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Where Silverfox Meets Coyote (Story/Vekraihr)

Cariss felt like she might be going a little crazy. And that it might not be a bad thing. With the excruciating way he was dragging his cock back and forth inside her cunt and with the way his mouth descended down to nibble and lick and kiss along her neck, she threw herself back into the mattress and cried out her frustration. She backed it up with a thrust of her own hips, pelvis gyrating hard against his as he pistoned forward. She pushed up even more, just so she could feel him rooted inside her deep, feel his pulse inside her very core, matching the wild beating of her own.

Her legs wiggled up until she could wrap them around his hips and the heels of her feet dug into the firm globes of his ass, keeping him locked with her. It also tilted her up, caused his thrusts to dive deeper, scraping her already raw inner walls and inflaming her nerve endings to the point that she thought her entire body was going to fray and fall apart. Her scrambling hands prevented her from doing that, gripping at his skin, her nails making beds in his skin.

She was matching the rhythm that he set, pushing up when he thrust down and in, her whole body writhing with the motion as she fought to feel every inch. The fact that she was voicing her approval in the form of caught shouts and cries of pleasure that ended in strangled gasps should have tipped him off that she was leaning towards the edge again.

“Fuck,” she moaned to the side in response to his heated voice in her ear, her head having jerked to the side, eyes shut again. Her body was tense like a wire under his, despite its struggle and movement underneath him. Her toes curled where her feet clung against his skin and her thighs gripped his hips as her insides clenched and squeezed around his cock.

“Mmm.. fuck,” she whimpered after that, pushing her face forward, lips locking on his chin, then wandering to his lips, her own softer pair clinging against his as her rocking turned desperate, and a fresh sheen of sweat coated the olive toned skin. “Ooohh.. Fuckyou,” she hummed right into his mouth as she felt the first spasm that quaked her inner muscles, causing her to constrict around him, pulling him in deeper as she slapped her pelvis against his and arched her back.
 
Tiriaq could hardly believe the intensity between the two of them; how he was encouraged by her motions and cries to lose himself in their ecstasy. Every time she threw herself upward into him, he pushed back hard to ensure that every available surface of his cock was enrobed in her sex. He’d moan his pleasure against her skin, having a hard time keeping his voice down as he pounded into her as if he were trying to fuck her into the bed— the frame of which continued to groan in protest as the headboard clattered ever more noisily against the wall.

When her legs wrapped around him and her heels dug into the taut muscles of his ass, he growled his satisfaction at this and she felt his cock spasm slightly with approval. His back arched, making him prod into her deepest points in the most carnal way. He pressed into her nails as she raked them across his skin, encouraging lustful moans from him as his hips gathered further momentum, rocking him deep into her core. If she wasn’t bruised before, she would almost certainly be, now.

“Nnnhhh...Damn…” he’d moan in response to the clenching and squeezing around him, feeling as though he would lose his mind from the sensation of her gripping and tightening around him. His pulse beat against her walls, his virility felt in the healthy thrum that utterly filled her. His body tightened, too, as he felt within his core the yearning swell of heat that burned to break forth. She’d feel the telltale spasms of an approaching orgasm along the length of his shaft as he continued to unrelentingly thrust to the hilt inside her.

As her mouth hit his chin, she’d hear him gasp out of sheer delight and he’d tilt his head towards her so that their lips would find each others’ quicker. His own desperation could be felt as his hips rocked quickly, slamming him within her as sweat shimmered across the planes of his chest and the ridge of his brow. As that first spasm cinched her around him, pulling him deeper as her hips rose up, he took that as the only invitation he needed. “Oh fuck…” he moaned his urgent need against her lips as his body quaked, his hips pushing forward as the first, thick torrent of his seed pumped into her. Accompanying were powerful twitches of his cock that injected further quantities of his hot cum directly into her. His hips gyrated, grinding into hers as she drove hers to do the same, eager to coax every last drop he had to offer into her as he moaned and panted his satisfaction.

In his passion, he’d nibble at her lower lip and kiss her more ardently as his quakes slowly subsided into trembles and the tension in his body gave way to the relaxed bliss of afterglow. Panting through his nose, he’d suckle her lip momentarily before releasing it to whisper, “Fuck...You felt...Nnnnhhh…” He’d shudder and growl as she’d feel him stiffen pertly again just at the recollection, his verdant hues smoldering as they opened and he soaked in her features as she laid beneath him. His skin, damp with sweat, clung to hers as he halfway collapsed against her, not quite allowing his weight to press into her but keeping closed most of the gaps that could be between them. After a few more moments of silent reverie, he spoke again with a deep, pleasured warmth still pervading his tone, “Mmmh...We’re going to need another fucking shower…”
 
Her body wanted to milk him. Her core was molten hunger, wrapped tight around his cock as it twitched and spilled inside her. She felt the moment he came, how he wedged himself that much deeper, felt the tension in his body, that spasm of his cock as her own body clenched and pulsated. It felt as if her own orgasm that tore through her wanted to lock him in place, needy for every drop. Her hips rode up as she struggled through the convulsions, her form pressed up and writhing against him, spreading her fluids against his hips, pelvis, everywhere.

Cariss didn’t think she’d ever cum that hard with a guy before. Or really -- that much, considering that one felt like the grand finale, with her scrambling at him, lip locked, moaning against his mouth. Until her body’s quaking had left her spilled out underneath him, gasping for air, body sheened with sweat and her hair clinging to her face like inky dark cobwebs.

She didn’t care. She was more focused on steadying her breathing, waiting for the high to dissolve that floated around her vision that seemed to make everything fuzzy. Half lidded as her eyes were, they drifted away from the face that loomed up above her, and she tried to shove away her self-conscious thoughts at the feel of his weight bearing down on her. Or the fact that her thighs were like jelly splayed on either side of him. Or the fact that his cock was still buried inside her.

Her hands drew away from his body, arms shaking as she reached behind her, dragging a pillow close, her cheeks reddening as she pressed her face into it, mumbling something incoherent before shifting subtly, shivering at the feel of him still all over her.

“We do kind of reek,” she admitted, pulling her face from that pillow, her lips pursing ever so slightly. Only the words were mumbled still, and she still wasn’t about to look him in the eye. “I guess we…”

She wasn’t sure how to approach it. The obvious things. Like what she was supposed to do now. She was healed; she had no doubt in her mind that he knew that she was something other than some scared chick in the woods. She also had her suspicions that he wasn’t just some woodsman who happened upon her, either. And there was the question of getting back home.

Not that she wanted to. There was too much shit hitting the fan there.
 
It was nearly painful how she gripped his pulsing cock and convulsed around it; how her hips danced and pushed up towards him to help every last drop find its place within her depths. Blissfully spent couldn’t even begin to describe how he’d felt afterward, having never had another be as thoroughly enjoyable to enrobe himself in as she had been.

There wasn’t any experience in his life— singular or otherwise— that could have prepared him for Cariss. Nor the all-consuming nature of their carnal behavior. Such animalistic desires that swept through like tempestuous fire, tempered with the sensuality of how they clung to and kissed one another. He’d never indulged in anyone as uniquely magnetic as she was. And there was another novel concept to delve into as well, considering the spirit she harbored within her.

Tiriaq could sense the self-conscious tension in the air before Cariss had even hidden her face within the soft linens of one of his pillows. As she pulled herself back out of it, his verdant hues focused on her briefly as he listened closely to hear that mumbling of hers. She started a thought, but didn’t finish it and he couldn’t quite tell what it was plaguing her mind. Other than the self-consciousness that painted her cheeks with scarlet. Not that he could blame her, either, given that they’d met only yesterday and he was still firmly hilted within her.

Right, that might have a little something to do with it.

Slowly, his mostly turgid shaft began to slide from her as he lifted his hips with a protestful groan, sighing out, “Fuck…” Then, he’d lean his head towards hers and he’d place a warm kiss to her cheek, near her lips and he’d smile broadly. “Listen...How about we just take a shower and then we can sit down to some breakfast and, if you'd like it, coffee. I’m certain you can use a good meal after everything you’ve been through just since I’ve met you,” his voice was warm as was his breath as he spoke the words softly near her ear. He’d sound calm and pleased, no doubt thanks to her, as he started to raise his body away from her.

“Then, we can talk with our heads clear and with us less...exposed,” he’d glance over her body and his own, having noted how embarrassed she seemed about being naked in front of him. He supposed he might feel sheepish in her position, too, given how he was nearly a total stranger and the unique nature of their meeting.

The sound of his feet striking the wooden floor would then be joined by the raucous sound of his feet shuffling a little as his knees threatened to buckle from the sudden change in position before his body had the time to prepare. His bronze skin glistened in the light, sweat highlighting the planes of muscles that sculpted lines into his flesh. He’d turn toward her, his lips pulled to a grin as he offered a hand out towards her and chuckled, “I know what happened moment ago might not inspire confidence, but I assure you I’ve gotten surer footing now.” In his eyes, peace and curiosity mingled as he looked at the dark-haired beauty who was likewise covered in a damp sheen.
 
Now that they were done and coming down from their high, now that they were becoming more aware of one another in more than a clash of bodies and bumping uglies, Cariss felt her stomach twist with an onslaught of nerves. The sex had been a distraction -- one that she hadn’t been wholly prepared for, despite her immersion in it. The fact that she had enjoyed it as much as she had only jarred her even more. Despite the flood of jitters that increased as the height and press of his body lifted off her, leaving only the evidence between her legs and a soreness that was roused again, layered on top of their last night activities.

She felt exposed, awkward, not quite herself. Even though with his almost too casual approach to it all helped to contain her fight or flight tendencies. While at the same time, she wanted to demand how he could just be acting like he had strange women stumbling through the woods for him to save and bone on a regular basis. Who the fuck knew? Maybe the woods were cursed somehow and he was the sexy guardian of carnal delight that stalked through them.

It was how she caught herself staring at him as his lips tingled across her skin, right before he picked himself up and slid off the bed with the grace of a mountain cat -- or… coyote. Invited her to have breakfast like they had been doing this song and dance for weeks.

“Uh.. what do you have for breakfast?” It was the only thing she could think to ask. She even blurted the words, stammering over the question as she dragged herself up first into a sitting position, self-consciously using his sheets as a way to dry the sweat that was starting to chill on her body. Then, wobbly legged, she managed to pull herself together without falling over onto the floor with the help of his hand that she wrapped her own around, then dropped it and stood like a newborn colt, dragging the sheet with her to wrap around herself.

She let herself stand in awkward silence for a moment, toes curling on his bare floor, sights taking in the room for the first time -- really taking it in, that is. Looking for the signs that made this man who is was, looking for those context clues that would give her an idea of who he was as a person.

Finding weaknesses, because she was her own fucking past and couldn’t help it.

“I’m, uh, going to need to borrow.. Some clothes..” She offered, jerking her face back in his direction, grey eyes snapping up to his face to keep them from meandering down the length of his body to get a good look at that, too, now that she was herself again.

What she didn’t ask while she chewed contemplatively on her lower lip was whether they were taking turns in the shower or sharing it. The conflict that kept warring in her gaze was as to what outcome she wanted when it came to that and if she should make either suggestion or let him take the lead on it.

In the end, she lifted her brows at him and grinned a jagged little grin, chin nodding in the direction she thought the bathroom was. “Gentlemen first or are we going to fight for shower space?”
 
“Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast...Though I’m probably due for some bread here soon...Might have some bagels and smoked salmon. I’m not entirely sure,” he’d say to her with a soft smile, helping her up to her feet as he tried not to stare too much at her feminine physique nor make too much eye contact. Was it strange for him to be so attracted to those gray hues of hers? There was something within them that he just adored. Or, perhaps it was the Fox within her that the Coyote in him adored. It was hard to separate where his feelings ended and where the Coyote’s began or for him to know how much of what he felt was influenced by the spirit.

As she looked around his room, she would see a little bit of Native art: either sketches or rubbings of petroglyphs as well as some rawhide parfletches from cultures outside of California. A signed, dark wood acoustic guitar was also hung from the wall, whether he played or displayed it because of the signature. There were a few posters, too, that looked like promotional materials for a few alternative rock bands, some metal, and some electronic artists, too. Other than that— and the mess that they’d just made— his room seemed fairly tidy, with the bed, a matching dresser, wardrobe, and a couple of night stands.

“I know you will...You’re more than welcome to them,” he’d offer with a smile, his warm, verdant eyes focusing back on hers. He seemed free of judgement and worry all at the same time, his eyes flicking towards the wardrobe before his feet carried him over there. Opening the door, he retrieved a couple more graphic tees from bands he enjoyed: The Neighborhood and Highly Suspect, it seemed. He then went to his dresser and pulled out two pairs of shorts, one pair with an adjustable drawstring that must’ve been intended for her.

As he came back to face her, he looked at her little grin and grinned back at her with a light chuckle. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d offer to wash you again. But, if you’d rather, I can stay back and let you have your shower and get mine after you’re finished,” he offered her as he handed her the pair of shorts and held up the two shirts, one black with an upside down, blocky house and the other off-white with the name “Highly Suspect” on the front, one word each over the top and bottom of a vulture. “Got a preference?” he asked her with a warm glimmer in his eyes.
 
Her stomach gave a little rumble by the time she had managed to drag her gaze across the bedroom filled with hints of who he was. Judging by the artwork on the walls and his overall look, he probably had American Indian in his bloodline. Like her, though Cariss looked less the part than he did.

“Are we on a reservation?” she blurted out, shifting her weight so that she could scoop the sheet up under her throat, bunching it there so that it didn’t trail so much on the floor. She felt as ridiculous as she probably looked, especially hiding herself behind a sheet when she had just been splayed lewdly underneath him just a handful of minutes ago. And enjoyed it.

Maybe why her face was turning red again. That and the fact that she really didn’t have an idea where she was. Or who he was, really. ..And the panic that was creeping back across her face was something she was struggling to snuff completely out with the rationale that all would be answered one way or another. Besides, if this man had ill intentions, wouldn’t he have taken advantage by now?

Instead of offering her his wardrobe?

She stared at the t-shirts he held out to her. Hesitating, one hand gripping the sheet, she plucked the black tee from his hand and took the shorts too, eyes not breaking from his face. Like she was a wary, half feral animal and he was trying to placate her.

“Thanks,” she managed out, then flushed again at his offer to wash her again. To join her in the shower. Desire warred with her more ostentatious side - the side that always won, even when it was against anything good. Her lips flatlined on her face, pursing together as she looked down, then back to the bedroom doorway. “I’m not lamed anymore,” she snapped.

Her jaw tightened. Worked against her face. Her nostrils flared slightly as she sucked in a breath. Then, without looking at him, she hauled both herself and the sheet towards the doorway, looking like a regal trash princess with the way it trailed after her. She hesitated at the door, but wouldn’t look back at him, “Can I make a call?”

At least she was asking instead of demanding. Not that she would give him much of a chance to respond before she dropped the sheet and reached out to pull the door enough so she could skitter the rest of the way down the hall until she found the bathroom again.

Only she didn’t close the door. She left it wide open as she set her borrowed clothes down on the bathroom counter and turned on her freshly mended leg and popped her torso into the shower stall to turn the knobs to hot.

She stood in an awkward limbo of anticipation as she kept one eye on the door, wondering if he would follow her in there or stay back with her shitty non-answer before she had fled the scene, then when she was sure she was going to boil herself in her own skin under the hot spray, she stepped into the stall and turned her back to the hot spray, letting it hit her as she squeezed her eyes shut and started working on the mental map of

...What the fuck happened. ...and how long she had been gone. And what to do with this guy that had found her.
 
“No, we’re not on a reservation. I live in the San Gabriel Mountains,” he’d reply to her with kind warmth in his voice as his verdant eyes scanned over the sheet that she desperately clutched to herself. It was odd, the way she grew so immediately shy and reserved following what they’d just experienced together. But, in a cute sort of way.

He noticed how her cheeks were shading with crimson and he tried to hide the smile that coaxed from him, failing as his eyes wrinkled slightly at the corners; the only deep lines visible on his otherwise smooth, youthful-looking skin.

“Of course,” her gratitude was appreciated, more so for the fact that it was delivered from one who behaved as adorably bashful as she was. Even if she snapped a response to his offer of a shower together, it didn’t seem to detract from the enjoyment he experienced.

As she made for the door, he watched how his sheet trailed behind her like a not-so-elegant wedding train and he fought back the chuckle that bubbled up in his throat. Though, she’d stop and ask a question at the door that made him tilt his head a little. “If the spotty cell phone reception will allow you to, sure,” he spoke with a smile audible in his voice before she started to jet down the hall. “Might take a little bit, though! You can borrow my phone while I’m making breakfast,” he’d call after her without outwardly seeming put off by her sudden shift in behavior at all. It’s not as though it didn’t make sense for her to act this way, anyway.

He’d gathered up the thoroughly stained sheets and other bedding that had been left soiled by the two of them before placing them in a pile next to the doorway. Soon, he’d make his way down the hall and into the open door of the bathroom as she stepped into the hot water. After all, she hadn’t exactly told him not to follow.

His brow would furrow with concern at the copious amounts of steam rising from the jets of water and he’d walk next to the stall. Placing his clothes next to hers, he’d pull the door of the stall open and reach in to adjust the temperature down enough that it wouldn’t leave her skin scalded and pink. “Careful...That water can get really hot…” there was a gentle concern to his voice as his verdant eyes looked towards her panicked face.

And, with that, he’d slip into the shower next to her and he’d shut the door behind him so that the coolness of the late morning air wouldn’t subdue the warm humidity that quickly fogged the glass. He’d remain silent for a moment while pondering if it was even a smart idea for him to have followed her in here in the first place. After all, she’d shown no signs of being familiar enough to welcome the closeness despite the rather intimate nature of their morning.

Though, again, she hadn’t asked him not to.

Finally, he broke the silence by declaring what was likely the most obvious statement he could have made in this situation, “So...I’m certain you have questions.” He’d pause a moment before adding, “What can I do to help answer them?”
 
She took his words to the shower with her. Call it intuition, but she knew she only had a few minutes to process what she had learned. She was in the San Gabriel Mountains, but she still didn’t know how long she had been there. She was at least relieved to know that she hadn’t wandered too far away from Los Angeles, though as far as she knew, she hadn’t exactly hailed a cab and wound up wandering around in the middle of the fucking woods. The phone call she had requested would let her know how long she had been gone.

She didn’t really want to know the answer. The space that wasn’t quite empty in her memory terrified her enough to have how much time she had lost.

Except Cariss knew that it came out to play under duress. Usually.

She knew what had happened before that lost time. That was what she really didn’t have to face, even though the adulty part of her brain that she liked to fight liked to remind her that she couldn’t actually just shack up in some cabin in the woods, no matter how hot the company. The stranger was.

And she’d.. What? Trauma fucked him?

She was giggling to herself like a crazy person, letting the steaming water beat her back as she hunched forward and tucked her forehead against the backs of her hands that she had braced against the tile when she heard the slide of the shower door that signifying that he had taken her backwards ass hint and joined her in the shower.

She still didn’t really know if she wanted him there or not. She felt like she was on the verge of a breakdown and Cariss just… didn’t lose her shit in front of people. Especially not hot strangers.

She pushed back away from the wall at the sound of his voice, the strain evident in how tight her mouth was set, in the hooded look of her eyes that at least now had some clarity in them. A hint of the sharpness that was usually there.

She even craned her neck to watch him step in behind her, shut them in together, but couldn’t quite muster herself enough to turn around to face him. Still self-conscious about being naked, even though the logical part of her brain screamed at the useless part that he’d had his mouth all over her, had his cock inside her, swapped saliva and more.

That shitty little thing that lurked still in the back of her mind still reached out and stabbed the stronger version of herself. He doesn’t want to see anything.

So that’s what she believed. And that’s why she stayed, facing the spray of the shower, even though now she raised her face up to it and let it pelt her for a moment before she spoke.

“What are you?” Not bothering to sugar coat things. She had an idea of what kind of weird shit happened when she wasn’t there. Not to mention there wasn’t a scratch on her. She wasn’t even limping where before her leg had been all kinds of wrong. If he wasn’t screaming about her being possessed by some kind of demon and trying to burn her at the cross or something, that meant he was either something else himself or he knew that there were something elses in the world and was familiar. She swallowed, fighting the panic lump in her throat with her next question. “What did you see? What did I do?”
 
As Cariss walked away and to the shower, it began to dawn on Tiriaq that she truly didn’t recall certain aspects of what happened when the other that inhabited her took over. No, it wasn’t quite like the relationship he had with Coyote, where he had a vague sense of things and could see what was happening almost like a fishbowl theater in his mind’s eye. The two were at odds— disharmonized and sharing precious little betwixt them. Which would explain a few things, to say the least. Perhaps it was in her nature to be at war within herself, considering the juxtaposition between their carnal indulgement of each other and her apparent shame afterwards.

He had to admit, it had him questioning whether or not he’d crossed the line and he couldn’t help but feel as though he may have taken advantage.

But how much had he? Despite her retreat, she didn’t seem aggressive towards him nor afraid of him. Only afraid of his gaze, apparently, and that only became more obvious as he stepped into the shower and he could see the tightness in her as she kept herself from facing him entirely. Curious that such a beauty could have her esteem ground so thin.

Her next words brought shock to his face, his verdant eyes alighting knowingly as the question was posed of him and his handsome, chiseled face morphed pensively with his brow knitting together. Should he tell her? The question lingered in his eyes as he lowered them for a moment, considering what he might say and how it might be received. Surely, she knew about what was in herself? But...What if she didn’t? How mad would he seem if he spoke the truth?

And, why did it matter what she thought?

His gaze lifted and he drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring with the effort for his lungs to pull in as much air as humanly possible. Anything to draw out the moment. “Alright...Well, I’m a vessel for an ancestor god to the Miwok people, known as Coyote. Coyote, along with Silver Fox, are believed by them to have created this world.” He’d suddenly grunt as if in pain as his eyes flashed golden and he grimaced subtly as Coyote objected to his addition of ‘believed’ with phantom pains that coursed through him briefly. Defiantly, Tiriaq did not correct himself.

“Naturally, the pair have previously been a little at odds since the Fox is typically of a more serious nature and Coyote is a known prankster...But, the pair are mutually bound and drawn to each other, having often been lovers in lives past...I believe that you, Cariss, are the unwilling vessel for the Fox. Coyote drew me to you in the woods...I found you with your leg broken, surrounded by the viscera of half-digested animals after what, I presume, was a hunt by the Fox. I know not what you have done prior to my discovery of you...But, I can say that I am vaguely aware of the business our bodies engaged in last night under the commands of those blessed spirits within us.” He seemed to put a little spiteful emphasis on blessed, as though he might understand how Cariss was treated and felt about Silver Fox.

Great. She’s going to think I’m a fucking lunatic. he thought to himself as he waited for her to respond, trying not to wear the internal paranoia too prominently on his face.
 
Not for the first time in her life, Cariss considered the benefits of what Xanax might do for her if she kept insisting on putting herself in high anxiety situations, like being naked in the shower with a hot, naked man. Though this should have been less stressful than being held at gunpoint. And at least he wasn’t doing that.

Yet.

It was still early. She hadn’t opened her mouth yet. If she thought she was any kind of clever, she would have kept it shut too, especially since she was at a disadvantage here. And she did think she was clever, by the way. Unfortunately…

“Can I not catch a fucking break with all the paranormal melodrama?” She turned her face away from the hot spray of water so it wouldn’t melt it off, eyes squinted closed and all the inky dark hair now resembling the tentacles of some sort of sea creature clinging to her wet skin, plastering itself to her cheeks as she turned, pushing it all out of her eyes so that she could blink up at him.

She was adept enough at playing pretend that even though a flush crept up her neck and burned in her face, she could convince herself that she was pretending she wasn’t bothered about being naked in the shower with him. Or being naked in general. The truth was, she was very well aware of the slide of water down her skin, of the way her nipples perked and stood at attention, of how tight her skin felt - and that it felt like it was humming. Not to mention the way her fucking pussy wanted to clench with just a glimpse of his chest and abs that she allowed herself.

She made herself turn her chin up, look him in the eye, and keep her hands down and away from being used as a shield to cover herself. If he didn’t care, she didn’t either. Right?

Cariss chewed at her lower lip as she considered him, ignoring the lore aspect of the thing that possessed her and jumping right into the meat of the problem, “Do you know how to get rid of it? Like, kill it or make it go fuck off with someone else who isn’t me?”
 
Tiriaq couldn’t help the slight grin that tugged at the corner of his lips when Cariss expressed her frustration at her occupancy by an ancient spirit. His verdant hues flowed with warmth as he looked at her face when she turned, his own hair draped over his forehead and stuck by the moisture there. Firm, slightly rough fingers followed her hands as he tucked her hair a little further towards her ears and held her face briefly while looking down at her.

“Apparently not, I’m afraid...Though it does concern me how much more grief these two might bring us now that they’ve been brought together.” His tone only reflected a slight bit of the seriousness he felt at that statement, his thumbs brushing momentarily at her cheeks before he dropped his hands away from her and his chest rose and fell with a deep sigh.

Cariss wasn’t the only one finding themselves admiring the figure standing opposite of them, though Tiriaq might have been much less subtle about it. Approvingly, his gaze tracked the rivulets of water that flowed over her skin and framed the beautiful femininity she so easily possessed. Even despite the crassness of her personality. Even though he’d been so thoroughly spent, his cock stood nearly fully erect as his eyes trailed down to her hips before he bit his lower lip and snapped his gaze back up to meet hers.

His gaze was strong and comforting, a gentleness in those green eyes that wrinkled slightly at the corners from the playful grin that showed a glimpse at his gleaming teeth.

That was, until Cariss mentioned killing Fox or making it go away, at which point his features filled with an unrestrained ferocity as his eyes flashed golden and his hands clenched towards something closer to a paw than a fist.

It only lasted for that instant before his head lolled back, neck bulging and straining with a growling effort. A strange combination of Tiriaq’s smooth, warm voice mingled with a slightly brass, almost sharp tone issued forth before Tiriaq rumbled, “Noo! Down!” His hands had shot towards the glass of the stall, planting a palm on either side of himself as his nails scraped at the glass and the growling resonated in the chamber. Then, his eyes shot open and Tiriaq’s voice gasped out as palms fell limply away from the stall. His head fell forward and he panted with the exertion while wild, verdant eyes found hers again.

“Don’t fucking threaten them, please...Coyote tends to get in a mood when HE feels threatened...Nevermind that the prick can reincarnate,” Tiriaq sounded a bit raspy, veins still slightly popped in his forehead as his skin ran a little flush.

“And, no, there really isn’t any way to do that other than dying, that I know of. I’m not too thrilled at the idea of you dying, either, and much less so around my neck of the woods. Strange as it might sound, you’re the most interesting person I’ve been around in a while,” his sarcasm and frustration were relatively equal as he started, but soon both were replaced by genuine concern as his features softened in such a way that accentuated the shift.
 
Cariss should have been bathing - actually getting herself clean - instead of standing there interrogating her forest savior and using all of his hot water. Fuck only knew she needed to give herself a good scrubbing; her memory might be a blank spot as to how, why, and when she had landed into the deep part of the woods, but she could make an educated guess based on how crusty her discarded clothes were. They needed to be burned.

Except he was in there with her like he wasn’t just some one night and a morning fuck that she wouldn’t be seeing again after she finally unscrambled her brain and got herself back to…

Home, right? She almost started giggling as her last memory jogged through her mind on just what she had to look forward to. So, maybe home wasn’t the right word. Maybe laying low in some shithole of one of her safe houses was a better idea. Or maybe…

Cariss eyeballed him, stiffening as his fingers crept into her bubble, shucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. Held her face as tenderly as if they hadn’t just met last night - or this morning. Whenever. She couldn’t breathe underneath the touch. Her lungs stopped working as she froze there, staring up at him wide eyed, a cross between disbelief and something else.

She looked almost cute. Kind of. So maybe she could slum it out in the woods for a little while longer. Maybe…

She remembered how to breathe again, the inhale coming in a shaky fit. Her cheeks heated under his fingers before she ducked out from underneath his touch and groped for a bottle of shampoo, squirting a glob in her hand, and presenting him with her backside as she raised her hands up and began the furious lathering of her tangled mass of hair.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, gruffly. If her voice could ever be constituted as gruff. High and feminine, with a surly edge to it that wouldn’t ever go away, even when she was trying to be nice. Hers was not a voice that anyone took seriously. And she used that to her advantage - most of the time. Pair that with the fact that she was five foot nothing flat on her feet and lithe as a wire, Cariss just wasn’t much of an eyeful. Cariss knew that, too, and had the decency to be self-conscious about it. So it confused her when he looked at her a certain way, like she was something he wanted to gobble up and touch in a not-so-innocent way.

...Like ten minutes ago, in bed. Like that way.

So she turned away and attacked her personal hygiene, missing the other look on his face, and the clenched fist. But she didn’t miss the change in her voice that set the back of her neck tingling and snapped her head to the side to look at him with pupils that retracted with the tell-tell signs of fear. Her body language followed, spine going ramrod straight, and posture turning rigid. Her hands stilled in her hair, then slowly lowered, as if she were afraid that sudden movements would alarm him.

Don’t fucking threaten them, please. She heard the words and they pricked the nasty part in her. Turning, she also backed away, scowling in a way that showed teeth. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” she snarled back at him, spewing pure defensiveness. “I’ve been dealing with this fucking monster for long enough to know that threatening it won’t do much of jack shit. And I can tell you now, it definitely won’t let its fucking host die. It heals - I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

So she had gotten her bite back, but there was still the fear, especially since she was trapped behind a glass door with shampoo starting to leak in her eyes with an unknown. Her fingers were starting to inch back towards the bottle, thinking if he made any moves, she could squirt him in the face and buy her some time to snatch something dangerous enough to poke an eye out if she needed to.
 
Tiriaq smirked softly as Cariss looked up at him, stiffened by the sudden touch that seemed too familiar for who they were to each other. She looked like a doe caught in the headlights and he couldn’t help but find her charmingly adorable. It was a curious thing to see how extremely she shifted with her mood and he wondered, silently, what exactly it was that made her tick. Hunger and pensiveness mixed as he gazed back down at her, observant and quiet as he just watched her intently.

Only to chuckle as she turned away and huffed at him, her attempt at coarseness coming across as anything but. “I’m afraid I don’t want to help the fact that I find you attractive…Nor do I want to stop looking at you,” he murmured sultrily as his eyes scanned over her back, following her delicate curves as his hand twitched with want to wrap around her waist. Perhaps it’d be better if he didn’t, though. Sometimes, defensiveness was better not to push too zealously against and he didn’t know her better to gauge her, yet.

He wanted to figure her out, though, as much as that might come back to bite him in the ass later.

Which was why, as he regained control after Coyote’s attempt to usurp his control, his features further softened as she spewed angrily at him. His brow pinched together, ever so slightly, as his handsome features displayed concern as opposed to anything aggressive. His eyes met hers as he listened attentively, verdant irises rimmed with gold from the waning energy of the spirit. “I just don’t want to give him a reason to coax her out of you more often…It’s easy to tell that the two of you don’t exactly get along…” he began as he slid a foot towards her gently, posture calm as he closed the distance between them as placid as he could manage. Though, he’d left enough space where she could easily slip around him and he didn’t seem to make any efforts to close her in with him.

Even his posture, relaxed and nearly inviting, attempted to convey his lack of ill intent towards Cariss. His shoulders were slack and his hands remained unclenched at his sides with his palms slightly turned towards her. His head was pitched forward slightly, lowering him just a bit toward her height but not enough to significantly bridge the gap between them.

He’d glance at her forehead only to notice the soap about to run into her eyes and, almost instinctively, he reached up and brushed the suds away with his thumb. His eyes met hers solemnly and the green hues darkened a little bit, “I know they won’t let us die.” Something was there— buried, painful, a vulnerability he’d rather not have— as he swallowed the lump in his throat and his Adam's apple flexed with the effort. “But, that doesn’t mean they can’t make things more difficult for us,” he’d continue as he brushed his fingers into her scalp a little and then drew his hand back and leveled it at his side.

“I…As strange as this might sound…I feel connected to you in a way that makes me want to defend you…Much as you may— or may not— need it.” And his arms opened a little with his palms rotating a little further towards her, as if simultaneously asking her if she was alright and showing that he genuinely meant her no harm. He breathed through slightly parted lips, his firm chest rising and falling slowly as he searched for any signs that he was having any sort of beneficial impact on her.
 
She still had that half-scared, half-anxious sort of look on her face that showed too much white in her eyes and reduced her pupils to points. Her jaw clenched, likely something subconscious, as she fought back whatever instinct made her like this. Wary, suspicious, closing up inside a shell despite the fact that they both stood close together, naked.

But Cariss withdrew her itchy fingers away from the shampoo bottle and instead dragged them through the wet mop of hair she had created with the lather. Her nostrils flared, lungs exhaling as some of the tension relaxed from her shoulders when he didn’t…

do anything.
She shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was. Only the flinch of her eyes gave anything away, though, as he flicked the suds from her forehead. And she turned away from him, into the spray, the muscles of her back tensing just the same, signifying that she wasn’t as comfortable turning her back on him as she was pretending. The rest of the shampoo sting washed away down the drain, then she was turning back, eyes squinting as she ducked her head and rinsed out the rest of her hair.

“Do you want some of the hot water before I use it up?” Her voice was a croak as she asked the question instead of addressing anything spoken inside the closed in intimacy of his shower. Without waiting and with her head ducked, she started to slip past him, but hesitated. Her fingers curled and then unfurled again, coming to rest against his abdomen. Like she just wanted to know what it would be like to touch him.

Then emboldened, or drawn to him with whatever fucked up force that was dictating their lives right now, she sucked in a breath and tucked her forehead against his chest, pressing in close. Like she wanted to embrace him fully but wasn’t going to let herself. Instead, she moved the rest of the way around him with her neck flushed and her cheeks hot, her focus on the bottle of conditioner now as she groped around him to pick it up and begin coating her hair while he had his time in the shower.

“You…” But that was as much as she could get out. Her lips parted, wanting to speak, but there was unspoken emotion that warred across her face. It erased the defensiveness, at least, and left something softer behind. So she closed her trap and worked up a different kind of defense: casual indifference. “...Do you have a, uh, car to get us out of these woods? I don’t think Uber comes out here, right?”
 
It was curious the way Cariss conducted herself; closer to a wounded, wild animal than a woman in the way she flinched and gazed wide-eyed, tightening with each movement as though Tiriaq was the predator who would end her. Watching with warm curiosity, the native followed her hand as she pulled away from the shampoo bottle to rake her fingers through inky locks. His smile was emboldened a bit when he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders, though her distrust of him remained evident the movement of her eyes as he reached towards her forehead. He might’ve been wounded had he known her better, but Tiriaq understood that he was still as good as a stranger to her and he knew all too well the benefit of a potent survival instinct.

Though, what exactly had this poor girl been through to make her so afraid of his hand?

He didn’t like to consider the possibilities, much less to envision the sad excuses of men who thought it better to hit her to make their point. His hand lingered when her back turned, slipping down towards her neck where fingertips tenderly brushed the slope that joined with her shoulder and his thumb pressed into the slender muscle atop. It was wordless, but the tenderness of his touch tried to convey his sentiments. A quiet apology for the wrongs he pictured done to her.

As she turned back towards him, there was still the slight gleam of pearly teeth visible as he carried on with that smile of his. At her voice, he nodded his head a bit and rumbled, “Sure…Though, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay in the warmth a bit longer.” When her hand met with his abdomen, he hadn’t been expecting her touch and his muscles tightened beneath taut skin, accentuating the plains and valleys in his physique before he nearly immediately relaxed.

Then, perhaps more unexpectedly, her head pressed into his chest and he let out a low, contented sigh as he dropped the hand at her shoulder. For that brief moment, his hand clutched at her lower back, fingers groping at her soft flesh as he lowered his own head and pressed firm lips at the crown of her head. And when she moved fully around him, his fingers glided over her skin before lingering at her waist before she moved the rest of the way around him. A moment of intimacy in the otherwise tense exchange she had with him. He’d found it rather pleasant, even if he wasn’t sure whether she did it for fear of her own safety or because she’d wanted to.

Instead of lingering on those thoughts, Tiriaq stepped into the spray of water and let it wash through his hair, streaming over the rugged, slightly rounded features of his face and forming rivulets that outlined his warrior’s physique. He turned to face her, slowly, and opened his eyes to the sound of her voice. An emotion played across her face— softer and sweeter than she might’ve been comfortable expressing— and his eyes flicked over her features to drink in that moment of vulnerability. His brow was perked slightly with curiosity while his expression was kind and inviting. His smile tread the line between friendly and sultry, partially amused by her unusual nature and mostly enthralled by her natural beauty. It wasn’t hard to see that he was enamored by her, and her moment of peeking through the cracks in her facade had certainly helped to further evoke that protective affection in him.

“I do, and they don’t…I have a jeep that I take into town from time to time…After breakfast and your phone call, did you want me to take you somewhere?” he’d ask her, expectation in his voice but something lay beneath the tone, as though he might be looking forward to her continued presence more than he was letting on. Tiriaq wouldn’t pressure her for it, but he wanted Cariss to stay almost as much as Coyote wanted to linger in the presence of Fox. However, it was evident from the way he looked at her, a mixture of inquisition and captivation as he grabbed for the shampoo and squirt a dollop into his palms before massaging and scratching it in through his jet black hair.
 
Poor girl. If one of the Fox’s abilities included reading minds, Cariss might have cackled herself to death if she knew some of the inner workings of Tiriaq’s minds in regards to her. Some poor creature. More like - violent criminal; deviant of society. Internet terrorist? She infiltrated the privacy of others, stole from them, blackmailed, and profited - among other things. Sometimes, she liked to imagine that she was some sort of informational vigilante; she only fucked over the bad guys.

But that just wasn’t the same as being a good guy herself. She wasn’t. Didn’t really want to be. Didn’t ever want to be anyone’s actual fucking hero or anything like that. She just lived with the knowledge and reminder to herself that at any time, she could fuck off to some island in the middle of the fucking ocean and really disappear. Or, you know, a cabin in the middle of the woods. Off the grid.

She did like to run away without cleaning up her messes, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t what happened here. No, something had triggered it. Cariss just couldn’t remember what it was except for the terror that crawled up into her throat if she tried to think about it too much, that reminder that …

Saint.

… she had left something unfinished, in a dangerous way. She might not have liked to clean up her messes, but she did prefer to tie up her loose ends. Preferably before she unraveled something new. Preferably without any additional fuckery, such as showering with some guy whose presence was far more familiar than she was comfortable with, and not just because she had known him for a literal day.

Except intuition and another fucking funny feeling suggested otherwise. It was like a nag that wanted to push her towards him, an instinctual pull that wanted her to wrap herself around him and not let go, a tickling in her memories that was trying to trick her into believing that she had known him for a very long time.

He had said as much. Basically. That the things were drawn to each other. Only that just made Cariss scrunch her face up and want to run out into the woods and fend for herself than unpack what that meant. So as she finished lathering her hair with the conditioner and starting on the rest of her body with soap, she tried to keep her eyes averted from the way the water trailed down his chest, stomach, lower.

Which was stupid. She had practically invited him to join her in the shower. Which was even more stupid, now that they were both in the shower together. What do you think you’re fucking doing?

She grinned at the thought, a scary mask of a grin, a laugh huffing from her. Ducking her head, she switched places with him once he had finished washing out his hair, relief flooding her as the hot stream of water started rinsing off the soap from her own body.

“I…” She started to respond to him, confident that she had decided to call Zo’, ask what was going down. But she closed her mouth and blinked open her eyes, uncertainty flickering across her face as she stared up at him like it was his fault she was having doubts about what she was going to say. “I need to get some cash,” she finally decided on, heart thundering, its echo in her ears. “Uh, some clothes, probably. A couple of other things. Don’t worry about the phone call right now, I just… Do you have the Internet?” She was still trying to avoid looking at anything other than his face, and to forget about the fact that she, too, was naked and inches away from him. “I can pay you, for all this, by the way. Cash, bank transfer, whatever. Since you did kind of save my life.”

Insert cheesy grin here. It changed her whole face, that grin. Proved that she had dimples in her cheeks, maybe even made her pretty. Only she seemed to realize what she was doing and wiped the whole stupid look off her face, awkwardness quickly replacing it. As her cheeks turned red, she turned to wash the conditioner out of her hair.

“You know. Whatever. It doesn’t have to be money, if you wanted something else.” Let that ominous offer linger between them for a while.
 
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