The Healer and the Werewolf Ch. 01

She wiggles underneath him and parts her legs ever so slightly to allow him access. Peter seems grateful for her initiative, obviously he wants to fuck but just does not know how to go about doing it.

"I've never done this before," he whispers.

Her immediate response is to say me too, but she realizes that she cannot say that anymore. Not since Fenrir had his way with her. Instead, she simply nods mutely.

"But after seeing you today, I can't help myself," the boy continues. "I've never really seen a naked woman before."

Peter breathes heavily in her ear, aligning his small cock at her entrance. Fumbling idiotically, he seems to not understand where to put it, his pre-cum feeling cold and sticky against her innermost thighs.

Biting back a whine of revulsion from passing her lips, Cynthia opens her legs wider and he slips in. The blood, semen and lubricant from earlier keeps the area relatively moist.

Cynthia notices that Peter's cock is covered in the ointment too, helping to lessen the pain when he enters her. She expects more pain as a result of her earlier violation, but finds that she feels fuller than a moment ago, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Slowly, Peter rocks his hips into her body as she closes her eyes. Cynthia focuses on her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. She feels sweat pool under her breasts and armpits. The rhythm he picks up is desperate, inconsistent, clumsy.

He grabs her left breast and holds on tightly as he rocks the mattress into the ground. He draws his face down again and kisses her neck. Cynthia wants to laugh. Or cry. Or vomit. Or all three.

She feels very uncomfortable when Peter's knees knock into hers and she lets out a frustrated groan. He mistakes this sound as being one of pleasure. This only encourages him more and he picks up the pace ever so slightly. Cynthia drags out fake mumbles and moans, drawing on inspiration from her discomfort of the situation.

Peter is not really with her. His fists are clenched, his eyes are closed, his breathing shallow and strange sounding. His grunts are unlike Fenrir's; they're pathetic and whiny. Combined with the slapping of sweating skin, it makes for an unpleasant sound echoing off the walls of the dungeon.

Not a second later, Peter stiffens, body quivering; he lets out a sound like none other she has ever heard before. He flops bonelessly on top of her. His slippery dick falls out of her and now rests at her hip. She understands that he has penetrated her, yet she cannot help but wondering aloud.

"Was it in?" she sits up on her elbows looking at him curiously.

"Yeah," his breathing is erratic, obviously still coming down from the experience.

"You didn't finish though?" Cynthia blinks and looks down at her body, she doesn't recall him ejaculating.

"Sorry," Peter bites his cheek. "I tried to. Maybe I can only do it once."

"Right," Cynthia closes her legs and pulls the robe over her knees.

"That was so good," he chirps, stroking her arm.

"How about that food, huh? Water maybe?" she looks over at him with the tenderest expression she can muster.

"Sure," Peter steps off the mattress and fumbles with putting his clothes back on, which he has left rumpled up in the corner. "I'll bring you a washcloth too. For the blood on your head and for your— you know."

"Peter I have to pee." Cynthia winces, realizing just how precious the situation is. If he takes her out of the cell, she can escape and go looking for Sirius.

"Oh umm, yeah," Peter walks over and pulls out a wooden pail for her to see. "This is the best I can do. Alpha's orders. Can't take you out unless he needs to mate with you."

"Can you get me a book at least?" Cynthia pouts, her voice taking on a sickly sweet tone. "I can imagine that it gets boring in here."

Peter nods, "And maybe later you and I can...?" He teases by playing with the hemline of her robe.

Cynthia grimaces, she has figured as much, but is praying for a miracle, nonetheless. Before she can respond or begin to question Peter about where she is and what is going on, he disappears out of the room.

When he returns a few moments later, he drops off a blanket, a bowl of fruit and cheese, a jug of water, a washcloth and some dressings for wounds. He leaves in a rush promising to talk to her tomorrow.

Knowing that she has to keep herself busy, Cynthia pees into the bucket and dumps it in the drainage hole at the far side of the room. She holds off on wiping herself down, if Fenrir wants to take her again tonight, she wants to be wet.

She can't image him fucking her without lubrication. It would probably kill her.

--

(A/N: Story continues on 'The Healer and the Werewolf Ch. 02')