't caught me and they won't." He'd throw himself off a cliff first. But it did make him wonder... how was this man evading them? He didn't look familiar by any stretch, nor did he smell of Rionna. Was he a traveling trustfund with legs? Some paramour of parliament that they let have a loose leash? Or was he just too strong to take in? "How do you evade them?" The question slipped past his auburn muzzle before he could strategize how to ask it suavely. "speech"

art & table ☓ bunny

As the other approached, unphased it would some, some actual intrigue would spark at the defiance that no doubt displayed. The little guy was bold, he would give him that and in a way, it was humorous to stare down at someone so willing to stare right back and it not be of blood of his own. He was far more used to cowardice or passing pleasantries of those outside of the Bradshagh name which made this one’s fortitude a little special. Had he been in a more sour mood, he might have dismantled that boldness in an instant.

He would say nothing to the challenge, having no clue what a fairy actually looked like as he merely only knew the words and those alone. As far as what fae were or weren’t, the lore that encased them, he hadn’t the foggiest. “You do seem quite delicate,” he would deduce from wings and slippers that they at least would be something easy to break like a bird, easy prey to snap under a large paw.

The flirtation would make his ears flick forward, a touch of a smile would dance only in his diamond eyes, drawing his face back to the man with a thrash of his tail. “It seems you have a divine palette. What I believe or disbelieve is of little consequence but if I were to claim myself a god, would you bow for me?” only his head following where the other moved, not about to succumb to following him like a pathetic duckling.

The conversation shifted to that of drafts and his own evasion. His shoulders would roll as he took a few steps forward away from the man before rounding and looming over top of him, moving till they were nose to nose and potentially his chest would brush against the other’s neck and face, curious if he would remain holding his ground, fall over and back up. His muzzle ghosting his, not touching but close enough to feel that prickle and heat. “I don’t.”

You Will Listen

Art by Kumiho-Kami/Ashon | Table code by Zodiac

Delicate? Delicate? Sapphire eyes blazed at the seemingly casual comment. "That assumption could cost you an ear if you're not careful," Valois informed him, flicking an ear and shooting a glare at the side of young man's face. It both annoyed and intrigued him that the other wolf was so unbothered by Valois' circling and general attitude. Would things be different if Lachlan was here instead? What kind of bastard would Valois have to become in order to earn a modicum of respect or fear from a stranger? More importantly, although not a question in his mind, was: did he actually want that? At the mention of being a god, Valois rolled his eyes and scoffed. His russet paws slowed their slow, suave circling. He turned, intending to confront the stranger, but it seemed that the other boy had the same exact idea. With sudden intensity, the wolf that was retreating became overbearingly close. Black fur brushed against Valois' russet neck and tickled his nose. Those pale, icy eyes bored into him from above. If not for the flash of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he would have sidled away. Instead, he held his ground and bumped his nose roughly against the larger wolf's. "And I don't bow before any gods," was his answer against the stranger's imposing figure. Valois' pulse thundered within his neck and his heart galloped from behind his ribs. However, he felt no desire to move away. The warmth of the stranger seemed to consume him, pulling him in closer like a magnet. He felt the gut reaction to try and challenge the other boy, but he found himself at a loss for words. All he could do was stare at those eyes—and then those lips. "speech"

art & table ☓ bunny

The warning only made him scoff under his breath, finding it not much of one when in his own head it had been in a way a compliment rather than something offensive but it seemed this little man wasn’t comfortable in his body. A shame. Where he knew he was absolutely stunning, everyone around him seem so down on what they looked like how others perceived them and though he would agree they were pathetic by comparison, who could compete with him really, some had a little right to boast what they got even if it gave him an opening to bring them down a peg. It was no fun if they already felt that way about themselves.

“Hmmm is that so. Are you going to be the one to extract them from me or have you accepted what you are? It is rather unattractive to have no confidence and you are exuding none. Just a rotten tongue,” he mused, smirking just a touch, sticking out his tongue for only a second to emphasize his point between the prongs of his fangs.

As he pressed into the other’s space without invitation, he was mildly impressed by him keeping his ground, even more so at the retort. He didn’t deny the godhood and it tickled him inside, only that he wouldn’t bow and that brought a crocodile smile to the larger male’s lips all so tempted to make him hold his ass in the air for him by squishing his face into the earth. No. As demeaning fun that would be to do, another idea crossed his mind at how close their muzzles were. Lowering his head just a tick, he would press his lips against the rust muzzle before gliding his tongue roughly against his jaw. If he didn't move still, he would flip him onto his back, pinning him to the ground to see if this little defiance would turn into submission.

Whatever would this pesky fellow do?

You Will Listen

Art by Kumiho-Kami/Ashon | Table code by Zodiac

Valois' eyes narrowed sharply as the man scoffed, seemingly finding his threat to be of no consequence. Without intending to, the painted wolf was backing him into a corner. If he gave up or relented, then he'd have no dignity left to barter with. All that was left was to give this pretty boy action, words would hardly serve. This rotten tongue will separate those ears from that head. It wasn't a battle that Valois was convinced he'd win and yet, be it due to youth or foolish confidence, it wasn't one that he was certain he'd lose either. In one thing, this stranger was most certainly wrong: Valois did not lack for confidence. Sense, yes. But gall? He had enough of that coursing through his veins to knock out a horse. Only, seconds before his tightening muscles caused him to leap for those dark ears, the man's muzzle pressed against his own. For a moment, Valois' eyes widened in alarm—then as the stranger's tongue roughly brushed against his chin, Valois felt a myriad of emotions all at once: excitement, arousal, pride, and a sheer burst of warmth that could have been pure energy or a mix of all three. It was thanks to his life on the streets that he bolted to the side a second before the stranger could pin him, instead darting out by virtue of his delicate frame. Upon lithe paws, he moved to instead leap back at Braith, shoulder aiming to roughly check Braith's, jaws parted to snag the bigger wolf's ear. All the while, his sapphire eyes were alight with life, a foolish smile on his lips. He was still riding the high of the kiss even if he'd never admit it. "speech"

art & table ☓ bunny

He’d find satisfaction in the initial reaction of shock upon their muzzles touching, expecting the other to start freaking out or gag as if it was the grossest thing for two men to kiss. If being called delicate was apparently offensive, he would think homosexuality would trigger something even deeper to snap at him. He had seen it a few times in his life, the way others looked at his mothers or when another male would growl if he even attempted a flirt more often for a reaction. That second part would never happen, instead seeing a flicker of light take hold of the smaller wolf, confusing him for a moment and that did not help him attempt his next action to pin him. He should have never allowed his guard to fall in thought of him as easy prey no matter how soft the other looked to him.

A growl rumbled from his throat the moment marigold flashed out from his immediate grasp, stumbling as the other took advantage of his size and speed to disarm him. He would have expected a vicious surge of pain to stab into his neck but it was a not so vital spot that was accessed by fangs. “Quick like the little pixie you are, huh?” he sneered. He could feel his blood boiling and rushing to his ears, heating them with a mixture of emotions.

Jerking his head, he turned it to look at the rodent, his tail thrashing with agitation at being so easily dominated by this rat. The face he expected to see was one that only raised his ire more, causing his fangs to snap at the other’s cheek with the risk of shredding his own ear, trying to wipe that smirk off his face and shove it into the dirt under their feet.

He would bow, he was determined to make sure he did.

Art by Kumiho-Kami/Ashon | Table code by Zodiac

Quick little pixie was the multi-colored man's insult and Valois laughed, unable to stop himself from quipping: "Still on that are ya?" Having felt his teeth graze the larger man's ear, Valois was on cloud nine. Arrogance surged through him as assuredly as adrenaline—and that over confidence was his downfall. It didn't occur to him that the man's size allowed those jaws to still reach Valois' cheek and drag him down onto the ground. A thump sounded in the air and burning pain lanced across the side of his face, accentuated by the thin skin over his cheekbone and the jaws pressing in there. Valois grunted, lips curling into a snarl, his hind legs kicking out and buffeting those dark paws. "Now you've made my fur dirty," he snapped, optimistically hoping that this was still a mock fight, yet becoming increasingly aware of his jugular vein oh-so-close to the man's jaws. It was a vulnerable position he never should have allowed himself to be in. "Let me up and I'll give you the honor of picking every piece out of my fur," he mused, the barb sharp and largely joking, but he'd seen whores at work down at Howling Moon—he knew favors of a certain kind had been traded for more than just a life. "speech"

art & table ☓ bunny

His anger was only rising with every second he spent with this smaller man, with it acquiring an even stronger itch to see the man buried in his own blood and mangled remains. With that ire came more and more imperfections in how he handled the other, losing tack as each word seemed to fray a wire within his brain that kept any of his charm and sanity in place to lie to the world that he was a distinguished young man. Fur stood in a ridge along his back as bumps flared over his skin, craving to tear into flesh and peel the man piece by piece until he might beg for release. He did his best to contain the monster that always wanted to escape from the bars of his consciousness, a beast that wanted to even kill his own family time and time again but he never let win.

A murderer had never been what he was, so long as he held firm to his mind.

The way the other squirmed only seemed to entice that monster inside, feeling it twist and coil as lips peeled back with a bloodthirst that caused saliva to cling between fangs and drip down onto the other’s marigold tresses. He could taste the blood before it ever met his tongue, seeking that artery that could so easily end this man’s life but at the same time he never enjoyed seeing something die so swiftly. He wanted to watch him twist and contort, scream if he ever allowed that beast to win. Perhaps it was the only thing that stopped him from striking or maybe it was willpower.

Or maybe he just wanted to play with his food, possibly trick it into believing it held some safe haven.

With a sneer, he released the other, not wanting to back down as if to answer a command but this quarry might be more fun if he let it get its way at least a little bit. “You would be honored to pluck from my pelt. I would never lower myself to such a task…” he eyed the other before fully getting up, using a paw to shove him over to the side as he stood to his full splendor, looming over him.

Art by Kumiho-Kami/Ashon | Table code by Zodiac