She quivers before him, her lithe body quaking like that of a scared kitten yet she was not fearful. The vibrations of her chassis is from the anger that emanates from her soul. It licks at him, teasing his own out as he glares. She should submit, but to do so would cause him to lose all respect for her. He wanted, no needed someone who did not fear him. He needed peers who knew how to withstand the heat of his stare and the force behind his temper. He needed an equal. She speaks, her words a cool breath upon his visage and it soothes some ragged part of his soul. Slightly. It is then that his eyes widen before narrowing once again. She tells him to make his own choices. If he were to do such a thing would she allow him? Would she stand for it? ”I know that I am strong but it takes more than that to make it in this world.” He trails off for a moment before forging on. ”I do make my own choices, but I have to draw upon something. Everything needs a foundation, mine is just fractured. Do tell Firefly, if I were to demand your paw would you give it to me? IF I were to chose a path of war and battle would you approve? Why do you care if I self destruct?” He falls silent, tactically leaving off the part where he wonders why does he care what she thinks.

He is broken and for her to attempt to pick up the pieces is a dangerous game. The slivered fragments would surely slice upon her delicate flesh. Her spilled mental anguish would mix with his, blending him to her. She would never escape his passion, would never know peace but neither do not know that yet. She does not know the depth of his emotions. He shields with anger because he does not know how to let go. He refuses to let go just like a stubborn ram. By being sweet and caring for him would only lead to something more, and he could not risk losing her. HE could not bear to never see her masked face, to delve into her mahogany eyes, to partake in her alluring aroma. She has became his obsession in the very purest meaning of the word and he does not know what to do.

Suddenly he is closer, his muzzle deep within the soft fur of her neck, his shudder melting beneath the gust of her gasp. His heart hammers, thudding a wild beat to the tune of a stampede. Within this moment he realizes, deep deep down that she is more than a fancy, that perhaps he cares more than he realized. It terrifies him yet he does not pull away as she leans into him. That simple act of acceptance breaks him, causes him to really see what he does not want to and it causes him to withdraw. His body is cold, longing for her embrace yet again. His fur covets her nose, his skin the soft tickle as she inhales his cologne. She is his princess, forbidden fruit that he starves after. His body shivers with the effort it takes to remain from her. He wants to take her, to press her body toward the ground. Not in dominance but in affection. He wants to feast upon her image, to nuzzle every crook and cranny of her chassis as he inspects her. He wants to leave his scent upon her, to proclaim that she is his and he was hers. It scares him.

A breath is taken as he delves into her shocked expression, drowning within her eyes once again as he steps forward to close her mouth with his muzzle. The gesture soft and affectionate. A complete 180 from earlier. Hot and cold. ”You should run Dragonfly. Your passion blinds you from the true danger of being with me. I can not be a gentlewolf. I am only in control of my emotions when you are near. You soothe the beast within me yet rile it at the same time. I burn with a need, with unmet wants when I inhale your perfume. I can not be without you, I can’t not protect you, to see to your needs, to study your strength.” He pauses, still very close yet not touching. All he would need to do would be to lean in, to press his fur to hers yet again, to melt within her scorching heat. ”I will always be your shadow, but I fear there will be a day that you would wish it not be. I feel I must protect you from me. I can not promise to be…composed.” What was he saying? Why was he still here?

Unable to stand it he leans in once again, pressing his snout to her ear. ”You will be the death of me but it shall be a glorious death indeed.” And with those last words he leaps from the boulder, long legs quickly eating up the earth as he disappears into the brush.