Be Careful Makin' Wishes in the Dark

It was an annoying conundrum. If a male got too demanding or got too close, and didn't take 'back off' for an answer, the thing to do was simple: break bones until he did. But females? There were a whole different breed. Pleasure-craving or not, he couldn't attack this woman. So far at least she'd showed no action or intent of what anyone would consider dangerous. And to leave? Well at this point to leave would be to retreat and that just wasn't in the male's coding. So he did stand there. He felt her press against his skin, sliding her body along to let their heat mingle in the dark. And while perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind it was lighting up instinctual signals he could not control, the northern drake was far from enjoying this. Tolerating, was perhaps the best word. Though, even tolerance was pushed a bit too far when the sensual flick of her tail connected under his chin, he pulled back instinctively from that, his snout wrinkling up in the first traces of a snarl.

She spoke as she moved, and by the time she'd said her reply, she was facing him again, still very close. Again, his position was, well, interesting. Everything (or every conscious part) within the male was detesting the current interview. It was an annoyance. He'd grown up seeing too many loyal couples, being taught that even sensual thoughts about another fae was a traitorous action to his mate. Plenty of wolves out there would see that as overly strict and limiting, but it made perfect sense to Gargoyle. He wouldn't have it any other way. But that was just it - there were other wolves who thought differently and obviously this fae was one of them. She could very easily be just a silver tongued she-wolf looking for a little 'harmless' fun. It was an outlook that he was no more likely to understand that she was to understand his.

The climax of his thoughts being: he had no good reason to show anger or rudeness. Control on both fronts was his only option. Luckily, he had a face and a voice that rarely showed a hint of anything. "One would assume a wolf in your position would be seeking a way out," he said simply. It was an attempt to bring her back into the real world. She was in a trackless network of dead caves. Underground. In flood season. Standing as he was, with forelegs slightly spread, hind legs planted, and shoulder's stiff, his head wasn't far from brushing the top of the catacomb like passageways. He wasn't claustrophic, just calmly logical. If some river or stream uptop got diverted... they were very likely screwed. And no, not in the way that this female wanted.

His ears, one whole and one in absolute tatters, twisted forward. Perhaps it was a trick of the tunnels, but he though he heard the sounds of water again, and not just the echo of raindrops or trickling of ground water. "Perhaps we ought to get head back towards the top," his low rumbles quietly suggest. Picking a careful paw, he started to turn. He couldn't help but keep his ears trained back on the fae however. A part of him was still unconvinced that she wasn't some sort of killer. There was something off about her - he couldn't put a claw on it, but there was a vague something beneath the surface.... or maybe he was just unsettled by the surprise advances. Anyway, until he knew for certain she was some sort of serial killer, he didn't want to see her get drowned or lost, so he took his first, pivoting step slowly, and paused seeing if she would heed his suggest or no - or if she'd just keep flirting.