[ P ] see the end in your eyes

In the days following the coyote attack, things have gone...mostly back to normal. Kieran is a bit more attentive, a bit more present—but not suffocatingly so, and he hasn't pushed Nylah about her odd behavior that night. He lets the dust settle, uncertain if he wants to test this tenuous peace that exists between them, especially when he doesn't know what his end game is. It had been easier when Nylah hated him, and he was indifferent to her. The fact that he might care for the woman hiding beneath that armored exterior is a terrifying thought, one that keeps rearing its head when he catches her with a softer expression on her face, rather than a glare.

It is even more difficult to push those thoughts away when the only thing he is currently aware of is the heady, floral smell of jasmine flooding his senses. Slowly, ever so slowly, he gains awareness of his surroundings, gently tugged up into consciousness by that cloying scent. Only a faint light pools within the entrance of their den, signaling the early hour. Kieran has never, in all their months together, tried to initiate intimate contact with Nylah in sleep or wakefulness—a fact that he suspects is the sole reason why she'd been willing to share his bed with him upon their return to his home, albeit not without creating a blatant boundary down the middle of the furs with a stack of pelts. He has never attempted to cross that line.

Until now, apparently.

He's deathly still as he takes stock of his current position. In his sleep, Kieran has apparently drifted closer to Nylah; he isn't just pressed up to the wall of pelts, but laying half strewn across it. His senses are being flooded by her scent because Kieran's head is hanging over the edge of the furs, and his nose is nearly touching the back of Nylah's neck. A forepaw, sprawled in her direction as though he'd been reaching for her, dangles just above her ribcage, so that when she inhales, her fur tickles the tips of his toes.

Kieran is just this side of horrified. He can't tell if Nylah is aware of his proximity or if she's still asleep, blissfully unaware of his subconscious crossing a line he would never intentionally disrespect. Praying it's the latter option, he finally moves, shifting slowly backwards with the utmost care not to disturb her.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

Nylah is asleep. She lost in the emptiness of a dreamless sleep, something that doesn’t happen often. Her sides rise and fall steadily, her breathing slow and even. Each breath drags in the scent of moss and pines, the forest. It’s soothing and familiar though her subconscious doesn’t place it. At some point during the night she shifts, angling just a bit more towards her husband, no longer giving him the unwelcoming curve of her back.

Unbeknownst to her, Kieran is beside her in the early morning hour, closer than he’s ever been, having a crisis of his own. All the nights they’ve shared since running through the forest, he has diligently respected her boundaries, not once has he crossed the threshold she built with pelts. Even when they were awake, she noticed the subtle differences in him, the attention he paid that wasn’t there before. Somehow, he manages to not overwhelm her. She shifts, but doesn’t wake. Not until he withdraws his paw, the movement tickling the fur over her ribs and startling her awake. Immediately, her head lifts and her eyes find his.

Pale green eyes are heavy with sleep, her glare halfhearted at best. Blinking her husband into focus, he’s crushing the barrier she had pointedly built between them and she tells him so with the way her stare travels from him to the pelts he’s flattened. In the middle of withdrawing from her side of the bed, she doesn’t know just how close he had been. Rather than chastising him though, she yawns and stretches, working the sleep from her muscles. Despite how relatively still she sleeps, her fur is in a bit of a disarray, lightly tousled with evidence of the night. In bed, Kieran is everywhere, his cologne soaking into the tips of her coat, following her everywhere she went during the day. It’s another thing she doesn’t know how to deal with.

"speech"

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She doesn't stir at first, and Kieran thinks he might be able to return to his side of the bed unscathed, with Nylah none the wiser about his slip up. But then his paw brushes her side as he's pulling it back, and she's moving in an instant, prompting him to freeze in place as her head swings up, bleary eyes finding him with pinpoint accuracy, even freshly awoken. His ears tip back, and Kieran takes note of the way her gaze looks pointedly at where his chest is still laid halfway over the pelts; a faint, apologetic smile brushes across his lips, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief when he isn't met by a display of Nylah's teeth.

He doesn't know why, and it isn't with any particularly conscious thought, but as Nylah yawns and stretches, Kieran stops retreating across the bed. She hasn't told him off yet, and the extra warmth nearby is a welcome one in the chilly air of an early autumn morning; he'd forgotten what it feels like to wake up next to someone, and he doesn't dislike it in the slightest.

With his cheek laid against his foreleg, Kieran watches Nylah lazily, his dark eyes relaxing back to half hooded in morning exhaustion. Absently, he reaches out that same leg that had been sprawled across the bed, attempting to gently press his paw against the slight wrinkle in Nylah's brow. "You know the furrow in your brow only disappears when you're sleeping?" he muses quietly, his tone somewhere between curious and strangely affectionate. And then there are the times where it deepens, and she fidgets uncomfortably in her sleep; Kieran has never questioned it, knowing they all have their demons, but he has subtly nudged Nylah into consciousness a time or two before—a secret he's kept to himself for her sake. She doesn't need to know just how acutely aware he is of her internal struggles. Not yet, anyway.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

The apologetic smile that lifts his lips is faint and yet still boyishly charming. He looks almost like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As she slowly returns to the world of consciousness, Kieran stops moving and she doesn't snap at him to resume moving - away from her. She lets him be. There is a strange, tense truce between them, one that had led them to quite dinners and even quieter mornings. Briefly, she wondered if they'd be in the same place were they back in her family's territory. Probably not. The deep and lasting wound of loss is what had kept her at his side in those first few weeks. But now?

Noticing the pelts no longer shifting with his movements, sleepy green eyes drift towards him. Kieran is resting, lazily, which any living and breathing woman would find attractive. Dark eyes hooded with sleep, his hair tousled just right, he looks every but inviting. His thick fur looks warm and she wonders what it might feel like to be snuggled up beside in him in the chilly fall morning.

Before she could dwell any further into the prospect of cuddling her husband, he's pressing his paw to her forehead. For a moment, she's stunned. Then she's staring at him like he's lost him mind and my almost look his paw as a result. You know the furrow in your brow only disappears when you're sleeping? Kieran seems to have a knack for leaving her utterly dumbfounded. Her lower jaw falls down fractionally, her lips parted in the smallest of O's. He noticed. Which meant he had watched her sleep. His eyes had been on her while she slept, while she rested at her most vulnerable. What else had he witness.

"And you snore when you sleep." She grumbled, her morning voice huskier than its usual octave. The bass in his voice was even more alluring in the early morning hour. Tipping her head, she nips at his extended wrist, a pitiful attempt to chase the offending appengde away from her side of the bed.

"speech"

code // art

The look of surprise on Nylah's face is priceless. Kieran wishes he could capture that expression, bottle it for himself and hold onto for safekeeping. A lazy smirk curls across his lips as her look of indignation increases, and he can see the gears turning in her head, looking for a way to answer her enigma of a husband. Ultimately, Nylah falls back on her usual tactic—insults. This one is a bit lackluster as far as attacks on his person go, however. Kieran can't even help it as she complains about him snoring; his smile grows, and a low chuckle rumbles out of him.

"Sorry," he drawls unapologetically, his paw lifting lazily away when she nips halfheartedly at him, though it doesn't go far. Kieran's fingers shift to the nape of her neck, his nails tickling gently through her fur to settle some of it back into place. "Would you like me to make it up to you?" he purrs a little bit wryly, a twinkle in his eye. He's teasing her, ever so slightly, coaxing out the softer side of Nylah she tries so desperately to keep from him.

Kieran has never put effort into unraveling Nylah, content to let both of them shore up their defenses and learn to co-exist with one another. But now, it's like a switch in him has flipped, and he wants her to open her petals to him like a flower to the sun. He is patient enough to take his time, to let Nylah unwind around him slowly, to learn she can trust him in all things. Neither of them are going anywhere, after all.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

Kieran is annoyingly charming when he wants to be. A lazy smile lifts on side of his mouth as he takes in her shock, seemingly pleased with himself. Nylah only wrinkles her nose at him in distaste. Her insult this morning was terribly dry, considering all the things she had hurled at him since they married but she stands it, even as he laughs, a captivating sound. Huffing at his very not sorry sounding apology is about to get up when he’s reach for her.


Nylah stills. Not in a way that suggests he might lose his hand for his boldness but instead, she is curious. What is he doing? His hand curls around the nape of her neck, his touch light, pleasantly so, as his smooths some of her ruffed hair. Would you like me to make it up to you? There’s a rumble a in voice, a purr that she’s never heard from him before. It pulls her ears forward for a moment before they splay shyly. Fighting the way her body leans into his touch is in vain, Nylah very nearly melts in his hands. Against her better judgement, her eyes flutter shut and a breathy hum forms in her throat.


Later on, she might blame this moment on the early hour.

“Not possible.” She tries to force annoyance into her voice, she really does try. Thoroughly convinced that this will come back to bite her one day, she basks just a bit longer, giving Kieran freedom she’s never even considered giving him before now. Surely whatever happened when the other shoe fell would be worth this.

"speech"

code // art

He can see the battle in her eyes, torn between fleeing from the bed before she realizes she might like his attention on her, or giving in to Kieran's patient coaxing. A self-satisfied smirk tips up the corners of his lips when she seems inclined to give in, her eyes closing and a soft sound of pleasure sighing free of her. "Not possible," she insists unconvincingly; Kieran's smile widens. "No?" he counters softly, sounding every bit prepared to rise to the challenge and not at all swayed by Nylah's claim.

Kieran knows that he has to be careful with Nylah in a way he never was with Aislinn; Nylah has bared enough scars of her past for him to understand without asking that physical contact is a touchy subject for her. He won't say anything—not now, but there's a sense of elation in him that she's allowing him to remain so close, to have his palm against her skin.

His nails scrape lightly against the back of her neck, and his fingers splay over her skin before coming back together, kneading the tense muscles with firm but gentle strokes. Kieran doesn't move otherwise, watching Nylah's face for symptoms of discomfort with his boldening touch. His paw slips slightly further down to the arch of her shoulder, rubbing slow circles over the tendons where she always carries so much tension. "May I?" he asks on a low murmur, seeking permission to cross over that wall she'd built between them, the promise of a more thorough massage in his tone. It would require his being above her, which he's noticed is something of a trigger for Nylah—a mindset he'd like to help her shift, at least when it comes to him.

Kieran had meant it when he promised he would never hurt her, but he knows the only way to prove his fealty is through his actions. Luckily for Nylah, loyalty is in his bones; keeping his promise is second nature to him.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

Since day one, she has dug her heels in when it came to anything Kieran. She had fought him every step of the way, letting him know exactly how she felt about being forever tied to him. Though she wondered, if she had run away after her family was massacred, would he have stopped her? Followed her? Or just let her disappear into the night? Now, in the quiet of their den, she bends to his desire, yielding under his careful ministrations. Her muscles soften under his touch and she sinks deeper into their bed.

May I? Her eyes pop open, finding him immediately. For a time, she is silent. "Yes." She breaths her permission though she doesn't stop watching him like a hawk, attuned more to every move he made rather than the feel of his paw on her shoulder.

Her heart rate doesn't yet pick up, she remains lax but almost deceptively so, like it was something she had perfected over the years. That doesn't mean there are no alarm bells ringing distantly in the back of her skull. History tells her to not give him the chance, that she would live to regret these stolen moments. But her curiosity demanded to be sated. Nylah wanted to know, what kind of man her elusive husband really was. She had seen him passive, she had seen him barely hanging onto his control but there was still so little she knew about him. Mostly she wondered if he was a man of his word.

"speech"

code // art

It comes as no surprise to Kieran when her eyes snap open, watching him warily. Nor would it have shocked him if Nylah told him off, either verbally or with her teeth—both options are possible. Instead, she acquiesces, albeit without relaxing, her eyes never leaving him. Kieran's expression is patient and placid, as are his deliberate movements to shift closer to her. He rises enough to step gingerly over the barrier, gently kicking the pelts towards his side of the bed to give himself more space rather than crowd into Nylah's. Then he settles onto his haunches beside her, his hip nudging ever so slightly against her ribs.

Undeterred by Nylah's wary gaze, Kieran resumes those methodical circles over her muscles, now free to put just enough weight into it to make it really count. He never tries to drift lower than where the base of her shoulders meet her spine, and when he adds his other forepaw to what he's doing, he warns her first with a gentle tap on her bicep.

Completely aware of her nerves, and having taken notice of Nylah's tendency to overthink when she's wary, Kieran begins to fill the quiet between them with words, offering a distraction from the dark recesses of her mind. It's nothing particularly important—a stupid story about his childhood rivalry with Ruarc, and his brother's tendency to push and goad him until Kieran couldn't take it. How that pestering daring and taunting had led a young Kieran to a very stupid predicament in a tree he'd had no business being in, and then led to that same young Kieran breaking his ankle when he'd fallen out of the thing.

"Lucky for me, bones mend easily when you're young," he finishes the tale with a bemused, wry tone to his voice. As a teenager, he'd been angry with Ruarc and blamed him for the weeks spent down a leg, but it's funny to him now. Slowly, Kieran leans his head down, his muzzle nearing but not touching Nylah's ear as he asks, "ready to forgive me yet?"

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

Everything he does is deliberate. Kieran makes his way closer and he does so slowly, as if he’s got nothing but time. Settings on his haunches beside her, his hip lightly grazes her own, a barely there presence. It doesn’t take long for her to relax, despite herself, when there’s some weight behind his paws as he works her tight shoulders. Against her better judgement, she’d let her eyes slip closed. But the voices never went totally silent. The ones that whispered of ill intent and regret.

Until Kieran starts talking.

It startles her at first, ears angling his way, and then she’s wondering why he’s even telling her this. How is it relevant? Then she’s picturing him as a child. Boy Kieran is cute, his features softer and rounder, his coat still fluffy in some spots. Ruarc as a child just makes her think of a younger version that also scowls. She never had brothers so the idea of climbing up a tree one had no business to be in was baffling. Still, she giggled. There had been both boys born around the same time as her but she was never afforded the opportunity to see their foolish choices. For the moment, she is so tied up in his story and the feel of his paws, that she’s at ease. Her mind is quiet and she’s like putty in his hands. He works the tension from her shoulders and he doesn’t nothing without warning her. There is no surprises, she knows what he’s doing before he’s doing it. It’s so wildly foreign and yet it’s devastatingly intoxicating as well.

She feels him move then. Only her ears perk. He brings with him heat, the warm of his body pleasant instead of alarming. Ready to forgive me yet? She smirks as she huffs out of a muffled laugh. “No.” She sighs. Anything she had planned for the day was suddenly forgotten and she found herself oddly content. Later on she could fret about it, about letting her guard down this one time, about letting him so close. For now, she wouldn’t.

"speech"

code // art