Hey guys nn Thanks for the reviews; they always make me happy. And seeing more and more people adding me to favourites oO Wow. Thanks Anyway, here's the next chapter. As always, enjoy, and please review. Your reviews feed my soul.

BL

Chapter XX: Together for a Moment

It was yet dark in the Sonder lands, hours still to come before dawn. A pop filled the dead air, startling nocturnal animals, causing them to scuttle away. Indignant shrieks and hoots could be heard with scampering claws and heavily flapping wings. Delphia waited impatiently in the moonlight; it seemed brighter here for some reason then at the Death Eater meeting. Maybe the moon was just higher up now and so it was glowing even stronger. Startled from her bored thoughts by a pop, she smiled at the ragged, viscerally powerful man suddenly before her. He tugged at his robes with a little frown and she sighed lady-like, shaking her head at him. Taking his hand, she led him to the front door and snuck in, having to make it up to her room without even a house-elf seeing her.

Ducking through shadows and bounding quietly up the stairs (unable to even hear Fenrir behind her, which was surprising, as he was much larger than she), she was the one who took the lead this time. Skirting along the large landing, making her way to her room, she only gave an exhalation of relief when her door shut behind her and she leaned against it to make sure. They were safe. Her heart was still pounding frantically.

Giving Fenrir another smile as he looked to her, she stepped past him and opened her bedroom door, moving towards the bed. Her robe came off and was tossed aside, making it onto a chair. Then she stood there, unsure of what to do next as Fenrir came up behind her, seeing her vacillate. Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he felt her slight tremble.

"Take off your clothes," he murmured in her ear, grasping her encouragingly.

She bit her lip and, hands shaking, peeled off her shirt. Squeezing her eyes shut, she continued to strip. Never had she taken her clothes off before a man. Fenrir hadn't even seen her fully naked yet. A tremor went through her; both of fear and apprehension. She was going to be naked, with a man, with Fenrir Greyback no less, in her bed. It didn't matter that he had been inside her, that she had seen him in the nude. He was used to being like that from what she knew of him. It was practically common knowledge; everyone knew he loathed clothing. As for herself, the longest she was without clothes for was in the shower or bath. Now she had to willingly take off all vestiges of her humanity and throw them aside. Her hands continued to shake, making the undressing more complicated, prolonging the inevitable.

Fenrir stood behind her, practically panting as more of Delphia's pale skin was bared to him. Her shirt was the first to go, then her bra; he could see her breasts bounce gently. His hands clenched, his loins pounding with blood. He really wanted to see her, to finally be able to touch and stroke every inch of her. All he had was his imagination filling in the blank gaps. And as large as his imagination could be, it was a poor second to Delphia's flesh before him. In a moment, he would see every delectable bit of her, open to his hungry eyes. The suspense was just tearing at him. He wanted to strip her himself, but she had to accept this, become used to willingly disrobing herself with him. Without a modicum of hesitation, Fenrir stripped off his own robe and relaxed somewhat, relieved as the air was able to properly hit his body. Merlin that felt good. Putting his hand out, he caressed the curve of Delphia's lower back, then the swell of her hip, barred from going further by her skirt. She groaned from his touch, arching into him, her arse wriggling and rolling instinctually.

All he wanted to do was push her against the bed, force her skirt up and tear away whatever she had to be wearing under it. Then he would make her take him, accept his brutal invasion of her body, viciously laying into her until she was shivering and whining in that luscious way she always did. Because he knew she was already wet, yielding even now to him. Her scent was unmistakable. She always smelled of a ready bitch for him and he absolutely adored that about her. Even the simplest of touches had her willing to mate with him, to have him frantically in her sheath. He shuddered. Damn it he needed her.

"You still aren't naked," he rasped, pressing his body against hers. When she whimpered and quivered against him, he curled his arms about her and buried his face in her neck. Oh yes, that smell, that gratifying, come hither scent. Her hands went to her skirt, absolutely tremulous now then halted as she let out a little mewl of anxiety. Hushing her he dropped a hand, helping her strip, the skirt falling to the floor at her feet. He moaned softly, gazing down the length of her body. Her chest was heaving, her body moving gently against his. Even though her breasts weren't as big as he would have liked, he knew as he cupped one, her choked cry filling the room, that he was going to love playing with them. Pawing her breast as gently as he could manage, his eyes drifted down her front, head resting against hers. Her flesh was too damned creamy and pale, almost alabaster. Her belly was slightly rounded, the flare of her hips and packing of fat there proving her to be a perfectly healthy, absolutely breedable woman.

He moaned into her neck, clutching her with an arm as she shook, her nipples hardening in the air and from arousal. With one deft movement he had her panties off, tumbling to her ankles. His hips jerked and he had to briefly close his eyes, savouring this. Helping her step out of her clothes, he guided her to the bed and laid her down, stroking her side as she stared nearly frightened and definitely timid at him. She almost looked like a girl on her wedding night. Truth be told, this was her first time naked with him, with any man, and it thrilled him absolutely. But once he was between her thighs, her body would know what to do, and he knew her trepidation would flee her.

She went to touch him even as she shook nervously, then hesitated, looking concerned. He huffed, vexed, and gave her a look.

"Just touch me, Delphia. I'm fine; I'm not delicate."

"But . . . but don't you hurt?" she breathed, settling for placing her hand on his side, her breasts pressing together and swelling between her arms. He sighed at the sight, taking it in, revelling in the knowledge that every bit of her was his to claim.

"Damn it whelp," he huffed, frowning a little even as he continued to stare at her chest. "Just stroke me already."

Her brows lifted as she played with the hair on his chest, making him squirm. "Stroke you?"

He wanted to scream in frustration and settled on putting his hand to his face. "Yes," he mumbled through his palm, "stroke me." Exasperated he took her hand in his and placed it on his rousing penis. Gingerly he wrapped her fingers around him, wondering how she thought he could hurt now. He had a young, willing woman lazing beside him, as naked as he, positively oozing oestrogen. She needed to mate; her whole body had to be urging her to this. He could smell it, for Merlin's sake, how could she not feel it?

"Oh," she finally whispered, moving her hand a bit. He groaned blissfully as she slowly pumped her fist over his growing erection, the blood pulsing through him until he was hard in her hand. Her eyes were wide as she watched and felt him grow, startled by the sight. Yes, she had studied all this and knew the physiology; however, it was something completely different to actually bear witness. And much more erotic than any factual descriptions in a text book. She hadn't see him limp before, had never seen this transformation happen in her life. It was almost amazing, having this brutal werewolf writhing from her touch, panting and groaning as she made him stiffen.

She wasn't doing it as he normally would have, but that made it fun, didn't it? He liked the way she stroked him, the featheriness of her movements almost too light, agonisingly teasing. He bucked against her palm, growling up at the canopy as he thrashed, wanting more friction, needing to be squeezed. Oh Merlin this felt too good, no matter how clumsy and inexperienced she was. Any whore could have made him hard, but it took his mate to make him whimper like a fool.

Tearing her hand from him with an extreme amount of effort and a breathless gasp, he lay there shivering for a moment. Delphia just laid next to him, completely still, her hand nearly crushed in his. She was absolutely confused. If he didn't like it, he could have told her. Or at least told her how he liked it. Pouting and trying to withdraw in shame, she cried out when he suddenly rolled onto her, pinning her down. His chest was heaving, his eyes wild as he looked to her. She whimpered at the intensity of his gaze, squirmed at the feel of his erection against her thigh. His head ducked down and the tension fled; she murmured, feeling him lick her jaw softly with the tip of his tongue. It was her turn to shudder, his mouth working along the column of her throat. He hesitated at her jugular, pressing his sharp teeth to her flesh. In one brief second he could bite. She was utterly at his mercy. She purred as he raked his teeth along her pulsing vein, legs parting to cradle him as he sucked upon her flesh. Her hands found his tangled hair, urging him on, whining for him to just have her already.

His mouth slipped from her. She could feel him moving down her body and she tensed. What was he doing? He was supposed to kiss her, supposed to nuzzle and lave her throat; wasn't he? Body stilling in confusion, she stared down at him as his lips wrapped around a nipple. She seized, the warmth and moisture of his mouth nothing she had felt before. A tingling thirst tore though every nerve and she swallowed heavily when her stomach clenched. Her hips began rolling as she tossed her head back, arcing into his suckling. The pressure was absolutely delicious, her body unable to take anymore of his glorious torture. But she couldn't stop herself from holding his head in place, wanting him to continue, to never cease this maddening delight. An upset cry escaped her as her nipple slipped wetly from his lips. His body was heaving, his gaze locked on her chest, giving himself a moment to try and find some measure of control. Squeezing her untouched breast in his hand, he felt it wasn't fair that this one didn't get any fun. Leaning over, he popped the straining nub into his mouth and let out a satisfied groan, eyelids drooping. His suckling started anew and Delphia nearly screamed, throwing herself back into the pillows, moving up against him, needing him to fill her.

"Please," she gasped, clawing at his back as she tried to drag him upwards, to get him to sheath the throbbing length against her leg into the slick, aching core of her. He mumbled a reply into her flesh, still sucking, breathing heavily through his nose. Flicking her nipple a few times with his tongue, he smirked at her writhing. He had been right; he was going to enjoy her. Quite a bit.

"Fenrir," she gasped as she dug her nails into his shoulder blades, "touch me, oh please, please touch me." She couldn't take anymore. Her mind was unwinding, every nerve firing with burning pleasure. Her body wouldn't stop moving, her hips undulating beneath his belly. She didn't really know what her whole being was begging for, only knew that when he filled her the ache stopped. Her clit was thrumming, hard and begging to be stroked; that much she knew now as well. Grinning at her reaction to him, her unabashed cries, Fenrir gently stroked her folds, feeling the moisture clinging on her. With agonising tenderness he circled his thumb around her clitoris, pulling back the hood but didn't actually touch her where she needed it most. Her angry, anguished roar almost had him laughing, his grin broadening against her plump breast. He felt her hand on his and murmured his approval, slightly surprised that she would take some initiative. She shifted his hand so his fingers were pressed to her inflamed clit and ground against him with a relieved cry.

Smirking, he pulled his mouth from her nipple and moved up her body, staring into her wide eyes, watching her gasping face. His fingers spread her wider as he rubbed her clit with the pad of his middle finger. She squirmed and moaned, clawing at his body, a leg hooking around his. He groaned as she leaned up, placing a hot, opened mouth kiss on his lips. Mouth parting against hers, he duelled their tongues together, her body rocking in tandem with his touches. She wailed into his mouth as his finger slipped inside her fluttering, wet channel, his thumb pressing against her clit. He felt her shudder as he brought her up to a sudden, bucking climax. Her eyes were wide, staring at him, frozen on his hand, gasping as her mind momentarily went blank. Then she was nearly sobbing, thrashing beneath him, needing more, humping his hand madly.

That was enough. Neither could take any more of this. With a grunt of effort, Fenrir slung himself over her once more and sheathed his cock within her in one, satisfying stroke. Delphia wailed her delight as her legs immediately clutched about his waist, pulling him closer, moving frenetically against him. He panted as he worked his hips above her, pelvis slamming ecstatically to hers, over and over, until they were rutting in that time-honoured, ancient dance of two bodies uniting in utter joy. His body shuddered with hers, his movements becoming feral until he was clutching her hips, pounding enthusiastically, howling up at the canopy above them. He felt her arch, every muscle in her squeezing him as her legs locked around his waist. She grunted as she rocked along him, not allowing him to move, greedily obtaining her second orgasm of the night. A long, low gasp, her eyes opening to stare stunned into his and her limbs fell onto the bed. She shivered under him as he thrust into her yielding body, finding that moment of pure pleasure as he roared her name. His cry was garbled and almost intangible, his seed spilling against her womb. Her hands clawed at him, drawing him to her as he collapsed, rocking tenderly against her when he finished.

His inhalation was shaky, his body quaking with hers. Merlin that had been amazing. Better than amazing: perfect. Stroking her hair and kissing her face as she whimpered beneath him, he soothed her gently without a word. Her arms draped around his shoulders, hugging him tight with her face buried in his throat. She couldn't even think of words to describe what had just transpired. All she could think of was how he softened, still inside her, and held her as tightly as she held him. Her mind began to clear and exhaustion threatened to claim her. A yawn escaped her, then a light giggle, grinning fiendishly into his skin.

He could smell them in the sheets, in the air. His scent was all over her body, in her body, mixing with her own maddening smell of a satisfied, thoroughly pleased woman. Sighing in contentment, he let his head droop, nuzzling her neck as he felt her grin against him. He couldn't fight that; he grinned back. She shifted slightly beneath him and he let her withdraw a bit, moving into a better position so she could take his weight easier. He was happy to continue crushing her, liking the feel of her under him. Besides that, he just couldn't move. How she had managed to summon up even that amount of energy was beyond him. Her fingers tickled his spine in a leisurely, gratified caress. He murmured in response, rubbing his face in her sweaty skin, basking in their post-coitus euphoria. When she squirmed under his weight again after some time, he sighed and made himself flop over, dragging her with him. She buried her face in his chest, eyes closing.

"I want it to always be like that," she finally breathed, a smile touching her features.

He grunted and rubbed her back. So did he.

They had fallen asleep like that, wound together and still heaving. Through his peaceful slumber, something pricked at the back of Fenrir's mind, poking him endlessly until his eyes flew open. Looking down at the figure curled up against him, he smirked and took his time watching her sleep. She still had a hint of a smile on her face. That really boosted his ego. Eyes darting around, wondering what had made him wake up, he caught sight of the window and froze. A faint gold and pink light rose from the horizon, lightening the night sky. Panic clutched his chest and he hastily leapt from the bed, searching out his robe. Damn it, it was nearly dawn and he was still in her bed? How the hell was he going to escape?

Tossing clothes aside frantically, making a worse mess than what had been there before, he tried to remember where the bloody hell he had thrown his robe. Straightening up and dragging his claws through his hair, scratching the back of his head, he surveyed the room. Gaze falling on the bed, he studied Delphia's nude form for a moment, not really wanting to leave that. He had to be insane to be so eager to get out. Then again, Preia Sonder was incentive for any man to make haste and bugger off, especially when he had just slept with her daughter. Toeing back to the bed, Fenrir grabbed the sheet and went to drape it over her. He hesitated, eyeing her exposed hip. There were five, clear puncture marks with dried blood crusting and cracking on her smooth flesh. Looking the bed over, he could see splashes and smears of brown from when she had moved or rolled over. He grinned at that, letting the sheet drop over her. It was no good for someone to find her naked, bleeding and uncovered. In this heat, no one would question her being naked, as long as the other two were unseen.

Crossing his arms as he examined the room once again, he just frowned and knew he had only a few minutes to get his robe, escape her room and flee the manor grounds. He heard a shifting in the bed and turned a bit, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. Delphia yawned, propping herself up on her side, the sheet bunched up before her, tangling in her legs. The corner of the sheet fell when she rubbed her eye with a knuckle, exposing a pert breast.

"What time is it?" she wondered, gazing up at him.

He nodded towards the window. Her eyes widened when she saw the glow of the approaching dawn.

"Shite," she spat as she looked frantically to him. "You have to go. I don't want you to," she tacked on, lowering her head a bit as she smiled at him, "but you have to."

"I know," he rumbled, turning his attention from her. His eyes swept the area despairingly. "My robe, though."

Sighing, Delphia flopped back in the bed, her arms sprawling out as she shrugged. "I think you tossed it by mine. It should be over by my desk. I'm not sure though," she added with a giggle. "I wasn't really paying attention."

Sniggering slightly, he went to the desk and picked at the mass of black cloth, realising after a moment that she was right. How stupid could he be? There was way too much there for just one robe, though he didn't blame his early morning mind for not quite catching that. He wasn't exactly a day-person.

"You can go out the window," she mentioned helpfully. "Unless you want to risk the house."

He grunted in return and went to the window, opening it. Peering out, squinting his eyes, he saw that there was a ring of decorative stone around the house, jutting out a metre or so below the pane. If he could get on that, hang off it, then let go, he would only have a few feet to drop.

"Is there anything below us? A window or something that anyone can see me through?"

Her eyes drifted lazily over his back, studying the muscles and scars that seemed to make up every inch of him. His messy hair hung down in pseudo-dreadlocks between his shoulder blades but there was more than enough of him to see. Even when relaxed he was firm and sinewy, bristling with vigour.

"There's nothing," she finally sighed. "You'll be safe. Don't worry. Just go, before a house-elf comes up here."

Nodding half to himself, he twisted around to look at her. "I can get out the window," he informed her, making her hold back a laugh and a roll of her eyes.

"I thought you could," she said instead, smiling at him, studying his face. She could just picture him running across the field with his robe in one hand, a silhouette escaping frantically before he was found out.

He gave her a look before examining the window once again. How was he going to get out, hit the foothold and not plummet two storeys in the attempt?

"When will I see you again?" she asked then, just as he had figured it out. His thoughts jolted from his mind, he cringed as he realised he was going to have to re-think things. He had almost figured it out, and she just had to speak and distract him.

"Soon," he finally rasped, managing to get a leg out the window. "I have to teach you, whelp. A couple days." His other leg joined the first and he put his weight on the exposed few inches of stone, testing it as he sat on the pane, ready to fall backwards if need be. It was solid though, capable of taking his weight.

"A couple days?" she snarled, rolling over again to better glower at his back. "A couple days, Fenrir? And what am I supposed to do for a couple days?"

He shrugged at that, grinning out into the dawn, liking her tone. "You have fingers. Use them. And then tell me about it." Hefting himself out, chuckling at her humourless snort, he edged his way into a turn, lunging his upper body in through the open window. "I have to spend some time with my pack, Delphia. Besides, your mother will become suspicious if I'm around too much."

She blinked, her eyes going wide. Mother: she had completely forgotten. Falling back in her pillows with an unhappy groan, she laid her arm across her forehead. She was not going to be pleased with events, Delphia knew that much.

"I'll see you soon," he grumbled before managing a rather risky drop, gripping onto the stone he had just been teetering on. His fingers slipped and he grunted in surprise, falling down a good metre, landing on his ass. Wheezing in some measure of shock, he took a moment to fill his abruptly empty lungs. It hadn't really hurt; just jolted him. Standing with a sigh, brushing the dirt off his legs and buttocks, he shook his head. Thankfully Delphia hadn't been watching. He could have never lived that down.

Mental note: learn to climb in and out of her window as soon as possible. Preferably discovering how to not make a fool of himself in the process. Chuckling then, he shook his head woefully once more and darted off, heading for a safe area to Disapparate from. He didn't want to chance the anti-Apparition wards, making his way well past them before he felt safe.

In her room, Delphia rolled back over and sighed, spread out on her bed. She still had some time to sleep before work. And the prospect of dealing with mother after work wasn't exactly cheering. Trying to get comfortable, she stared off at the wall, able to smell Fenrir in her pillow. Her eyes drooped somewhat as she breathed steadily, inhaling their scent until she woke with a start, not even realising she had drifted off.

It was time to get up. Another thrilling day at work ahead of her and what would amount to a delightful dinner afterwards. Grumbling she slid from the bed and dressed before her elf even appeared, helping her with her hair. At least she could see how Katrine was coming along.