Ribbon.

Lucky's hands were stronger than Sodre remembered; touches against the Layer's skin that were meant to be gentle came rough, and too brief. The Layer squeezed his fists to keep still as the wolfe went barehanded over the terrain of Sodre's body, beginning at his legs and working swiftly - fingertips lingering over sun-tanned thighs, sketching uncertainly along an ilial crest, then the furrow of a scar along the belly; then too sharply along the rise of a collarbone.

Lucky grew frustrated at the barrier of clothes between them, growled, and stripped them both naked. Sodre shivered, and felt apprehension and a tightness in his chest that he assumed was anticipation. In a moment where the wolfe was distracted, he fumbled for his star and found it whole. Wild, unabashed relief rushed through him and he gave a little laugh of liberation. Then Lucky was returned, eyes wild as ever, and the rough hands and inarticulate movements were back - the wolf was pawing him, turning him to one side and then the other, pressing nose and mouth and nip of teeth into wrinkle of skin and ridge of bone. Sodre squeezed his hands into fists, laid still, and waited.

++

The little Layer's inclination had first begun to show at age nine, when Adotre had come upon Sodre and Lucky playing house in a clearing in the woods.
"Awoo, Sodre!" the elder Layer had called out as he made his way over to the thicket in which his son was busily ordering an array of nuts, stones, berries, and other small accoutrements he had gathered.
The little Layer looked up and grinned.
"Awoo, badi!"
Adotre leaned over to watch his son's meticulous work, then looked around and sniffed.
"Where's Kel'luknar?" he asked, curious but not concerned. Sodre heaved an exasperated sigh and continued to place his pebbles into precise, but inexplicable categories.
"Hunting, badi." he answered, with the impatient air of one answering a question whose answer should be obvious. Adotre nodded cautiously.
"And you didn't want to go?"
Sodre shrugged. This answer alone was curious, but not indicative. Adotre simply nodded.
"I see. Well, do you think he'll get back in time for you both to come to dinner?"
Sodre, who had been engrossed in his work, suddenly gasped and jumped to his feet. He dashed over to a particular spot some distance into the thicket and deposited his booty - a white feather, it seemed - into the spot. Curious, Adotre got down to his knees and crawled forward to take a look.

Close to where the feather had been dropped, the thicket seemed to ease up somewhat, and the older Layer found he could almost stand within a limited circled of space. He did so, as best he could, and peered down at the ground, his breath catching as he realized what he'd found. Inside Sodre and Lucky's playful thicket home rested a peculiar structure, apparently dug by the little Layer, which had been circled with stones and lined patchily with pine needles, scraps of leaf, and now the precious feather.

Adotre stood staring at it for a few moments, then turned slowly to his son and knelt before him. He pointed to the pit.
"Did you make this, Roo?"
Sodre, small in paws and mind, did not understand, and was fearful of his mother's sudden silence and potential chastisement, but did not lie.
"Yes," he said, and stamped up and down to shake the cold from his toes. "But it was just for playing," he added, nervously. Adotre nodded, slowly, and didn't speak. Sodre began to feel guilty about the whole thing. "I'm sorry, Badi! I thought it was OK to dig, because Appa said as long as you don't dig in the garden, then - "
"No, no." Adotre stopped his son with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's OK. It's OK. You're not in trouble. I'm not mad."
Sodre looked anxiously up at the adult, whose expression was distant and incomprehensible.
"And Appa won't be mad either?" he asked, just to check. Adotre smiled a happy, but wan smile.
"Well," he said, "He might be all sorts of things about this."
Sodre's face fell, and Adotre corrected himself immediately. "But I am certain that he won't be mad."
The little Layer relaxed, but worried at his lip with his teeth before asking,
"Well, what - what's wrong with my pit, then?"
Adotre shook his head.
"Not a pit, little one. It's a nest."

+++

Lucky had settled above him by then, and the wolfe's touch had become more urgent, more insistent. His knees banged loudly against the wooden floor of the cage beneath them, and Sodre momentarily feared waking the others - having audience of strangers for his breaching was a particular fear for young newels. Lucca, fortunately, had drawn the curtains around the cage for the night, and so the pair was offered at least some protection from curious eyes.

Lucky had rolled him so that they were now in one of the far corners of the cage, and now Sodre felt the cold bars pressing against his side; he whined and Lucky scooted them closer to the middle. Once settled, however, the last vestiges of lucidity fled Kel'luknar, and he growled, once, and set upon his mate. Sodre, to his nature, went willingly into the wolfe's hands. The exploration was swift, and rough - intaking the scent at all the important parts, testing the texture of skin and hair and nail, tasting each. Sodre laid still, but every few moments, when the wolfe was occupied with some peculiarity of his new mate, Sodre peered up at him - at the bend of a shoulder or the strain of a muscle; at the eyes, too dark to be discerned in the shadows. Sodre took these little pieces and stored them away, nestled them tenderly in his mind with all the other love-memories he had of Lucky, wanting to keep them to be savored later.

Lucky had moved and was sitting between Sodre's legs now, and the wolfe kissed him then, abruptly and fiercely, and there was a whistling of wind through leafy trees somewhere in the distance. Overhead, unseen by either halfling, the moon peered playfully from behind a passing cloud, then shone on. Sodre shifted to leverage Lucky's weight and felt his own dampness; a rush of heat and scent came off of him and enticed the wolfe, drew him closer. Lucky curiously stroked two fingers along the Layer's sensitive entrance, making the littler one gasp and wriggle. This pleased the wolfe immensely, and he chuffed and dipped his head to kiss the Layer's belly.

They played in that manner for only a short time more; Lucky's heat was powerful, and erratic, as first heats tended to be. He tired of touching his mate quickly; wanted the satisfaction of thrusting deep into the crescent of Sodre's sex, and this spurred him to rush. Sodre wriggled and Kel'luknar tested his readiness with one finger, slipped into the Layer's slick and leaking entrance. Sodre arched and gasped a little, but was careful not to pull away; not to resist or give challenge to the wolfe. Lucky took this as encouragement, and pressed two fingers in, then three and Sodre couldn't help but flinch away a little because it just felt like so much. He keened (quietly so as not to be heard by any of the half-Sand) and the wolfe in Lucky took mercy on his mate, retreated, and licked his cheek in assurance. Sodre nuzzled him in response and tried not to frighten himself too much with worries about how wrong this all could go. Unseen above the cage, the clouds pushed away again and the moon shone out.

Lucky sniffed at the Layer's neck then licked it, inquiringly, so Sodre took the wolfe's face between his hands and kissed him. Lucky took this in the manner it was intended, grunted a satisfied noise, then positioned himself and thrust his heavy cock fully into Sodre's virgin entrance. The Layer had known that this was coming, and had tried to prepare himself; this effort had been to no avail. Again, it all felt like too much - to be breached, without ceremony or audience; to be breached by Lucky, of all people; to be kidnapped, stolen, transported; to be lying here in a dark cage under the night stars with a heat-mad wolfe whom he loved madly and no idea if either of them would ever be getting back home. All of it was too much for Sodre, and he had to bite down hard on his new mate's shoulder to keep from bursting into tears.

+++

"I don't need a reason. I can just tell." Gustin reasoned with his mate. Across the room, dressing for bed, Kellan rolled his eyes for the hundredth time.
"Gustin, I have told you one thousand times where your son and Sodre are."
Gustin sat farther up in bed and shook his head.
"No. You've told me where you think they are. But last I checked, neither Iorir nor you had seen them when you went for a hunt."
Kellan sighed.
"Gustin, a first heat can be….unpredictable. A wolfe's behavior becomes erratic, somewhat irrational. No doubt Kel'luknar has sensed some threat to his mate - Iorir's or my scent as we passed by, perhaps - and has reacted by hiding him away. I'm certain they're no further than a few miles from their usual campsite, if that. And I'm equally certain they'll resurface in a few days' time, after Kel'luknar's heat passes."
Gustin exhaled slowly. Perhaps he was being ridiculous about all this. Was he? Wasn't he?
"I'm just worried," he said, finally. "That's all."
Kellan finished putting his clothes away and turned towards the bed, regarding his mate with a fond smile.
"It is to be expected. Kel'luknar is your only cub, and transitions to adulthood are often difficult for human parents to accept."
Gus rubbed his arm absentmindedly and shrugged.
"I just wish I could see them — know they're OK."
Kellan began to climb onto the bed, stretching forward to kiss his mate.
"I'm certain," he began, tenderly, "that they are fine."
Gus accepted the kiss and even grinned as Kellan pushed him back to lie down on the bed.
"Well, for your sake," he teased Kellan, "I certainly hope so."

+++++