Just a Wolf

Dominic

After this day I’ve had, all I want is to be alone with her. All my wolf wants is to be with her and her wolf. And all my dick wants is to be in her, but again, he doesn’t get a vote.

Ever since I met her, every time I am with her I have a hard-on, but it feels like more than that tonight. It isn’t just being horny, it’s like I’m starving. Starving for her, for her company, for her smile, for her voice, and for her touch. Any touch. The little touch of her hand didn’t just calm me down and give me the unusual ability to speak in front of a group. It also felt like it set me on fire. My nerves are tingling, my hands are itching to be on her, my eyes can’t stay off of her slender legs, in white tights underneath that little red skirt.

We don’t speak on the way around the back of the packhouse and down the stairs to her room, but it is like there is electricity bouncing back and forth between us as we walk. Her delicious aroma seems somehow more powerful in the orange glow of the fading sunset, and the scent is surrounding me, infiltrating my senses, filling me with even more fire.

She opens the door, and lets me into her room first. I watch as she closes the door behind her. The lights aren’t on in here, and only a little early evening light is coming in through the high windows of her basement room, but she doesn’t flip the switch. She turns to me, in the twilight, and we are pulled together like magnets, no thought involved, just a force of nature.

My arms seize her, and crush her face to mine, and she grips me with all of her surprising strength. She is a wolf, after all. Our lips are together, our tongues switching back and forth between our mouths, she is pressed against me so tightly that I’m afraid that I’m bruising her, but I have no power to stop or think or do anything except exist in this moment of burning desire, or lust, or passion, or whatever this is.

I have her pressed against the back of her door, standing mouth to mouth, toe to toe, body to body.

She moves her head back, and I’m worried that she’s going to stop, but it is only long enough to start trailing her lips down my neck to her not-mark on my throat, and when she kisses me there, and sucks, and lets her teeth graze against my skin, a groan tears out of me so loud that it seems like it must shake the walls.

She relents, and leans her head down against my shoulder, and we just stand together, and pant like marathoners after a race, my body still pressed tightly against hers, our arms still clutching around each other. It is giving me a sense of both completion and agony. I am overjoyed to have her in my arms, but I don’t know how long I can go on like this. I am going to wait for her to be ready before we go any further, but some things just can’t be stopped. Much more of this and I’m either going to simply come in my pants, or maybe have a heart attack, but if I have to wait too long I won’t be able to control what happens.

She peers up at me, her blue eyes looking dark in the gloom, and her face is full of … I think it is compassion. She says, her fingers trailing down from my shoulder across my torso, and finally reaching the waistband of my jeans while I suck in a breath, “Does that… hurt?”

Oh lord what a question! I had stopped breathing as heavily, but it starts up again.

I’m not sure exactly what she means, but I’m afraid it means I’m hurting her with it. It can’t be comfortable to have a metal rod digging into your stomach. “Am I hurting you?” I ask.

“What? No, I’m just worried that having that so… um… full… must be painful.

“No,” I say, but her eyes hold an expression of curiosity and sympathy and trust, and I have to add, “and yes.” I can’t not be honest with her.

Her forehead wrinkles, and she takes my hand and pulls me over to the bed, so that I am laying down next to her. I huff out a sigh, and bury my head against her neck for a moment. Her hand comes up and caresses the back of my head. I linger here, feeling so comforted by her, so at home with her.

But then I hear her sniff. I lift my head and look down at her. Her eyelashes are brushed with tears.

Oh no! Maybe I really did hurt her? “What’s wrong?” I ask, dismayed.

“I’m hurting you,” she whispers, “by making you wait. I am so sorry. I don’t know what to do, but I know I’m doing something wrong. I don’t want to be hurting you.” She sounds full of sorrow.

“No, Amelia, no, you aren’t hurting me. It’s nothing you’re doing wrong!” I roll over onto my back and take her with me, letting her rest against my side, her head on my shoulder, and realize that after three days this is already starting to feel natural and normal, to have her here. “It’s just that I’m, you know, a guy.”

“Well, I know that,” she says, sounding sad and amused at the same time.

“Maybe you don’t understand that guys are just, um, just plain horny.”

She pffts out a laugh. “Horny?” she says.

It makes me laugh too. Is that another word she hasn’t heard? Man, she must have had a very sheltered upbringing. I stroke her hair, moving my hand from the top of her head down her back. “It just means that I want you. And my, uh, dick gets full because of that.”

I’m not sure she knows what to say.

There’s a moment of silence, then I ask, “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Um, no,” she says.

“Good,” I say, and shift her over again so that she is beneath me, and I start kissing her again.

Amelia

I’m still worried that I’m doing something wrong. Having a part of your body that swollen has got to hurt, and I know that I’m making it happen somehow. I know that he wants me, which I know must mean that he wants sex. But I still think we should wait until after the Alpha’s ceremony, because once we do that, I know that we’ll mark each other for real, and everyone will know. It will distract from the important thing happening this week if we don’t wait.

I realize that I want him too, though. The throbbing that I feel, the pulse deep inside, the breathlessness when he kisses me, the tingling, the heat, even a sort of messy moisture underneath, all tells me that I want him. Is this what horny feels like? He feels all that too, but on top of it he has this huge appendage to deal with?

But he doesn’t want to talk about it any more. When he starts kissing me, all my thoughts fly straight out of my head. His tongue comes into my mouth and licks me inside, which makes the rest of me tingle even more. Then I feel his hand moving around to my front, and grabbing my boob again. It doesn’t shock me as much this time. I just feel like I want his hand there. I arch my back to press myself into his hand, and he squeezes, so hard that I think that it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Not at all. It just makes all of this heat and throbbing and panting and racing heart even more intense.

It gets even more extreme when he kisses down my throat, while he is holding my boob, and licks against his spot on my throat, and lets his teeth rest against me there, and I gyrate against him, gasping and moaning.

His hand lets go of me, and I’m disappointed for a second, then I feel that he is rubbing me all the way down, across my stomach, across my skirt, down my leg, and then back up under the skirt. His hand is rubbing against my tights, higher again, up to the top of my leg, until he is almost right at my lady business.

We’re both about ready to explode, and I don’t even understand what is happening, or what I am feeling, but he pauses for a moment, and pulls his mouth away long enough to ask, gasping, “Can I…?”

My mind isn’t working. I have no idea how he made his mouth form words. In answer all I can do is rear up, lifting myself up off the mattress a little, so that I am pressing my lady parts against his fingers, where he was waiting for my answer.

He pushes his fingers against me, against my tights, against my underwear, against the soft parts down there, and I lose what is left of my mind. I start squirming, and thrusting, and pushing, and I don’t even know what this is, but I am seeking a sensation, something just out of reach, something I don’t understand, something that I need. He is moving his fingers back and forth, pressing against me. He hits a part that is so sensitive that I hear myself shriek, and I clutch him, and my eyes squeeze shut so tightly that I see stars burst out behind my eyelids, and my heart is pounding so hard in my entire body that my pulse is filling up every nerve ending, and there is a roaring in my ears, and I am flooded with a feeling like falling off a cliff. I am feeling a violent, intense pleasure like I had never imagined. Every muscle in my body is rigid with tension, I shriek again, and clutch him, and he holds me, then suddenly it is over.

I lose all strength, and relax so instantly and entirely that I feel like I have dissolved into a puddle. His hand gets back out from under my skirt, and he holds me in both of his arms, just holds me, softly, gently, letting me recover, while I come back to earth.

Finally, I can speak, just a little. “What, what was…?” No, I’m wrong, I can’t speak. I’m not looking at him, I’m just lying in his arms. I’m not sure I want to meet his eyes after that moment of utter bliss, of undignified abandon, of losing myself entirely in what he had done to me.

I hear the smile in his voice, without even needing to see his face. “I think I made you come,” he says, sounding amazed and very pleased with himself.

Come? Another term. I’m learning a whole vocabulary, among other things.

And, if he could do that to me, after all the pain that he has been suffering, being horny and having to wait, I want to let him feel that too. It’s only fair. He made me feel that rapture. I want to do it to him. I don’t know how his parts work, but I didn’t really understand how mine work either, so I think it must be more or less the same.

I move my hand down, across his stomach, just like he did to me. Very lightly, I let my fingers slip down below his waistband, and feel the huge bulge there inside his pants.

He gasps, sucking in a breath of air, and I feel all of his muscles go entirely rigid, and his hands clutch me so tightly that he might be leaving bruises, but he doesn’t stop me. I trace the outline of his … dick… underneath his jeans, and feel how big it is. It feels like the size of my wrist. I don’t know where everything is down there, but I do what he did, and start stroking back and forth, up and down, across the bulge, exploring the width and length and hardness of his part. I can’t really picture what is under the cloth there, but it is him, a part of him.

He realizes what I mean to do, and he gasps out, “Amelia!” and I keep going, thinking he is just romantically saying my name, but then he goes on, “I need some tissue!”

What?

I react immediately, though, and with my other hand grab the box of tissue next to my bed and hand it to him, and he frantically grabs a big wad of it and stuffs it down his pants next to where my hand is still stroking him.

I keep going, and it only takes another couple of seconds before he makes a strangled noise, “Erk!” and gasps, and almost convulses. Underneath my hand I feel his dick have a sort of spasm, and I rest my hand on him, hoping I’m doing this right, then there are a few more spasms, and he is holding the tissue against himself, then he collapses just like I did when he made me come.

It takes him even longer than it took me to calm down. I move my hand away from his crotch, and just lie against him, quietly, waiting for him to recover. I feel so wonderful after what he did to me, and I hope he feels the same, and that I didn’t make any mistakes.

While he is still a little breathless, he whispers with a tone of profound relief, “Thank you.”