Hurting Me Hurting You

He was alone, completely and utterly alone now. The one he had followed the trail of footsteps had deserted him. Retiring from the very thing the younger male had been so avid on channeling into himself, to be the very thing his father and grandfather had been. Heat flared up his throat and out of his nostrils, feeling wholly scrapped by the rest of his family that hid in the north despite their allegiance not even being with the man that ruled it now. It boiled him alive from the inside though it hardly showed on his face as he brushed off his new badge, one awarded for his efforts in the war. He had no one to rejoice in his accomplishments with, to praise him that mattered by any standard and he could feel the cold steel of gazes by those he barely knew not approving of him gaining rank. Those that only saw him as a Highlander brood, spit at his feet and told him to go home, he wasn’t welcome.

He would never be welcome.

A sneer pulled at his lips, glaring into the twisting flames of a setting sun to strain past the tears of his sister that haunted his thoughts. He had never liked to see her cry and he had been the cause of it.

Not like he could change that. As far as he was concerned fate had already been decided and his fate hung on another that perhaps did not know it yet as he looked for a different woman among fallen cobble and dehydrated roots blanketed in a thin layer of snow.

Would she have deserted him as well? Pretty commoner princesses lacking any rule except the spices and those cursed ruby gems that thrived to entrap him. He much rather ensnare her first before she could take his breath away and make him bow to her but first, he had to find her. Carve her out of the stone left in the wake of this destruction until she was pure perfection so he may lace her forever at his side and stop her from being the next rodent to throw him aside like scrap.

As if to play with his very thoughts a flutter of marigold would dance into his vision, making everything else around him look lacking in color. He would prowl, watching her for a few long moments as he stalked her as though she was nothing more than prey. Where he had wanted her dissociated from him last that he saw her, such a notion was unimportant now as not a single coworker lingered near to judge his choices in company.

Rushing forward, he was only fueled by what he wanted and the frustration that constricted his veins all morning long. In one quick motion he would capture her, so long as she did not try to dodge him. Hoping to take her by surprise with intent to trap her onto her back between his stems, emeralds earnestly sought those rubies as his head lowered toward hers.

Art by Ulfarna | Coding by Plymouth

Sakura stared down at a piece of cobblestone, the rubble so much like a stone and yet wholly unfamiliar to her. Her homeland did not have blocks such as these, nor did they have the crumbling structures that seemed to rise up as if small mountains threatening to cage the sky. It made her long for the thick fields of bamboo and the smooth, dark stones covered in velvety moss. Her heart even ached for the delicate silhouettes of koi within the ponds kept within the central province from which she hailed. Thinking of home reminded her of her familial duty—of the one in which she expanded their spice trade, bringing more than just honor onto the Myoga name. Trading with the west would open up such wealth that they would grow fat on milk and honey. And she and her brother could at last be worthy of advantageous marriages. Of course, she was rapidly becoming a spinster. Another year and she would be an overripened fruit. Hinata, however, could marry well into his adulthood. But Hinata was in the north. He had fought against the crown, joining the insurrectionists. She imagined he'd been fueled by revenge over seeing her impressed into military service. Idiot, she thought, using the term in her native tongue. Yet, oddly, she felt her heart ache for him in a way that it hadn't seen they'd been children. Was war what it took for her to remember him fondly? Sighing, she looked at the mountains in the distance. She should join him in the north. There was no chance that he would come south again. But... the thought of starting her stall over from scratch was terrible, especially with their contacts having no way to get into Saora without traversing through Rionnach first. That and... well... there was someone she had yet to see. If she left, she would probably never see him again. It didn't matter that he hadn't spared her a look when she'd been forced into the barracks as an interim medic. As much as it had hurt her to not exist for him then, she'd found some solace in Sethos and her own sense of duty. Besides, he had been focused on the war. It must have been terrifying to know that he would soon fight and face death. Was he a captain now? Even higher? Sakura's ear twitched and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she decided it was time to carry on. Hopefully as she journeyed, she would soon find the border and at last make her choice. Rising to her paws, she began to make her way, careful and quick—but not carefully or quickly enough. The air left her lungs as she was suddenly collided with. There was no protest from her as she was rolled onto her back and pinioned by white legs—and emerald eyes. For several moments, Sakura just stared up at him, her eyes wide. Then, despite herself, she felt the pinpricks of tears. "You... you came looking for me?" Sakura asked, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and spine from the impact with the ground. When had she mattered enough to anyone for her to be found? To be looked for? "the stars have melted to become your crown."

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He had not expected her to be such an easy catch but as she buckled under him and fell into his control so easily, a wave of euphoria washed over him. The roguish smile pulled at his lips, curling his pale muzzle upwards in probably the warmest smile he had ever worn in a year or two. The way her eye looked up at him would cause his head to tilt, not finding her surprise to be all that alluring but it was better than fear peering up at him. Taking in a long breath, he would draw in her scent, lowering his head down little by little as his gaze never broke from her. That acidic sweetness never fully left his senses no matter how long they were apart for, sometimes wrapped in it even as he fell to the caress of slumber. Forever a phantom, one he couldn’t seem to fully erase from his mind, no matter how much he wanted to.

Just as his muzzle was a hair's breadth away from brushing hers, he would notice the shimmer of tears filling the rim of her eyes and it would cause him to hesitate. So many seemed to cry around him as of late and though he told himself he didn’t care, it would cause his ears to preen back a little in concern before tipping forward in more so curiosity as his gaze scanned her tears for answers as to why she would be suddenly shriveling up. Where his sister’s tears had made him cringe, Sakura was simply all the more beautiful as it brought all the more color to those rubies.

That smile turned more into a smirk at her words while an aired laugh puffed from his nostrils to the absurdity of her question, not at all taking into consideration of her feelings all this time he had avoided encounter after encounter with her every time he caught sight of marigold or caught a fragrance at all full of those familiar herbs she exuded. Work had been his prime focus, but that focus was wavering in his craving for her.

That selfishness would not allow him any thought in how he spoke or how she might take it as he lowered his head to growl possessively in her ear. “I will always seek what is mine, Sakura,” his breath said with a husky depth, his breath a gentle warm breeze against her delicate skin. That confidence that had been missing in the past encounters was far bolder this time as his head raised enough to meet her eyes, burning into them fiercely before lowering once more to sap away the brine before it could ruin her cheek fur. Tasting her.

Art by Ulfarna | Coding by Plymouth

When he looked at her, he became her entire world. Even if she wished to think of something else it was impossible. Arran demanded that her every thought be of him, that every feeling be for or from him. Those green eyes held a fury that was cold enough to burn. It was terrifying, deep down inside. Terrifying for she knew that if she faltered in any manner of perfection that he might very well excise her skin from her muscle. But if she stayed within whatever golden light he'd conjured around her then she got to feel important. In this very moment, he looked not at the trees or the skies or the earth. He only looked at her. Even if her tears seemed to shake him somewhat. The bending in his demeanor, the loss of that kiss—for how long had she waited for one of those?—caused her stomach to twist. Had he not been standing over her, she would have chased after him, desperate not to lose that light. But instead, all she saw was the flick back of his ears, the barest hint of concern. And while it was nothing, it made her heart swell with adoration. He cared. Before she could give him a hug or a kiss of her own—actions that were made difficult when being pinned to the forest floor—the moment's delicate sweetness was washed away. A smirk, rogueish and posessive, adorned his features and he dropped his muzzle by her ear. When he growled, the very reverberation of it seemed to shake her. "I will always seek what is mine, Sakura." It was enough to make her insides melt into jelly. Warmth spread over her cheeks and, shockingly, through her stomach down to her legs and tail. The questions she'd held for him, the aggravations of having been ignored and avoided, evaporated in the wake of that heat. Instead, she felt herself turning her head slightly so that he could have her neck—all of her really—if he wished it. If she was his, she wanted it to be made true, she realized. She'd forgive everything if only it all would change from this day onward. And it would, wouldn't it? He had said it at last: she was his. "I am yours," she whispered then, focusing on the thrill she felt and quieting the doubtful voice that echoed inside, whispering insidious lies that Arran didn't really care about her. He wouldn't act this way if that was true. "but I didn't think you wanted me," was her soft confession. Internally, she hated the thought that he'd pull away then, even if it'd relieve the ache building in her shoulder from his weight and the ground. "the stars have melted to become your crown."

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The way she gazed up at him with that desperate adoration swirled something primal within him, gaining something he had sought for a long while, that she so selflessly provided. To carry such a strong need for another, a codependency, it tickled him in a way he couldn’t explain. The teetering between wanting to fix or break something consumed his thoughts, taking in how vulnerable she was to him and how easy it would be to shatter everything. Breaking wasn’t his flavor today. No. He needed everything she could give him to regain that bleeding self-worth and loneliness that had infested his every thought and feeling since the war ended. He could still be in control even when allowing another to overtake his pride. He was allowing this; she wasn’t making him do anything.

He held the power here. The attention. That pining gaze that seemed to only become more needy the longer he returned her gaze, hungry for something he could only fathom.

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t hate. It was blind infatuation, a hopeless yearning that dulled the monster he felt he sometimes was.

It was infuriating because he felt like he needed it, not just wanted it.

His gaze would soften at the way she turned to putty to his possessive declaration. Wanting her to beg while she did so, not just with her eyes. With her voice. With her body. With her entirety. The validity of her response sent a burning and shiver along his spine as his tail rose and his stance became firmer. A grin pulled at his lips, lowering his head once more though pausing as she spoke of her insecurity, as if begging him to prove her disbelief otherwise. He brought some of his weight off of her, cradling her body between his forelimbs to prevent her from rolling away. Muzzle would trail the delicate curve of her neck, hoping to send a violent shiver into her body at his touch before he’d place a slow, ravishing kiss against her chest.

Eyes would flicker upwards, not lifting his muzzle from where it rested against her, allowing the heat of each breath to soak into her skin. “Perhaps I should take you now where you lay. Make everyone know who you belong to; wearing my scent for days to come, inside and out,” he growled with a hint of playfulness. How far she would go to please him in order to feel wanted by him?

Art by Ulfarna | Coding by Plymouth