In Heat - Jenlisa

Chapter 109 - Palm

Fear, Jennie thinks, is a curious thing.

She'd felt fear upon spotting the Wood Wraith, but the sort of fear that causes children to squeal on rollercoasters and adults to squeal in fabricated haunted houses. There is a difference between unbridled, adrenaline-fueled enjoyment and bonafide hysteria.

Lisa seems to have landed squarely in the latter category.

Jennie would have recognized her distress even if she couldn't feel Lisa's heart thudding hard between her knees. If she was biologically capable of smelling Lisa's emotions, she's certain Lisa's lovely vanilla would be acrid with panic.

"Lis," Jennie eventually calls out once she feels they've fled far enough from the copse of eldwood trees to have a chance of convincing her to stop. "It's gone."

Lisa snarls over her shoulder, showing her teeth, and Jennie swallows hard.

The difference between Lisa's human body and wolf form isn't drastic in terms of sheer mass, but Jennie would have a markedly different reaction to encountering this yellow-eyed beast in the forest at night than the pretty blonde witch in her cotton shorts and curls.

"Lis," Jennie quietly says, lips pressed to the soft fur of her ear. "You can stop."

The wolf protests again, whining this time, the kind of noise that tells Jennie she's halfway sold on giving in and only needs her permission to obey. It still makes Jennie feel lightheaded, how desperate Lisa is to obey her.

"Be a good girl for me and stop," Jennie says, voice tight.

Lisa comes to a instant halt, nearly skidding out across the dirt. Jennie manages to cling to her back by the grace of her core strength, but only just. Even with the cold night air curling underneath her clothes, Jennie feels like she's burning, like every inch of her skin exposed to the moon has been set alight.

She thought she knew what it was to want before Lisa. How callous of her to ever equate the desire for victory or food or air to this unbearable ache in her throat.

Lisa stretches out her right paw and then instantly pulls back, twisting her head around to glance at Jennie. When she does it again, neck vibrating with a whimper, Jennie's knees tighten involuntarily as she realizes that Lisa, her Lisa, is lucid.

She hadn't expected that. From what little she's managed to glean from Toby, even seasoned wolves fortunate enough to not suffer from an identity crisis struggle to rein in their animal instincts on the night of a full moon. For Lisa to look at her with such clarity, such unshakeable awareness—Jennie feels the heat of the realization like a physical weight. She can nearly taste it in her mouth.

Lisa's wolf trusts her.

"You want to go?" Jennie asks her. "You may."

Lisa takes a single step, then another, and when no protest is forthcoming, she pushes through the trees into a clearing made colorless by the moon. Even the creek trickling before them is achromatic, nearly silver underneath the cloudless sky.

Lisa doesn't ask for permission again, but Jennie can feel her muscles tensing as she nears the water and knows she is fully prepared to stop the moment Jennie opens her mouth to issue a command.

Jennie does not open her mouth. She allows Lisa to walk them into the creek, swallowing her hiss when the water seeps up over the top of her boots and soaks the legs of her pants. It feels sacrilege to speak in this place, so Jennie takes it in silence, leaning into the shock of cold.

Lisa exhales hard through her nose. Rather than let go, Jennie tilts with her when Lisa dips her head beneath the water. She could not care less what happens to her clothes or ponytail or the remnants of the runes on her face. If Lisa goes under, so will she.

Jennie bites back a protest of her own when she feels Lisa's fur disappearing from between her fingers, her thick coat becoming skin slick with water, as the wolf disappears and the girl comes up gasping with golden hair plastered to her neck. Lisa may very well be the only thing in the entire forest painted in color, from the heat of her cheeks to the cut of her collarbones.

"Jennie," Lisa whispers, lips curling around the name like a sigh, and Jennie pulls her in.

It's lucky the creek is shallow enough to stand with their heads above water, Jennie thinks. This way, she can arrange Lisa's arms around her neck and encourage Lisa to wrap her legs around her waist without worry of being unable to carry her for as long as she needs. This way, Jennie can bear the weight for her.

Fear is a curious thing, Jenine decides, that it can affect Lisa in this soft, shaking way and her so drastically the opposite.

"It wouldn't have come after you," Jennie assures her. "You weren't in any real danger."

Lisa muffles her disbelieving snort into the crook of Jennie's neck. "You don't know that," she protests, albeit weakly.

Jennie idly lays her palm over Lisa's neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath her fingertips. "I do."

"How could you possibly have known that, Jennie?"

"Have you forgotten what scent you carry?" Jennie asks, hooking a finger under Lisa's collar. "You're wearing the skin of the most powerful creature on earth. Your collar should ward off most creatures on principle alone."

Lisa shakes her head. "It doesn't work like that," she argues, voice muffled. "It can't."

"It does," Jennie informs her, patting her soaked hair. Her ponytail were an unfortunate casualty of the transformation, but Jennie can always redo it. She'll braid Enid's ponytail with meaning this time. "A creature predisposed to hunt down the solitary and fearful would leave a witch wearing the skin of a shifter well enough alone. You weren't in any danger, Puppy."

Lisa just continues to shake her head. Jennie wishes it wasn't so endearing.

So focused is she on Lisa's charming lack of faith that she manages to forget, if only for a moment, that Lisa is completely without clothing. If she had been concentrated on Lisa's nakedness, she might have been more careful about her hand placement. If she had been focused when Lisa shifted her weight, arms tightening around Jennie's neck as she clung harder for comfort, Jennie's supporting hand might not have accidentally slipped between Lisa's legs.

Lisa's breathing hitches, lips parting against her neck, and Jennie—Jennie is grateful for the creek. Lisa won't be able to smell her as long as she remains partially underwater.

"Are you alright?" Jennie asks, making a valiant attempt at keeping her voice level and comforting. She does not move her hand.

Lisa shivers against her. "Yeah," she replies, doing only marginally better at controlling her tone.

They stand still and silent, each waiting for the other to break the stalemate. It's wicked, Jennie acknowledges, for her to be experiencing such overwhelming desire in the wake of imminent danger. Lisa would not have been harmed by a creature in her forest—not even a Wood Wraith, which by nature subsists solely off those who fear it—but Jennie wouldn't have been afforded the same immunity.

Most people would find it in themselves to be disturbed that she's capable of arousal after a near-death experience of that magnitude.

Jennie, of course, has never found herself to fit within the category of most people, and she isn't about to start now with her naked submissive clenching her stomach muscles in an effort not to fuck forward into her hand.

"Are you sure?" Jennie asks, and this time, the brush of her fingers is pointed and purposeful.

Lisa presses herself into Jennie's palm, then cringes back once she realizes what she's done. "No," she squeaks, voice jumping at least two octaves. "I mean, yes."

"No?" Jennie repeats. "Yes? Which is it, Puppy?"

Lisa shudders against her, full-bodied. "Um, what was the question?"

On the notion of feeling grateful, Jennie adds that Lisa cannot currently see her expression to the list.