Purpose Driven

The sky had gotten nearly pitch black and the rain fell like a deluge while the jet black brute trudged across the mucky prairie. His scouting trip had been cut short by the encroaching storm and his worry for his pregnant mate's wellbeing. Although he knew Manea was smarter and had far greater survival skills than to let a little rain do anything to her or their children, he also didn't relish the idea of her being out here somewhere on her own. And so Alastor had gone back to the place he'd seen her last, following her scent as best he could across the open plains until he found a cave set into the side of a hill. He approached, noting her scent getting stronger—but also noting the scent of a fae in heat as well. Alastor raised a curious brow and walked up to the cave.

No sooner had he gotten to the mouth of the cave, he heard a wailing moan of a fae inside, her voice breathy and desperate, pleading to someone. Curiouser and curiouser, Alastor slunk into the cave just as a loud clap of thunder boomed overhead. The massive brute saw the two women entwined together against the wall of the cave, his beloved purple galaxy wrapped around a much smaller blonde-furred bitch that was currently whining and squirming underneath his wife's paws, which seemed to be focused very keenly between her legs. A wicked, salacious grin split the dire brute's lips while he watched the two for a moment, shaking the rainwater from his coat and announcing his presence with a deep, rumbling chuckle.

"Well well well, what have we here?" he asked, his voice a deep, husky purr as he padded over to the two ladies, his black eyes gleaming with a hungry lust and lewd appreciation for the sight before him. "Did you find yourself a new toy to play with, my galaxy? I do hope this one lasts longer than our previous one did." Alastor chuckled again and ran his tongue over his teeth, positioning himself at the rear ends of the faes as he sat and looked them over, making no effort to hide the way his lecherous gaze roamed down both of their forms. Manea was his beautiful queen and he appreciated and loved her beauty on a daily basis, but this new girl was quite the looker as well. Small, petite, curvy, and oh so soft and fragile looking. His eyes settled between her open hind legs while Manea held the girl open to his appraising gaze, watching the way his wife's paw pleasured the woman she was playing with. His nose twitched, inhaling the fae's heat scent deep and feeling the primal synapses firing in his male brain, the hardcoded urges in his DNA to breed the wanton bitch surging in him.


"Alastor"