Spa Day

When he accepted her apology, Alastor saw and felt Manea begin to relax more wholeheartedly against him. It seemed like all she had needed to give herself permission to shrug off whatever guilt she carried was his acknowledging of her regret and his acceptance and love for her. There was just no way Alastor could find it in his heart to blame his violet angel when they had both suffered the tremendous loss together. But despite the pain, here they were together, binding the wounds in their hearts and tethering themselves together even more strongly than they had already been before. Their relationship had endured the trials and would grow all the stronger and more resilient for it. Manea was the parts of him that made him whole, his truly better half, the balance to his chaos, his breath, life, and love. Nothing could ever change that nor diminish the love he carried in his black heart for her. He was hers for all time, just as she was his. The dire brute was totally and utterly devoted to his queen, his goddess among mortals. Not even Death itself could keep them apart now.

When he offered up his own apology, however, Manea simply shook her head to dismiss his fault and leaned in to plant a delicate kiss to the ruby red fur that streaked beneath his abyssal eyes. She spoke to him softly, assuring him that he was not to blame for loving their children so deeply and intensely. She adored that protective paternal side of him. Alastor gave a low rumble of acknowledgement, a small wistful smile on his lips. When he'd first gotten together with Manea and she had explained the importance of family and raising children to him, he had laughed at the notion of himself being a father. Now it was what he lived for, the chance to raise all the little Alastors and Maneas that they could make—not to mention all the fun in making them as well. Manea drew back just enough for their gazes to meet again, and the dire brute saw that hopeful grin on his fae's lips as she mentioned him having next time to make it up to her. Dark eyes shimmered with an ever-present lust for the wolf in his lap, a sly grin stretching across his lips while an intrigued murr rumbled in his throat. He was thrilled to hear that Manea still wanted to keep having children with him, After this last birth, he'd feared he'd ruined her love of being pregnant and having puppies. Both the paternal and the lustful sides of him were ecstatic that wasn't the case, and it seemed there would be several more Mendacium babies in the future. "And believe me, I intend to make it up to you in spades, my love," he purred in reply, flexing his paws to let sharp siam claws dance over the skin of her back and hips beneath the steamy water.

With all the trimmings pulled away from their emotions to lay bared to one another, all that was left in Alastor were his baser feelings for the gorgeous and incredible woman in his arms. Endless love, absolute devotion, and an unquenchable lust for this amazing fae that completed him and made him feel whole and untarnished. Their muzzles didn't move away from one another's in their close proximity, obsidian and aqua eyes never glancing away until Manea pressed kiss after kiss after kiss to his lips, her affections beginning slow and tender, but soon building in intensity and urgency as their lusts flared to life like a fire in a forge. He felt Manea shift her body on top of his, pulling herself tighter to his form with slender forelegs entwining around his neck as they made out with passionate desire that could never be sated, only eased. Alastor's eyes drifted closed with a deep, rumbling murr of delight, lips parting to greet her tongue with his own and welcome it into his maw. The taste of Manea's mouth was familiar and arousing, as was the sensations of her tongue dancing with his, making him feel most at home with her wrapped around him like she was. Manea made him feel handsome, sexy, rugged and manly, all with the things she did to him and the way she treated him. But above all, Manea made him feel whole—like pieces of himself that he'd been robbed of had been returned with her. She fit him like a missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle.

And speaking of fitting him like a puzzle piece, the way the violet fae shifted the way she was sitting in his lap so her hips pressed more firmly into his send a rush of hot lust spiking through Alastor's core. Alastor groaned deeply into his wife's mouth, brow furrowing and muzzle scrunching a bit as the pleasure of her rocking and rolling hips working against him built to a slow, pulsing heat between his thighs. His paws groped at Manea's rump, doing nothing to inhibit her movements and encouraging her on with heavy breaths and a stream of throaty murrs and grunts. Manea was stoking the fire in his belly so masterfully, driving the dire brute mad with her teasing and pleasing. Alastor slid one paw up Manea's back, pressing his paw pads to the top of her spine and rubbing ever so slowly down the length of her body, following the natural curve of her back with claws extended to carefully rake his claws through her fur, giving her rump an especially firm squeeze to coax her on as she set his body ablaze with a lust so hot for her it would have cooled the hot steaming water they were bathing in around them.

"Alastor Mendacium"