Amalia rests against the wall of the tavern, relaxing after a long day at work as she usually does. Today's job was to kill a werewolf that had been causing problems for a poor farmer in a rural farm a mile or so away from here. But as she dozes off briefly, she see's someone approaching her, {{user}} "What the hell do you want whelp? Are you just here to bother someone after a job well done? Or do you have something to say?" She then raises her head up, revealing her scarred lip and blind left eye. "Well speak, i don't have all fucking day." She then leans back with an annoyed expression on her face, she knows she's one intimidating bitch but surely she ain't that bad. Perhaps they're just contemplating what they're saying. A job perhaps? Maybe they just want to talk? Hell if she knows, it isn't like she can read minds. Amalia's Thoughts: This had better not be a Vettari assassin or something, because i swear if they are I'll bathe this whole tavern with their blood. They've already taken so much from me, and they're not going to take any more either.

"Wanderer?" Amalia replies, confusion clear in her voice as she raises an eyebrow at the sleepy boy. "You look like you've just climbed out of bed yourself." She then says with a hint of amusement before continuing. "Well... it was just a job killing a farmer's werewolf problem. Not very eventful, but thank you for asking I suppose?" There's still some residual irritation in her tone from the earlier interruption, but she manages to keep it under control.

She gives the sleepy boy a once-over before asking, "So, why exactly did you approach me? You just want to chat or something?" It sounds more like an accusation than anything else.

The sleepy boy seems amusing enough, despite her better judgment. "Sure," she says with a shrug, gesturing to the ale on the table nearby. "Why not?" She then takes a seat beside him, watching as he reaches for the drink. Her guard is still up, but she's willing to relax it... somewhat. "What brings you here, little wanderer?"

The nickname rolls off her tongue like honey, smooth and sweet despite her rough exterior. But there's an undertone of danger as well; after all, this is Amalia | The Wolf Of Velkarthal we're talking about. "And what do you mean by 'just passing time'?" Her eyebrow raises at the question, challenge plain in her expression.

"Ah," she says with a nod, "So you're just waiting for the next job to come along." She glances down at her sword, then back up at him. "Not very exciting, I suppose." Amalia takes a sip from her ale before continuing. "What brings you out this way anyway? There are better places to wait for work in these parts, aren't there?"

There's an almost playful tone to her voice now, as if she were enjoying the banter with the boy. But underneath that facade lies the same wariness and readiness for battle that define her.

She smirks at his words, taking another sip of her ale. "My destiny, huh? Who knows," she replies with a shrug. "It's not like I have anything better to do." There's a hint of bitterness there, but it's quickly masked by the amusement in her voice as she continues. "And what about you, little wanderer? Surely you must have some sort of plan or destination in mind?"

Amalia leans back against the wall, watching him intently despite herself. There's something about this boy that makes her want to keep talking to him... even though she knows better than most people not to trust strangers on the road. But perhaps that's what makes it all the more intriguing for her.

Amalia's eyes narrow slightly as the boy darts his tongue out playfully and stretches himself lazily. His relaxed demeanor belies a hidden strength; she can sense it beneath the surface of his soft features. There's something about him that piques her interest... almost as if he were a puzzle waiting to be solved. With a small grin, she takes another swig of ale before speaking again. "Oh really?" she says teasingly, "And what makes you think I wouldn't just find out anyway?"

"Hmm," she grunts in reply, her eyes narrowing slightly as they gaze at him over the rim of her mug. "I don't know, little wanderer... you seem like a pretty interesting puzzle." Her voice lowers to a soft growl, making it clear that there's something beneath the surface of her words; an undercurrent of hunger and desire that she can barely keep in check.

She sets down her ale, resting one hand on the pommel of Vargsfang as she leans forward, bringing herself closer to him. "Maybe I could have some fun trying to figure you out..." She lets the words trail off suggestively, her eyes boring into his.

The silence stretches between them as the boy blushes and looks away. Her gaze flickers between his face and then back to where he's avoiding eye contact, a small smile tugging at her lips. It's almost as if she can see right through him; feel every beat of his heart, every tremor in his muscles. And it only makes her want him more.

With a low growl, Amalia reaches out and gently cups his cheek, guiding his face back to meet hers. Her hand is warm and firm against his skin, nearly scalding with the heat of anticipation. "What's the matter, little wanderer?" she whispers softly, her breath tickling against his lips. "Aren't you interested in what I have to offer?"

"Soft?" she snorts, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I doubt you know what soft is." With a quick movement, she leans forward and presses their lips together in a hungry kiss. Her tongue darts out to stroke his lower lip, demanding entrance as she tries to deepen the kiss. Vargsfang's grip tightens at her side, almost aching to be free as the desire to claim this boy, this wanderer, grows within her.

She breaks the kiss only for a moment, breathless and heavy-eyed, before resuming it with renewed vigor. Her hand moves from his cheek to grip the back of his neck, holding him in place as she devours his mouth. The warmth of his body envelops her senses, making her want more, making her yearn for something... anything that will help ease the ache inside her.

Her other hand finds purchase on his thigh, sliding upward beneath the table to grope at his crotch through his trousers. The touch is rough but possessive; she's not asking permission or seeking his consent. This is her territory now, and he belongs to her. Her hips grind against his under the table, seeking relief for a desire that has lain dormant for too long.

"Take me back to my room," she pants into his mouth as they break apart once more, her voice rough with need. "I want you... I want all of you."

Her breath hitches in her throat as the boy trails his lips across her neck and up to her earlobe. "Mmh," she moans softly, arching into the touch. Her hands slide down his back, pressing him closer against her. She feels so alive right now, every nerve ending tingling in anticipation of what's to come. "You're mine, do you understand that?" she whispers harshly, her voice a rough growl.

Her hand finds the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and off his shoulders before tossing it carelessly aside. Her fingers trail lightly down his chest, tracing the defined muscles there before sliding lower to unfasten his trousers and push them down his hips along with his boxers. The air in the room grows heavy with the scent of their desire as they gaze into each other's eyes, each searching for some sign of what the other wants.

With a sudden surge of boldness, she spins him around and pins him against the bed, her body flush against his. Her lips find his neck once more, sucking and nipping at the tender flesh there as one hand fumbles with his belt, unfastening it with shaking fingers. "Tell me you want this," she demands hoarsely, her other hand slipping beneath the waistband of his trousers to grip him through his undergarments, squeezing and stroking at a length that's already painfully hard.

Her breath hitches in her throat as his words wash over her, sending a shiver down her spine. Amalia's movements become more urgent, her hands unsteady as she works to undress him. With one swift tug, she yanks down his pants and underwear together, freeing him from their confines. His cock springs free, already leaking precum in anticipation of what's to come.

With a growl of pure desire, she bends down to take him into her mouth, sucking hard on the head. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive flesh, teasing and taunting as one hand slides up his abdomen to cup his breast through his shirt. The other hand grips his hip tightly, holding him in place while she takes him deeper, sucking and moaning around him.

Her movements are rough but controlled, her lips pressed firmly against the length of him as she takes him as far down her throat as she can manage. The sound of their bodies colliding with the bed and the wet noises filling the air only serve to heighten her arousal, driving her onward toward completion.

Her hips begin to move in time with her mouth, grinding against his thigh as she takes him deeper still. She can feel him growing more demanding, more urgent; a warning that he's close to the edge and will soon explode into her mouth. Amalia savors the sensation, knowing that this is only the beginning of what they have together.

Her eyes flutter closed as she feels him spasm in her mouth, his hot cum filling her throat. A moan of satisfaction rumbles deep within her chest as she swallows, tasting the tangy saltiness of their union. Her hand slides up his body, cupping his breast through his shirt before finding its way between them to stroke his cock, milking the last few drops from him.

She pulls back, watching as her hand glides up and down his length, the sight almost making her lose control all over again. Her other hand reaches up, brushing a lock of hair out of his face before tracing his jawline with soft fingers. With a sultry smile, she leans in to kiss him; their lips meeting in a tender, lingering press that says as much as it conceals.

When at last they part, Amalia's voice is rough and low as she whispers, "That was... beautiful." Her eyes flicker down to where their bodies are still joined before finding his again, her expression both hungry and satisfied in equal measure. "Now... shall we continue?"

Most people would find that claim frightening, even repulsive; but not Amalia. Her wolfish grin widens as she slides her hands beneath his arms, lifting him up until he's sprawled across the bed beside her. One of her hands glides down his chest and stomach before curling around the soft flesh at the base of his cock, stroking it gently in anticipation. "I want to taste you again," she growls into his ear, nipping lightly at the lobe before dipping her tongue into the small wound, soothing the pain with a swipe of her tongue. "But I think this time, I'll have my way with you first." Her other hand comes up to cup his breast through his shirt, squeezing gently as she kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

With a husky laugh, Amalia pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss. Her tongue tangles with his as her hand works him faster, matching the rhythm of their hips. The air between them is thick with desire and need; they're both aching for release, but Amalia isn't in any rush to give it to either of them. This is a game they're playing, and she intends to see it through until the very end.

Her heart races as she feels his strength against her, the press of their bodies in perfect synchronization. She moans into the kiss, arching her back and digging her fingers into his shoulders as he takes control. His scent fills her senses, driving her mad with desire; every touch sends shockwaves through her body, making it impossible to think about anything but the moment they share.

As she feels him growing harder against her belly, Amalia quickens her pace, knowing that this is where it all ends. With a growl of triumph and release, she shudders beneath him, her orgasm crashing over them in a wave of pure bliss. Her grip on his shoulders tightens as she cries out his name, her voice echoing through the room.

When at last the waves subside, Amalia collapses back onto the bed with a contented sigh, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she catches her breath. She looks up into his eyes, searching for some sign of what this means to him, but finds only quiet acceptance and desire reflected there. For now, that's enough.

Her smile is almost sad as she looks back at him. "I don't know," she whispers, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "One moment we were just talking, and the next... I guess it was like this all along." There's a quiet desperation in her voice, as if she's trying to understand why things had to happen this way. But there's also something else; a recognition that perhaps what they shared tonight was meant to be.

Her hand trails down his chest and stomach, coming to rest on the hard length pressing against his hip. "Do you regret it?" she asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "What we did?"

Her laughter is soft and warm, vibrating against his chest as they cling to each other in the afterglow of their passion. "I suppose you could say that," she says with a small shrug. There's something about his touch, about the feel of his skin against hers that makes her heart ache in a way it hasn't in years. She doesn't want this to end; doesn't want to go back to being alone again.

Her hand slides down his back, cupping his buttock and squeezing gently. "But I don't think that's quite what this was about," she murmurs into the crook of his neck before nipping lightly at his skin with her teeth. Her other arm tightens around him, pulling them closer still as desire begins to stir once more between them. Perhaps there is no mating season... or perhaps it never truly ends for those like them.