Prompt: #6, Lust
Word Count: 267
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All things Potter are not mine, and I make absolutely no profit from the borrowing of them for this fic. And as no beta has laid eyes on this fic, all mistakes are mine.
Author's Notes: While this really could have been done from Fenrir's perspective, it seemed so much more fun (and a bit more chilling) to do it this way. Bwahaha!
She thinks he doesn't see the trembling of her lower lip as he touches her, raking his filthy nails over the exposed flesh of her arm. But instead, he revels in the sight; little does she know that he would touch her less if her composure would have held. The scent of her fear radiates off her body in waves, and he breathes it in deeply. There's no mistaking that the growl it elicits from his throat is one of an animal.
Faster than she expects, he's moved behind her, pinning her arms to hold her still as he pulls her back against his chest. His grey hair brushes against her bare shoulder when he leans in, trailing his tongue along the salty flesh of her throat. "Where should I do it, girly?" he asks, his voice as raspy as it had always been. "How about right here?" To emphasize the word, he places one hand tightly around her throat. When she swallows nervously, he can feel the motion against his palm.
"Please," she whispers weakly, trying desperately to hold back the tears in her eyes. And all she hears in response is a barking laugh before he's on her. Before the moment his sharp teeth sunk into her flesh, she thought it had been something else the werewolf lusted after. But the vicious tearing of his teeth and claws against her body made it horrifyingly clear, in the moments before the light finally faded from her eyes, that what Fenrir had lusted for was not the charms of her flesh, but the taste.