by Godiva Glenn
As he'd spoken, he'd transferred both her wrists to one of his large clawed hands, and the other had tugged her red minidress up in the back so that it revealed the bottom curve of her ass. She wasn't wearing underwear since there didn't seem to be a point. The costume was meant to help her have fun. He dragged his claws over the bare flesh of her bottom, scratching and sending flurries of excitement through her bones.
"You two seem sure of yourselves," she said finally, settling for a cocky tone.
"I can smell the moisture between your thighs from here," Cyric replied, arching a brow. He still fisted himself, and she was fighting herself to not stare at his magnificent body and straining erection. Good thing they can’t read minds.
Her wrists felt to be burning in Ian's grasp. The aura that marked werewolves as supernatural was now a tangible sting along her skin—a pleasant burn that made her decision easy.
"My," she purred, licking her lips and meeting Cyric's stare. "What a big cock you have."
"The better to choke you with," he grinned.
"The better to make you scream with," Ian added.
She started to reply, but she lost her words as Ian forcefully leaned her forward and impaled her on his cock, grunting as he worked into her. Dozens of lovers across her lifetime, but none had ever treated her like this. She'd never handed over control and allowed herself to be invaded. Ecstasy chasing agony left her gasping with every inch that slid into her, stretching her and making her feel oddly mortal yet exuberant.
Her fangs emerged automatically, a response to the physical pain even if it was a distress she easily endured and welcomed.
"None of that," Cyric's voice chided, strangely gentle. "Put them away. If I feel any fang, any venom, you won't like my response."
At some point, she'd closed her eyes. Now she opened them and saw his pointed cock up close and personal. The shadows and dim light couldn't hide the vibrant red of his arousal, like muted blood. A stark contrast to the nearly white fur that covered his groin. Ian gave a hard thrust and circled his hips against her ass, finally buried to the hilt within her. He released her hands and gripped her hips tentatively.
She stared at Cyric's erection, holding her mouth shut tight while her fangs retreated and her body shook. Though immune to many things, physical shock wasn't one of them, and a tingling numbness crept over her legs. Her head dipped and she stumbled, but the werewolves held her up. Cyric pulled her curled hair to the side and lifted her face. The hot tip of him pressed along her lips, sweeping teasingly.
"Good thing you don't need to breathe," he said huskily.
Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, catching him in the process. He was salty and earthy and smelled wild, and it made her head spin. They may have never considered this fantasy, but she had repeatedly imagined this over the years, ever since the first time she came across a male werewolf pulling himself from a female.
His cock had twitched, still spilling his seed as he'd stood and stretched, revealing his glorious form.
That sight had become embossed in her memory.
With a breathy welcoming sound, she parted her lips so that he could enter her mouth. He was gentle at first, thrusting slow and shallow. Her tongue savored his warmth and smooth flesh.
Behind her, Ian began to move again, no longer content with the slow grind he'd initiated while Cyric captured her mouth. Their easy pacing relaxed her, but it didn't last. The first time Cyric hit the back of her throat, she froze. She didn't have a gag reflex, but she had never tried to accommodate a man of his length and girth. He didn't acknowledge her hesitance, and fucked her throat as steadily as Ian worked her sore pussy.
She did finally choke, when her lips pressed into the soft white fur around the base of Cyric's cock. He held her there and wriggled against her while he growled content profanities. Her hands had previously clutched his powerful thighs, but now she reached up and palmed his tender sack. A snarl startled her, but when she stopped touching him he bade her continue.
"Work for your prize, bitch," he snapped.
Tears welled in her eyes, an uncontrollable side-effect from having his cock resting deep in her throat for several minutes. Though his voice was rough, his eyes regarded her with something akin to wonder, and it startled her how intimate it had become for her to look up at him like this. Slowly, he withdrew and gave her a brief moment to swallow and rub her jaw. When he returned to her, she stared into his golden eyes as if challenging him. Something passed between them, something that may complicate the future but made tonight perfect.
As they worked her body, Elissa fell into the euphoric state of losing control. To them, this wasn't about her, but they filled her with pleasure nonetheless. Each synced thrust sent a jolt of ecstasy to her center. Cyric's taste and Ian's exquisitely furious strokes were an overwhelming combination. But when she thought she would hit the edge of her climax, Ian dug the tips of his claws into her hips, not piercing but causing her flesh to sting and halting her climb.
He stilled behind her and seemed to expand. She felt inexplicably full, and the pressure was intense enough to bring an uneasy moan to her lips.
She squirmed free of Cyric and tried unsuccessfully to look over her shoulder at Ian. "What are you doing?" she wheezed.
He began to move again, and the pressure remained. "Keeping you from changing your mind," he growled.
Cyric chuckled, an odd sound from a werewolf. "Knot?" he asked, though it didn't seem directed at her.
Ian slammed his hips forward so that the slap of his hips hitting her ass her rang through the air.
"What?" Her question was muffled by Cyric entering her mouth again.
He smirked down at her. "You don't know what the knot is? He's locked into you. His cock isn't going anywhere until he's done. You can't run, you can't pull free. Until he cums, you're trapped."
For a moment, she panicked, but she believed it to be a lie. She squirmed and Ian's hands left her. Cyric backed up, pulling his cock from her mouth reluctantly. She tried to rise or even lean away from him, but she felt stuck. Ian groaned and took her by the hair, yanking her body up and burying his nose in her curls.
"You're mine. Don't forget who's in charge here. You're just a warm pussy to collect my seed," he snarled into her ear. She closed her eyes. He yanked the front of her dress down and groped roughly at her exposed breasts. "I like this. Cool to the touch but so hot to fuck. My new favorite toy."
Killer, predator, warrior, heinous bitch—Elissa was many things. Never a sexual plaything. Never a helpless woman. Yet it felt so good to hear him speak dirty words to her because he was enjoying her body and she could feel it. She enjoyed it too. Though a part of her wanted to punish Ian in the worst way, the lusty hungry part of her could listen to him all night, and could definitely withstand his fierce pounding.
Between one blink and the next, she was on her hands and knees with Ian slamming into her hard enough that spots floated in the corners of her vision. She relinquished her self-control and cried out each time he hit the brink of her core. She wanted to cum, and she was so close she could taste it. Even though she'd never liked it rough before, she craved it now. Anything less than this was unimaginable and unacceptable.
Cyric crouched by her but didn't attempt to re-engage. Instead, he lifted her chin and grinned wickedly at her. In her current state, she found it hard to focus on him. Her lids were heavy and thoughts were foggy, aware only of the pleasure building between her legs, so close to blooming. Her hands clutched at the earth, seeking hold but finding nothing but dirt and leaves.
"I want to see your face when you cum, lovely."
He didn't have to wait long. Fangs slipped loose in her frenzy, piercing her bottom lip until she tasted the sharpness of her own blood. The pressure at her core expanded and overflowed, flooding her senses as wave after wave of her orgasm drowned her. She screamed, but Cyric covered her mouth and held her still. Through the numbing aftershock of her climax, she heard Ian's howl as he came.
He bu
ried deep as he spilled into her and layered with that sensation was a ripple that seemed to come from that unique werewolf aura. She'd shivered from it earlier. Now it felt like a lurid caress over her entire body, and when it struck her clit she came again, until she was shaking and dizzy. Moments passed, marked only by her noisy panting and the deep breaths of the werewolf behind her.
Wet heat flooded her pussy and inner thighs when he pulled out, his seed spilling from her. So much. So fucking much. There had never been a time when she'd been fucked into a state of weakness, and she felt strange. She felt human, almost. Vulnerable. The ground tugged at her and she answered, laying her body to the earth and trembling at the power of the ley lines pulsating against her bared skin.
"Trying to sleep?" Cyric's voice pulled her from the fog of post-orgasmic euphoria. She was flipped over and lifted. Blinking, she found herself in his lap, facing him. He nuzzled at her neck and she flinched involuntarily. "I think you're ready," he stated.
Claws tweaked her hardened nipples. "I'm always ready," she slurred. Ready for what, she wasn't sure, but she assumed it was sex with him. Sex she wanted so badly it left her feverish.
"Your nipples are the perfect shade of pink. And your pussy... so soft. You were made for this, weren't you?" he murmured. “Made for me to destroy.”
Her body was lifted, and he penetrated her sore folds with ease. His gentle thrusts chased away the lethargy in her muscles and she gripped his shoulders, urging him deeper and harder. He was thicker than Ian, and at this angle, he pressed and stroked her in just the right way. She arched her back and circled her hips atop him, taking her pleasure and moaning each word that managed to flicker in her mind.
Fuck.
Yes.
Please.
More.
Snapping twigs roused her from her state of calm ecstasy. She'd forgotten about Ian somehow, but now he was behind her again, his shadow casting the world into darkness while he stood watch. Then he was kneeling at her back.
"Ready?" he asked.
Cyric gave a quick nod.
Ian's cock slid over her bottom and she froze. "Not..."
Cyric chuckled and shook his head. "Relax. I've got you." His arms pulled her close.
She inhaled his earthy scent and for reasons she didn't understand, trusted him. Even if she didn't trust the man at her back, she relaxed enough to fold into Cyric's arms. Ian shifted and she felt his cock poised at her already occupied entrance—something that made no sense to her. Didn't he realize-
"Oh!" she cried out as Ian shoved the tip of his erection into her to join Cyric.
While she bit her lip and Cyric held her tight, Ian painstakingly shoved his cock into her thoroughly aching pussy. The invasion was a tormenting sting but she wanted this. When both men were deep within her, they gave her a moment to relax. Tears had leaked from her eyes. She couldn't recall the last time she'd shed them in pain.
Cyric and Ian began to move in slow steady strokes that complimented each other, and she screamed. It was bliss, yes, but it was also torture. Cyric held her hips so that she wouldn't buck away, and Ian massaged her breasts with a gentleness that surprised her. In time, the burn faded away. Moaning, she returned to the heavenly state she'd found before Ian had joined. They were so eager for her. So hard for her. That knowledge expounded on her physical pleasure until she was writhing on them.
"I'm going to cum," she whined. "Don't stop."
Cyric's hold on her grew painful, claws threatening to tear into her skin, but still she rolled her hips while they thrust into her greedily. She squeezed her hand down between their bodies and thrummed her fingertips across her clit. It sent a jolt through her, and she moaned loudly. She pressed frantic circles into her wet skin and stared into Cyric's eyes. They seemed darker now, like he knew something she didn't.
When her orgasm hit, the werewolves became wild. It occurred to her that they had been careful before, and now they both stabbed upwards into her, unyielding in their thrusts. The luxurious waves of her climax spread from her core to her limbs, leaving even her fingertips tingling, and all the while, she cried out and demanded more. The first jet of hot cum sent a shiver through her, and soon she felt both of them throbbing within her, emptying themselves into her greedy pussy.
She rode them hard, on a high from her ongoing orgasm, until the buzz began to fade and the werewolves breathed heavy and steady. Ian slid out but Cyric smirked at her while he continued rocking into her. He made a low keening sound in his throat before lifting her from his lap. She sprawled onto the ground once more, shivering once she felt the spill of cum spreading from her tender entrance.
Ian and Cyric were speaking in whispers to each other but she passed on eavesdropping so that she could enjoy this moment a bit longer. Retreating footfalls sounded. Ian had vanished into the night. Cyric was kneeling next to her a minute later. He pressed the tip of his cock to her lips and she opened her mouth automatically. Moaning, she savored the taste of his and Ian's cum, mingled with the sweetness of her own juices.
"We knew you wanted it, you know. Pretending you were in danger was just for a bit of spice. It's common play for our kind. Ian, in particular, enjoys the game."
She smiled weakly. "How did you know?"
"Your eyes when you've come upon us before. You always seem very aware of our nudity."
"That's not a crime. You may behave like animals sometimes but you aren't mindless beasts. It's hard not to notice when your naked bodies have human traits."
"It's not just that, though," he smirked.
"Oh?"
"Last time, maybe a month ago I think, you came across myself and Aaron, and you lingered. Argued about something I don't recall, for longer than necessary. And I wouldn't have paid any mind, except that as the conversation went on, I could smell you. You smelled ready to fuck."
She lifted her brows, not embarrassed, but certainly surprised. It hadn't dawned on her that they would notice, but then again—of course they would. They were more beast than man. She was just stupid in not realizing that she was supposed to wear fifty layers of underwear around them.
"But even so," she said slowly, "how do you know it wasn't just for him?"
"That was a guess. You had to know that Aaron didn't care for any females except humans. Maybe you thought fantasizing about him was safe because there were a million reasons for him to never help you fulfill them. Doesn't matter though, because when you thought Ian and I had you trapped, you got soaked."
She simply smiled. It didn't matter—of that he was correct.
"We can't ever speak of this," he sighed, dropping the mood.
She peered up from his length to his face and let her eyes show that he was right, and she understood. What they'd done wasn't just perverse. It was unacceptable to both their species. The sort of incident that could lead to expulsion from their respective communities. He stood and she closed her eyes, knowing he was looking down and admiring her. She was dripping cum and her dress was gathered to her midsection, exposing her completely. His claws had bit into her skin, and though she had to have healed by now, there would be spots of blood. She knew he loved the picture she painted.
"Next time, I'm in control," she whispered. She opened her eyes and he gave a quick nod, then bounded off. Wrapping the red cloak around her naked body, she rested in the woods.
Fairy Tail
Vella had somehow found an unoccupied room—a library—and now she and Gabe were enthusiastically getting to know each other. She asked him questions about his life while evading most of the ones he asked her, which he found intriguing. She wasn't a vampire; he could tell because of how warm she was. And she wasn't a werewolf because she didn't have the odd static charge surrounding her that he'd become used to feeling around Aaron.
Of course, Gabe's knowledge of the supernatural was limited. Vella could be a corporeal ghost for all he knew.
The room had grown quiet and he realized that she had wandered to sit in front of the fireplace. S
he hugged her knees and stared into the crackling logs.
"You're a pleasant companion," she said when he joined her on the floor.
"So are you."
After a moment of hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. It was the first touch that he'd initiated, and it felt right. He liked Vella, even though he wondered how that would work out if things went the way they seemed headed. He was becoming attached to the girl that was supposed to be a one-night fling. Apparently, he was as bad at hooking up as he had predicted he'd be.
She leaned against him and he summoned the courage to be direct. He dipped his head down to kiss her shoulder, and let his lips trail over her neck and jaw, finally finding her lips and nibbling at them teasingly. She moaned softly and he took her parted lips as an invitation, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her deeply. While their tongues danced, he pulled her down until they were both on the floor, him hovering over her to keep from crushing her.
Pulling away from her lips, he whispered. "You're so beautiful. I've never met anyone like you."
Her eyes fluttered and she looked away. Her dress had drawn up, revealing pale gold lace peeking from between her thighs, but he didn't head there just yet. Instead, he dragged his fingertips through her hair, along her neck, and down across her collarbone. He traced the top border of her dress from one side to the other, then gently caressed the curve of her breasts.
"Don't stop," she sighed.
I wouldn't dream of it. He palmed one of her breasts and massaged it until the nipple hardened, then he repeated the action on the other. The taut peaks were prominently visible through her delicate white dress and she looked both erotic and sweet somehow. He scooted himself down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting down through the fabric and rousing an excited cry from her throat.
Squirming, she tugged at his shirt, grasping at his shoulders and whispering to herself in tones too low for him to understand, but they didn't sound English regardless. He nibbled her other breast, leaving damp transparent areas where his mouth had been. The flickering light bathed the room in alternating casts of orange glow and harsh shadows, so he couldn't tell what color tipped her breasts. But he had to find out.