Why Mess Up A Good Thing

When Alastor had found Relm all on her own out by the Firefly Lake those seasons ago, he would have burst into laughter to even think he'd wind up in this sort of position with her. An unorthodox yet passionate relationship, a collaboration between two broken and damaged souls; it was almost poetic, really. The kind of shit bards and balladeers spent their careers singing about. And now Alastor was experiencing it all firsthand with Relm. To her, this was where she could free herself, to let her personality out and to grow and discover herself in safety with him. To him, this was a cathartic redemption of his demented soul, proof that he wasn't beyond being saved by someone and that he wasn't alone in the world. Relm gave him purpose, drive, a desire to be more than the maniacal killing monster everyone else saw him as. She let him feel, really truly feel, just as he did for her. Naturally there was a physical attraction he held for the fae as well. She was young, strong, and had a beauty entirely her own, but that recognition stemmed from his emotional connection to her, much in the same way hers did for him. Alastor didn't know if he could pinpoint exactly where that attraction had started—whether it was when he brought her to Elysium or when he'd rescued her from Kefka—but it made little difference. What mattered was what they made together, and judging by the grin on Relm's lips, the dire brute had a feeling they'd be making something very hot and very primal together.

Together the two wolves started their symphony of impassioned sounds together, a chorus of heavy breaths and shuddering groans and guttural grunts while their bodies worked and moved against one another's. Words had no place here. Alastor and Relm communicated entirely in their own language with their bodies and expressions and sounds. Obsidian gems held onto silver pools, never looking away as she captivated him entirely. Alastor sang her praise for her testing actions in the form of a shuddering groan while she denied him entry to her most intimate depths, massive paws flexing strong digits and sharp claws over her voluptuous hips. It still amazed him how lucky he was that he got to see Relm like this. This was an entirely different woman than the pink fae was out in public and about the pack. Outside, she was withdrawn, quiet, and diligent in her work. In here, with him, she was wild, and passionate, and alive in ways he never saw before! There was a bit of pride in knowing that he was the lucky brute that got to see her like this and got to be with Relm like this—and a more selfish part of him that hoped he would be the only one.

It didn't take long after his struggling to try and find purchase within Relm that he saw the girl bite her lip, huffing as she brought her hips to his and connected their bodies. Alastor released a sharp gasp of heated breath, black eyes going wide from the sudden rush of heat and pleasure. Relm moved slowly, perfectly, and Al's eyes rolled leisurely back in his head with a deep, rumbling groan, his paws groping at her hips and toes on his hind paws curling. Alastor's jaw clenched each time she tightened around him, hips hips rolling eagerly up to help sink himself as deep within her core as he could press. Being a dire wolf, Alastor wasn't small in any regard, yet Relm hadn't shown any trouble handling him before, though it did make every sensation and feeling that much more intense with her. From his position on his back, the demon brute groaned and growled while their bodies began their intimate dance, hips gyrating and pressing together while enormous black paws roamed up and down over Relm's back, following the curve of her spine and gliding over every feminine dip of her sides from hips to shoulders.

Relm leaned over him, their cheeks brushing together and chests pressed close until he could feel the beat of her heart. Then he heard her moan for him into his ear. Alastor felt the rush of fire through his veins with how much that turned him on. With a flex of his paws, Alastor raked his claws through her thick fur, teasing her skin with gentle pricks that ran down along her spine until his paws were groping at her rump and pressing her ass down to meet his rolling hips in time with their rhythm. Relm was setting the pace, controlling their speed and movements and intensity, but Alastor was an enthusiastic participant keeping up with her at every turn. With his own muzzle near her ear, Alastor made sure he held nothing back. Every jolt of pleasure or press of her body against his drew a sighing breath, a gasping moan, or a growling grunt from the brute, and each one he made sure she heard so she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He was Relm's.

"Alastor Mendacium"