Rigfennid Dubhan quickly made his way back into the camp, leading the way back, after the fian had finished up their part in the battle. He didn't often lead on the way back, but usually around this time he did... since the resident (half-)catgirl was in heat. Staked down in his tent, collar on, and having gone so far as to put a secure chastity belt on the almost devilishly horny woman. She wouldn't get out, wouldn't even be able to touch herself, and would be stuck waiting, making what would likely be less-than-human sounds as she suffered through her heat. Which, already, at the edge of camp, Dubhan could hear.
Dubhan didn't mind though; as a leader, it was his part to take care of his people, and Visma merely called for a special kind of care when she was like this. It might've been easier to just knock up the young woman, but... she didn't want that, and her 'boss' understood. So he did he best to make sure she made it through each heat, ready to get back into the fight and surpass her goals. Finally, he did arrive at the tent, pulling aside the flaps and stepping in, quickly tossing his spears aside before checking the status of Visma, and the tent.

Visma Amahan is engaged in her usual activity when she's stuck in this godawful belt; trying to pierce through it with the stake so she'll finally be able to satisfy herself. The knowledge that she won't truly be satisfied with anything but a man planted deep inside of her and painting her walls white; for some reason, she feels like anything she could do to alleviate her feverish desire (despite knowing fully well she'll only worsen her hunger) should be sought after. Her weight bounces atop the stake between her legs, trying to drive it through the grate that offers her the luxury of not stewing in her own filth. Of course she doesn't notice him when he enters.

Rigfennid Dubhan sighs just a bit, seeing her at it again, and runs a hand through his hair. Firstly, he does give the both of them the privacy they'll need, tying closed the tent's flaps, before he tosses aside his slightly bloodied armour. Turning his full attention to Visma then, he did just... watch, for a moment. Maybe it wasn't just his desire as a leader to help that led them to this, but it's not like they could stop it now. It was the best system they had! After that moment, he approaches Visma as she's trying to work her way through the grate, with the stake, and kneels next to her, placing a hand immediately on her lower back. "Visma, don't wreck the belt. Stop, for a second." Well, he knew well enough that she rarely listened to him about anything like this.

Visma Amahan pitches forward from the slight pressure on her back, catching her at a precarious point in her descent and sending her sprawling onto the floor. It's a good thing that leash is so long. She'd have wound up choking herself otherwise. She turns over onto her belly much more quickly than could be expected, mind racing at the thought of another being around to help her get that damned thing off. A fire sparks in her eyes as she sees that no such property damage will be necessary: here is the holder of the key! Unable to think deeply enough to recognize that not breaking the belt will just have her putting it back on again, she darts towards him, pushing against him with her burning skin and letting her steamy breath wash over his face with each of her wild pants.

Rigfennid Dubhan watches it all happen in a blur, really - He barely had time to brace before Visma was pressing against him. Though, feeling the body of the nigh-perpetually aroused woman on him like this, it was only getting him riled up. He reached into his pocket, fishing out the key for the lock on the side of the chastity belt, fumbling with it a bit as she pressed herself into him. If she pressed right, she'd probably feel the burgeoning erection against her belly, even through his pants. "Settle down, just for a second...!" With a bit of a fumble, he does manage to get the key into the lock, no thanks to Visma, but the sound of the lock undoing, and the belt all but falling off should be sign enough that things were about to get real.

Visma Amahan refuses to move away from him such that the belt would be allowed to fall and allow her present master access to her nethers. Not an ounce of patience is to be found in her. Funny how that works, desperation getting in the way of fulfillment. There's nothing at all in her gaze that suggests she recognizes him, the glazed stare coming from eyes that don't quite see him so much as she sees a male who's offering her a chance to get what she properly needs. Or at least, she feels she needs.

Rigfennid Dubhan at least is able to get a breather, thanks to Visma's own desperation. It allows him to gather his thoughts, and permit him time to decide how to 'treat' the cat. He takes the moment to kiss her on the nose, almost tenderly, which might make her distracted in trying to kiss back. That would be perfect, as she pushes the cat off him, and onto her back, quickly asserting himself as the dominant partner by climbing between her legs, tearing away the chastity belt as they move. With that, his bulge would soon be pressed to her now bare mound. Again, something he works around quickly, using one hand to undo his pants. At that point, Visma might be able to wrestle some control from her mate, though...

Visma Amahan makes no such move. The thrill of her mate returning is enough to overpower her driving lust for long enough to give him a few moments of peace. She's quite happy to squirm underneath him, hoping to seem tantalizing rather than simply beyond all reason. Her hips rut upwards as he bears down, moving as if trying to wear through the fabric with naught but sheer effort, her arousal already dampening the cloth wherever her lower lips touch. Some hungry, feline cry rises up from within her, the needy sound dragging out into something relatively close to a moan.

Rigfennid Dubhan grits his teeth slightly. Even like this, she was a bit smarter than he was giving her credit for. He'd have to keep his head on straight! Though, for the moment, all there was, was the sudden heat of his own member grinding against her slit, as he lined himself up with her entrance, not to mention stroking himself a few times and pulling back the foreskin. He wouldn't dare tease the woman further though, wasting no time in rather roughly pushing his length into her once he was ready; the thick, hard length pushing her folds apart, lead by the head of it, the ridge grinding on her inner walls. Surely this would already start to settle Visma down. Though, as he probably arched himself over the cat, his hands found their way to her bare breasts as well, giving them a playful grope.

Visma Amahan seems to have every muscle in her body tensed as he enters, squeezing tightly around him and wrapping her arms about his shoulders. Given how excessive her arousal is, it's not like he's going to face any difficulty getting in even with the clenching. Once he's managed to get past that practically nonexistent, she does seem to have given up on leaping at the next thing that might possibly be able to fuck her. That's the best assessment that can be made, given how her head is lolling to the side and the lids of her eyes are finally drooping. She trusts him to finish properly. That, or she's simply unable to even contemplate the possibility due its horror. Her chest thrusts up into his eager hands, the weight of her endowments meaning that he can feel a slight bounce despite the pressure of his hands.

Rigfennid Dubhan gasps at the tightness, or maybe it was the surprise at how easily he can slide into her despite it. It's not like this was particularly new to him at this point. Once he pushed himself entirely into Visma, he would start thrusting away; no point in easing into anything. Just hop right into the wild fucking the woman would be entirely likely to enact herself, spearing her tunnel right on his length, causing a quiet, slippery, slapping sound to come from between them every time he pushed his whole way in. He was never sure, but he was confident his cock filled her more than enough. He had to keep control though... even as his hands teased and kneaded those orbs of hers, his actions causing them to bounce in his grip even so. At the least, he had to get her to her peak. It would keep her calmed for a bit, at least.

Visma Amahan has no difficulties whatsoever reaching that point. It's getting her down again that'll be the problem. If he stops, she'll plead for him with what few lewd words her vocabulary has retained. In the event that he keeps going (as he should), she'll just grasp a bit harder around the ropy muscles of his chest. Despite the fog of fuck and breed overwhelming her mind, she's learned to hug under his arms rather than around his neck. Again, he's been helping pacify her when the only thing occupying her mind is milking the first thing with a dick to walk into her sight for a while. He should know that the first few will be enough to send her over, and after that he won't be able to escape the feeling of her nails digging into his back.

Rigfennid Dubhan turned his focus more entirely on the now. Already, he was panting, but while idly thrusting into Visma, bouncing her back and forth on the floor of the tent, his hands worked and teased her chest. For a long while, he kneading them... then, his hands shifted, taking her surely already stiff nipples in between his thumbs and index fingers. He rolled, pinched, and tugged on those nubs of hers a bit, at least for his own fun. After a few moments of that though, he would relent, and suddenly, she too was embraced by his arms, going around her shoulders. At the same time, his hips started to jackhammer more wildly into her sex, fucking her quite literally into the ground. He maybe shouldn't be getting so into it, but he liked doing it with Visma, more than he'd admit to most. It did feel so good...

Visma Amahan cares little for how he feels about any of this; the feeling of a man, any man at all, taking her for his own is sufficient. If she were lucid, though, she'd be glad that he can appreciate her so well. His wild pistoning into her core drags depraved sounds from her lips, louder even than her desperate meowling while he had been out for what felt like a miserable eternity of burning heat and need. No matter how routine their trysts in his tent become, her relief at continuing to find him capable of offering anything to alleviate the furnace in her belly will never diminish.

Rigfennid Dubhan still panting, of course, he would would get rougher with her now. Faster, harder... and as he shifts a bit on top of her, nuzzling in between his own arm, and her neck, to plant kisses and nibbles on it, the angle of entry, just slightly. His head now would grind specifically harder on the 'top' of her walls, back and forth as he thrust in and out. Though, finding his arm in the way, he would slide it down next, to wrap about her waist, ultimately holding her more steady as he pulled her up against his body. Judging by how eagerly he was thrusting away, and his hard her was panting against her neck, he might not last too long... at least for his first round, because this would be another tireless night of sating her desire, he presumed.

Visma Amahan gives no thought whatsoever to... Well, anything really, but especially not the idea that he might be concerned about his own stamina. In her glassy eyes, it would be better if he were to finish sooner. The slight turn upwards in the motion makes her squeal with delight, writhing under him and grinding every inch of her perspiring flesh against his own. It dawns on her that he hasn't even bothered to get anything but his pants off and she's rubbing herself against the fabric of his shirt. Again, for the better. It would have positively killed her if he had arrived and done anything but immediately set to plowing her full of his seed; still miraculously thick despite how many times she's made him spill it.

Rigfennid Dubhan would have to argue, if they were talking about this later, that if he had gone to the trouble of stripping entirely, he would likely find himself unable to tear away from Visma, if he could feel her curves pressed up on is bare chest. He might've been working up a sweat in the fight prior, and a new one now, but the way his mate pressed up into him fairly soaked his sleeveless shirt. He gasped a little, his body starting to tense up, his thrusting slowing down... Before he achingly struggled to pull himself out of her folds. He was almost there, and needed to pull out. As much as she wanted it, he couldn't cum inside, that was part of the plan. It was probably the way Visma would get like this though, that would cause Dubhan to produce such thick, undoubtedly potent seed; all the more reason he actually manage to pull out of her before he blew.

Visma Amahan goes through another one of those moments where every muscle in her body tightens simultaneously, waiting eagerly to receive the expected pulsation against her slick walls that signals the end of the need for this agonizing need. It is only that tension that saves him from a pair of taut legs about his waist, preventing him from withdrawing. Such an act would, of course, be to their mutual horror and dismay. After such a forceful, numbing pounding from her temporary caretaker, it's hard to even tell that something has changed within her. She's certainly looking at him with the sort of unfocused look that suggests she fully expects him to bury himself as deep within him as possible as he erupts with the object of her desire.

Rigfennid Dubhan slips his arms out from around and under the cat, first, and pushes himself up above her. Separating the two by the torso, first, though a mix of the sweat of the both of them drips back to her own bare chest, from his top. He makes eye contact then, with those eyes of hers. He can't help but furrow his brow, a small twinge of guilt in that he can't properly satisfy the woman under him, looking up to him, so expectant of the load. Still, he pulls himself out with a great effort, suddenly leaving her folds lacking of anything inside. Next, before she could try to push forward and again capture him, he lifts his hips slightly, and pushes forward himself; the motion not just setting his thick, slick cock over her mound, but also giving her clit a great tease as he rubs over it. Perhaps before she would realize it though, the man's letting out a low moan himself, his cock pulsing, cum shooting out, thick and sticky all over her belly... and even up, onto those breasts of hers a bit.

Visma Amahan squirms underneath him, hoping that physically turning her passage about his swollen member will aid in pulling his sticky seed from his balls and helping him to paint her walls white. Of course, this ignorance can't last forever, even in her mire of furnace-like need. Still, she only detects that something has gone amiss after a few minute-long moments of breathless panting. That is not how it should feel. There's nothing coating her insides; only her firm stomach. Her eyes widen in shock, staring up at the mercenary as if she's been callously betrayed. This situation can be remedied. Before she's aware of what she's doing (if she could have been described as aware in the first place), her fingers have scraped up the viscous cream on her stomach and are advancing slowly towards her lower lips...

Rigfennid Dubhan for the first moment, had merely closed his eyes, as he finally achieved (his first) release, blowing it all over her belly. It was only when he noticed a lack of movement from below him, that he opened his eyes again, finding a hand scraping up his seed, her intent obvious as it started to move down with a fingerful. His hands shot from aside her, gripping her wrist, "Visma, no!" But gods above, if the action didn't make him want to start all over again with trying to fuck her full of the stuff, to the point her belly would visibly bulge... He squeezed on her wrist a little, and quickly set about tearing the shirt from his torso with his other hand. It didn't stay together, but turned into a makeshift towel, he started to set about wiping his seed off of her... "Visma, we can't... You can't."

Visma Amahan whines pitifully, too insensate to think about the obvious consequences of such an act. While her time as his understudy has her granted its fair share of physical ability, it still isn't enough to overpower him, no matter how much she kicks and struggles. It doesn't belong on her stomach. It belongs as deep within her as her fingers are capable of, assuring that she'll be carrying his child despite her clear objections to such a thing in lucidity.

Rigfennid Dubhan does seem distraught too, only more so hearing Visma's whines. Though, without a doubt, even if Visma were with the group for another ten years, it would be unlikely she could overpower a well prepared Dubhan; her firm, if hidden muscles were nice to the touch, even as he was wiping her off, perhaps unlike his visibly toned form, now fully exposed to Visma. She was still wrong though, about his seed; it didn't belong as deep as her fingers were capable of, but as deep as he could get his cock to blow it in. Just not right now. After giving her breasts a good wipe, getting off the splatters, he leans back down a bit closer to Visma as he tosses aside the cumrag.

Visma Amahan groans in disappointment. What a perfectly good batch of semen he's wasted, mopping it up like that instead of giving it to her. How could he be so heartless, refusing to give her what she's been after when it's immediately within her grasp.

Rigfennid Dubhan nuzzles into Visma again, still panting, though less so now. He hoped she was a bit more lucid now, even as he reached up to stroke her hair a little. Seeming as if he was reading her mind, he did speak up, "Visma, you know you can't get pregnant yet..."

Visma Amahan at least seems to have been fatigued by the vigorous bout of coitus interruptus, judging by her sluggish movements. Fatigue does not always imply being tired, but in this case it seems to. That's the best conclusion that can be drawn from her eyelids resting at half-mast, anyway. A half-hearted sigh of resignation leaves her. Somewhere inside, she understands that it's better not to have what she wants. If that train of thought could be chased any further she'd be thinking about how they could fuck like rabbits without risk once her head is over.

Rigfennid Dubhan cuddles with Visma, for a long moment. Though, after making sure she's settled, feeling confident with it for now by the expression on her face, he pushes himself up and off her - doing up his pants before she might catch sight of her prize, lest her engine start up again so soon. Next, he gathered up the chastity belt, but stopped. His eyes travelled over Visma's nude, sweaty form. Did she need a bath?

Visma Amahan cares not either way, content to lie on her back and stare vacantly upwards. If it weren't for the fact that she's lying in grass, a small puddle of her own juices would be forming between her legs. At least she doesn't look likely to assault him when she's so worn down.

Rigfennid Dubhan judges it to be a no, this time. She was quite relaxed now, and she may want it later this evening instead, so, carefully, he slips the chastity belt back onto her. Though he tried not to, surely the cooler metal, and jostling, would bother her more than not, but before she'd do much, it was back on and locked. He didn't even give her a further chance, suddenly picking up the almost-nude woman and taking her to his cot. Sitting with her next to him, leaning against a support pole of the tent. Like this at least, he suspected he could get a short nap, before she woke him up, begging for more cock.

Visma Amahan may actually pass out before him. It's a perfectly logical action when some thought is put to it. What's the point of staying awake and prowling for a mate when it's clear that the best one available has no intention of fulfilling her need? Better to conserve her energy and hope for a better chance to get herself knocked up.