Title: Wild
Author: The Lunar Witch
Rating: M(ature) / R
Adult Content
Language
Violence
Warning: The very first scene in the story is a sex scene. Usually I won't give away what's going on this quickly in the story, but I don't want anyone to be surprised or peeved at me for not warning them about my writing content. Most of what I write IS for mature audiences, but I try to do it tastefully, and I write it in my story lines because it means something to the character or eventual plot.
In the wild, beasts fight for territory and pride. They fight the protection of their kin, and for possession of their mates. They snarl, and rip each other apart with blade like fangs and ripping claws. To the human race, they are feral and dangerous… but is the beast much different than the man?
My ebony pelt was my gift or so I've been told since the time I was a pup, but to me it had become my curse. Within each generation of forest spirits three sons are born. One to fight; Red. One to Advise; White. One to Rule; Black.
Immortal is what we are called, but we are not really immortal. We die, for all things must die, but we live again within seconds, and are born. We are what keep the forest alive. We are its even breath; its pounding heartbeat; its everlasting soul. We are Wolf.
As the son born with this obsidian curse, I was put forth to rule. From the time I was born I had been raised to be fit for this task, but I was not fit. I wanted to be free.
And so I ran…
The constant beating of the house music matched my heart absolutely, and I could feel hers do the same. It was as if the music penetrated us; beating us into each other. I could smell her. I could smell her attraction to me even through the hundred or so other dancing. It was like a raw kill; I could just dive my teeth into. I could read her perspiration as if it were a book. As she touched me, wrapping her slender tan arms around my slim waist, I knew, I knew, she wanted me.
I slammed her into the wall, attacking her lips with mine as she allowed me to roughly bite her. Her moans made their way to my perfectly attuned ears, and I knew she felt pleasure in my touches. I pushed her harder into the crimson wall of my apartment bedroom, with a force I'm sure she had never felt before; pushing her skirt up farther passed her thigh and feeling the tight skin on her backside. I felt for her lacy panties and quickly tore them apart with my bare hands as she fumbled for my belt buckle and zipper. I could still smell her, but this time it was stronger than before; and this time it was not sweat.
Turning, I grabbed her by the waist and threw her on the bed, slinking towards her and reclaiming her lips with mine. She giggles. Why do they always do that? And slipped out of the slinky blue dress. The woman wasn't wearing any undergarments other than the panties I had already destroyed which made it easier for me to run my warm fingers over her erect nipple. She shivered at the touch and clumsily kissed me, begging for more. I smirked at her knowing exactly what she was craving, and parted her legs; smelling her desire.
As a plowed into her I heard her moans again; her panting became very irregular, as if she were forgetting to breathe. Had I needed to I could have easily released my pheromones, but these females were too easy to please. Nothing like the women of my kind. She screamed a scream I'm sure my neighbors would enjoy, and I felt her climax. A look of shock on her face, as if she had never felt the sensation before. I easily made her do it again… and again. With each orgasm I could feel her getting tighter, finally to the point where I could truly enjoy her body for myself. I let myself go, but it was nothing like it could have been. Why do I always find myself comparing?
I rolled off of her, sweat streaming down my body and beadlets pooling on hers. She breathed in raggedly and formed a dreamy smile across her lips. What most men did in an hour or not at all; I had done in ten minutes. "Where did you learn to do that?" She breathed. "I've never cum like that."
I lay in silence for a few moments, contemplating how I was going to get the woman out of my apartment. She continued to ramble on.
"You did that to me, and I don't even know your name." She looked at me with a strange bewilderment.
"His name is Darien." A female voice from the corner of the bedroom sounded. Her hair was a golden blonde color, thick, slightly wavy, and long enough to touch the dead center of her back.
OOO
Author's Note: So, this story has been a work in progress for some time. What do you guys think? This is a little different of an approach than I usually go. The main character is Darien rather than Serena, but there will be plenty of romance in the mix . Also, this is a darker fic than I usually do. I've written creature of the night fics before, but this is slightly different since they're more about life then they are about death.
These are not werewolves, but they are similar.