by Pink, Lilly
“It’s a bit colder up here,” he said, “but don’t worry, I brought extra clothes.”
“It’s beautiful… what do you call this place?”
“It’s an unmarked lake, actually, no name. But Cam calls it Loggerhead Pond – go figure.”
“I’m surprised at how blue it is… I don’t think I’ve ever seen water that color.”
Alan smiled. “That’s because it’s super clean. Glacial water, freshly melted. Wanders down through the shale and the earth, and seeps out here. Probably the purest water you’ve ever tasted… the color is from the silt. Looks inviting though, right?”
She nodded. “I don’t suppose it’s good for swimming?” Only if you’re a polar bear shifter, he was inclined to say. “Well, not really. In a human shape, you’d probably catch hypothermia if you tried.”
“I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when you said we were going camping. Are you sure we’re safe up here? I mean… what with wild animals and all. I don’t know, I just feel like we’re suddenly too close to the sky. That probably sounds funny.”
“Not at all,” he said. “If you keep it to yourself, I have terrible vertigo. That doesn’t mean it’s not a thrilling experience. Maybe tomorrow we can go up that cliff there. The view is amazing, you can almost see Cedarhaven on a clear day.”
“Really?” her eyes flashed with excitement. “I guess we don’t have enough time today?”
He looked up at the sky. There were clouds assembling like dark grey phalanxes over the mountains, and the wind was definitely getting stronger, sprouting whitecaps in the middle of the aquamarine lake. Should have checked the weather, he reminded himself, and felt foolish for not considering something so basic.
“Best not,” he said. “We could go in true form, but even then, I wouldn’t want to risk it. But don’t worry, I brought two bottles of wine and all the trimmings, and once I get a fire started in the cabin, you won’t want to leave, I guarantee.”
She smiled in spite of herself. As a noble, it was said the world was her oyster. She wanted for nothing – but she was beginning to see that life in the cloistered settlement of the estates was like a cage, albeit a gilded one. I wanted for nothing only because I didn’t know what existed outside my scope of being, she lamented. If she had known, would she have wanted this?
It didn’t matter. As she followed the tall handsome man, who would become her husband, into the quaint rickety cabin, she only knew that intrinsically she wanted it now. It wasn’t the easy life of a noble – it was uncomfortable, in some ways. One look at the small bed and the musty fireplace convinced her of that. But at the same time, Alan had shown her new things she had never even considered, taught her things she had always taken for granted.
He indicated the couch, and she curled up on it as he lit the oil lamps around the cabin, causing an orange glow to infuse the small single room that was both living room, kitchen, and bedroom. It did feel cozy, almost like a den, and she wondered if that was the Wolf in her waking up.
Alan went to work, collecting kindling from a moldy cardboard box and constructing a small teepee in the old stove. In seconds, it caught fire and started to roar, and he stepped back, warming his hands. They could look out the window at the lake as evening fell and the first stars began to flicker, forming constellations.
He pulled a chilled bottle of wine out of the Triumph’s side-bag and sat down with a huff beside her. “Whew,” he said, “that’s better, isn’t it?”
“It really is, I don’t know… I don’t have a word for this, Alan. I feel like I did when I stepped off that plane – confused, excited, and nervous. I feel all of them without knowing which is correct.”
He handed her a wine glass and she sipped at the sweet Amarone. “Maybe you’re not supposed to feel anything in particular,” he suggested, putting an arm around her until she leaned her head against his shoulder. Both of them watched the fire crackle and pop in the stove, transfixed by its sorcery.
“If I’ve learned anything, moving between my world and your world, it’s that there isn’t a whole lot of guarantees in any direction… all you can do is hold on and hope you end up where you’re supposed to be. If it helps, I think it’s important to live in the present. So… right now, we’re safe, we’re warm, we’re in a beautiful place with beautiful wine, and the stars are out. For me, that’s enough.”
She smiled and clinked her glass against his. “You have a very simple-minded way of putting things,” she said, and saw him wince. “Don’t … I didn’t mean that offensively. Sorry, it’s just… ugh, habit. What I mean is, I think your way of seeing this is simple, but I think it’s better. It’s more… clear? I’m still not used to it. In the estate no one says what they mean, it’s always subterfuge, masks, word-games, and you’re constantly trying to figure out what it is that the other person isn’t saying.”
“It must be a hard change to come to a place where everyone pretty much says exactly what’s on their mind?” he said, rubbing her shoulder.
“But… I like it. Because, I’m also like that. You’ve noticed, of course,” she said, “but, thank you for being patient with me. I know it’s… not easy to be around me sometimes. There’s… there’s something-… no, I suppose it’s not worth mentioning.”
“You can tell me anything,” he said. He’d seen the same stern expression on her face only one other time, when he’d asked how marriage ceremonies were conducted in the noble houses. He craned his head, trying to convince her he was trustworthy to whatever she had to say.
“No, it’s… it’d just make things more complicated. Forget I said anything.” She brushed aside a lock of red hair.
Alan bit his lip. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my own reservations about the Council’s edict,” he replied carefully, “but I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t glad I met you. I’m not good with words, Anastasia… not like Cameron, or Kyle.”
“What are you trying to say?”
He shook his head and downed the glass of wine in a single gulp. A log popped in the stove, causing a small ember to ricochet onto the tile floor where it died. “I wish I knew,” he said, and stroked her arm again. That was the problem with language, it didn’t ever live up to what it was trying to describe. He envied all those writers of a bygone era, those who could express themselves without being misunderstood.
Suddenly, a crack of thunder sounded off in the distance and Anastasia reflexively reached out and gripped his arm. A slow shush emanated from out across the lake and curtained towards them, and suddenly a heavy rain pelted against the metal roof.
“Looks like we just made it,” Alan remarked, but his thoughts were still on Anastasia. She kept her grip on his arm, and he realized she was gazing at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing, just,” she blushed, “just, thank you. For being a gentleman, all this time. I know that we’re supposed to be married, but… I keep making you sleep on the couch.”
“It’s alright, I’m rather used to it,” he said.
“No, no it’s not… and we are soon to be wedded. I’ve been unfair to you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hardly, Anastasia. I’m not a cad. I know how hard this has been, and I’ll give you as much space as you need.”
Another flash of lightning ignited above the mountains, followed by a crashing boom right overhead that caused the wine glasses to shake on the table, and she pulled herself closer to him, her breasts pushing against his shoulder. Her eyes were downcast, as if she were trying to make up her mind about something.
“I… I don’t know if I want space right now,” she said softly.
He leaned in and kissed her, not sure if it was the right thing to do. If she pulled away, he knew he’d have ruined the one chance he had to put her mind at ease. But she didn’t pull away. In the lamplight, their mouths met and she exhaled, her tongue lurching in against his cheeks even as he moved his own against her lips.
Slowly, they pulled away again, and she sto
od up. I blew it, Alan was thinking. There was no timidity in her face, nor fear, nor anger. Only a sensuous softness. She pulled at her shirt until it came up over her head and her breasts swayed out. She flinched, only for a moment, as the shadows caught the corners of her bosom.
“You don’t need to be shy around me,” he said, matching the timbre of her own voice, and she inclined her head and let her arms drop again. A flowing carpet of red dangled over her shoulders, and for a moment he was certain he was looking at flame incarnate.
CHAPTER THREE
“You are versed in lovemaking, are you not?” Anastasia said, pulling her shorts down below her navel, and the rim of a black thong greeted him. Alan couldn’t take his eye away from the low-cut frill of it, the small triangular fabric that barely covered the mound of her pubis. He saw that there was very little pubic hair; whether it was natural or shaved he couldn’t’ tell.
She knelt down on the couch beside him and tugged with two pinched fingers at his shirt. He gulped and took it off, revealing his bulky pectoral muscles and a hairy muscular chest. Working with Cameron on projects had kept him from acquiring a gut, and in its place was a broad ridge of muscle. He sniffed as she twirled her fingers through the matrixes of the hair, and pulled at her own red locks with a seductive look.
“Aren’t you going to touch me?” she asked.
He hesitantly raised his hand and cupped her right breast, and she closed her eyes and spread her luscious red lips, revealing the pink tip of her tongue inside. Even his massive hand could barely navigate the full spread of her breast, which he squeezed under his rough palm, causing her to gasp a little.
“You smell like danger,” he whispered, leaning toward her neck that she bared for him. He knew that it was an ultimate show of submission, especially coming from a Wolf. In the pack, the selfsame gesture could be taken as a surrender to a challenge. In this case, it was the opposite. She was coaxing him, cajoling him into unleashing his own inner animal passions.
“Lick me, and see if I taste the same,” she hummed.
Alan kissed her neck, felt goosebumps rise across her skin as he worked his tongue across her, nuzzling the soft tender flesh with his teeth and leaving a wet smear of his saliva in its wake. He worked his way higher, still cupping her breast, and gave it another little squeeze as she pushed her chest out. His mouth went lower now, tracing a trail down towards her breasts, and she opened her eyes and watched him eagerly.
Her nipples were dark and surrounded by large areola, and when his lips passed across them, they hardened like small round berries. She gasped again, and held his head against her as he sucked, pulling hard on the supple flesh with his teeth until she let out a barely audible scream. Both her nipples were stiff now, sensitive to the touch, and Alan suddenly felt a weird compulsion to try and make her cum by touching only her breasts.
He knew he was greedier than that. He wanted more. He pulled away from her breasts and went for her mouth this time, sliding his fingers lower toward her waist as he did. She was his equal as a kisser, and it became another kind of game as they wrestled, each trying to outmaneuver the other’s tongue. He tasted her saliva, sweet and fragrant, and when he found her tongue at last, sucked hard on it. She groaned aloud and let him, sticking her tongue deep into his mouth and holding it there.
By now, Alan’s hand had found the lip of her thong and his hand had moved down over the soft fabric. She leaned against the couch and spread her legs wider, opening her thighs to his touch. His hand moved over her pubis and he hooked his fingers and pulled upward, and she groaned and twisted against it.
“I want all of you,” he declared, surprised at his own brashness. His voice was barely able to distinguish itself from the pouring rain that rattled on the roof above them. Another lunge of thunder shook the cabin’s frame. In the chaos of it, they had become their own true forms.
Anastasia stood up and pulled her thong down, revealing a patch of pubic hair the same color as her hair. Alan stood up as well and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling both boxers and pants down together until he stood naked. He looked at his bride-to-be with a feral hunger, and she shrunk from it.
She no longer had the strict formal look of a teacher – her eyes had settled, become a dreamy sort of daze. Even a pure blood Wolf can’t resist her own urges, he thought, and watched as she climbed back onto the couch and propped herself on her elbows and knees. She threw a look over her shoulder, and Alan gripped his penis and pulled the foreskin back.
He bent down on his own knees on the couch, and saw the gleaming wetness of her vulva peer back. Her buttocks spread wide, revealing the little pucker of her anus and the darker colored skin of her perineum. She jutted her ass toward him, inviting him in.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
She simply smiled – the first time he had ever seen a real smile from her – and nodded as he guided the tip of his penis toward her. She reached under her legs and helped him, urging him to rub the head against her labia. When he did, she groaned again, lowering her head against the pillow and opening her mouth. Alan reached down and pressed a finger against her labia and she squealed again, her abdomen quivering.
“Put it in, put it in,” she begged, craning toward him.
He gyrated his hips and pushed his shaft into her opening, and felt another wave of ecstasy overtake him. She leaned forward with the motion, groaning and twisting again, her red hair a beacon of fire on her head. Alan bit his tongue, trying to keep from coming immediately – a wet slurping sound emanated from their sexes as they mingled, and he pushed himself further in.
“Ahhh, geezus,” she murmured. “I’m so wet…”
“I know you are,” he gasped, gripping her waist and jutting himself into her again and again. She bent her spine upward, and he massaged the graceful arc of her buttocks, forcing them apart again as he plunged against the flower of her sex, crushing it.
Anastasia grit her teeth and lifted herself back up on the palms of her hands, and Alan reached under her waist, squeezing her ribs and running another hand over the bristles of her pubic region. She put her own hands on each of his, and tried to sit up on her knees as he slammed against her ass.
As she made her way to an erect position, he felt his penis bulge against her vagina, swelling inside her still, and then she screamed. His penis had ground against her G-spot, causing a momentary rippling orgasm to fluctuate through her body. She reached behind her, pulling Alan’s head against the back of her neck and his hands rubbed her bouncing breasts.
“Harder, fuck me hard, Alan,” she pleaded, “make me come again.”
“Can I come inside you?” he breathed.
His voice was only a rasp, and he wasn’t sure if he’d actually said anything. It had been so long since he’d known the pleasure of a woman, and part of the reason was because it so enlivened the Lion in him that he was always afraid he would lose control. Even now his heart was racing, his breath panting hot against her sweaty neck. His hand now pressed against her pubic arch, and he found the hard center of her clitoris. When he touched it, she bucked forward, thrusting her buttocks up so hard he drove into her violently and nearly came.
She flattened against the sofa, her breasts spreading out against the fabric of the cushions, and he collapsed on top of her, spreading her legs wider as he thrust again and again. She was unbelievably wet now, and he could smell the pre-cum soaking both of their thighs.
Anastasia could only reach upward, bending her fingers over the edge of the couch, and held on. Her hands tightened and she drove her face hard into it to keep from screaming again. Alan was fully on top of her now, coursing into her wetly, and her buttocks were sodden with sweat. Runnels of her own fluids trailed down her open thighs, seeping from her vagina where his cock was submerged in her.
“Cuh… coming,” she barely spoke the words.
At that instant, he came as well, falling onto her back and reaching out for one of her hands. Their fingers twined together as he expell
ed himself deep inside her with several grunts. She shivered in a sort of reverie as his seed exploded against her vagina, filling her with a white light. Her own orgasm was like lightning, and afterwards she could only hold herself to the couch – every body part felt as if it didn’t belong to her, and she was almost afraid to move.
Alan pulled out of her, still half-stiff, and the opening of her vagina remained open for a moment, a pink tunnel oozing his own seed over the lip of her pubis where it dribbled onto the sofa. He clung to her still, his mouth suckling her back, until she rolled over against him and her face was against his. Both of them continued to breathe hard, occasionally opening their eyes to inspect the other.
Anastasia looked different. Relaxed. Beautiful, but not in the cruel unflinching sort of way he had taken her for when he’d seen her at the airport. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek, pulled a lock of her disheveled red hair over one ear.
“You really are beautiful,” he remarked.
“You are too,” she gasped. “I… I’ve never had anyone… to do that me.”
“… Have sex with you?” He lifted an eyebrow.
She laughed again, an authentic laugh that made his heart swell. “No. Well, yes… but not like that. Not… so intense. I don’t usually have multiple orgasms.”
“Well, I think you were already warmed up,” he said, and then instantly regretted it. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow, and she scanned his face trying to deduce his meaning. When he continued to give her a fixed stare, she suddenly remembered the first time he’d taken her for a ride on the back of the bike and blushed.
Shit, why did I bring that up, he thought.
But instead of cursing him, she merely shook her head. “That was your fault, y’know. I never rode on a bike before. And every time you stopped and took off the seat was vibrating and rubbing against my…”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.
