The Chase

It happens every thirteen years. The Run.

Unmarried, over 18 year olds from the village, names pulled out of a drum in the Village square. It is an honour. Or at least to those who do not run it is an honour. To those who do run, it is everything from an honour to a horror.

We have been bathed, blessed and dressed in white which is a stupid colour for the run if you ask me, flowers braided in our hair and running shoes on our feet, we mill at the edge of the village. Old Jed is playing an accordion, his wife on the fiddle and there is bunting on the houses. The smell of roasting meat and wood smoke permeates the air. One or two of the runners eat. Most don't either through strategy or nausea. As the sun lowers in the sky, the mayor clambers up on an overturned apple barrel.

I tune out his droning about tradition and honour and peaceful co-existence, shared survival blah blah blah. Instead, I focus my attention on the forest edge, checking for movement, for the flash of light catching a set of eyes. Nothing yet. Or it if there is I don't see it.

My fingers shake with adrenaline and the butterflies in my belly become raging dragons as smoke appears over the top of the trees. The fire is lit in the glade.

Once the last rays of the sun fade from the horizon and our way lit by the moon, the race will be on. The aim? To make it to the huge campfire from where the smoke rises. Whether you do it alone or not is down to the runner.

It started so long ago. Humans were sick and fragile, the wolf people in the forest were hardy but so small in numbers. They needed to mix up the gene pool, we needed to strengthen ours. The chase is supposed to be a way to demonstrate your health, intelligence, speed and cunning. For the wolves to demonstrate strength, and hunting prowess. I think the first 'brides' just ran like hell.

Some of this years runners have made arrangements with not so secret lovers from the pack- to prance around the forest, playing kiss chase until they are 'caught' and mated and bitten. Few runners aim to try and hunker down and hide until the night is over- that is a terrible idea, there is no hiding from their scenting ability. The rules say if you make it to the campfire alone and unbitten, your life remains your own. Though frowned upon, no-one really talks about those who are caught, mated and left unbitten and alone in the forest.

The first whistle calls the runners to the rope. The three elders make their way down the line of runners, the male uses an aspergillum to flick water from the falls over us, the woman swipes a deep red dried paste made from crushed schisandra berries across our foreheads muttering blessings in the old language. The final elder, the Tie blows a purple tinged powder in our faces.

It feels gritty on my skin and I blink and blink trying to clear it from my eyes. It's not allowed to rub it away. It has a very light herbal scent that disappears almost immediately and a faint taste on your lips but nothing you can place.

The Tie blows the final power in the face of the final runner, cackling when he sneezes.

The second whistle and a hush falls over the crowd. Or I think it does. I cannot hear anything over my heart beat. There is a younger girl next to me, she is trying to hold it together, but her pupils are massive and silent tears have carved a path in the powder. I reach down and squeeze her sweaty hand with my shaking one and we hold each other together for this minute.

My legs tense when I hear the high pitched squeal as the rocket flies up into the sky, it explodes with a bang and a shower of light, the rope is dropped and the race is on.

My hand is dropped as my running mate sprints to the forest entrance. It's a mistake. She will be an easy target for the lazier, more desperate wolves of the pack. The good ones enjoy the hunt. The only ones sprinting should be the ones with pre-arranged rendez-vous, they will be off limits to all but their partner.

I hang back jogging with a few of the others, splitting up just before the forest edge. The rules say I must be inside the forest line but not how far in. I jog along right on the edge until I am up away from the village. If the wolves have any sense or mating instinct, they will be concentrated where most runners enter or along the route to the glen and the campfire. I figure that up and around the perimeter, there will be less.

A howl in the distance has my back pressed to the rough bark of an oak tree. I hold my breath, trying to pinpoint where it comes from. The scream that follows helps. Back towards the south. I head north. Nothing can be done for the screamer now. The moon is huge and close, giving me enough light to avoid crashing through the brush like a wounded deer.

As I continue my creep through the forest, scanning constantly for the glow of eyes, watching for traps, they're not allowed but I don't trust that it will matter. The earthy scent of decaying wood, returning to the soil, damp moss and tree blossom is stronger than usual, a breeze catches my hair bringing with it the reek of adrenaline, fear and arousal. It causes my lower belly to clench unnervingly.

Behind me the crack of a dry twig resounds like a gunshot. My head spins as I duck behind a fallen tree trunk, heart pounding in my throat I hold my breath, afraid even that will be audible. I peep around when no other sound follows, and I need to breathe. I don't see anything. Not that it matters.

I count to 100, still nothing, the rustle of leaves and hoots of owls start to filter in over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Another 100 and I have convinced myself it was nothing. I'm gathering my wits to stand when a streak of giggling shrieking white races across the small clearing, a light haired young man with yellow eyes sprints out of the bushes behind her, catching her around the waist within 3 long strides, he swings her round and off her feet, she squeals, I can't make out what he says but she wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him, nodding into the kiss as he lowers them both to the ground sliding her shift up.

The jolt of electricity down my spine is unexpected.

I stay low and back away slowly on all fours, it looks like a prearranged meeting but you can never be sure, and there may be another wolf blood stalking her and these white shifts stand out like freaking beacons in the moonlight.

When the sounds of giggling, groaning and slapping flesh are out of earshot, I scan the area and squat down, clearing the detritus away until I reach damp soft top soil, I scoop a couple handfuls rubbing onto my shift, trying to dirty it and dampen the "come get me" glow. I run my dirty hands over my legs and over my throat A ripple of goosebumps breaks out and I have to sink my teeth into my lip to keep the little whine in my throat. Well that's new. What the hell was in that powder?

"Clever little pup" The voice sounds genuinely delighted and...appealing. The owner is learning up against a tree, maybe 30 meters away. He's in half shift, canines elongated, eyes glowing ice blue, ears larger and twitching back and forth, he's no doubt bigger than he would be in fully human form. Its one of the rarer traits.

He sniffs the air, nostrils flaring, "It's not doing much to dampen that delicious scent though".

I take off. I'm not even entirely sure what direction I'm heading in, but a glance up tells me its deeper into the forest towards the glen, if I can get there I'll be fine. If.

I jump over a creek, stumbling and sliding on my knees on the other side, the low growl behind me has me grasping a tree root and dragging myself up the embankment without looking back. Getting deeper into the woods, the air is thick with sex, pheromones and panic. I stumble over a mating couple and fall, my upbringing has me muttering sorry as I scramble upright, a gaggle of arms and legs. The snarl follows me through the trees.

A roar shakes the forest and my legs go out from under me, sending me rolling down an incline, prickles poking my skin, twigs slashing at my legs, the bumps knocking breath out of me but nothing breaks. I dive behind a tree to hide.

My legs burn with lactic acid, I'm full of bruises, my lungs feel like I'm panting fire, I'm wet between my legs.

I'm wet between my legs?

Let me rephrase, what the fuck was in that powder?? I try to slow my breathing, to calm my pounding heart, he'll be able to hear me a mile away. That's if he doesn't smell me.

I spot the dead branch as I hear feet sliding down the incline and a pleased hum.

Wait, I think

Wait.

Wait.

I see him creep into my peripheral vision and swing. The branch connects with something soft, I hear a dull thud and a soft "oof".

I don't waste time looking, I just sprint for all I'm worth. I think...

I think....

Yes! I can see a yellow glow coming through the trees up to the right. The campfire!

I'm close, I push harder, the flickering lights getting brighter, the fragrant smell of burning wood getting stronger, the air thicker. It's literally between those two trees. I can see people, I can hear them.

A force like a moving train hits me. I'm enclosed in a massive pair of arms and swung around so that the arms owner hits the ground first, rolling us, protecting my body from the full impact with the floor. I recognise the soft "oof" for the second time tonight.

I grab for the earth, trying to pull myself out from his grasp, kicking out at him, I'm so close I can almost feel the campfire on my face.

He grabs my wrists pinning them either side of my head and looms over me. His ice blue eyes sparkle and he grins, canines long and vicious.

"Well, you led me a chase there, clever AND fast." He looks almost glad about it. He pulls my hands above my head and grasps my wrists firmly in one massive hand. I'm bracing myself to feel his free hand rough between my legs, I squeeze my eyes shut. Waiting. Instead, I feel my hair gently pushed back from my face and his hand cup my cheek with surprising gentleness.

"And a very pretty pup." He kisses my forehead.

I open my eyes, his still glow but he has retracted his canines. He's attractive, very attractive. Shirtless he looks strong, the flickering campfire light catches his skin, making it glow and highlighting muscles. His grip on my wrists, though not painful, suggests they are not just for show. This close, all that warm bare skin, he smells good- petrichor and honey. A rush of wetness has me pressing my thighs together and squirming beneath him. Still cupping my cheek, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. It's gentle, almost chaste. His lips are warm and soft. His tongue nudges at my lips and I open for him with a soft sigh, with a soft rumble in his chest, he explores my mouth, nipping, licking, curling, totally unhurried. His hand leaves my cheek and alternates between cradling my head and lightly stroking my side. I feel his erection pressing into my thigh. His palm runs down my other leg, fingertips skimming the bare skin at the hem of this shift but not trying to push underneath. He pulls back and gives me a weirdly soft, gentle smile. His nose looks tender from being hit with the branch but it doesn't look broken.

I can fix that.

I rear up and slam my forehead towards the bridge of his nose. He yells out in surprise releasing my wrists, eyes flashing red. I scramble backwards, turning over to push to my feet and run the almost arms reach to the clearing and the campfire and safety.

His hand closes around my ankle and pulls. The forest floor is soft and I don't fall far but its enough to knock the breath from my lungs. He drags me backwards, my shift riding up, he sits on my lower back, fists his hand in my hair pulling my head back to look at him. The canines are back, red slowly bleeding out of his irises. He glares at me, a sly smile on the corner of his lips. With his free hand, he grasps the crooked bridge of his nose and pulls, straightening it with a crunch, he rolls his head and gives it a little shake. He says nothing, just stares in my eyes and raises his eyebrow.

A shiver goes down my spine, and I lift a shoulder.

"Sorry" It almost comes out as a question. He smirks at me and pushes my head down, I feel his weight on my shoulders and his breath on my ear.

"Not yet you're not."

In an instant his weight is gone, he jerks me back to my knees, pushing my head down into the forest detritus, pulling back on my wrists. My shift was already bunched up, it falls forward around my shoulders. I feel his tongue run up my spine, I flail ineffectively at him. He grabs my arms and pins them to the small of my back, pushing down and making me arch my back further sticking my ass in the air. I hear that rumble again and jerk as a barely there finger traces up the centre of my sensible, unattractive white underwear. Then another sensation, similar, wider, more pressure, tickly against the back of my thighs. He makes a show of licking his lips and my cheeks flame as I realise what he has just done.

"You can't."

He cuts me off, "Oh but puppy I can."

His fingers curl into the waistband of my underwear, it pulls tight, biting into my skin a split second before it tears. He uses his knee to push my legs apart, presenting me from closing them by kneeling between them. I wriggle wildly against his unyielding hold.

"Mmmmm, Mmmmm, mmmmm" His murmur full of appreciative want. My whole body flames, I push my face into the dead leaves wanting to disappear through the forest floor. I feel his breath ghost across my wet cunt. My thighs shake, the wail escaping my lips swallowed by the leaves.

He shifts, his free hand comes to hold the back of my next applying gentle pressure I feel a wave of calm wash over me, the shaking stops, my eyes are still wet but the urge to scream and wail and fight floats away, my breathing evens. I don't understand. His hand moves to card his fingers through my hair.

"Shhhhh, shhhhhh, calm yourself and submit. You're mine now. I am not going to harm you."

He leans over my back, though I am vaguely aware he leans to the side, calloused hand warm on my bare hip. He whispers softly into my ear,

"I'll make it good." He sounds so earnest and damn if that doesn't send a different shiver down my spine.

I can practically feel his smirk as his lips press just above my ear, then his weight is gone, he presses my pinned hands down into the small of my back again, making me arch my back, presenting my now aching pussy to him.

He drags the flat of his tongue all the way from the hood of my clit right the way back to my hole, my cheeks flame again at his pleasured rumble.

He pulls back with a soft sigh "Oh puppy you taste..." He doesn't finish before burying his face in me again. My thighs tremble as he teases my clit with the tip of his tongue, I see stars when he sucks on it. He laps at the folds of my pussy, pulling them between his lips, sucking, kissing, he nips and nibbles, the surprise making me squeak. The squeak becomes a low moan and my hips push back of their own accord as his tongue works its way inside me.

His left hand is still keeping my wrists pinned, I'm not sure I'd fight him now though. His right hand is everywhere. On my hip, pulling me back, squeezing my ass, pulling me more open to get his mouth deeper, on my thigh, grasping my breast, massaging, squeezing, pinching. His fingers find my clit, rolling and circling as he tongue fucks me, his thumb pressing oh so softly on my hole but not entering as he sucks my clit, my wetness and his saliva dripping down my thighs into the forest floor.

His hand disappears and I whine at the loss, too incoherent with the sensations between my legs reaching what feels like a tipping point, like I will fly apart into a million pieces any second. Right at that moment he pulls back with a kiss to my butt cheek, I whine loudly, feeling bereft and not quite knowing why. Our only contact his hand at my wrists, I hate it, I stretch my fingers, reaching for him.

He chuckles, "Patience pup," then there is blunt pressure at my entrance and my stomach drops,

"No, wait, wait-wait, no." I babble, sweat growing cold and the tremors coming back full force. My body tenses and tries to drop down but I can't with the way I'm held.

He pauses, hand going to the back of my neck again, he doesn't move away but he doesn't carry on either.

"I haven't, I've never, I...I...I'm..."

"Virgin." His pleasure is noticeable in the breathless whisper. I nod into the ground, tears threatening to spill again. He squeezes the back of my neck and calm washes over me again, forcing me to relax and stop squirming. When my breathing evens again, he adjusts his grip on my wrists. Letting go of my right one, the fingers of his left hand twine with mine, palm to palm. Is he....is he holding my hand?

Looking back over my shoulder, he's rubbing the back of his neck, his face scrunched. His hand drops from his neck to my hip, the warmth grounding, and the little circles he rubs with his thumb pleasant.

"I'll go slow, it doesn't need to hurt."

I hear him spit and the pressure is back at my clenching cunt, his hand grasping my neck again "Relax puppy, breathe" Just like that, a breath enters my bursting lungs, I feel something give and he's inside me; burning, stretching splitting me wide. Its so overwhelming it takes a second to realise the keening is coming from me, that my fingers are squeezing his to the point of pain, dirt bunched under my fingernails where they have dug into the ground.

Another firm squeeze of my nape and a gritted out "Relax" makes that calm thing wash over me again.

He holds still, right hand alternating between pressing his palm into my neck and rubbing circles into my lower back. My centre is just a mass of heat and stretch and soreness throbbing with my heartbeat. It feels like forever before I can choke out,

"Can't."

"Shhhh now, you can, you were made for it." He sounds almost tender when he says it.

I shake my head, tears leaking from my scrunched up eyes,

"Too much."

"Oh pup, that's just the head."

Panic rising again I try to pull away, but his grip is too strong and the way he jerks forward with me causes a swell of pain that shuts down any escape effort. I collapse down onto my free arm, fight disappearing, muffling my anguish n the cook of my elbow.

"Shhhhh, I know pup, I know, it hurts, relax now, I'm not moving, just relax." There is a wet slurp and a pop and his spit slick fingers are on my clit, rubbing gentle circles and murmuring gently. I don't want to, I want to hate it.

I don't.

Gradually the burning and throbbing ebb to a dull warm ache that teeters on something else. Fingers never stopping, he begins to rock gently, pressing deeper until his thighs and hips and flush with mine. I'm panting but not solely in discomfort anymore.

He keeps hold of my left hand but releases it from the small of my back so he can drape himself over my back, pressing kisses to my shoulders, whispering "Good girl, my good girl."

Warmth spreads through my body, drawing a soft moan that surprises us both. He grasps my chin with wet fingers and turns my head, he looks almost awestruck, we're nose to nose, his eyes blurring together, sharing air, then his lips are on mine, hips rolling into mine. This time I moan straight into his mouth. It spurs him, the rolling becoming deeper and faster, the kissing sloppier. His fingers are back pressing and circling my clit. A hard hip roll, the skin slap echoing round the area, has my free arm reaching back, wanting to press him closer.

He grins, a quick kiss pressed to my swollen lips before he puts a hand on my sternum and I'm hauled back. I grasp at my shift ripping it off over my head, he grabs at it, yanking it free before his hand is back tangled in mine as if it never left. We're kneeling upright his chest plastered to my back, heat no longer impeded by the material barrier, I feel his heat blazing, sweat gathering, his hips not missing a beat and,