a/n:

Based on: White Walkers, Wildlings, & Wights
Chapter: Prologue
Pairing: Arya(19)/Tanner(28)
Includes: First-kill ritual intimacy, consensual
Warning: deceased animal inclusion/ animal sex ritual/ blood and guts kink.

Title: Blood Lust

Arya dropped to her knees as its dying breath left in one last huff of steam from its nostrils, the light leaving its dark brown bulbous eyes. Her gloved hands and upper arms had blood spray on them. She looked over at Tanner as he set the rifle and pack aside and came over to her, taking both pairs of gloves from his hands as he knelt in front of her and next to the dead moose.

"Nice work," he told her. "Quick. Clean. Merciless." He looked from the animal back to her and she turned her flinch into a blink as he reach towards her face with pale hands, pushing her hood back and exposing her face to the cold winds. "Your first kill," he knew. He reached towards the opening that Arya had put in the animal's throat and cupped his hands at the still bleeding wound. It filled his hands, pooling over his fingers and staining the snow an even darker red around the moose's head and front legs. "One always wears his first kill."

She watched wide-eye as he brung his hands to her face but quickly squeezed them shut as she felt his cold fingertips through the warmth of the fresh blood as he drew them across her entire face, painting it red like a blank canvas. He withdrew his hands as she opened her eyes again, licking blood from her lips.

His fingertips caught the zipper tag at her throat and she furrowed her brows as he dragged it downward, opening up her parka. "What-" the question caught in her throat as a small balde flashed in his reddened palm, and then gasped for a differed reason as with a flick of its blade her several layers of thermal wear loosened from her chest and she felt the cold brush against the previously protected flesh. Her hands automatically went to cover herself but he stopped her with a look.

"Tanner-!"

His hands on her shoulders, he leaned close to her face. "Wear the kill. Be the kill. Let the kill overtake you." And then he moved her and pushed her so she lay back against the animal's stomach, nestled between it large legs. She stayed still, her arms at her side as she watched Tanner's soiled hands reach into the neck wound with dark sticky hands, and have them come back gleaming with fresh blood. He knelt in front of her and with just his look told her what to do.

With shaking hands, she parted her cut shirts, exposing her chest and stomach to him. Her nipples instantly perked up from her pert breasts as the cold wind whispered against them.

Her breath stuttered in the air before her lips as he reached towards her, his bloodied palms taking her small mounds whole. A shock when through her at his touch, his fingers kneading the flesh like he was rubbing the blood into her skin like lotion, before he released her and brushed his fingertips down and across her stomach and abdomen.

His fingers brushed upward again, his right hand holding the same dagger. He leaned in close to her, the tips of their noses brushing, grey and dark brown locked, breaths mingling. It was so intense that Arya was startled when his right shoulder jerked and she herd the squishing-crunching noise as he stabbed the abdomen of the bull and cut it open, he did the same on the other side of her to its stomach. She could feel the warmth spread around her, hear the plop as intestines and other organs fell from the carcass.

She had barely enough time to think about what he was going to do with all this warm blood when the knives came forward and he sliced through her snow pants and thermal leggings with the bloodied blades, exposing her further to the cold and his hard gaze. Her frozen cheeks turned hot as he sat back between her legs and his dark eyes appraised her.

She stayed still from him, his gaze both hot and cold against her skin as she took her fleece gloves from her hands and buried her palms in the bloodied snow surrounding her, feeling its lingering warmth even in this cold.

He undid his own parka and cut through his shirts, exposing the plains of his thin and muscled torso, and then his own snow pants, baring the rest of him. His cock bobbed, pointing at her like another of his thick-bladed knives from a neck of dark hair.

His skin was pale, pale like the bone of a skull.

Without prompting or command, but of want and need, she brought her hands dripping from the red and reached out towards the older man. Her fingertips touched the protrusion of his collarbones at his shoulders and traced them downward over his pecks, encircling his nipples before cutting a line through them and continuing downward, over his stomach and across his muscled abdomen, before tracing the faint shadow trail under his bellybutton.

Touching his flesh felt like teetering on the edge of something as she painted her own design on him as he had her.

She bit her lip, leaning towards him as his breath plumed thickly from his mouth and nose at her attention, before plunging her fingers into his thick bush. He inhaled sharply as she grasped his thick cock with both hands, marvelling as it pulsed in her palms as she drew them along the member, coating it in the ruminants of the blood from her hands. He thrusted lightly into her palms when they thumbed his weeping head; the droplets of precum smearing from tip to root.

His hands came up and she bit back a small yelp of surprise as he shoved her shoulders back, her back against the animal. He pressed against her, and with a low growl, reaching on either side of her, plunging his hands into the slits that he had made, before jerking them out; his hands full of the moose's innards. She gasped, and moaned as he draped them over top of her exposed from like strings of beads. She revelled in the warmth and arousal that they incited in her, with Tanner on his knees over her.

He grabbed a handful of blood and groaned as he coated his cock slickly with it. They grabbed her own pale thighs, marking them with his bloody handprints as he squeezed them tightly. He pulled them apart, his hands sliding around to hook them beneath her knees. They laid horizontal to her vertical torso, and he pushed her knees up.

Opening her hot and slick folds to the biting cold, she whimpered as it felt like he was breaking her open. Her sticky palms clenched around the squishy, pink intestines as he lined up with her hole, his hips straight, his bloodied cock curving slightly at her center.

With a howl like the very animal she was surrounded with, his narrow hips dove between her spread thighs. She cried out as his cock burned like ice-fire inside her tunnel. He thrusted hard into her, and it almost felt like she was getting punched in the stomach as she writhed beneath him. She saw no dark pools in his eyes, just the whites, just like the animal's before it died.

The noised he made weren't human as he pushed her father and farther into the animal's soul, its blood-life with every thrust. She was rocked with the power behind it, the feeling inside her growing and growing, feeling like it was never going to stop—like a star that was bloating, getting ready to explode inside of her.

The animal noises were leaving her lips too, joining his in clouded breath in the brief space between their mouths. It was like it wasn't Tanner moving on top of her, inside of her, but the spirit of the bull, having taken over his body and was riding inside of hers.

His seed was like dry ice inside of her, filling her up, snuffing out the hot fire in her core, and replacing it with burning-ice, working from the inside outward. She gasped and shuddered beneath him as the feeling overtook her and she let it, she didn't fight it.

This was what it was like to let the kill overtake her.

His lips curved upward as he looked at her with those pitless brown eyes and brought his own stained red and dripping hand to his lips and tasted it. "And now your true training can begin." She could feel his satisfaction at her deed and felt the pride in her heart with the animal inside of her.

F

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