After the Hunt - OOC - not in the journal

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the following piece is a of a sensitive and sensual nature. If you may be offended, please stop now.

it is not a story as recorded in Grr's journal, but was written as a glimpse into his life, as seen by the Library Spirit and its inhabitants.
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the Hunt had finished, and Grr returned, unclothed, golden fur splattered with flecks of blood and melted sleet. He padded past Denenthorn standing watch in the doorway, and towards Tonks, who offered him praise and thanks for looking to the needs of his less fortunate or skilled kin, dropping parts of his kill at the snow at their paws, teaching them, showing them the way of the Hunt. He nodded to Denenthorn and they shared a wry joke, and exchanged eye rolling at Lei's whining and moaning about how the Pack was pathetic, but at the same time, would not lift a paw to better them.

Grr had other things on his mind, though. in the warmth of the Library, his unclothed body began to steam, frost thawing and melting away, and he padded over to the fireplace to drive off the rest of the chill and damp. He looked for his clothes, discarded when the Hunt arrived, and he heard its call at the windows and door. Kicking them behind a chair, he wiped the remainder of the rat-blood off his paws and looked upstairs. Upstairs to the room beside Her Ladyships office. Upstairs where Spirit Gal was sleeping.

A yearning need was tugging at him, calling, and he slowly made his way up, bare paws making barely a sound other than the click of claws on stone and polished wood. Denenthorn walked to the hidden doorway and lay against it, guarding the returned Childer, but Grr, his thoughts were of the living, tonight. Passing the foyer, reaching the spiral staircase, he wound his way up, all four paws clicking and padding. Reaching the top, he padded close to the door, and checked it. Locked, but not to him.

Slipping inside, Grr padded to where the sleeping woman lay, her breathing was even, and the scent of sleep was in the air. Clothes lay draped over a simple chair and a pair of golden earrings lay on a dresser against a wall. Reaching the foot of the bed, he gently lifted the heavy quilted cover, and poked his head very slowly under. A movement, and a foot slid one way, Grr froze, then after a moment, continued to slide under the covers, an inch at a time, claws reaching under as he pushed his lean furred body into the bed. Breathing in the scent, he crawled further forwards.

For a moment there was stillness, then flesh touched fur and a another frozen moment passed. Stillness. Anticipation. The leg move again, access is gained, and taken. With the alacrity of a commando raid, Grr, clawed his way further up the bed, towards the source of the heat, the scent, agaisnt the sleepy legs of the stirring woman. She was waking at the sudden motion and sensation, but groggily, the press of soft warm fur of Grr's muzzle and neck ruff strangely familiar in her dreaming.

Suddenly, she realises something is happening and sits up, in a panic, and tries to pull away, but Grr is on her now, paws reaching up and pinning her thighs. She cries out, in the daze of sleep and panic, and a pulse of prana lashes out, in defence. Stunned for a moment Grr slumps in the bed, his paws gone slack on the womans thighs and she tries to pull away, but he recovers quicker then she expected, such was his need. With a grunt, he levers himself forwards, gripping her thighs again, and presses his muzzle forwards, and manages one long lick before stilling again.

A quick gasp as tongue hits its mark, and a pause, "Beloved? Grr?". The quilt is lifted and a light is switched on, the light plays over Grr's fur, dappling the caramel coloured fur, still flecked with blood. Blinking, dazed he tries a grin, but with his ears pressed back by the covers, and most of his muzzle wrapped by thighs, it is only his eyes that express his delight. Then his tongue speaks for him, in action rather than sound. Regaining his bearings, he pulls back at her hips, pulling her towards him, and himself to her. She smacks her palm on the top of his head several times, trying to object to the intrusion, the shock, but his insistance is . . . insistent.

"you startled me, Beloved, are you alright?" she asked. The only reply Grr made was a low rumble, an an intensifying of his licking and lapping, all along thigh and behind her knees, edging further and further upwards again, after the initial lick. With a pull of both his warm leathery paws, Grr presses to her mound, need taking precedence to subtlety, and laps vigorously, letting the curl of his tongue caress and part her, nose pressed, snuffling firmly and growls softly.

Before he got very far, Grr felt a firm palm press on his head, on the ridges of his pointy skull and the woman spoke. "Beloved, wait, what if . . .." Grr continued licking, tasting, but lifted his head, forming a crest in the covers through which he peaked. Looking over her belly and breast, covered though they were in a nightie, his eyes glinted in the shadow, even as his matted muzzle rested between her thighs. He had stopped, for a moment, then with a throaty and cheerful snort, and a shake of his head, he continued, nuzzling into her groin, pressing his nose into her mound as he parted her with his agile tongue.

She made a noise, pleased but at the same time, anxious. There was a brief moment, a decision was made, Grr could feel it. She sighed and pulled the covers over his head. Grr took this as a sign and continued, under cover. As he chased his hunger, she lay back in her bed, and with a chuckle resigned herself to having been caught. Grr's tail poked above the back of the bed, wagging he had hunted, but now he had far deeper hungers to satisfy. The quilt undulated as Grr went about finishing what he started, and soon the woman was making noises as animal as his.

As she lay back, trembling, gasping to catch her breath, hands grinning the sheets in now slack fists, she felt him, fur against her thighs, shoulders against her knees, and the huffing breath, waiting. There was a stillness in the night, no gunfire, or screams, only the faint faraway crackle of the fire in the hearth. The building was still, watchful, but calm. This was the feeling they shared, flesh on fur, entwined, longways, as it were, for a moment. This dreamy warmth ended abruptly with another cheerful snort that she felt for than heart, sending tremors of delight once more. It signalled a rush of motion.

With a paw on either thigh still, Grr gripped, pulled and twisted, lifting the slight woman and rolling her. In a daze still, she was momentarily confused and wondered what was happening, but she felt Grr clamber onto the bed. With a gentle but insistant shove, she was dropped first onto all fours, then knocked onto her elbows. The room barely had time to stop spinning when she felt Grr behind her, a press of fur to the backs of her thighs, along the curve of her back, and along the backs of her arms, as his own planted and wedged her in place. It began.

It began with a soft searching, a fast paced and shuddering entry, followed by a pause, and Grr hugged the woman close, still not having said a word, waiting for both acceptance and confirmation. He gained it as she throatily gasped "oh, Beloved, yes" No further signal needed, he moved within her, and they shook. She felt the burning need, tempered by a compassionate heart, struggling. Always holding back, always tender and gentle, she felt the struggle, and acted.

Growling slightly herself, she turned her head, and bit his forearm as it gripped the bed, wrapped around her own. This tipped the scale, and Grr let instinct loose. Wild and free. Hungry and inhumanly strong. The coupling became rough, and fast. Driving forward over and over, Grr had pushed the woman further down, so that her shoulders were on the bed, his paws against the sides of her chest at her armpits, so that his fur was brushing that delicate flesh. Need and hunger. Primal and passionate.

Something new. something she had never felt, and had only pondered. A pressure, a parting, a fullness, followed by a rush of heat, a shuddering throb, and a mixture of Grr's whining, whimpering and deep throated growling and utterances, words and non-words. Sounds that might have had meaning, or simply been the language of the gods. Then stillness, they lay together, joined, tied both physically and spiritually. the fierce heat of Grr's metabolism, combined with not only the rush of the Hunt, but of the fires of their passion, combined with the fire that lived within the woman drove away any chill in the air.

Pulses continued for a long, long time, and when the feeling of fullness did not abate, the woman turned her head, and kissed Grr, who was still crouched, supporting himself on digigrade knees and along his forearms. She could see that his eyes were half lidded, his tongue lolling out as he panted, staring into the Other, and with every third or fourth breath, they shared another pulse, and his nostrils flared. "Beloved? . . . Grr?" No answer, but the slightest contented smile and a rolling "hmmmmm" she felt throughout her body, covered in her own, personal furred blanket.

Slowly Grr stirred, and after many long minutes, Grr was able to withdraw, and did so gingerly, having regained enough rational thought to consider his partner. The moment he had, again, in a rush of sensation , he clambered off and behind his mate, and soothed her in the way most natural to him, with licks. This was almost too much for her to bear, and only after a moment, she pulled away, rolled to her side and grabbed at his fur, pulling him up to lay with her.

As they filled her little bed, limbs entwined, and touching each other, fingertips running through fur and tracing scars and tattoos, and claws tracing skin and curved, Grr uttered his first distinct words, and his last for the night. "Spirit Gal". They lay, sleeping or gazing, until duty and the ruckus of the city stirred them on another cold, Toxian winters day.