#griar

Nudged right against the face of a cliffside, Griar’s cabin was everything Lapine expected on the outside. It looked like something out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. A log cabin, surrounded by vegetation on one side - a garden, maybe - and a pile of winter’s leftover firewood on the other. The positioning seemed odd, though. Flush against a cliffside?

When Lapine entered, she understood why.

It was like a ‘bigger on the inside’ situation and far more modern than she expected. A full kitchen to the right. A desk, with a computer, and some bookshelves to the left. Strewn about, there were bits and pieces she’d expect of someone living in the woods; traps, animal bones, fishing equipment. Knowing Griar’s profession and species, however, Lapine wondered if the little hoard was just items he found while on patrol.

It was the other half of the cabin that shocked her. The far wall of the cabin didn’t even exist. It was like it had been sheared off by the cliffside. In its place, a huge cavern loomed. A television, a couch, a pile of pillows, more bookshelves, a bookcase of what looked like board games, more odds and ends, and two corridors that led off to other areas. 

“Those lead to other lycan rangers’ cabins.” Griar answered to her dumbstruck expression. He gave a shrug as he set his pack down by the computer. “Like wolves, we’re social. A lot of us even raise families while in the forest guard, too. Family legacy rangers are a thing.”

After Griar gave her a tour - briefly telling her to eat whatever she wanted from the kitchen, showing her where the bathroom was, and giving her the password for the tech-magic Wi-Fi - he disappeared down the cave corridor to his personal living space. Presumably to freshen up before getting his dick wet.

Lapine didn’t mind being left alone. In fact, she preferred it. It meant she could snoop around without feeling awkward about it. After pulling the charger from her bag and plugging in her phone, she poked about the kitchen. The cabinets housed mismatched dinnerware and the pantry held an assortment of dried goods. In the fridge, plant-based meat laden the shelves, interspersed with produce. She grabbed a yellow-orange nectarine, biting into it as she turned to the rest of the home.

Trodding into the cavern-esque side, her eye gleaned over the shelves with board games. The demographics ranged from simple little kid games to roleplay games with more complex objectives. There were adult games, with adult themes, but nothing worse than what you’d spot while walking the superstore toy aisles.

The books drew her next and there were quite a lot for a personal collection. Faintly, she wondered if most of them were left from previous inhabitants or donated to stock the cabins. Of all the bindings, however, one caught her eye.

Well, the author’s name caught her eye. 

Griar Peterson. 

Biting down on the nectarine and holding it in her mouth, Lapine wiped her hand off on her jeans before reaching for the book. Eyeing the cover, it seemed to be a series of research and memoir-like essays about flora, fauna, and even people in the area.

Flipping the book open, Lapine gleaned over the table of contents, before finding an essay that looked promising. Turning to the page, she held the book in one hand and read while her other hand went to the nectarine.

The passage she chose ended up being a personal account of searching for a child who disappeared while hiking with their family. Concerns grew the longer the search lasted, especially with no body to be found. Mountain lions are known for snatching smaller animals up, after all.

In the end, a mountain lion did, indeed, have the child. In a way. A nature-bound felithrope, she had lived her whole life in the wild and recently lost her kits. Driven with grief, she nabbed the kid, caring for it as her own.

In time, the rangers managed to return the child safely to their family and also get mental healthcare for the felithrope through an ursathrope therapist. 

“What do you have there?” The words made Lapine jump from her spot on the couch. She didn’t even realize she had sat down while reading. She whipped around, staring over the back of the couch at a much cleaner Griar. He had traded his dirty, bur-covered, slightly bedraggled clothes for a fresh plaid button-up and dark jeans. 

Griar’s eyes flicked down to the book, which Lapine held up like a barrier. He snorted, but a smirk curled at a corner of his lips. “Of all the books, you chose that one.”

“So?” Lapine frowned, trying to focus on his face. Those jeans hugged snug to his hips and thighs in a way that should’ve been illegal. Glancing down at the book, she flipped to the beginning of the passage she had just finished. She thought to mention what she had just finished, but ultimately decided against it. It would probably put a damper on his plans for the evening. 

Instead, she settled on a vaguely curious, “I’m surprised you have time to write. Your job seems pretty intensive.” 

“During the winter, the excitement dies down,” came his quick answer as he paced from window to window near the front, checking the locks and drawing the curtains closed. “Anyway, I’m going to go. Stay in this cavern, that way the other rangers know you’re my responsibility. Don’t wait up!”

And, just like that, Griar was slamming the door behind him, barefoot and heading off into festivities.

Lapine stared at the door after he was gone. Outside, faint howls and keening echoed through the night. A heat traced up her spine as she realized, with a jolt, that she was probably listening in on -thropes fucking. And Griar was going to be among them, soon. 

Hunching her shoulders, Lapine tried to drive the thought from her mind with more reading. 

--- 

Four entries later and Lapine’s eyes burned with exhaustion. She set the book down on the arm of the couch and closed her eyes. Faint on the air, she thought she could hear a forest full of howling and caterwauling. It put ‘loud sex’ into perspective. Lapine pressed her lips together as she wondered just what the -thropes were getting up to out there.

Obviously, humping, but was it just one-to-one? Did they jump from partner to partner? Or was it a veritable orgy out there? Her cheeks warmed just considering the options. Maybe it depended on the individual’s preference. 

She caught her bottom lip under her teeth, faintly wondering what Griar’s preference was. For a brief moment, the image of him in the midst of a writhing mass of nude bodies bloomed in her thoughts. Lapine groaned, throwing herself backward onto the couch and pressing her palms to her face. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye if she imagined further. Not to mention, if he could scent her while hanging upside down in a tree, he could certainly catch a whiff of horny human.

The heat in her lower belly burned, though. It’d just get worse the longer she ignored it. 

Lapine sighed, one hand trailing down her front as the other curled into the crux of her neck and shoulder. Griar wouldn’t be back tonight. He said so himself.

Surely, it was safe to indulge herself.

Her hand slipped beneath her waistband and slid beneath her panties. As soon as her fingers teased through her slit, slick coated her fingertips. Her toes curled into the cushion of the couch, inhaling sharply. Lapine hadn’t realized she’d been this worked up.

Closing her eyes, she considered her usual fantasies. When she’d focus on one, however, golden-green eyes would intrude. Lapine swallowed, her fingernails digging a little into her neck as she imagined sharp canines skirting her vulnerable flesh. That thought led to wondering what scraggly stubble, just a bit shy of being called a beard, would feel like against her throat, her breasts, her thighs. Her body tingled, just imagining the sensations, coupling them with the thought of nipping teeth and a languid tongue.

Her chest rose and fell, heavily, as her hand at her neck trailed down her chest. Through her shirt and her bra, she groped at her breast. Would he be gentle or rough? Would he scrape his teeth against her nipple, before sucking hard? Or lap at it gently, coaxing gentle moans from her?

Lapine tried not to focus on the ‘he’ she was imagining.

What would it be like, she wondered as her fingers swirled slowly around her clit, to be pinned down by large, calloused hands? To have hips needily roll against her, an erection straining against the fabric separating them?

Her body throbbed at the thoughts, toes curling into the couch cushion. Involuntarily, her hips jerked up, seeking a dick that was only in her thoughts. Against her fingertips, her clit became a hard nub, burning with sensitivity.

Short, breathless huffs caught in her throat, her muscles tensing and her inner walls flexing, wanting penetra-

A key rattling in the door yanked Lapine from her fantasy. She gasped, quickly pulling her hand from her pants and pushing herself into a sitting position. Her eyes snapped to the door just as Griar pushed it open. 

In the split second she saw him, he didn’t look much different. There were no dirt marks or scuffs or - from what she saw - scratches. He looked as clean as he did when he left. The second thing she noticed was the scowl of frustration on his lips.

The look only lasted a second. Even from the couch, she could hear him inhale deeply through his nose. His gaze snapped up, immediately on her. Shame at being caught clenched at her stomach, but an anticipatory heat licked up her spine. 

Almost immediately, Griar threw himself backwards, out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Lapine stared, her heart thrumming and breath still ragged from adrenaline. What just happened?

Outside, back pressed against the wall near the door, Griar crouched. His chest heaved, still taunted by the aroma of pheromones. He clenched his eyes shut, running crooked fingers through his hair. The image of Lapine, flushed and breathing hard, teased him further. 

“Griar?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin with her soft voice eked through the door. He couldn’t help noticing the tinge of breathlessness still on her words.

“Don’t,” he growled, fingernails digging into his scalp. “What were you doing?” 

Lapine paused on the other side of the door. Heat flared across her cheeks again, but it wasn’t like she could lie. He already knew. “Masturbating.”

“I figured that, but wh-” Griar cut himself off. It was a heat night. Pheromones were heavy in the air and he had told her what he was going to go do. Humans were prone to carnal desires, just like -thropes, and he wasn’t exactly coy with his plans for the evening. He shook his head roughly. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lapine winced to herself. She hadn’t expected him to come back, hadn’t expected to see him until he’d been sufficiently satisfied. Judging from his reaction, however, she’d been wrong. “Are you going to be okay?” 

“Just… just get away from the door,” he sighed. The scent of her, so close and unclaimed for the evening, raked over his skin.  “I can take care of this myself.” 

Lapine pressed her lips together, debating with herself, before finally asking, “What if I help you?” 

Griar fell so quiet on the other side of the door, Lapine wondered if he left. She jumped when he finally replied, “You’re not obligated to help me, timid rabbit.” 

Lapine frowned and, this time, she cracked the door open. Griar’s head snapped to the opening door, eyes wide. A red flush tinted his cheeks and it seemed his stubble had grown just a little thicker. She only opened the door a crack, so he could see her eyes and her serious expression. “What if I want to help? One-hundred percent of my own volition.”

But that small crevice of space was enough to wash her scent over him again. His nose flared, unable to fight the temptation of inhaling her aroma. Hunger burned in his gut, worsened by the fact he’d been wandering out in the woods full of fucking -thropes. Muscles in his jaw flexed, his eyes nearly glowing in the night.

Various reasons swarmed his thoughts, despite the red haze of hormones. She was a human and, therefore, fragile. But he’d known other lycans bed humans without issue. It was just a matter of being careful and listening. How could he be sure she wasn’t offering out of a sense of duty, though? Maybe she felt guilty for leaving him hanging in the tree or she felt bound to help him, since he was doing his job and helping her. In an effort to get hold of himself, Griar’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, enough to be painful but not enough to bleed.

Her heart pounded, cursing her friends for bailing on her. And screw herself, too, for thinking it was a good idea to hike alone!

Somewhere between starting out and now, she’d gotten turned around. That, in turn, got her confused as she struggled to find the beaten path, again. By the time she thought to check her cell phone, there was no signal to be had.

Now, she had to admit she was utterly lost. The trail map had been shoved to her backpack, crumpled from frustration.

That was partly why she followed the annoyed grunts and flagrant curse words the moment her ear caught them. Perhaps, she thought, they’d be able to assist her. Never, in a million years, did she expect to find someone hanging upside-down from a tree!

Instantly, her imagination fired up, producing a litany of scenarios. A convoluted scheme to kidnap passerbys. They were setting traps and one triggered on themselves. Some sort of kinky reason. An art school project. A… A....

Her brain spluttered, returning to ‘kinky reason’ and wondering if being suspended upside down enhanced anything.

Before her imagination could push that thought too far, she shook it out of her head. No. Stay focused. 

There’s a person in a tree, able to smell her, and she was alone. And possibly lost. Possibly.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she weighed her options. Just leaving seemed a bit callous. What if they were genuinely stuck?

But if it was a ploy to kidnap kind strangers, she’d be screwed. 

But who’d set up such a scheme in the middle of the forest, off the trail?

Fuck. Lapine pressed her head into her hands, wishing her friends were here to help.

---

Griar glared at the, from his point of view, upside-down forest. His situation, suspended in the air like a helpless animal, was a bad one. Whoever set the coyote snares he’d been disengaging for the last month had set this one especially for him. They had plans for him. He gnashed his teeth, considering his options.

The ongoing irritation only cracked when a sudden aroma infiltrated his nose. It was faint, but stabbed at an ache in his gut. Potential mates in heat. And he was stuck in a tree. Great.

He could get a noseful, all the way up here, but pursuing anyone wasn’t happening. Another deep-throated growl rumbled into his chest. Why the fuck hadn’t he waited to trigger the snares until tomorrow? Admittedly, his preoccupation with tonight’s humpfest probably played into his distraction.

Considering the trap was strong enough to hoist him, it was likely enchanted. Whoever planted the trap had access to magic. It could have easily been glamored into near invisibility. Since he hadn't passed out, he guessed it was ensorceled to keep his blood from pooling to his head, as well. That meant the people setting these traps wanted him alive and conscious. Griar wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

Despite the danger of the situation, his body reacted to the cloud of pheromones slowly rising from the forest. Parts of him - ahem - were stirring in excitement, completely unaware he was upside-down.

Well, he had refrained from howling, just in case his potential captors were near enough. But, if he roused his pheromones to attract attention, maybe another -thrope would come and assist. As hairbrained of a thought it was, it wasn't as if anyone was going to stumble on him. Whoever he'd scented earlier had disappeared and the trap was located away from all the popular trails.

With mixed feelings of embarrassment and hormonal need, Griar reached for his pant's zipper. Unfastening, he grabbed at his half-mast erection, rubbing his thumb over its throbbing head. 

Whatever milquetoast enjoyment he got from jerking himself off was immediately ruined as movement caught his eye. He twisted his body, craning to see the newcomer. The scent from before wafted up from them. A human stood in the clearing beneath him, large eyes on Griar. Well… their eyes were on a part of Griar currently clutched in his hand. 

Shit. His body went rigid as he fumbled to cover his cock. Of course, a non-thrope would arrive when he finally gave in to his libido. Of fucking course.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t realize-” They babbled, scrambling backward, back to the safety of the underbrush. 

“Wait! Come back!” More than a little snarl leaked into Griar’s voice, which he instantly regretted.

“I-It’s OK. Do your thing,” they squeaked, finally turning. They waved their hand over their shoulder as they added, “I-I’ll send a ranger your way to check on you, so finish up soon!” 

“This isn’t a kink thing!” Griar howled in explanation of something not even stated, swinging himself forward out of frustration. He growled to himself when no answer returned. With a heaving sigh, he pressed his hands to his face - his erection deflating - and groaned. “Fucking dammit.” 

---

Oncoming dusk crept along the edges of the forest, tailing after the setting sun. A once vibrant blue sky had bled into oranges and purples. The warm day was fading quickly into a cool dusk.

Griar still swung from the enchanted snare. Desire frothed in his loins as the scent of other -thropes in heat worsened. Every so often, he thought he could catch yowls and moans of pleasure, far off in the distance. Perhaps they were rutting in caves, or right beneath the canopies, or even in the fucking trees themselves.

Every time he considered touching himself, the expression of that stranger swam by his expression. And, every time, a cold shame softened his arousal.

A sudden fumbling in the underbrush caught his ear. Craning his head, he caught sight of the wide-eyed stranger from earlier. Annoyance and relief filled his thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” Lapine’s shoulders hunched with embarrassment, heat licking up her face over the angered look the stranger gave her. “I couldn’t find the trail again.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty far off the beaten path.” He couldn’t keep the growl of frustration from his throat. “I could’ve told you that, if you hadn’t taken off.”

Lapine couldn’t meet the dangling stranger’s eyes. “Sorry.” 

He heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Just get me down, already.”

“I don’t have a knife,” she replied, voice small. Her imagination braced for derision from this stranger.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to. You need a rune knife for this kind of trap, anyway.” It was a straightforward tone; no mocking with - perhaps - a slight hint of acquiescence. What casual hiker carried a rune knife, right? He motioned toward his fallen bag. “There’s one in my stuff. Look for a stick doll or something and cut whatever binds it.” 

After rifling around in the stranger’s bag, she found a knife with runes carved into the blade. A sense of surreality clipped along her thoughts as she sought the doll the stranger spoke of. Was this normal? Or was this some weird cult thing they’d gotten wrapped up in? 

It took some rooting around the immediate vicinity, but - eventually - she found what they described. A crude little doll, made from sticks and grass bound with thread. She sliced the thread, careful as to not nick the poppet. 

From behind her, there was loud THUMP and a yelp.

“Oh, shit,” she hissed, under her breath. Immediately, she spun and started for the previously snared stranger. Lapine knelt beside them, guilt and concern needling through her thoughts, as she reached out to them. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

Their hand shot out, catching hers by the wrist. A small whine began at the back of her throat as she jerked slightly back. Long, dirty fingers held firm to her, though. Her gaze swiveled to their face. 

Tanned. Scruffy. Dirt on their clothes. Thick dark brown hair. Golden-green eyes. As if the sounds they made earlier wasn’t indicative enough, they were definitely a -thrope of some sort. There was just something particularly animalistic about them that made Lapine’s skin prickle. Not entirely unpleasant but wary.

While Lapine sized Griar up, the favor was returned.

Long dark hair, pulled into a ponytail. Moon-grey eyes, made even larger with a pair of glasses. A tint of skin that spoke of days indoors. Griar’s fingers twitched, suddenly thinking how soft their warm flesh would feel under his fingertips, under himself. Mentally, he booted the thought away. That was heat-brain talking. 

"Don't touch me." He released them, ignoring the blunt pain that throbbed along his back. Now that he was released, the swell of heat washed over him. His hindbrain keened, wanting to find a willing participant to sink into. Getting to his feet, Griar put distance between himself and the stranger, going to grab his pack. "It's a heat night."

"What's that mean?" She had a feeling she already knew. After all, she’d found them in a very compromising position earlier.

Picking up his pack, Griar replied nonchalantly over his shoulder. "It's a night when all nearby -thropes get hot and horny. So, y’know, I’m a bit sensitive, at the moment."

"Oh…"

He glanced up at the sky, narrowing his gaze toward the setting sun. "It's too late to get you back on the main trail. You'll have to come home with me."

Lapine paused, nose wrinkled. Her phone’s weight hung in her pocket. If only it worked out here, off-trail. Uncertainty and skepticism made her tone a little harsh as she said, "Uh-huh. This has nothing to do with the heat night?"

Griar sighed and turned to his companion. He couldn’t blame them, could he? Though, it was so irritating to waste time tonight, of all nights. From beneath his shirt, he pulled out a lanyard, flashing an ID. "I work here. You'll be safe at my place." 

Lapine narrowed her eyes at the laminated badge, but scuttled closer, staring at the words. Griar Peterson. Forest guard. Lycanthrope. He/him pronouns. The photo seemed to be him, but a few years younger, with a clean-shaven face and an awkward, almost wincing, smile. A smile with some very sharp teeth attached.

She’d heard of these sorts of positions, usually offered to -thropes only. They lived in the forest, helped stray hikers and saved illegally caught animals, and - sometimes - they found missing people or murder victims. They were a sect of unsung heroes that people often forgot about.

"Alright…" She pressed her lips together, still uncertain. He shoved the badge back under his shirt. Shifting on her feet, she realized she should introduce herself. "I'm Lapine, she/her pronouns."

Griar snorted, casting her a sidelong glance and a smirk. "Well, can't say your parents mis-named you, timid rabbit."

She glared at him, ready to give a bitter reply, before he began tromping off in the woods.

“Keep up. As soon as you’re settled at my place, I’m heading out to join the festivities.” He called over his shoulder, a bit more bounce in his step. How quickly a person’s dour mood could lift, if there was the promise of sex on the horizon. Lapine sighed, a sense of awkwardness blanketing over her.