Werewolf

He averted his eyes with an effort and carried her into the bedroom. When she was within reach of a bed, it dawned on her how tired she was. She allowed herself without protest to be tucked under the goosedown coverlet. Her nerves had been stretched tight as the strings of a lute. Now, she needed to sleep. Her eyes fluttered shut even before he reached the door.

She awoke, her body drenched in sweat, from a dream that had been so real that she felt a flurry of panic on discovering that she was alone. It was twilight and the shadows were slowly creeping across the floor of the room. She marveled that she had been lost to the world for an entire day. The events of the morning had taken a greater toll on her mind and body than she had thought. Her mind drifted back to that tower where for a few moments, she had felt the breath of death upon her cheek and then stood mute witness as another was claimed in her stead. She shuddered softly as a fresh jolt of fear ripped through her body.

By a desperate effort of will, she wrenched her mind away from death and dying to the dream that had brought her awake. She blushed as the images returned – of Raoul and her, naked, their bodies intertwined, his lips claiming hers with a hunger that would not be denied as she spread herself to receive him. The images were so vivid that she could almost taste his skin, feel his breath. Her nose twitched with the sharp musky scent of him. She reached carefully between her legs and her fingers came away wet. She raised her fingers to her lips and delicately tasted the evidence of her arousal. She was seized by an almost irresistible impulse to plunge her fingers back into her core and to ease the hunger that was tormenting her. But a sudden surge of pity at her own solitude held her in check. Her body was his by right.

She got out of bed, wrapped her robe more closely around herself and stepped out of her room. There was a cool breeze wafting through the corridor and her robe stuck to her sweat slick body. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth as she shuffled along the wall. His room was not far from the one she had been in. The door was open and the room was bathed in a gentle glow of candlelight. He was standing by the window, seemingly lost in thought, his back to the door. He was clad in a loose robe as thin as hers and she could discern the blurred outline of his body beneath the silk.

She stood for a few moments at the door drinking in the sight of him before tiptoeing quietly into the room. He must have been preoccupied because he didn't sense her presence until she had crossed the floor between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek against the firmness of his back and closed her eyes. It felt so right.

He started at the sudden embrace and then relaxed, his muscles melting under her touch. He gently broke her grip and turned around in the circle of her arms. She looked up at him then, her eyes a maelstrom of emotion. There was desire in them and hope and trepidation. As she looked up, she thought she saw a shadow of doubt flit across his face and she felt her eyes blur with tears at the prospect of another rejection. It was then that he finally acknowledged the inevitability of that moment, of the delicious softness of her in his arms. He ran his hands down her back, firmly cupped the cheeks of her bottom in his palms and pulled her against him as he captured her lips with his.

She moaned as she tasted him and parted her lips to grant him entry. She felt his manhood, hot and pulsing, against the softness of her belly and a wave of exhilaration washed over her. He wanted her. Her. Brianna! Her sense of wonder quickly became overwhelming desire. And then all she wanted was to be split open and laid waste by his flesh.

"Please..." she whimpered, "Please."

He stepped back to slide the robe off her shoulders. It slid down her body like water as if it knew that she wanted to be naked for him. He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed in the middle of the room. He laid her down gently on the soft thick coverlet and her thighs fell apart as though she hadn't the strength to hold them together. She felt no shame or fear, just a need to offer herself ... all of herself to his eyes and his lips and his fingers and ... eventually ... A delicious little shudder racked her frame and her hips surged off the bed caressing the air with the moist pink of her sex. He trembled at the sight of her ... eager and welcoming ... and suddenly, he felt oppressed even by the airy silk of the robe that separated his skin from hers.

She marveled at his nakedness, at the smooth lithe expanse of him, at the muscles that rippled like waves under his skin as he moved, at the hard throbbing urgency of his desire for her and she knew that she wanted this man more than anything that she had ever wanted.

He climbed onto the bed, his body flowing over hers until his face was inches from her own, his weight supported on his elbows. He softly cupped her face in his palms and dipped his head to plant a kiss on her lips that was so tender that her breath caught in her throat. This gentle ravishment was nothing like she had ever known and she wrapped her legs around his waist trapping him as his tongue slid softly into her mouth.

Night had fallen. The full moon had risen over the ledge and was framed in the open window behind their bed. The moonlight washed over their naked bodies writhing – hungry and desperate - on the coverlet. She was drowning in the heady taste of him when she heard the cry of anguish that tore from his lips. Her eyes snapped open and she froze ... horror dueling with fascination. His eyes were filled with a pain that she didn't understand. Something was happening to him. He was shifting color and shape, growing and changing, as though he were melting into moonlight.

His body hardened under her fingers. Her legs, which were wound around his waist, snapped open under the pressure of the muscles bunching under his skin. His skin itself had turned into molten silver covered now with a glossy coat of fur that was soft to the touch. His face had changed. She stared with incomprehension into the honey gold eyes of a wolf, its fangs barely inches from her throat. And then in a flash, everything fell into place, everything that she hadn't understood, all the answers that she had hoped to find.

She realized with surprise that she wasn't afraid. Quite the contrary. She had never felt a greater sense of calm than at that moment. It was as though her entire life had been leading up to it, to that ending in the moonlight. And somehow, it seemed to her fitting. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back, exposing the softness of her throat to the waiting fangs.

She felt the wetness of its muzzle and then its tongue burning a soft, hot line along the vein thumping in her neck. She moaned softly at that wet caress. She felt the broad flatness of its tongue wash her skin and then swirl in the hollow of her throat. When its tongue drifted lower, she opened her eyes and glanced down at this strange creature nuzzling her chest. It was neither wolf nor man. The head was all wolf. So were the menacing claws that curled from its extremities. But its body was human, though cloaked in fur – a snowy white on the chest and belly, a silver gray elsewhere. And then the pink tongue swept across the soft mounds of her breasts and her eyes rolled back, unseeing, into her head.

It was patient and greedy, all at once. In that room, time seemed to stop. It lapped softly at her breasts for what seemed to her like an eternity of liquid pleasure until they were slick and slippery with drool. When she thought it was finally done, its tongue slashed across the stiff peaks of her breasts. Her body jerked and a strangled gasp escaped her throat. She thought her nipples would explode.

It laved the underside of her soft mounds flicking the flesh upwards with long wet strokes. As her breasts bounced deliciously on the tender mercy of that tongue, Brianna felt the warmth of her arousal pool between her thighs. The wolf sensed it too. Its nostrils dilated at the scent of her and its tongue drifted downwards over her ribs trailing wetness along her skin. It paused at the long indentation of her navel and dipped the pink tip of its tongue into the hollow. Brianna moaned. Her mind was torn between horror and need – horror at being ravished by ... this creature and her need to have its pink tongue sweep across her hot flesh and douse the fire raging between her legs.

Its tongue drifted into the soft red curls that framed her slit and licked them flat against her skin. The long pink tongue ran a soft feathery trail along the groove between her thighs and the wet heat of her molten core and then licked the smooth gentle curves of her buttocks. As her hips jerked upwards, the creature cleaved open Brianna's tight little bottom and slowly dragged its wet pink tongue along the damp crease between. Brianna mewled with pleasure as her tight little orifice was smeared wet by the wolf's slavering tongue.

She could hear its panting breath, but no longer felt its wetness on her skin. She raised her head to look downwards and was captivated by what she saw. The beast was breathing in the scent of her. Its nostrils were dilated and its lips were rolled back, revealing razor sharp fangs barely inches from the soft wet pulp of her flesh. As it exhaled, its hot breath caressed the already over heated folds of her sex. She couldn't bear to wait any longer. Her hips surged upwards grinding her wetness against its muzzle, drowning its soft sensitive nose in the liquid oozing from her slit. Startled, it shook its head and sniffled and then slowly ran its tongue along the swollen softness of her lips, as though tasting her essence.

It seemed to like what she had to offer. The next lick was firmer. The creature split open the petals of her sex with the flat of its tongue, lapping up the juices that were bubbling up from her core. She flowered open as the molten wetness between her legs was ravished. And then the beast found the source of all that liquid. Its pink tongue flicked softly at the wet rim before easing into her hole. As the wet muscle slithered into her, she lost all semblance of control. Her thighs trembled with need and her hips began to surge of their own accord impaling her flesh even deeper on that tongue that was so tireless and so utterly merciless. The creature allowed her to writhe in unrequited hunger. It explored her leisurely, wetting its muzzle in the juices leaking out of her, before retreating and washing her flesh with a long lick. Its tongue caught on the fleshy hood hiding the pink quivering source of her pleasure, peeled it open and drowned it in wet heat. She finally exploded, her body jerking helplessly in the throes of her release.

As she lay there, wet and open, still trembling like a leaf in a storm, the creature slowly rose to its feet until it was standing fully upright on the bed, its arms loosely by its sides. Her eyes drifted to its waist and her thighs fell open on the sheets.

It was enormous, the hard throbbing flesh an angry red. She moaned softly ... out of desire or self protection? She didn't know any more.

As she watched, a drop of clear liquid gathered at the tip of the swollen shaft and then plunged of its own weight. It landed in the wet open flower of her sex and her body jerked. Suddenly, she was overcome by a hunger so acute that it blotted out all thought. Her eyes were no longer enough. She wanted to touch and to stroke and to taste.

Her limbs weren't listening to her. She had been drained by her release and she was sprawled on the bed, empty and loose limbed. She had to muster all her will to struggle to her knees in front of the rampant beast. She ran her fingers with a sense of wonder over its hard muscled thighs and the tightness of its haunches. It radiated power. Death sleeps beneath its skin, she thought, waiting to be unleashed.

Her fingers wouldn't meet around its thickness and her palm barely contained the soft weight of the sac that hung between its legs. She softly stroked the swollen pillar of flesh that throbbed in front of her face and then leant forward to plant a wet kiss on the flared crown. She ran her tongue slowly along its length, tasting it. She licked it wet as she softly massaged the silken sac that lay heavy in the hollow of her palm. When it was drenched in her spit, she eased the velvety tip between her lips and swirled her tongue around painting his skin with the wetness of his arousal. She heard a low growl, almost of pain, and the fleshy globes in the hollow of her palm tightened.

Suddenly, a pair of hands, impossibly strong, gripped her shoulders, claws dug into her flesh, and she was flung back onto the bed. She cowered as the creature lowered itself between her legs, its breath toying with her hair. She looked up ... straight into those tawny eyes and there was something in them ... an awareness of loss ... a plea for redemption ... that was so achingly human that she no longer felt afraid. All that was left was a desire so scorching that it seared her soul. Her thighs fell apart of their own accord.

She felt the throbbing hardness of him between her legs, groping blindly for the consolation of her wet warmth. And then he found her. She held her breath as the entrance to her core was stretched open and her flesh draped itself over his swollen knob. And then slowly, inexorably he sank into her flesh until he nudged the mouth of her womb and the air left her lungs in a soft whoosh.

He withdrew until only the tip of his raging erection was inside her and she began to despair of the emptiness within her. She could no longer contain her hunger. She planted her feet on the bed and drove her hips upwards skewering herself on his hot flesh. And then his hips began to surge, the distended rim of her entrance rolling to and fro with each thrust. As he sluiced in and out of her, kneading her insides with his thickness, the wet slurping sounds of her taking filling the room, her mind began to slowly dissolve into a sensual soup.

Her head turned sideways on the sheet and her eyes fell on the large mirror that stood against the wall. Its surface was clouded, but she could see trapped in it a wisp of a girl impaled on the flesh of a beautiful beast. Her body shuddered as she was claimed, without mercy and without quarter. She had never seen anything so wanton. That vision of herself ... so utterly lascivious ... tipped her over the edge. Her muscles fluttered around his flesh, milking him mercilessly. An unearthly howl tore from his throat as he exploded, flooding her womb with werewolf seed. His release seemed endless. She thrashed about on the bed as the wet warmth of his essence splashed against her walls, each pulse making her gasp until she could no longer bear the pleasure of it ... until the pleasure was almost pain and she sank her teeth into the base of his throat to lock inside her the ragged moan frothing at her lips. And then finally she slipped into darkness.

When she awoke, it was morning and light was streaming in through the windows. Every inch of her body ached. The events of the night before came rushing back to her and she blushed. She reached between her legs gingerly. Her flesh was raw and swollen ... and slick.

She glanced at Raoul sleeping beside her. He looked so peaceful in repose ... so achingly innocent. There was a purplish bruise on his throat and she remembered, with a pang of guilt, burying her teeth in his flesh in the throes of her passion. She traced the offended spot with a fingertip and then leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his tarnished skin.

He stirred and when he saw her face leaning over his, his lips stretched in a soft smile.

"Brianna."

The word was a caress. It made her heart sing. She snuggled against his warmth and he drew her closer. He was already hard and she reached downwards to curl her fingers around his trembling length. Soft mewling noises leaked from her throat as the wet pulpy flesh of her sex softly kissed the oozing tip of his manhood. A tear slid down her cheek as he drove into her welcoming warmth. Her throat was tight with longing and her lips fluttered helplessly for a few heartbeats before she finally breathed his name ... "Raoul ..." And then she yielded, to her pleasure and his.

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... fantasy