John Price || Terrasaur 141

Price had been hunting for hours. The wild horse he'd been tracking had split from the herd, by design, and he'd been chasing it down ever since. Its sides heaved, the whites of its eyes showing as its gait began to falter. 'Finally' He was as exhausted as the horse was, sweat and dirt clinging to his skin like a shroud. Every muscles burned, his body screaming for rest - but he couldn't go back to his territory empty-handed. The thought was intolerable, an insult to his leadership and, frankly, his position in the pack. Soap, for one, would never let him down and the flat look Ghost would give him would be salt in the wound. Gaz would understand, but he'd get that specific face on that made Price want to roar. So he pushed on, perservering through the aches in his legs and the rigidity in his tail. His shoulders rolled in a lacklustre attempt to ease the knots in his muscles, and he lifted his spear. Just as he lined up his shot, steadied his breathing and shifted his position for the perfect shot, the spear leaving his hand and arcing through the air; a sharp cry from the ridge. The horse turned sharply, gallopping in the opposite direction and the spear, so faithfully thrown, landed tip first in the dirt. Price inhaled deeply, his pupils thinning to slits as his head turned to the ridge. He couldn't see whoever had yelled, but he could smell them. He walked to his spear, snatching it out of the dirt with an offended growl, and began stalking up to the ridge. They'd cost him a kill, and now they had a debt to pay.

The plain was, uncharacteristically, full. Mating season was in full swing, and so apparently was every pack within a ten mile radius. Scales were polished, protofeathers preened and carefully arranged, and the throng of people was lively. The others had walked off, drawn in by the biological imperative to find their own mates -whether for a season or a lifetime- leaving Price along. He didn't preen. He didn't polish his tail. He made a small, cursory effort to apply red clay to his skin, but that was it. Omegas giggled as they passed him, batting their eyelashes but all allure fell away when their scents washed over him desperate and cloying. He shook his head, lifting his hand from his bag and chewed on a root as his eyes swept the plains again. Every year was the same; he'd try, but there was never the right Omega for him. They were either too clingy, too demanding or too desperate. He watched Soap flex his muscles for a shy Velociraptor demi Omega, Ghost tactically ignore a herbivore demi Omega who seemed only too happy to inch closer to him and Gaz debate the Betas in attendance - he was about to turn and walk back to their territory when the wind changed course. It hit him like a lightning strike, his tail snapping straight and rigid behind him as his head snapped to the side. 'There'. Off to the side, slightly removed from the fray, was an Omega he'd never seen before. Their display, frankly, left a little to be desired. It was unpracticed and clumsy - and absolutely fucking adorable. "You've missed a bit, love." He murmured as he got closer, instinct causing him to pace around them slowly as he took in their scent, "Fancy some help?"

It had started with a poke. Just one, directly between his third and fourth rib. He'd growled, batted their hand away and believed that that had been the end of it. He'd been wrong. Oh, he'd been terribly wrong. For some unknown reason, his Omega had decided that today was the day when they would test his patience to the absolute limit. The pokes had turned to slaps with their tail, the giggles becoming harder when he growled and snapped his teeth at them. He'd warned them more than once: "This is how you get yourself bent over my knee". Had they listened? Had they fuck. It'd only encouraged them, and now Price was at the end of his patience. They were standing, directly, on his last nerve and it was fraying. He prowled closer slowly, his eyes fixed on their face in the predatory fashion that usually mean he was about to fuck or fight. Even he wasn't sure which one he wanted to do, his aggravation sitting just under his skin like a burr. "Think you're funny, do you?" It was almost a purr, his voice low. The muscle in his eye twitched. "Irritating me, goading me into this." His hand gestured to himself, his gaze never leaving their face. "I'll show you fucking funny, petal." In a flash, he'd stepped forward and grabbed the nape of their neck. He didn't squeeze -pain wasn't the point, submission was- but he didn't let them twist out of it. "No, no. You wanted it? You've got it. Take your prize," His free arm looped around their waist, lifting them off their feet and tucked under his arm like a particularly troublesome pelt, and he sat down in their nest. In a moment, they were over his knee and his palm cracked against their ass cheek. "Think you can annoy me without consequences?" Another slap cut through the air, the skin there pinking. He delivered two more, his fingers sliding under their tail to brush against the crease of their behind. They slid down, pressing firmly against their entrance. "I ought to fuck the stupid out of you, leave you drooling and empty-headed in the furs." His fingers pressed just a little harder, the very tips pushing inside just enough to be felt. "Is that what you wanted? Hm? Explain yourself,"

[Make Your Own]