Cry Wolf

by Aurelia T. Evans

  “Take a look,” he said.

  Kelly peered into the mirror as he wrapped his hand around the leather straps that lined her lower back, creating aching tension against the rings that pierced deep into her skin. There were beads of blood where they had entered and exited the flesh—flesh that was no longer tattooed into a corset but had actually become rings and leather and pain and pressure. He held the top ribbons of leather like reins. Her mouth dropped open as the rings pulled from inside her.

  “Oh God, yes,” she breathed. This was what she’d actually wanted to get, but it had been impractical even for her. Her tattoos repaired themselves from damage and the colours never faded, but rings—especially as big as the ones now lining the sides of her back—could be ripped out either by accident or during a fight. That would leave her only with a big gash in her back and no more ring, which was why she had gone with the tattoo instead. But although she hissed at the sting and her nerves screamed from metal being where metal shouldn’t be, she thought she might cry from how much she wanted him to keep holding her like that, pulling her where he wanted, drawing out the pain as though it were pleasure.

  “Do you like that?” he asked. “How about this?”

  Using his grip on her as leverage, he positioned himself then plunged his cock into her as hard as he could, yanking her back onto him by the leather laces in his hands.

  “Shit!” The curse ripped from her lips, embarrassingly high. The weather outside the window, which had softened into a rainstorm, suddenly worsened. Three simultaneous lightning forks cracked the sky, followed by thunder. The candles, too, spluttered and flared up.

  “Interesting.” He tried to sound professorial, but a strain in his tone belied how her reaction and wet heat had affected him.

  “You don’t happen to have any tattoos, do you?” Kelly asked between pants.

  He withdrew almost all the way out of her then slammed back in. In the mirror, Kelly was mesmerised by the way the rings—stainless steel by their colour and weight—tugged her skin up with them. Kelly thought it was one of the most amazing things she had ever seen.

  “I ascribe to a purity aesthetic,” Abraham said. “I do not allow cutting or printing on my skin.”

  Yeah, Kelly thought as he entered her again. His thick base stretched her, and she liked watching it when he pulled out enough for it to appear in the mirror. You’re all about purity. You just like revelling in the impure.

  Maybe he thought he was doing all of his girls a favour, somehow fucking them onto the straight and narrow. Maybe he thought they were his reward. Either way, the man could stand to acknowledge his own impurities.

  “Let’s see what we can do about that,” she muttered. The magic unsettling the fine hairs on her body awakened, eager to engage and obey. Too eager. It wanted to be used.

  She knew her spell had worked when something slithered over her hip and ass before moving away from her.

  Into him.

  She twisted around to see it—which made his grip on her corset ties tug tighter on one side. Her eyes nearly rolled back.

  Abraham twitched and moaned as the albino snake transferred from her to him, moving over his thigh and following the arrow of his hips down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. Its tongue flicked out, and Abraham shuddered. She hadn’t made it real like Abraham had done to the corset ties, but she’d made the snake feel as though it were real, three-dimensional and slithering over Abraham’s skin.

  “Good Lord,” he gasped as the tattooed serpent wrapped around his cock.

  He fell forward on top of her and jerked his hips, filling her again at a different angle.

  “Wicked, wicked girl,” he said into her fragrant shoulder blade.

  “You have no idea,” she said.

  Both of their magics were working on each other now, feeding off each other. Kelly didn’t think he could get close enough or deep enough as their magic tried to bring them together, intertwining and intermingling fiery red and earthen green wherever their skin touched. Roaring or nearly constant thunder filled the room, but it could have just been in her ears alone.

  She called the snake back to her. Its retreat made Abraham shout and slam into her again.

  “Now, do you need a serpent to keep doing that to me?” Kelly tossed behind her. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard as you can. Just move.”

  “Make me,” he whispered, almost a suggestion, but her magic caught it and snuffed it out.

  “No,” she said. “Not that way.” She squeezed her muscles around him, and for a moment she experienced what she must feel like to him—fevered, velvet-wet flesh like a torturous vice around him, as though it was around the whole of him and not just his heavy, needful erection. He wouldn’t last long, not even with his iron control.

  “You don’t want to play a battle of sexual wills with me, Abraham,” she said. “You might usually get what you want, but you’ve never had to fight before. Me, I always win.” Sometimes she voluntarily conceded, which was still a win in her column. But she would not concede to him.

  She lowered herself and rested her head on her forearm so that she could see everything, the beautiful weave of leather through silver rings, the lovely angles of his hips leading to where they were joined and where his cock glistened with her juices, the way the mist of her magic climbed up his torso and subsumed his brighter magic. She wasn’t doing that on purpose. Her magic called to him, caressed him, embraced him, whether she wanted it to or not.

  “Take me,” she purred. “Use me.”

  His neck flexed with the effort to hold himself back, to keep his control against the triple threat of her magic, her cunt around his cock and the sight of her in the mirror appearing every inch the submissive, even if she wasn’t. He tried to move his magic over her like fumbling fingers, but he couldn’t slip a single magical tendril past the magic that she had unconsciously wrapped around him.

  He gave up trying to control himself. Abraham forced his eyes to meet hers in the mirror as he began to fuck her in earnest, yanking back on the corset ties like he was riding her. Strangely, she felt no urge to grow her teeth or claws in response to the roughness and the lightning-like pain that stabbed through her like crochet hooks with every thrust.

  Beads of sweat dripped down his face. He groaned each time he entered her, entranced by the sensation of her pulsing magic upon him. Hers wasn’t practiced as his upon her, but her magic would be harder to fight because it was such an amorphous will, a general desire that was no less intense by its lack of focus. She wasn’t commanding him to do anything, just as long as he did something.

  He quickly lost himself as the haze took him over completely. Every inch of his composure dissolved so that he was no longer the Father, no longer the leader, no longer the sage. All that was left was a man in the throes of a nearly achieved orgasm, driving himself to the greater end that he desperately needed.

  Kelly didn’t care who heard her, who heard them. She wanted to scream from the pleasure he wrought between her legs and the hot, electric, stinging, unrelenting pain over her back.

  “Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes,” she chanted, as potent as a spell.

  He stiffened and shouted, slamming himself in as far as she could take him. Kelly pounded the bed in frustration at the sudden loss of friction and brought a hand between her legs to rub furiously at her clit. Abraham jerked inside her, his cock still hard.

  “What are you doing to me?” he panted.

  “You, sir, are not finished,” she said archly, not bothering to hide the werewolf growl of arousal building inside her.

  Abraham’s hips snapped against hers again.

  “I’m not letting you go until I am satisfied.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who can come over and over and over,” Abraham said, a little less alarmed now that he knew all she wanted was to come. “I’m only one man.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’ll ensure you are up to the task,” Kelly said. “If you’re tired of doi
ng the work, then get on your back and I’ll damn well finish myself.”

  He tried to pull out of her, but she rose up on her knees and reached behind her, holding him in. She moaned at the tightness of the new angle. Abraham had to catch his breath.

  “Just lie down,” she said softly, less of a command and more a request.

  The huskiness of her voice must have purred sweetly enough over his slick skin for him to obey this time. She shifted so that he could stretch his legs out in front of her. She had to lift herself almost off him once or twice, but she never let the head of his cock pop out of her, held it in as tightly as she could just so she could see his face contort as he tried to control his automatic reaction. In response to her gentler movements and the magic keeping him hard, his arousal awakened once more, invigorated in spite of his age.

  When they had rearranged themselves, she still faced away from him so that he could keep a hold on the leather laces. It was harder for him to see into the mirror from their new angle, but that didn’t stop him from trying. She straddled his hips as he lay flat and reached up through the wild tangle of her hair to stroke over the curve of her waist, the flowerbed of her upper back, and of course the tattoo-made-real lower down. But in the mirror, he was able to see where he split her folds open and the way her breasts shook when she moved.

  She braced herself on his thighs and worked her hips in circles, coaxing him into hardness on his own instead of under her spell. She bit her lip as she stirred her own pleasure back up as well.

  “I just need the one more,” Kelly reassured him. She brushed her fingers softly over his inner thighs. The muscles twitched and the cock inside her twitched as well. Their combined wetness dripped out of her.

  Abraham let her know when he was ready for rougher fare when he tugged sharply at her corset ties. She cried out. New tears followed old, dried paths. This wasn’t like when Malcolm had made love to her so gently that she had thought she was going to fall apart at the seams. This was simple, physical reaction to the flesh rings. She ignored it the way she ignored the blood pooling at the edges of the rings and the ache of the skin layers there.

  Although he held the reins, this time she was the one riding him, her breasts rising and falling less than a second behind the flexing of the muscles in her thighs and abdomen as she impaled herself on him, bouncing as hard as she could so she could feel him stretch her at his base. He was captivated by her, all of her, unable to keep his eyes in any one place.

  “You’re letting the magic do what it likes. Very nice, but I think you can do more,” he said, pulling harder on the leather. She whimpered and her back arched.

  “I don’t feel you complaining,” Kelly replied.

  “Try,” he said. “Try accepting it in without locking it up. Let it burn inside you. Let it fill you.”

  “We’re still talking about magic, right?” Kelly said. But she closed her eyes as she rocked against his cock and concentrated on the electric warmth over her skin that made the little hairs stand up. She drew it away from Abraham and from its thin mist around her. She imagined absorbing it into her skin like lotion.

  “Mmm, I can feel that,” Abraham groaned, stroking her spine and shoving up into her. “You already felt like you had a fever even to me, and now you’re on fire.”

  Kelly raked her nails through her hair, tugging at the roots. She had never felt her own werewolf fever, but she felt this—indeed, like she was on fire from the inside. Her cunt fluttered in waves and she teetered at the precipice. Magic pulsed inside her like a heart in that deep primal place somewhere below her ribs that extended to where Abraham penetrated her. Her whole body started to sync itself to the magic’s rhythm. She needed…she needed more, so much more.

  Thunder rumbled above them as she turned around over his cock and rolled them so that he was above her and inside her and all around her. She pulled her knees up almost to her chest and hooked one leg over his shoulder, then the other, until she was almost folded in half. Abraham mouthed an expletive he was reluctant to say aloud on principle.

  “If you take care of me, I’ll take you in my mouth,” Kelly said. “If you don’t, I’ll use your body like a toy and leave you to jerk off on your bed. Is that incentive enough for you, old man?”

  “I take umbrage at that,” Abraham said. He gripped the headboard to help him onto his knees again and pounded her into the bed.

  Kelly stroked the crinkled dark hair on his chest. “Then make me eat my words.”

  “It hardly seems like fair punishment if you ask for it,” he said.

  “And I don’t intend to ask for it again. Don’t you want me to suck your cock?” Kelly asked sweetly. “Smothered in my juices and your cum, my lips stretched thin around you. I’ll swallow every single drop.” She punctuated the last three words with tightened muscles around him. “Now, how many times do I have to tell you to fuck me?”

  Abraham leant down to brush his lips against hers. She playfully licked his upper lip before letting him sink into her, his tongue mimicking the motions she wanted more. Her magic heated deeper and threatened to spill out of her like before.

  “Just once more,” he whispered against her open mouth.

  “Fuck me, Abraham.”

  His energy had replenished from letting her do all the work while he lay on his back. He applied his newfound vigour with as much force as she could have ever asked for, unafraid of how hard he was entering her or whether her limbs hurt from the flexibility she demanded of them or whether her back was bleeding into the coverlet. His wiry hair and sometimes his skin there tantalised her clit, merely stoking the magical fire twisting hot and bright inside her like a fiery maelstrom. Abraham found her corset ties again just as she began to moan, and she stopped caring about what storm raged inside her or outside the house.

  She forgot about Malcolm, the sanctuary, Damien and his pack. All that mattered at that narrow moment was that her magic was powerful and everywhere, and so was Abraham. His glowing eyes met hers as he pulled, gouged, thrust her through her second orgasm.

  The bedroom window shattered outward.

  She didn’t need claws to scratch lines down his arms.

  He shouted but pistoned through until she stopped clenching and her eyes closed. The magic was not yet sated—it had to make up for many years—but her body was. Nevertheless, she had made a promise.

  When she opened her eyes again, Abraham slipped his flushed, rigid cock out of her, lay down with his head resting on his arm and waited, his expression solemn without a trace of measured contempt.

  She slowly unfurled and draped over him to take that glistening cock in her mouth. She didn’t bother with preliminaries or teasing—they’d had enough of that. She clutched his hip and thigh and twisted her mouth over him, sucking all the way up his length before bobbing over just the head, savouring the mingled tastes. It wasn’t long before he began to thrust into her mouth.

  The electricity in the room crackled as it unsuccessfully tried to light the blown-out bulbs. Rain tumbled into the room from the shattered window. Neither Kelly nor Abraham paid it any mind, nor the way the candle flames began to climb.

  Kelly moaned around his cock. She couldn’t help it, how much she liked doing this, any more than she could change how much she liked the way he plucked at her heated flesh rings just as his balls drew in. She pulled up to suck on the pulsing head and swallowed everything he gave her as he shuddered through his climax.

  Kelly kept his cock in her mouth just to have it filling her, licking at it lightly as it softened. It took his fingers in her hair to draw her off him. He pulled her head up so that she looked at him from her vantage point at his hip. The burning in his eyes had become a smoulder, but that did not lessen its intensity. The candles had gone out, filling the bedroom with the smell of smoke, ozone from the electrical charge around the lights in the room and wet, ripe earth from the other side of the broken window.

  “Do you see now, Kelly?” Abraham asked. “How good it can b
e with someone who understands what you are? And I can make it even better. I can make you better—I can make you more than you are now with that beast on your back.”

  Kelly rested her head against his stomach and inwardly sighed. He didn’t understand. She surveyed the damage in the room, just a porthole’s glimpse of the larger picture, and none of it meant anything to him. The last time she had done this much meteorological magic, she had been human, which told her how much worse it would have been if she were only human and didn’t have the werewolf there to filter the magic into something more manageable. And now that he had shattered her usual guards, she wasn’t even sure how much more the wolf could help her.

  “What’s going through your head?” Abraham asked.

  Kelly allowed him to guide her up into his arms, where he wrapped himself around her and pressed his lips to her hair. It was an unexpected gesture. Kelly didn’t think he had been so solicitous afterwards with the people she had seen in the visions with him.

  “I’m thinking this argument is pointless,” Kelly said. “We aren’t communicating.”

  He swept his hand over her back. The corset ties and rings disappeared under his palm. Then all he caressed was ink, bloodstain and blissfully aching skin. Kelly regretted the disappearance, even though she knew it was better this way.

  “You should fix that window before there’s too much water damage,” Kelly said.

  “Why don’t you?” Abraham asked.

  “I don’t fix things. I don’t know how.”

  “When has that ever stopped you?”

  Kelly idly stroked through the hair on his chest then propped herself up, staring at the empty hole where the glass had been. With unusual concentration—almost meditative—she called each and every piece back and melded them together into their original state. When she had finished, the window was mostly repaired, enough to keep the rain out. At least it was only rain now—the worst of the storm had passed.

  The glass still showed evidence that it had shattered, reminding her of what thick glass looked like when hit by a bullet, cracking in a spider web pattern. A ghost of that pattern was still in the glass, like etchings instead of cracks.