I Swear to Drunk I'm Not God

The words of their mother's language sounded especially eloquent and lyrical in Bowen's voice. The phrase she spoke to him took a moment for his alcohol-addled brain to process, but when it did a wide, affectionate grin broke across his lips. It was these moments of quiet, simple normalcy between them that made Artorias' heart hurt—aching for the possibility of what could have been. He loved Briar, but he loved Bowen with all the same passion and intensity. Had time and fate been kinder to them, had they not been separated so young and for so long... Dwelling on what could have been had never been something Artorias entertained, but when he was caught in Bowen's hypnotic gaze, it was all he could think about. He saw flashes of what life could have been. That stormy night when he'd first kissed Briar could have been the night they professed their deepest most secret and sordid feelings for one another. How many warm summer nights could have been spent lying beneath the stars on the beach, listening to the waves and each other's heartbeats? How many frigid days in the endless winter could they have spent keeping each other warm as they explored and learned the intimate details of one another's bodies? Artorias saw all of those moments in Bowen's eyes, projected like a tragic movie in his mind. That door had been shut, likely irrevocably, and they had to live with what they had. But though he may be forced by fate and circumstance to accept the paths life had taken them down, Artorias doubted he would ever fully accept it. To do so would mean acknowledging that one day, their shared love might have to end. That was a future he could not come to terms with.

Fortunately, Bowen disrupted his melancholic thoughts when she leaped with all the grace her supple body possessed up onto the bed with him. From his prone position on his back, Artorias followed Bowen's movements with a pleased grin on his lips, ravenous eyes holding her burning gaze while she moved across the bed, barely disturbing the mattress and sheets as she climbed over top of him. The dark-furred dire brute blinked a few times with delighted eyes as she straddled his larger form to the best of her ability. Every inch of their chests and bellies pressed together while the slender fae slid up his body until they were face to face, and all Artorias could see was the fire encased inside Bowen's soul through verdant pools set into one of the most beautiful faces in the world. The heat inside his belly grew tenser and hotter, spreading through his veins, encapsulated in his flaming irises that seemed to flicker and burn like the fire in the hearth for her.

Artorias' breathing had turned shorter, coming in soft and shallow gasps. Fire and electricity rippled across his skin where Bowen's petite paw raked her delicate claws through the fur on his neck, sending the most delightful shivers down his spine. His tail began to wag subconsciously, a gentle metronome swishing over the furs and blankets beneath them that expressed his excitement. Artorias instinctively tilted his head to lean into Bowen's touch, craving every bit he could get from her. He was insatiable for her, just as she seemed to be for him. The two lovers held each other's gazes for what felt like a blissful eternity. Artorias lost himself in her eyes, studying and drinking in this beautiful, wonderful woman Bowen had become. Their familial bonds didn't matter between them, not when lying here with her felt like his very soul had found a connection it had been pining for. Those eyes, that face, this girl, the fae he'd run himself ragged trying to find, she was all that mattered. Every day he'd searched for her, she had been holding out for him and her family, doing everything she could to get back to them—get back to him. They could never get back the days and the life that had been stolen from them, but the gods be damned, Artorias would make up for them! He loved Bowen with everything he was—now and forevermore.

Bowen's paw slid up his neck, leaving tingles on his skin in her wake, and began to gingerly guide his muzzle up towards hers. Gold-flecked fiery eyes drifted closed to join her in the intimacy and passion of their kiss, pressing with gentle insistence back against her mouth. He felt Bowen part his lips with her own and then tasted her tongue as it slid into his maw, his own tongue gliding and dancing with hers before finding its way back to slide across her teeth and over the roof of her mouth. Bowen's flavor was sweet, clean, purely feminine and so distinctly Bowen. It was a taste he had become addicted to and he relished in it. The Carpathian brute lifted his paws to find his russet and ivory fae's sides with a tender touch, stroking ever so slowly along the planes and contours of her body, finding and tracing every feminine curve on her body between shoulder and hip with rough paw pads. Claws carefully combed through her fur, prickling with a feather light touch across her sides and the edges of her underbelly. Artorias groaned low in his throat, a deep masculine rumble while the two lovers kissed deeply and passionately, loving on one another while he savored the feel of her soft fur and warm skin beneath his touch, her lips pressed to his, and the taste of her tongue in his mouth. Loving Bowen felt right and Artorias never wanted this to stop.

"Artorias" | "Carpathian"