Forbidden Moon

"Then fight," he said, his voice quiet and confident. He would enjoy any damage she caused him. It would only make the ache between his legs harder to deny and quicker to sate.

He loped forward on all fours faster than any human should have been able to. The human body simply wasn't designed to move that quickly, that fluidly, on both hands and feet. He moved upward from beneath her, his hands lightning quick as he dug his shoulder into her stomach hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. He stood then, his arm wrapping around her body and his fingers holding tight against her thigh as he lifted her without any care for where her dress shirt went when he did so. He felt her hose beneath his fingertips and the heat of the skin beneath as he carried her back towards the mattresses.

She was an agile person. She stretched everyday. Her body was toned and she was lethal in hand to hand combat. It wasn't her strongest attribute, but she knew it might save her life someday. It didn't do much for her with the werewolf coming at her so fast that she didn't even have time to dodge out of the way. There was only that sharp pain in her stomach as she was lifted upwards and hefted over his shoulder. Her lungs burning and the sudden jolt to her wrist made her give a soft cry outwards, using what little air she had left before she sucked in a heaping gulp to compensate for what had been lost. His words rung in her mind and triggered her into action even as he moved. She twisted in the arm that held her. That spiked heel coming down against his back and digging into his skin under the force of her strikes, leaving small bloody holes that would have made a human man drop her in an instant.

His fingers dug into the skin of her thighs, tight pressure points that might have inflicted pain, but he stopped walking and simply stood there as she beat that high heel into his back. His back arched a bit, as if he were shifting to give her more access to it, his growling coming in soft, measured tones next to her bottom as it perched bare on his shoulder. He cooed softly as the skin of his back knitted and reknitted around the wounds, blood pouring in lines down his back as he fought the lust he felt at the scent. Drawing blood would normally have been a bad idea, would normally have sent him into a frenzy, but she'd gained something in him and he wasn't even sure he'd kill her when the night was through.

Gloria Velasquez had never seen the healing capabilities of a werewolf up close and personal. She had seen them from a distance, a quick glance before another shot was fired, but this was way beyond anything she had ever imagined. Her breathing came in soft gasps as she realized the extent of the damage this creature could take. Without the can of toxins she was literally fighting against something that could be run over by a car and get up and walk away. That didn't stop her though, she continued to beat against his back as much as she was able from her current position, and she wouldn't just let things happen without some sort of fight.

No amount of damage would stop him. He'd have his way with her because that was the only choice he had next to death. He would taste passion, through violence or sex and that much of their pact with the moon was non-negotiable, but without the ample hunting grounds that had once been their home, there was no easy way to do as the Moon Goddess demanded. They were exiles and were paying their penance. They were made a threat to mankind in the hopes that they would be exterminated by those outside the pack, their crimes so complete that the pack had shunned them and didn't even slaughter them themselves.

The Spanish curses that fell from her lips were inventive and proved that she hadn't always dressed in business attire and high heels. They were words that expressed her anger, her fear and perhaps even a little bit of her arousal as she struggled in that hold.

He began to walk as he listened to the noises she made, those holes in his back patching and welling with blood only to scab and cover before her eyes as he moved gracefully towards the largest of the four mattresses.

Her battered wrist, she kept as close to her body as possible even as she used that other hand to inflict as much damage as she possibly could. Her legs flailed upwards at the knees as if she might strike him in the head. The fall to the ground would be worth it in her mind as long as she could escape the hold that the creature had on her. When she could no longer think of any good curses she parted her lips and simply bit him. Those white teeth gripping and digging into his skin until blood filled her mouth, it was then and only then that she released him and spit out the coppery fluid onto the floor. She wasn't going to sit docile and be raped and murdered. She was going to fight with every part of her that she could.

The blankets were clean and smelled of fabric softener, something that might have seemed out of place in the dingy old factory, as he threw her onto the mattresses and knelt immediately downward to turn her over and onto her stomach. He wasted little time in wrenching her arms behind her back, pressing deliberately against her broken wrist in hopes of drawing a gasp from her or heightening the fear that he was riding like a warm rush of adrenaline.

Gloria felt herself falling and braced for the impact, expecting cold hard floor and instead finding herself on a mattress. The act was done without conscious thought, and she used that injured wrist to help break her fall. She cried out and cradled her wrist back to her chest and brought her foot upwards towards Keadon's face hoping to connect with his jaw in retaliation. When strong hands gripped her and flipped her over she tried to lift herself upwards on her good hand and her knee's and crawl forward away from him as he knelt by her. She didn't get far before her arms were captured and pulled behind her. She gave an involuntary groan as he pressed into that cracked bone causing pain to shoot up her arm and pressed her face into the mattress to stifle the sound before she shot her foot outwards again, hoping to connect with something vulnerable, it was a purely instinctual action. She wasn't looking at him, but she had a general idea of where he was kneeling over her.

He made a soft sound as her leg connected with his own, though the reaction was a guttural growl of arousal rather than pain. Keadon liked being hurt, liked receiving and inflicting pain and he wouldn't bother hiding that fact.

Lifting her face, she twisted slightly to be able to glare at him over the line of her shoulder. Her back was on fire once more, those lines from his claw visible through the shreds of her shirt where it had been sliced earlier. The tanned skin showing angry red marks to match the fire burning in her eyes that promised she was going to gut him, skin him and then use his carcass as a rug before the fireplace.

He used one hand to pin her arms against the small of her back as he let his free hand roam the curves of her legs. She was a truly magnificent creature and so full of fire that it was a wonder to him that she was even human. Most humans begged the way Michael's toy for the night had begged, demanding little more respect than the female agent below him had said his people gave humans. In his pack, like every pack, respect was earned and she was arousing more than the thickness that stretched the front of his leather pants.

The feeling of his hands against her skin was intolerable. Her mind scrambled to find a way out. A way to stop this and get free, to turn and fight and make sure he never touched another person again, especially her. Those soft panted breaths came quickly and were bathed in the heat of her anger as it was pushed past those lush lips. Gloria closed her eyes tightly and willed her body to feel nothing but the pain, but it wasn't listening. Instead she felt those stirrings of arousal as her body responded to the methodical caresses that explored her.

He let his hands roam as he moved his legs and straddled her calves, his body upright behind her own as he let his palm glide up against soft hose and softer skin beneath it, until his hand delved up and beneath the covering of her silk shirt. His touches were slow, controlled and deliberate with each touch of his fingertips as he explored her body. He knew he was hurting her with his grip around her wrists and the thought brought a heightened level of arousal to the game that had him making soft sounds in the back of his throat, little breathy growls of pure lust.

He used his free hand to reach up to where his eyes had been lingering, the scent of blood and the sight of it where his claws had met with the flesh of her back. His fingertips were already touched with blood from the scratches at her thigh and waist where he'd removed her skirt, but they were considerably more so as he drew his fingertips against the claw marks on her back. The wounds were a bit deeper than the ones on her thigh and welled with blood under his touch as he pressed against them in a gentle, raking motion that drew his fingers down her skin.

Those soft growls made her close her eyes tighter as if she might block out the sound with the motion. The sound of her own gasping cry mingled with those sounds as fingertips ran over the clean cuts across her back. She could smell the blood and knew it was her own as well as his, though he had no marks to show for it. She felt each inch he traveled up her body and shifted beneath him as much as she was able as if to deny him the pleasure of doing something as simple as touching.

He eased forward with on his knees, walking languidly and drawing leather against her legs that was warm with his body's heat as he inched upward and rested the line of his erection against the swell of her bottom.

The press of the hardness against the soft curves had her body moistening and she felt that shaft of humiliation go through her as she renewed her struggles beneath him. That lithe form twisting as much as she was able even though she felt the pull of her arms and the increased pressure upon that broken wrist. It was enough to bring a fresh bout of tears to her eyes and another gasp from her lips.

His movements had been gentle up until that point, but he ripped her shirt open from the back unceremoniously as if he'd suddenly lost patience with the fabric. It lay in tatters around her form, her back bare, save the straps of her bra that had been cut by his claws previously. The sleeves of her shirt and the straps of her bra were nearly the only fabric left by the time he was done, leaving her back bare to him and those claw marks showcased down and to either side of her spine.

The tearing of the fabric was what had her stilling again as the pieces that were torn floated down to the mattress. Each small rock of his hips made her shift down into the mattress with the weight and her own desire to escape the touch.

He rocked his hips gently in a grinding motion against the curve of her bottom, bringing his leather encased shaft to brush against her as he released her hands and waited a split second for the inevitable. When he released her hands, he was sure she'd try to get them under her to protect what clothing she had left, perhaps she would even try to put weight on her broken wrist and push herself up from beneath him for all the good it would do her. So he released her and when she moved her hands, he was ready and grabbed them once more, this time moving them to either side of her head, his grip pinning them down by her forearms.

When she felt that release of her hands, she immediately brought her arms forward, cradling her broken wrist beneath her face as if she might protect it from further abuse. "No!" The word was a demand as her forearms were grabbed and pinned to the bed. She turned her head and those plush lips parted, exposing teeth for a moment as they caught his arm and bit down hard enough to break skin once more.

The gasps brought a flush of warmth to his body. Her ragged cries were like music on the air that stoked the fires that burned inside of him with the light of the full moon bearing down hard outside the building. He could feel it like some massive presence that both comforted him and drove him down a thin line of madness. His control was faltering and the toned body shifting beneath his arousal only contributed to its abandoning him. A shudder ran down his body that was felt against the lush curve of her bottom as she bit down on his arm, fresh blood pouring onto the mattress and filling the air with its coppery scent. He inhaled deeply, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he ground harder against her.

Blood and sex were thick on the air, not just with Michael and his toy across the room in a different pool of shadow, but beneath and around Keadon as well. He had a teasing taste of her and wanted more, so much so that she and the moon were the only things he was aware of. He bent his elbows and craned his back downward, nuzzling his face against the fresh blood at her back, his low growling rumbling deep in his throat and vibrating his skin against her own as he drew his tongue along one of the raked, bloody lines on her back. Every inch of his tongue's passage was felt as pain followed sharply with a soothing warmth as the wounds closed under his mouth, his lips pressing downward and suckling against the bloody line with every inch that he moved upward.

The shift of his body was felt as that shudder ran down his form and into her own. Had she caused him pain? The question was answered as the rocking of his hips became something more, it became a grind that promised a lust fulfilled. She grimaced a the feeling of his face against her back, nuzzling it in a twisted fashion as if he were enjoying the slick feeling of her blood and the uneven edges of her skin. With the small moves of his face it brought a wave of pain through her. The feeling of his tongue brought a point to the pain, making it focused upon that single line on her back even as she curved her back forward as if to escape it. The soothing warmth washed away that centered agony and made her mind whirl. Those eyes that had snapped open closed of their own accord. It was such a contrast to the other torments that were felt each time she shifted, moved or attempted something new to remove herself from the situation. She felt her body clench at the intimate moist touch and for a moment she hated herself for enjoying the small bit of pleasure he was offering.

He could taste her blood, her perspiration, a sweet and salty taste that caused another slight shudder to run through him. He healed just one of his scratches, enough pain mixed with pleasure that the wash of relief would likely have her muscles relaxing under him, at least with anyone that had less fight in them than the woman beneath him, or without the pain of a broken wrist to prevent it. There would be time for the wrist, but first he wanted to hurt her and pleasure her. He lowered his mouth near to her own, his tongue flicking against her lips to taste his blood upon them where she dug into his wrist with her teeth. His voice was low, breathy and filled with that deep, intimate growl as he spoke.

"Our urges aren't so different. You have them too," he said as he let his erection press against the swell of her bottom, his hips grinding with every shifting motion she gave him. "To fight, to kill," he released her broken wrist and kept hold of the other one, wrenching his skin from her teeth as he did so.

Those muscles were tense beneath him, hard lines that were clearly visible beneath the tanned skin, but she could feel the center of her thong moisten with her desire. When he moved and leaned closer to her, she could feel the brush of his hair against her cheek, the heat of his breath and the touch of his tongue in a lick that captured more of those crimson droplets. She wanted to deny his words, deny that growl, deny this whole situation. When he wrenched his wrist away she spit that had filled her mouth towards him. Cradling her own wrist closer to her body, letting it rest just beneath her chin where it couldn't be struck or twisted easily. "There is a difference between us, I don't take what isn't mine, I don't kill innocents, I don't attack people simply because they are there."

His wrist was still bleeding even as he snaked it between their bodies, his fingers loosing the ties of his pants and urging them downward until his warm flesh was pressed between the globes of her bottom and grinding light friction against the cloth of her thong. "To fuck under the pale moon and taste it on another's skin," he said with a soft, throaty voice that sighed contently with his manhood free of its bonds and nestled intimately against her.

She heard the rustle of clothing and realized that it could only be one thing. "NO!" She twisted her upper body once more, her hip following suit as she used the elbow of her free hand to help accomplish the task even as she felt the silken heat of that hardness rubbing her skin. "Even you can understand the word No!" He took advantage as she shifted to one side and slipped his free hand beneath her upper body, his hand cupping her breast through the sheer fabric of her bra. His claws dimpled the skin and then broke it, thin drops of blood running down the five marks that circled the globe of her breast. His legs were unyielding around her thighs as she shifted, leaving only her upper body to face him. The fire in her eyes was an aphrodisiac and the more she threatened, the more she fought and the more she resisted him, the more he wanted her. It was a dominance game; one that he would win, but without the fight there was little pleasure in victory. His eyes bored into her own, a beast and pure fire behind his amber gaze alongside some animal intelligence that looked entirely inhuman and otherworldly. He let his hardened shaft grind against her bottom with even more friction as his eyes flicked down to her blood stained lips.

She felt that cry torn from her lips as the hand that encompassed the full globe of her breast ended in sharp points that threatened to pierce her skin and then did. The sheer bra she wore was little defense against the claws that tore through it. A shudder moved through her and she attempted to twist away from the touch once more as if it somehow offended her. She could feel each inch of his body as it pushed against the soft surface of her bottom, driving her hips downwards with each shift of his body. He rubbed that length against her skin and the small piece of cloth that separated her body fully from his. She gasped as he leaned forward to lick the blood from her bottom lip, the swipe of warmth, of moisture, the touch of breath that for a moment left her staring at him before she snapped her teeth in response, leaning forward slightly to do so.

It was a quick, affectionate lick and was made so to insure that she didn't get any ideas on biting something else. Everything she'd done to him had felt good in different ways, but he doubted having his tongue bitten off, no matter how quickly it grew back, would be pleasurable. He released both of her hands as she propped herself on her elbow, his knee moving from one side of her legs to drive down between her thighs, bruising her skin until she parted them for his leg as he put his weight on it. The quicker she parted them, the less damage his knee would do, short of the inevitable, initial bruising.

Her body was aching from the wounds it had received, she knew that none of them were life threatening but that didn't stop those darting pains from reminding her of each one. The pressure of his leg as it shifted between her own was met with resistance. She clamped her legs together to stop the invasion that would lead down a path she didn't even want to contemplate though her body clearly lusted for. "No!" It was a demand, an order for him to cease, to stop the insanity that was plaguing him. If he were human, she wouldn't be in this position. He wasn't human. With her uninjured hand released she brought it upwards. Fingers curled into a fist as she aimed for his face, his throat attempting to stop the increasing pressure against her legs. He was incredibly strong but she had to resist, she tried to resist until the agony of her legs being crushed became too much to contain and they parted. The muscles giving out despite her will for them to remain steadfast.