03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
It was oddly comforting to enjoy the ambiance and relative quiet as Tristan worked with his hands on her muscles and such. A massage was not what she would have considered to be her preferred form of relaxation; but she was pleasantly surprised. And as uncomfortable as she might have felt in the beginning, there was an ease that seemed to settle on her when it was at least someone she’d met at least once before. But truly, him being a wolf as well was what helped put her at ease the most.
Wolves didn’t tend to press and inquire about scars the way some humans might. And aside from him asking it any hurt; he didn’t seem all that bothered to try and make casual chit-chat while he worked. Which was much less awkward than some might think. Plus, it was hard to stay tense when his hands were near expertly handling her aching and tense muscles. Not to mention the soothing effect lavender had, and the quiet and calm of the room. Though the quiet was almost a touch too much.
“I hadn’t considered doing some proper stretches, thank-you.” Darcy said softly, willing to try anything to help alleviate whatever caused this discomfort. His suggestion that she eat more red meat made her grin. She could definitely do that. Especially after stressful days at work. So long as the forest wasn’t too busy with tourists. “You know, I could definitely stand to enjoy an extra meal or two.” While anyone else might have thought she was joking, werewolves were known to have great appetites.
His snort and tone made her feel a bit like a scolded child and she bit back a frown, that was exactly the reason she hadn’t asked anyone in her pack. Oh well; she could handle it from a stranger. At least he wasn’t talking down at her. “The pack I grew up in… had some outdated practices so I left without really knowing much about, well; anything important.” She attempted a shrug, but her placement on the table didn’t quite allow for it.
She was a touch hesitant to answer, but then let out a slow breath. “H-he does.” She cleared her throat slightly, aside from members of her pack; she hadn’t been able to talk about this with anyone else. And it was oddly relieving. His following statement definitely made her feel guilty. She hadn’t considered just what stressors she was putting on herself in her resistance of accepting what she was feeling for Ferris. “Very well said Tristan.”
Was she using running as a way to try and exhaust her wolf’s spirit so she could better ‘handle’ being in denial over her imprint bond? Her inability to sleep more than a few hours at a time was probably connected to this too. She was rather lost in those thoughts when Tristan spoke again and she started to open her mouth to respond… but was a little speechless. Was she actually considering asking this stranger to help with her… need for a release? Once upon a time, anonymous sex was a semi regular thing for Darcy, especially when she and Rhett stopped ‘regularly’ hooking up when she became Alpha. And since everything with Ferris… she hadn’t been with anyone but him.
There was no denying that she enjoyed the way Tristan used his hands, but was that crossing a line? But then again; he was the one to bring it up and offer. Darcy gently lifted her head, twisting slightly to look at him. “And what if I was interested in that option?” Why did asking that make her feel a tinge of guilt and excitement that she was embarrassed to admit was obvious.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Apr 28, 2024 7:43:06 GMT
The werewolf grunted a soft understanding. That made sense. It wasn't as if there was readily available knowledge about their kind for those who didn't have a pack to look to for guidance. "Considering my first pack was the founding pack in London, I understand. My mate and I were forcibly paired." And their first mating had been observed. Perhaps some of those traditions had heavily affected his view of sex.
He and his first mate hadn't originally been interested in each other. Sure, they had a physical attraction, but they had both been young. But their pack Alpha was who had a say on mates and was a purist. If you wanted to have a family, it had to be an approved match within the pack. And Maeve had wanted a family. But she had disappointed the Alpha a number of times, so she was paired with Tristan (the stupid new wolf) as punishment.
Thankfully, it had worked out. Tristan was a dedicated sort. The moment they had a family, he got used on that and it was that some of him, the paternal protector and father of her children, that Maeve imprinted on. It still hurt, knowing she had passed away without him there. Sometimes, he got the feeling his absent had been what killed her, from what he knew of have deeply a bond affected the soul.
Hearing her human friend knew was interesting. He wondered what had brought that about. "I take it he does not feel the same." He didn't need to ask. While humans could not imprint, he understood many still believed in soul mates. But if this one did, Darcy wouldn't be debating. Tristan refrained from suggesting she bite him, not the least because it could kill him. He nodded as she accepted his other advice. While yes, it was selfish to put that weight on another, it was unfair to herself to withhold it. She deserved to find peace and to fight for it. If that meant sharing her feelings, then she should feel empowered to do so.
"You need only ask. Tell me what exactly you desire." His words were simple but demanded much as he continued to work down her leg, lifting his gaze to her eyes. He moved to the end of the table and began to work on her left foot. Working her heel and ankle. Then the ball of her foot and toes. Then the arch of her foot with his knuckles, gently at first and then harder.
Sometimes it was quite strange to come to terms with that fact that she ran a way from her pack at fifteen. Quite literally a ‘baby’ wolf at the time, having less than a year’s experience with her shifting. But she had managed, thanks largely in part to friendships her mother had with some of the locals and some other, rather interesting acquaintances. How a fifteen year old girl managed to run a way from a werewolf pack in Switzerland and end up taking refuge with a pack in America was quite crazy.
So, some of the more… delicate topics of their kind weren’t exactly topics she had much knowledge on. She was too careless to have asked when she was younger. Stupidly assuming she would ‘never be foolish enough to imprint with anyone’. Oh, how she laughed at herself now.
The bitter chuckle that escaped her lips at his words made her shake her head against the table. “You know, for a ‘superior species’ some of the practices I’ve seen or heard of through the years with different packs just seems archaic and insulting… purists being the worst.” That made an involuntary shiver race up her spine. Her tattoos helped a lot in her being viewed as ‘less desirable’ to her former pack, but that alpha blood in her was considered to be ‘quite the prize’ for breeding purposes. It was why she wouldn’t travel back around her former pack alone. Ever.
She’d heard horror stories through the years of what happened to other girls when they ran away. The only thing that saved her the same fate, was a new pack accepting her and protecting her. Oh, how her grandfather would be furious to learn she loved a human. How his precious ‘pure’ line would end with her.
His question caught her off guard. She should have been expecting it, and yet; the way her body tensed at his words was almost enough to make her get up and leave. Not because of Tristan. But because everything in her detested the idea that her affection and feelings were one sided.
Only….
They were.
Sure, she and Ferris clearly had amazing sexual chemistry. But she had ruined any shot of something more serious with her insistence that they just enjoy some ‘no strings attached’ fun.
That was before she realized she had imprinted on him.
And she hated herself everyday for that.
“I… I don’t think so.” She managed after a long moment and had to fight not to let the wave of emotions that admission brought; swallow her whole. It made her want to shift and run and…
Never stop running.
But the funny thing about pain like that; you can’t run from it. Eventually, it will catch up to you. And it demands to be felt.
She didn’t like this feeling. It felt heavy and thick. It made her chest hurt, like she was being crushed. Darcy wasn’t used to feeling what she could only describe as being despair. She hated it.
Her wolf, hated it.
And that was her real reason for not telling him. As much as she wanted to justify it in her mind as being selfless and not putting something this intense on Ferris’ shoulders; that was only part of it. It was the fact that telling him opened up the opportunity for him to reject her… and she believed he would.
She knew he cared about her, and sometimes she could hear just how erratic his heartbeat could get around her; but she wasn’t naive enough to believe he loved her. Or delusional enough to think he wouldn’t overreact if she told him the depth of her feelings for him. So, she’d settle for being his best friend. Because then at least she’d be able to be in his life.
Ignorance was bliss after all; right?
His words offered her the perfect distraction from her depressing thoughts. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want the release, because she did. She needed it. And while part of her wanted to feel guilty for considering sharing the experience with someone other than Ferris; she had no reason to feel guilty. She was single. He was her best friend. Sure, they were also ‘friends with benefits’ or ‘fuck buddies’ or whatever one wanted to call it. But she needed to feel something better than this… heavy weight in her chest. Even if only for a little while, at least she wouldn’t feel like this.
Tristan’s hands on her feet, working them carefully was definitely nice, but she needed those hands handling her elsewhere. Pulling her mind from this depressive spiral she was stuck in. “Okay.” She said softly at first, biting her lip as she considered just exactly what she was about to say. “I just… need to be distracted and feel better than what I’m feeling right now.” She admitted with a sigh, feeling a touch pathetic with that admission.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Apr 30, 2024 0:06:07 GMT
"Tradition is important," he said simply, side stepping her judgement of their species. Everyone had their flaws, and it seemed no matter their species, they could none of them completely shake off the old societies they had formed under. They might shed hair and fur, but they were not snakes that shed their entire skin so easily. Some traditions were useful. That of forming packs, ensure mental and physical support. Of gatherings on the full moon, shared hunts. But there were many ways older packs hadn't updated with the modern times.
He didn't understand why, but he did understand that his words upset her. It seemed apparent from her words and behavior that this man was not openly interested in her and that, couple with her imprint on him, was what left her frustrated and why she was even speaking about it to him in the first place. But for some reason he couldn't understand, Darcy had not delved into this thought. Or perhaps she had simply not wanted to. He moved to work on her other foot, using the oil to rub and stretch each toe in turn and then to press against the arch of her heel with his knuckles, gently at first and then with more force. He had already told her to stop ignoring herself once.
The masseuse left his client to her thoughts on this topic. While her internal war was very apparent now that he knew how to sense it, it was not his war to fight, nor did his personal expression of emotions align with hers or anyone else. She would have to sort out her true feelings and find a way to express them herself.
He told her to be specific, to say 'exactly' what she wanted, and she wished simply to 'feel better'. He didn't understand what she wanted anymore now that before, though he gathered she was near the same page. Tristan stepped to the side of the massage table, one hand on her thigh. "Does the massage not fulfill this for you?" He asked. And then decided perhaps he should edit his previous question to be a bit more...blunt. "Do you desire more intimacy or sexual contact?" So maybe that was the other side of the spectrum. That of course still left things far too vague for him to do anything about. But if Darcy didn't have a firm idea of an action he could take, he would simply continue with the more...professional version.
“Tradition.” She scoffed, trying to decide the best way to articulate her feelings on the matter. “I understand the importance of some traditions. But others should have been abandoned long ago.” ‘Tradition’ would have kept her trapped in a pack being used strictly for breeding purposes because of her pure blood status. She wouldn’t have had a say in anything. Her grandfather would have simply accept offers and she would have been ‘kept’ by someone simply to reproduce and strengthen the pack. It was sickening to think about.
She suddenly found herself regretting having mentioned anything to Tristan on the matter. Namely because she knew he was right. And knowing that forced her to accept it, and she didn’t want to. More importantly, she didn’t want to share intimate details of her times with Ferris with this wolf. Because those memories and moments were for her and him, not anyone else. And while she might have convinced herself in those shared experiences that there was the potential for something more… something real… she had been wrong.
Wishful thinking from a delusional, sad mind. Perhaps she was the one in need of therapy. Because in what universe would he had ever picked her? She had literally stalked him home… that wasn’t what sane people did.
Darcy was well aware she hadn’t been specific. She had been vague, because she didn’t know what she wanted. Or rather… she couldn’t have wait she wanted. Who she wanted. And it raised a lot of very intense feelings. Things that made her angry and hurt and frustrated. And while the massage was fantastic… it wasn’t quite the distraction she needed. And honestly, she didn’t want to feel good. She needed something she wasn’t quite comfortable asking a stranger for. But who else could she ask? Ferris wasn’t here, Tristan was. And he seemed willing to help her work through this frustration.
Fuck it.
“I need sexual contact… but not intimacy. I’d prefer something aggressive.” Darcy admitted after some silence, and where someone else might in turn find themself embarrassed for being that direct with someone they’d only met twice; she wasn’t. This wasn’t about emotions. This was about making her body feel good. And if he was offering to help; she was going to let him. Because she desperately needed the distraction.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 1, 2024 1:45:28 GMT
Romantically, his interest was men. After years of being married to a woman he had liked very much, having plenty of encounters with all sorts of people, Tristan had determined settling down with a female wasn't for him. Even sexually, he was much more personally fulfilled when with other men. It had taken him a long time to determine his exact interests. But he was a very open sort. And sex as a service, for anyone, wasn't something he shied away from.
To Tristan, all sex was intimate. Even when casual. Perhaps he felt that way because he found it easier to connect physically than emotionally with others. Which was, in turn, why unintentional physical contact bothered him. And was also an unspoken invitation to initiate contact back. But he understood not everyone shared this understanding. Darcy wanted to be clear this wasn't personal. She also didn't want to be treated gently.
He doubted she would feel the same fulfillment as she would with her imprint, though he didn't know if they had been intimate before. Even if he wasn't interested in the man, he saw nothing wrong with her seeking him out and making her demands, her needs, clear. But again, no everyone was okay with that.
The werewolf took slow deep breath of her scent. Most wanted something...soft in this setting. Relaxation, spa treatment, something exciting but also calming. Darcy's entire being suggested that she wasn't interested in that approach. While he wasn't directly attracted to the woman, he couldn't deny that her arousal encouraged his own. Plus, he was still enjoying the thoughts of both Eldron and Cisco, though his pursuit of the editor was much more fitting to what Darcy asked for.
He moved to the other side to get more oil and then returned his hands to her thighs, working up her ass, pulling the blanket away along with any attempt at modesty. Tristan traced one of the scars up her side and back while his other hand explored lower between her legs, over he ass suggestive and then to her sex, slipping between her as of it was the most normal place to massage next. Perhaps it was for him. "Would you prefer just my hands? Penetration?" He was very good at aggressive, considering his standard for sex was to push first and ask later. But this being his job, he liked to have a more defined outline of what his client wanted, especially their first time.
"I am yours for another forty minutes," he said, as a reminder.
Why was she seeking satisfaction from a werewolf she’d met once before? Especially when she knew he wasn’t who she wanted or craved right now. Was she truly so stubborn that she was going to ask for rough and inappropriate treatment from her masseuse instead of simply texting Ferris?
Was proving to herself that she didn’t need him truly making her this desperate? Or was it because she simply knew and it was easier to ask this stranger for sexual attention than it was to reach out to her friend? It should have been simple to call him, they were fuck buddies; why would he find it odd if she called for sex? Because it wasn’t ’just sec’ for her, and she knew it.
Shit.
Right now, she didn’t want to think about her feelings for Ferris. She didn’t want to think about his just the thought of his smile made the butterflies in her stomach do somersaults, or about how intense his grey eyes could be when he was studying her face sometimes.
No! None of that. She mentally scolded herself as she let out a light sigh and instead forced herself to focus on the way Tristan’s hands moved up her thigh. How he removed the towel that covered her… how his fingers tracing along her scars made her breath catch slightly in excitement. He wasn’t Ferris, but there was no denying how good his touch felt. Especially when his hand slipped between her legs. His question made her bite her bottom lip. ”Well… unless you’ve got condoms in here; we should probably just stick with your hands.” While she hated condoms, she couldn’t bring herself to be okay with unprotected sex with someone other than Ferris.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 10, 2024 3:56:19 GMT
He could tell she was conflicted. It seemed pointless to explain that anything he or anyone else did for her would pale in comparison to the connection she shared with her imprint. She could find intimacy physically and perhaps temporarily mentally sustaining for a while, but everything would always come back to her person. Even not having had an imprint yet himself (or likely every, he didn't have the strong emotions for that), he had seen its effects on his mate.
Maeve would have followed him to the ends of the earth. They'd had three children together and if not for Gwen's illness and passing, and his own troubles their pack got him into it, they might have gone on to have many, many more. The time he had spent away broken her. Made her desperate and alone. She'd struggled more at home than he ever had and to know that she passed without him being there for her, to be her person, her soulmate...even if she wasn't his, even while Tristan wasn't the emotional type, that knowledge was one of his greatest failures and regrets. Which was why he believed Darcy shouldn't hold herself back from whatever she wanted. From her imprint or anyone else.
"I do not," he said. Which was a fair point. He could not grant her that sort of control and from the number of children he had, thought it best they not tempt fate. Of course, he was never one to back away from family. He was still hoping one day, he'd find his brother, if the man was still alive. "It would be my pleasure." It was also much easier to not have to worry about conjuring other thoughts to get himself in that sort of mood. She was lovely and her arousal did trip his own. But she wasn't his type. Still, anyone and everyone deserved to be granted pleasure.
He caressed the inside of her warm thighs, working the oil against her soft skin. He kept his movements slow and regular, not intending to rush into anything. Darcy had seemed both needy and hesitant and he was not in the business of pushing people who weren't open to it. His hands moved up and over her ass, still firm and very much targeting her muscles, encouraging her to relax further. Every so often, Tristan's hands drifted back down, each time just a bit closer to her sensitive place. He had no intention of teasing her, but simply helping her warmup to his contact and get her ready for the more that she asked for.