The Wolf & The Oriole

CODE: M (set in the Manitou Island storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): NA

PAIRING: Moon Wolf/Oriel (Oriole) (M/F)

EXPLANATION: Remember Oriel? From the non-erotic scene "The Witness"? SPOILERS. She was the young daughter of voyageur Francois and his wife Angelique, who was kidnapped and carried away after her mother was raped and murdered by natives. Even while Francois eventually gave up his search for his daughter, believing her dead, and moved on to Manitou Island, Oriel was being raised by the Iroquois who had rescued her from being killed by his companions during the assault. She was adopted as his own daughter and raised by him and his wife, along with their son, though of course she never quite fit in among them. After some time she learned accidentally that her father was still alive (she had been told he was dead), and with the help of her brother left the tribe, and over time made her way to Manitou Island, where the traders and voyageurs in Mackinaw said Francois now lived. To her people the Island was little more than a myth, but Oriel--who had been renamed "Oriole" by her new mother and father--managed to find it...and her real father, as well.

WELL! That's a scene for an as-yet unwritten story. This scene HERE focuses on what happens a little bit after that. Oriel/Oriole is, of course, understandably confused about this weird Island and its strange ways, and this is only compounded by the fact that the Islanders see her as not only an outsider but an enemy. Cue Oriole's run-in with disgraced medicine man Moon Wolf, who has a shady past of his own among the Islanders. I figured, he's had it crappy enough; why not pair him up with somebody who can really care about him? (Unlike his past ill-fated relationship with the demon Ocryana, from which union Shadow Water of the serial was born.) I've also been intrigued lately by the whole native/white dynamic always taking place on the Island, and so decided to reverse the typical white male/native female thing (see "Sex Change" and "Wedding Night" if you're more into that) and see what would happen. This scene resulted. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMERS: This scene is new as of September '04, so, none that I know of.

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The Wolf & The Oriole

She smiled at him slightly, as if uncertain whether to do so was the right thing. He could only stare back. Her company was still foreign to him, and he wasn't always certain about foreign things. Why she even insisted on coming here was odd enough in itself.

He blinked when she stood, keeping her head low to avoid bumping it against the cave ceiling, and came over to sit next to him. She smiled at him again and this time it was more genuine. He felt a mild bit of unease, now that she sat so closely that he could feel the warmth from her body despite the fire burning before them. He couldn't quite place why her presence was bothering him so much, yet it was.

He noticed that she still stared at him, and when he focused on her eyes again she finally broke the stare, yet lifted her hand. When her fingers lightly touched his face, everything in his head screamed at him to back away, yet he froze. Oriole hesitantly leaned toward him, and the next thing he knew, he felt her lips against his, her tongue running over his mouth.

He sucked in a breath, feeling stunned, but apparently she took the sign differently, for as soon as he opened his mouth, he felt her tongue against his own, gently curling and prodding. His heart started thudding hard and fast when she drew herself closer to put her arms over his shoulders, her breast--still clad in her soft doeskin dress--brushing against his chest. He felt all of his muscles tense like bowstrings waiting to be snapped. He wanted to shut his mouth, but couldn't, and instead found his tongue prodding back at her own. Even though he willed himself not to, as much as he could, still his hand rose, trembling slightly, and just barely touched her cheek. She pressed her face against his palm and his fingers tangled in her hair, the softness of it making his skin prickle. She slid her arms down to slip them beneath his own, touching his back, his sides, before one hand descended even further, moving over his ribs, his belly, and down. As soon as it reached his breechcloth it stopped and she curled her fingers inward to squeeze at him there, and he jerked suddenly, letting out a startled gasp. Images flooded his head, reminding him of why he did not want her to be here.

The demoness...this was exactly what she'd done. How she'd won him. Her promises of granting him power, greater power than he'd ever possessed, had first lured him in, but her touches had trapped him and kept him. Even now he couldn't be certain how long the two of them had spent together that first night alone, and that had not been the only night. She had touched his face as well, kissed him, run her fingers over his body...and the clouds she had cast upon his mind were such that he hadn't even cared that she was not like his kind, with her wolfen face and furred body and arching wings and snake tail. Her fingertips had been ice cold, but they had not stopped him. Her body pressing to him had sent shocks over his skin until he shook uncontrollably, and her mocking laughter had not made him want to stop either. He'd known...somehow...on some level...that he would regret this. Yet that hadn't mattered. She'd had him, and that was all that counted. And she had submitted, lifting her tail and crouching low to the ground and keeping her thighs spread as he clutched her hips and pounded at her as hard and deep as he could, crying out hoarsely at every climax...he couldn't believe how much need had been in him, how much lust, with how many times she'd brought out his seed. That night had been long enough, yet she'd come to him again, and again...some part of him wished that she desired him, when he knew this was not true, even though the glazed look in her eyes when he pressed her down upon her back and thrust at her that way showed that she enjoyed some part of their coupling. And she had allowed him to take her as many times as he needed to, the fire blazing inside him greater every time...and she had hazed his mind so much so that even the last time they were together, he had not noticed--not consciously, at least--that as he ran his hands up and down her body, caressing her between her wet lips and her hard teats, his fingers had trailed over her furry belly, and it had been just slightly swollen and rounded, more distended than it had been before...

She had never come to him again after that, although she upheld her bargain, and his powers were greater than those of any other human upon the Island...yet he knew then, without her clouding influence on his mind, what her real purpose with him had been...and utter disgust with himself had made him refuse those powers, shunning their use and turning to the teaching of benign medicine, instead...yet not one day passed when he did not think over all of those times he had taken her, and wonder exactly which one it had been which had been successful...when exactly his seed had taken root inside her, swelling her belly and ending her purpose with him...he still wondered when, and how, his child had been born, without him near, much less all the misery his daughter had gone through growing older, until she had finally been freed...

He had been thoroughly willing to kill her, in order to end her mother's influence over her, even though that had not been needed...

All of these thoughts--as well as every single flash, every sight, sound, smell, taste, feeling of Ocryana, every feeling of himself inside her--came into his head, all of this and more, when Oriole lightly squeezed at his groin, causing him to jerk and gasp, startled. She appeared to mistake the sign for passion, as her kiss became stronger and she pulled herself as close as she could so their bodies finally pressed together. Her breasts mashed against his chest, making him hitch in a breath. Even though he did everything he could to will himself to resist, his body disobeyed; he felt himself swelling and growing hard, and struggled to keep his thoughts and his breathing level.

Out of all the medicine that Ocryana had given him, why had she not granted him this one ability...?

He lifted his hand, to push Oriole away, he told himself...yet when she pulled back just slightly, and his palm ended up upon her breast instead, and she tossed her head and let out a throaty gasp, all of his restraint faltered and then snapped completely. His mind still screamed at him--Remember what happened before--don't let it happen again--remember what happened before--yet he couldn't control himself. Her hold didn't haze his mind so much as Ocryana's had, but it was effective enough. That first gasp had made his hand start to shake; he then curled his fingers inward, to squeeze the soft mound in his palm. For some reason he expected his own caress to wake her up, drive her off--yet it had just the opposite effect. She pulled her hands away from him and they fluttered up to the tie at the base of her throat, fumbling to pull it loose; she hurriedly worked at all of the bindings on her clothing, undoing the knots, quickly pulling the doeskin and cloth away from her body and then reaching for the dress itself. Moon Wolf's eyes traveled down her body as she tugged almost frantically at the rest of her clothing. Her skin was milky white, so different from his own; her breasts were large and well formed now that they hung free of their constraints--full, round, heavy breasts, perfect for feeding children, if she should have had any. Her nipples stood out hard and rosy pink, her auburn hair trailing over her pale shoulders. She struggled to her knees and pulled down on her dress, and it was when the smallest bit of auburn fluff peeked from between her legs that he reached out and took hold of her abruptly, grasping her arms and pushing her down to the cave floor as he climbed atop her, panting hoarsely.

Oriole gasped; he then took hold of the top of her dress and yanked it off of her hips, freeing them. It tangled briefly around her legs but she kicked it off and then started trying to help him with his own clothing, as he himself fumbled to untie his loincloth; it had never seemed so difficult to undo before! He glanced at her several times as their hands worked, to see the look on her face--he always expected to see fear there, hesitation, dread, yet her blue eyes were alight and burning, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as the breath came fast in her throat. Her red-brown hair spread all around her; he wanted to press his face into it, into the soft matching hair between her wide milky thighs. She was not his kind, yet her body was so perfect to him--her heavy breasts, narrow waist, strong legs, her hips ripe and perfect for childbearing--he felt he could never have found someone more perfect had he searched every tribe on the Island. Their fingers tangled repeatedly as they tore at his clothing, at last pulling it loose and tossing it aside. He then pushed his breechcloth up and aside, not even bothering with his leggings; his shaft protruded fully erect now from its nest of black hair, its tip throbbing and wet. Again he briefly sought her face for hesitation, only to find none. Oriole's eyes glazed and she reached for him, quickly spreading her thighs.

Moon Wolf didn't wait for her to change her mind. He swung his leg over hers and dropped down onto his hands and knees, pressing one hand against the moist spot between her legs, spreading her wet lips. She arched her neck and panted. He pressed himself to her, positioning himself before pulling his hand free, grabbing her hip instead, and plunging forward, his entry swift and brutal. Oriole bucked and screamed at the cave ceiling, the sound echoing all around them and ringing in his ears. Warm blood flowed out of her, slickening him, yet he didn't slow himself or hesitate. His fingers dug into her soft flesh and he gritted his teeth and thrust forward again. And again she bucked, though this time with a harsh gasp, and her legs rose up to clasp around his waist, her feet pressed against his buttocks. She grabbed hold of his arms, and he dropped his head to mouth one of those full breasts. His tongue traced over her nipple and Oriole moaned aloud, arching. Moon Wolf released her teat and placed his hand upon the hard ground, concentrating now on what mattered most, and started thrusting at her hard and fast, grunting as he rutted, hearing her gasps and cries of pleasure as she writhed beneath him, her legs hugging him tight and urging him on. His eyes focused on her slender white neck as she tossed her head from side to side, clawing at his arms and chest; she let go of him to clutch her breasts, squeezing them so they protruded up at him even more prominently than before. Her voice was husky, deeper than he would have expected from such a young woman, yet despite her until recently untouched state, full of lust and earthiness when she spoke.

"These...these are for you...I give them to you...my Wolf...they are for you...oh my Wolf...oh...oh yes..."

Moon Wolf gritted his teeth again, feeling flames coursing through his blood. Oriole moaned and twisted. He wanted to grasp her breasts again, in his hands, yet would lose his balance, his momentum, if he did so. He dropped his head to lick at them instead, afraid of biting them too hard should he take them in his mouth. His tongue moving over her already-wet skin seemed to placate her, and she moaned again, letting them go and grasping hold of his upper arms instead. Her hips rocked beneath him, facilitating his thrusting; he pressed himself close and buried his face in her hair, a loud moan rising in his throat. They had not even been coupling for fifteen minutes yet, but already he felt himself starting to come. He'd never had such a loss of control, not even when with the demoness; at least he'd lasted somewhat longer, for her. Oriole's belly tightening against his own made him shudder; he clutched her hard enough to bruise, jerking heavily with an abrupt grunt. She sucked in a breath and stiffened against him, freezing that way; he let out his breath as he felt his hardness start to die, his seed flowing away inside her. He shut his eyes, still breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling utterly disgusted with himself. They lay upon each other, panting, and he silently berated himself. He didn't even know if she herself had come or not. He hadn't felt her do so.

After some time had passed he felt her letting out her breath and relaxing. He took this cue to gently grasp her and pull himself out, pushing himself up over her. He peered down at her face and was relieved that she wasn't looking at him, though he couldn't describe the expression there; was she disappointed? Regretful? He bit the inside of his mouth and sat down heavily beside her, wiping his face. They said nothing for a very long time, and she didn't move, but to place her arm over her breasts as if ashamed to be seen that way. He considered at least covering her with her clothing if that was how she felt, yet refrained from doing so. Perhaps it would be best to let her leave on her own.

He heard a soft shuffling noise and she slowly pushed herself upright. He peered at her from the corner of his eye, and saw how her mussed hair fell forward to shield her face; yet he had seen the blush there, the averted eyes, and berated himself again.

I should not have done this. She didn't want it...shouldn't I know by now that just because a woman says she does, does not mean she does want it...?

Oriole lifted a hand to brush her hair back, her fingers running through the knots and loosening them. She seemed to finally notice her naked state and blushed even deeper, drawing her knees up and tucking her feet beneath her; she winced slightly when he sensed that she felt the blood upon her, and she hugged her arms to herself tightly. Guilt flooded over him; he wanted nothing more than to leave the cave, and stay away until she was gone, yet the thought of abandoning her so soon after seemed even more hateful. He sat silent and tried to decide what would be best to do.

She brushed back a lock of hair when it fell forward again. "And so...does this mean I am yours, now?" she asked softly.

Moon Wolf lifted his head and blinked. He turned to look at her, brow furrowing. She met his eyes, but just briefly, before dropping her gaze again. Her cheeks were still pink.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a bit more sharply than he'd intended.

She flushed. She twisted the lock of hair around her finger. "Back in the tribe of my pa--in my tribe," she murmured, so quietly that he had to strain to hear. "My mother and fa--the...the ones who took me in...they would do this, at night, when my brother and I were supposed to be sleeping...and my fa--he who took me in...he would always say, 'You are mine, you are my wife,' when he did so...and when I finally asked my brother he said that this is what husbands and wives do. I stayed with him once, after he had moved out of our home, and he did the same thing with his wife."

"You are not my wife," Moon Wolf said. He winced to himself after he said it, it came out so abruptly, with no thought at all; yet it had seemed like the right thing to say. Still, he hated himself for the look that flickered across her face before she turned her head, hair again trailing over her shoulders. She slowly drew her knees up to hug them to her chest.

"I see," she murmured, and fell silent for so long that he was certain they were through speaking. "It is because I'm not one of your people, isn't it?" she at last added, making him look at her again. She stayed seated the way she was, head lowered, face invisible. "Not only this, but raised by they whom your people hate. I was told I wouldn't be welcomed here."

Moon Wolf stared at her for a moment before sighing to himself and looking away. He drew his own knees up and they both sat staring vaguely in the direction of the cave wall. "This is not it," he said, trying to keep his voice quiet, neutral, despite the bitterness he felt rising in his breast.

"Then...you already have someone?" When his shoulders slumped she raised her voice a little. "I would not even mind. I wouldn't be jealous. I could help her, and I know my place...my brother took two wives, and so I know how it works. I would never complain, not once."

He shut his eyes again; her voice had taken on a desperate edge that grated on his nerves. "I am not wed," he nearly snapped, before struggling to calm himself down again. From the corner of his eye he saw the confused look on her face, and wanted nothing more than to leave the cave right then and there, before he could make it any worse. The confusion changed to hurt and he ground his teeth again. Too late.

"So...I did not do well." She paused, then started to reach for her dress. "I am sorry," she said, sounding embarrassed, and stood, carefully pulling her dress up over her legs and hips. He sat where he had been left as she put her arms through the sleeves and started tying it to herself, her face red with shame. "I will not bother you anymore."

He frowned to himself as she gathered the rest of her clothes, clumsily trying to put them on. He looked up at her and the meaning of what she'd said finally hit him. He blinked, then got to his feet. She didn't notice until he grasped her arm, making her gasp and drop her legging. She lifted her head; her thick hair framed her face, throwing it into shadow, and her eyes were wide, almost wild, like those of a hunted animal.

He let go of her arm. She slowly pulled it back toward herself, rubbing at it as if he'd bruised her. "You..." He faltered, trying to think of what to say to calm her down. "It was nothing you did," he said.

She continued rubbing her arm, then looked down at the cave floor. "There's no other reason, is there...? You're not wed, and my people do not offend you, so...I must not be pleasing enough to be a wife." The color rose in her face again and she reached down for her legging. "I'm sorry that I bothered you like this..."

He took her hand before it could reach the piece of clothing, and held it. She didn't pull away, but neither did she look up at him. He bit his tongue and hated that the look on her face was his fault. He couldn't say anything for a few moments, as the right words refused to come; finally he gave up, and said simply what was on his mind.

"Why did you come here?" When she looked up at him at last his brow furrowed. "Why did you choose me? Out of everyone else on the Island?"

Her own brow furrowed slightly, then she looked at the ground. "I wish to be married," she said softly. "I do not know this Island. I would feel safer. And I do not know anyone here."

"You hardly know me either."

"You were kind to me."

"This is little reason to come here and..." Moon Wolf trailed off, then flushed and gestured at her clothing "...do this."

Oriole carefully pulled her hand away. She fiddled at the tie to her dress. "I thought you would make a good husband," she whispered.

Moon Wolf blinked again. The silence grew excruciating.

"You did not do this because you felt you owed it?" he asked at last.

Her head jerked up, her cheeks going almost as red as her hair. "No!" she exclaimed, and the sharp tone of her voice made him wince. "I would never do that!" She ducked her head as if embarrassed by her outburst and her fingers fiddled even more furiously. "I--I did it because--"

He took a step toward her and took her hand, pulling it away from her dress. Her eyes widened; she lifted her head, and as soon as she saw how close he was, the crimson returned. She threatened to duck her head again, but he placed his hand to her cheek and cupped it. They stared at each other; he felt her pulse pounding in her neck. His face grew perplexed.

"You thought this of me?"

The surprise started to fade from her face, and her eyes flicked to the side; when he moved his hand she shut them and rested her cheek against his palm. "I did," she murmured. "I do."

"I would not make you a good husband," Moon Wolf said, a hard edge entering his voice.

"Would you mistreat me? Or abandon me?"

His eyes grew. "Of course I would not," he retorted.

She opened her eyes. "Then I do not see why you would be such a poor choice."

He stared at her in confusion, but her own stare didn't waver this time. He was the one who had to look away, feeling his ears growing hot.

"There are things I will not tell you. These things..."

"They are in the past, right? I do not care." She pulled her hand away and lifted her head. "My father..." He met her eyes and she seemed to grow mildly embarrassed again, taking a small step back. "That is...if..."

He didn't wait for her to finish. His hand cupped her face again before she could continue speaking, and when she lifted her head he pressed his mouth to hers. He felt her body tense, then relax, and her arms slipped around him. Their hips met, and even through her dress he felt the warm hollow between her legs. He slid his free hand down her back to cup her buttock, squeezing it tightly; when his kiss moved down her neck she let out a wavery gasp. He mouthed her collarbone; she took a step back and they sank to the cave floor again, their hands exploring. His breath started to come fast as he ran his hand up the inside of her dress, the doeskin bunching around her hips. They both fumbled to untie it once more, and within moments Oriole was again bared to him. She panted quickly, caressing his own buttocks, his back, his arms and chest. He kissed her, pushed himself up, stroked her belly; she rolled over compliantly, pushing herself up onto hands and knees. He came up behind her, bending over her and kissing her neck, squeezing her breasts. He pressed his hips to her backside.

His tongue ran up the edge of her ear. She arched her neck, mouth open and eyes shut. "Your father," he whispered gutturally.

She gasped, trembling; his fingers rubbed over the slick spot between her legs. "I...I do not know...what he will think...if..."

"His wife...she is one of my people..." He scored his teeth against her nape. She whimpered. "I will ask him for you..."

Oriole moaned softly. He ran his hands up, splaying her legs and feeling her arch her back. Her entire body thrummed when he mounted her deeply, letting out his breath, immense relief flooding through him at the feeling of her tightness enveloping him. They both dropped their heads, her arms and knees keeping her propped up as he clutched her upper arms and began rocking, the two of them coupling quickly and purposefully upon the floor of the cave. They didn't even bother speaking, or kissing or fondling, now that it was understood; all that mattered now was this joining, the feel of their bodies against and within each other, as they moved; Oriole gasped for breath and whimpered, telling Moon Wolf all that he needed to know. Even as he pushed, moving back and forth heavily, he thought over what great animal he would kill, when he would bring it to the trapper living in the woods, what he would say, how Oriole would feel once she was properly beside him, in his bed, as his wife. These thoughts fueled him on, and he gripped her tighter and thrust harder, his breathing harsh; Oriole tightened and shook, accepting him. For a long time the only sounds in the cave were their heavy panting and the tight murmurs that they let out the faster they moved, hands and knees scuffling at the floor.

Eventually Oriole lay upon her belly, too exhausted to remain upright, Moon Wolf still gripping her body and shifting back and forth atop her, his legs splayed over her sides. He squeezed her with each thrust, gritting his teeth. They both lasted longer this time, now that he'd satisfied himself with her already; and the way that she began to moan loudly, tensing and quivering beneath him, her fingers digging into the ground, told him that the desire was rising in her as well. He made certain to straddle her more closely, push himself deeper, rubbing against her in a more pleasurable way; and to his relief she came first, crying out huskily, her legs going stiff between his own. Her buttocks pressed upon him and he grunted and squirted, clutching her shoulders and letting out his breath as he emptied inside her. Oriole moaned into the ground, slowly going limp.

"M...Moon Wolf..." she whispered, her hair falling damp and tangled over her face.

Moon Wolf sat atop her for several moments, struggling to catch his breath, before he even dared pulling himself out. He came out sleek and wet, and the feeling made him shudder, though not with disgust; he slipped his hand between her legs and ran his fingers up her cleft, feeling her tremor, and looking with glazed eyes at the fluids which had collected on his fingers. He put them to his mouth, shutting his eyes as he tasted. He would have loved nothing more than to take his tongue to her, and feel her do the same to him, yet they were both exhausted by now, and he was not certain whether she would comply. It mattered little. He opened his eyes and reached out to roll her over, brushing the long red hair from her face as he carefully straddled her again, not entering her. She stared up at him, her own eyes glassy, her lips wet and the nipples of her heavy breasts peeking up at him. He cupped one in his hand and bent over so their heads touched. Her breath fanned warm over his face.

He felt her tentatively touch him back. Her voice was soft, quavery.

"And so...am I...?"

"I will speak with your father." He ran his hand up over her breast, to stroke her face. "I would like for you to be my wife."

She shivered. He felt her slip her arms around his back, to pull him close, and the two of them kissed one another deeply in the dimness of the cave.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.

Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.