Marcus Wolfe
"I am Marcus Wolfe."
The reflection in the mirror was not his own. His mind saw a different creature, a thing he didn't recognize. It was him, but it wasn't him. The face staring back was sharper, wilder--animal.
He folded his straight razor, never having brought it to his skin, setting it down on a white cloth. He ignored the ever-present five o'clock shadow tinting his lean jaw. He never let it grow into a full beard, and his dark whiskers remained a constant reminder of what lurked beneath his skin.
"I am Marcus Wolfe."
His green eyes caught the light, and he watched their glow brighten within the mirror.
"Telling yourself who you are won't stop what's coming," his grandfather had told him long ago.
"You shouldn't have bitten me."
"The beast bit you. Embrace the gift he's given you."
"Will it hurt?"
"It doesn't matter. The man never remembers."
"The beast better remember," Marcus told his reflection.
He entered his shower, turning the knobs until the water created a billowing cloud of steam. He soaped his sun-gold skin, running his hands through his fine black hairs to touch the only scars marring his lean body--puncture scars whose wounds ran deep.
He left his shower once clean, drying himself as he entered his bedroom. He looked through his windows that overlooked Industry Park, a vast expanse of wilderness cut with manmade pathways, streams, and a large lake, but thankfully, no zoo.
"Sometimes the beast needs to hunt," he said. They weren't his words, but he repeated them often to remind himself of why he let it happen.
The sun had begun its descent over the western horizon. His skin prickled with the coming of the night and the rising of the moon. The moon promised him power, but he could never remember the true strength of that power the following morning. Some gifts lingered, making him more than a man but less than the beast.
He took a deep breath, smelling everything in his room and filtering out all but the scents of lavender, vanilla, hints of lilac, cloves, and other botanicals of a particular choice. Hidden among them was the faintest scent of something unique to the world. The aroma was pure. Marcus embraced it, allowing it to roll through him like a mist made of warmth, love, and eternity.
A pink card lay on his bed. He picked it up, holding it under his nose as he breathed in the perfume. He let the fragrance linger in his nostrils while his chest rose and fell in time with his deep breaths.
The moon was growing closer to him. He had to hurry. He put the card down next to the duffle bag he had packed earlier. He would have preferred to stay indoors during the night, hooked up to an IV drip with enough carfentanil to kill an elephant but only enough to place him in a stupor. Two days before the full moon and two days after, he would sleep through the change, but on the fullest of the moons, he allowed the beast to hunt because it needed to.
Marcus changed into some throwaway clothes he had bought at a second-hand store. The pants, the shirt, and the long coat were a few sizes too large, purposefully bought that way to accommodate his size after the change. His shoes were his own. He'd take them off and throw them into the duffle bag before it was time. The last part of his ensemble was a black baseball cap he would never see again.
He picked up the pink card and the duffle bag; then, he left his room and exited his high-rise apartment. Every so often, he'd lift the card to his nose for a long whiff of its perfume. As always, when he left his home for his once-a-month hunt, he took one last look at his door before forcing himself to continue into the night.
Redonna Washington
"I'm running late," Red said. Her fingers spun, their motions a blur as she turned the dial to her combination lock to the right, then left, then right again. "Late-late-late."
"Why the hurry?"
Red answered Sandra's question with a shrug and a smile before running to the showers with her body wash in hand. She didn't have time to go home, but she always planned for that contingency. A doctor's life was one of hurrying up to wait, which threw off her schedule more often than not.
She showered quickly, cursing her need to work out instead of going straight home. She lathered her smooth, brown skin, using her hands to push the soap over her toned curves, wiping away sweat and the grime of her hospital's cold corridors. She finished showering and raced back to her locker, her small feet slapping against the white-tiled flooring.
"So, what's that hurry?" Sandra asked again.
Red tapped her left ring finger with her right forefinger.
"Oh, the fiancée," Sandra said. "The mystery man nobody gets to meet."
"That's him."
"Does he exist, or is he a book, a cat, and a bottle of wine?" Sandra laughed.
Red pulled her full lips into an amused crescent that showed off the perfect white pearls of his teeth. "He's real; you know that. We're going out tonight."
"Mm-hmm," Sandra said. "What is he? A bookish professor? Everyone is betting he's boring and twice your age. I think he's an old lawyer with a big dick."
"Hey, I have a wild side," Red said as she glared at her gym bag. "I can't leave this at the gym. Can you take it for me and drop it off at the hospital tomorrow? I'll pick it up on Monday."
Sandra's eyes did a clockwise roll before she said in an overacted, sullen voice, "I guess--since I'm not lucky enough to get the weekends off. Is your man tall, dark, and handsome at least? Is he the sexy kind of mysterious?"
"Yes."
Red opened her bag and slipped on the clothes she had brought from home. It was a simple combination of clothing, nothing someone would wear on a hot date. She had a white, buttoned-up top, a fifties style pleated red skirt that fastened around her waist, frilly ankle socks, tennis shoes, and a red hoodie.
"Dressing a little down, aren't you?" Sandra asked. "Where'd you get those clothes: the salvation army?"
"He's bringing my clothes." A little blush that didn't color her brown cheeks too much crept across her face.
Sandra's eyes studied her.
Red shrugged and shook her head, smiling. "What are you staring at?"
"Oh! I got it. You look like that girl from the 'Thriller' video. Your clothes are more modern but close enough."
"I love that video," Red said. Her eyes sparkled. "The darkness. The woods. The moon. The monster. It's all very... I don't know... sexy." She shivered.
"Okay. What's the girl's name? You look like her."
"Ola Ray," Red said. "I have to go. I can't be late."
She handed Sandra her gym bag, keeping her handbag that held her wallet, phone, perfume, and a few other, more protective items.
"Stay out of the woods," Sandra called after her, laughing. "They're full of monsters."
Will It Hurt?
Night had come by the time Marcus had strolled through the park. His skin trembled; his eyes shifted. He needed to move. He needed to run. He wanted to feel the wind against his face, but he kept his steps even over the curving cobblestone pathway under his feet.
Industry Park at night was not a safe place. The people he crossed under the lamplights were the kind of people that decent folks wanted to avoid. They eyed him from a distance, weighing and judging him, their thoughts clear to his mind. Those who met his eyes nodded as if acknowledging that they were on even footing, and then they hurried away from him.
Marcus hoped he would not cross their paths again as the walkway curved toward the lake.
He veered off the pathway, away from the lamps dropping their coned rings of light. He walked across the damp grass, the smell earthy, and he continued toward a thicket of dense wood only the determined would attempt to walk through. It opened onto a small clearing bordered by a dense brush and the lake. He dropped his duffle bag onto the grass and removed his socks and shoes.
"Will it hurt?"
"It doesn't matter. The man never remembers."
Marcus looked across the lake's black water. He could see lamplights across the broad expanse of its glassy surface. He could hear laughter in the distance, carried on the wind, people's steps, a bird's cry, and a squirrel's chitter. The scent of the night whirled through his nostrils, as did the coming rain. The wolf was coming, sharpening his senses to intoxicating levels.
"Will it hurt?" he asked, looking upward.
Coal-black rain clouds smudged the night's sky, but he could sense the moon. It called to him like a Siren seducing him toward the double-edged sword of paradise.
A fog gathered as the weather grew cooler. It drifted over the waters like misty snakes curving and coiling about as they slithered toward the shore. Fog and rain; maybe people would go home, making his hunt simpler.
He pulled the pink card from his coat pocket. Holding it close to his nostrils, he smelled it again, memorizing the divine scent clinging to its papered surface.
Overhead, the clouds broke, allowing the moon's silver light to stream upon him in thin white beams. A shock of lightning erupted, bringing the sharp scent of ozone. Thunder rumbled through the night like clattering sheets of aluminum.
Soon.
He took a deep breath. His skin prickled. His breathing deepened. His legs wanted to move. His clothes felt constricting despite their size. He wanted to rip them from his body and stand naked, surrounded by nature and all that was wild, holding allegiance to no master. He took a calming breath.
Lightning cracked. More thunder. More lightning. More thunder. More lightning.
His heartbeat rose, soon racing behind his chest.
It was time.
Marcus looked at the moon. His eyes gleamed underneath the light. The moon shined white and silver with bits of bluish-gray webbing its surface. It loomed above the world, enormous, crooning to him with a soft, whispery chant: Change, change, change.
He could feel it.
The beast was coming.
"Will it--"
Cab Ride
"Taxi," Red called, standing in the bike lane. She leaned into the street with her spirit fingers wide and waving to the passing cabs.
The sun had made its final descent beyond the horizon. The soft shades of pink and purple had melted away, buried beneath the night's darkness that the city's lights struggled to keep at bay.
"Taxi," she called again with frantic motions. "I'll fuck for a ride!"
A taxi stopped as the last syllable left her mouth.
"No way," she said under her breath, not believing the driver could have heard her through the sounds of the city, his closed windows, or his engine.
Thunder rumbled, fighting the city's clamor for dominance. A sheet flash of blue brightened the night, followed by more thunder. The rain was coming.
Red entered the taxi, taking the middle of the back seat. The cabbie looked at her briefly before pulling back into traffic. He looked grizzled, maybe twenty years her senior, with silver whiskers and thick lines crossing his dark forehead.
"Where to?" His voice was friendly yet rough.
"The front gates of Industry Park," she said, adding, "Drive along the northwest gate. I'm cutting through the park if the traffic is bad."
"You don't want to do that," the cabbie warned. "The park's a bad place at night. Muggings. Rapings. They even say there's a pack of wild dogs on the loose in there, mauling people, but no one ever sees them. What kind of city allows wild dogs to maul people?"
"Don't know," Red said. "A beast needs to hunt. It helps them remember who they are."
"If you say so."
She looked out the window as more flashes of blue broke through the breaks in the high rises. More thunder rumbled, louder than before but dulled by the taxi's windows.
"Music?" the cabbie asked. "I'm turning on the radio."
Red smiled into the rearview mirror, saying nothing. Melodic sounds filled the cab, deep, soulful sounds that reminded her of a warm couch and a small, dancing fire. She looked through the window, then back to the front, catching the cabbie eyeing her before looking away.
They turned. The moon was in full view through her right rear window. She leaned down, looking up at the bright orb with hints of blue and black around its edges. A chill ran through her body, filling her limbs with the need to run. She pressed her thighs together, looked into the rearview mirror, and then she looked back at the moon, opening her knees.
"Do you like the moon?" Red asked, leaning further down to take it in. "It's beautiful. It's hope in the darkness."
"I suppose."
Red heard the catch in the cabbie's voice as she spread her legs further apart, fluttering them and giving him a view of her firm thighs, but the tastier scenery lay hidden in shadow by the covering of her pleated skirt. She sat straight, leaning back, and rubbed her fingers over her thighs. She spread her legs again, a little wider, and she pulled her fingertips spider-like against the fabric of her skirt, inching the hem upward.
"It's impossible to hide under the moonlight," Red said. Her thick chocolate nipples had grown hard under her shirt, pushing against the fabric of her bra. Lightning flashed, thunder roared. Sam Cooke started singing You Send Me. The pitter-patter of rain tapped the roof of the cab.
Red pulled her skirt higher but not too high. She looked at the moon, opening and closing her legs, listening to Sam and thinking of her fiancée. They would dance under the moonlight tonight. How would he touch her? How would he hold her? Would he kiss her? Would there be hunger in his eyes? Would he be rough?
They hit traffic once they neared the park. There was always traffic near the park on the weekend. A fog was rolling through the city, reminding her of old Victorian London in the black and white horror movies. To her right was Industry Park and its ornate iron lamps lighting a clear pathway across the grassy fields.
"How much?" Red asked.
"How much what?" the cabbie asked.
"I'm going to walk through the park," Red said. "How much do I owe you?"
"Lady, you don't want to do that," the cabbie said. His concern sounded sincere. "It's dangerous, and it's raining. It's no good out there."
"The moon will keep me safe." She smiled at his baffled stare. She took a ten from her handbag. "Keep it."
"How about you keep it if you let me take you home safely," the cabbie said. "Industry City is dangerous enough. The parks at night are worse."
Red dropped the ten on the center console as they waited for the traffic to flow again. She got out, looking up at the moon as the clouds gathered around it. Sam sang, "Whoa, you-oo-oo send me, honest you do."
She reached into her handbag, closing her fingers around a small sprayer of mace. She showed it to the cabbie and said, "I've got protection." She smiled at the moon as the clouds swallowed its light. She didn't bother to show the cabbie her SIG Sauer P238 pocket pistol that held six rounds of lethality, each one ready for flight as soon as she pulled the trigger.
"But that's not enough to--" the cabbie's voice cut away when Red closed the cab's rear door.
The rain settled into a steady trickle. The drops beaded her hoodie with a light sheen of wetness as she walked into the park. Taking a deep breath, she smelled the strange mix of nature and the industry of man in her nostrils. She pulled her perfume from her handbag. They had custom-made the fragrance together, its depths swimming with unseen, crimson specks. She sprayed a mist into the air, walked through it, and continued into the park.
Hunted
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Her tennis shoes hitting the cobbles sounded unnaturally loud to her ears. She hopped down a flight of stairs, looking to her right, under a crescent bridge, and she spied people gathered beneath the keystone light.
They weighed her.
They judged her.
They let her be.
The fog blanketed the park, doming her surroundings and moving with her as she continued onward. The light from the lamps reflected about the mist, making everything bright in a dulled way. Her steps were loud. Tap. Tap. Tap. She took a deep breath and caught the smell of something animal in the wind.
Red looked at the fog covering her, thinner above than it was around. She wanted the moonlight to shine down on her and sprinkle her skin with its mystical touch. There was power in the moon; a wildness that infused her with the desire to shed her clothes and--
There were eyes on her. She stopped, turned in a circle, and clutched her handbag tightly as bumps rose along the length of her skin. There was a shadow beyond the fog's rim. It was tall and dark, and it sunk back into the dense whiteness when her eyes fell upon it.
Lightning cracked. Thunder roared. Rain fell.
Red walked faster. She had to move faster.
It was watching her, following her, its movements unheard and unseen, but she knew it was out there. Her body felt light, ready to run. She quickened her pace as she deepened her breathing, trying to control the rising excitement within her body.
Something snarled, but the fog swallowed the sound. It was almost as if it--he--wanted her to turn and look for him.
"Keep moving," she told herself.
Red's legs stretched into a skipping run down a pathway she knew by heart. She had taken every step a hundred times before. Not even the fog could blind her way through the park. She also knew a man was circling her at an impossible speed, and no amount of knowledge of her surroundings was going to let her escape him when he decided to do more than circle her.
Someone laughed beyond the edge of the fog. Someone broke a bottle. More laughter followed. The misty barrier moved with Red, and a curved iron lamp came into view with three men standing beneath it.
"Fuck," Red whispered. She stopped, but they saw her, and they took an interest in her; that wasn't good.
Her stalker's eyes were still on her as well, penetrating her and eager to see what she did next. She turned her head by instinct, catching a pair of twin emerald eyes glinting in what light the fog managed to capture, and then they were gone.
Her mouth went dry as a strange thrill rushed through her body, making her shiver all over. Those eyes made her feel small, and they were hungry, and she was what they craved. A new warmth spread throughout her core, leaving her--
"Hey, pretty girl," a man said.
Red turned her head as the three men near the lamp approached her. They were young, neither clean nor dirty, and their clothes were passable for a trendy bar or a gastropub. Red lines shot through their eyes; liquor wobbled their steps.
"Excuse me," Red said, holding her handbag close.
She tried to walk along the edge of the pathway, but one of the men with a scarf around his neck and a rooster wave haircut jumped in front of her. He spread his arms with his palms up, smiling at her with pretty boy teeth. He wet his lips with his long tongue.
"What's your hurry, pretty girl?"
His friends laughed.
Red heard a low growl beyond the fog. The strangers didn't seem to notice. Red's eyes darted around.
"She's in a hurry to give me a kiss," one of them said. He smacked his lips together. "Wanna kiss me, pretty girl? I wanna kiss you."
Red took a step back onto the grass. She opened her handbag, slipping her fingers inside. The three men didn't seem to care.
"Whatcha got in there?" the guy with the scarf asked. "We don't want your money--yet. We want something else, first... pretty girl."
They laughed, but there was no humor in it.
Red jumped as a horrible, heart-stopping roar ripped through the night. It was harsher than the thunder, raising the small hairs on the back of her neck. The strangers followed her eyes to a shadow within the mist housing a pair of green eyes that glinted like burning jade. Her stalker loped forward, using smooth, ethereal strides to cross the ground.
"Run, you assholes," Red hissed. She followed her own advice, running hard as she pulled her perfume from her purse and sprayed the air. "Run!" Her feet stamped the grass while her coltish legs propelled her forward in long strides. She entered a thicket, cursing as she stumbled through the brush and shrubbery. "Fuck. Damn it. Fuck-damn!"
Thunder roared, swallowing most of the howls and screams she heard from behind her. Lightning shot a jagged line overhead, flashing the thicket around her in shadow and color. Then the screams faded away into an eerie, nighttime silence.
She stumbled into a small clearing against the park's lake. She spun, staring into to woods around her as the snapping of branches and the crunching of leaves announced she wasn't alone. She saw the emerald eyes before her stalker's large body materialized from the brush.
Red dropped her perfume.
She dropped her purse.
Her heart thundered.
"Oh boy," she whispered.
The Beast
The beast didn't think like a man. Its vision swam in deep, vivid colors, and its mind acted on instinct alone. The woman was electric in her brightness. Her scent... her lovely, lovely scent, flared its nostrils and drove its need. She was all it could see. All it could smell. And she did something no other prey he had known could ever do: She met his eyes without fear.
The beast stepped forward, and from between its legs and from within a thick pelt of hair rose something very big, very thick, and very, very hard.
Caught
Red licked her lips as her stalker moved toward her. He was a tall, lean shadow with glinting eyes, and then, as if by Nature's will, the fog parted above her, and the light of the moon shined down, illuminating her pursuer in a halo of bluish-white purity.
He wasn't a man. He wasn't a beast. He was a meticulous blending of the two, with the primeval features of a wolf that couldn't hold back the eerie humanity bleeding through the monster's features.
His hair was wild and in disarray, like flames dancing against the wind. His face was smooth, though the jaw protruded; the bones thick and sharp, and his nose was broad and flat. His lips peeled back, baring twin rows of sharp, white fangs. And yet, despite his wolfish features, the eyes within his head were all too human.
It was a wolfish man.
A beast.
A werewolf.
A chill trembled Red's body. She closed her eyes, turned her head, and let out a calming breath before turning back toward the creature that had been hunting her.
The beast took a step forward with an unusual grace that set him apart from the world, like a drop of water gliding over an oil painting. Midstride, his hands came up, and he tore the coat and shirt from his lean body, baring fine black hairs that shined in the night. Another step, and he ripped what remained of his pants with several blurred motions of his claws, then the beast stood naked in front of her, dominating Red's vision like no other creature could.
"Oh my," Red breathed, entranced by the swinging pole between the beast's thighs. She tried to run, faking left and turning right, but the beast caught her with a swift motion and held her gently with muscles that could have crushed her with barely a thought. She knew there was no escaping his desire for her.
The beast slipped his hand around her throat, holding her at arm's length and pushing the cowl of her hoodie back with his free hand. A razor-like claw traced her hairline, her cheek, and her chin, stopping at the collar of her shirt before tearing downward, shredding cloth and flinging buttons to the ground.
Red grabbed the wrist of the hand around her throat as she ran her other hand down the front of her body. The beast had split her shirt and bra down the center. She could feel the warm path the claw had taken down her body, but there was no blood upon her skin, and neither did she see any of her crimson liquid when she lifted her fingers to catch the moonlight.
The beast howled, throwing his head back, calling to the moon. He let go of her. Red turned to run, only to be caught and pushed to the wet grass. The rain strengthened, and more lightning flared blue across the night sky. She found herself on all fours with the beast was behind her, her upraised backside at the creature's mercy.
The following seconds were a blur of motion as the beast behind her shredded her clothes from her body and tattooed her skin with sharp lines from the delicate pressure of his claws. The beast took her panties last. He took his time cutting them from her flesh in ragged strips, each soft, cotton tear echoing in her ears. Then, without warning, he lost patience and cut the waistband on both sides of her hips and flung her panties into the lake beside them.
Red watched the cotton float as the beast caressed her. He nudged her legs apart with his knees, opening her to his touch, and both of his hands palmed the smooth cheeks of her ass, spreading the night's rain across her skin. He ran his claws through her crack, forcing a shiver through her, and then he cupped the bulge of her pussy from behind, her meaty folds wet and sticky and lusting for more.
Her eyes widened when a thick finger pushed between her open lips and slipped inside of her wetness. She sighed, turning her head this way and that as her channel sucked at the penetrating digit. The claw caressed her tender walls with a surprisingly gentle touch, never once damaging her tender, pink insides. Her body quivered under the dangerous massage, and she bit her lip as a moan escaped her throat.
The beast held her by her left hip with his other hand, kneading her flesh and muscles with rhythmic pulses of his fingers. His touch melted her body as he rocked her back upon his pussy-stroking finger with a gentle yet fierce strength.
"Uh," Red moaned, trying to be quiet as a second finger entered her precious pussy. Those fingers stroked her insides deep; their combined size felt as thick as a large man's cock. Her mind flashed to the swollen, heavily veined prick between the beast's legs, and Red's inner walls grew hot and slick with floral-scented dew.
The beast snarled behind her, withdrawing his fingers and clamping his large, rough hands onto her hips. Red looked up at the moon, the bright light shining down on her as she braced her hands against the ground. She knew what was coming. She could feel the cock approaching her. She wanted this. She needed this. The wetness between her thighs invited this.
Red felt the thick knob of the beast's cock rub her juice-dripping lips. She stared at the moon as the light shined upon her dark skin. Raindrops rippled across her body, turning her into a glistening, glittering ebony goddess. Lightning struck. The beast pushed against her oven-hot muffin, spreading her small opening and stretching her pussy around its girth. Thunder rolled, she grunted as the big head popped into her pussy. The beast's cock sunk deep into her, the warm, tingling stretch between her legs forcing her body to tremble within the beast's unbreakable grip.
"Fuck," Red gasped.
The beast thrust forward under a sudden explosion of thunder. Red clenched her eyes shut as he filled her with the longest and thickest cock she had ever known. He touched her everywhere. There was no pathway through her slick tunnel that didn't bulge outward under the throbbing shaft as it filled her insides. He buried himself within her to the balls, the length and thickness of his fearsome pole causing Red's eyes to widen and her mouth to hang open.
He withdrew his cock. The subtle friction brought a whimper from Red's lips. She clutched the grass, opened her eyes, and focused on the night's light, her eyes glinting as the cock pumped through her dewy canal. Her body lurched forward with each dick-thrust as her ass jiggled under the impact of the beast's power. Gasps escaped her lips. Between her legs, her pussy throbbed, dripping wet with cunny cream and lubing her snatch as quickly as possible so the beast wouldn't split her in two.
"God, oh god, god," Red moaned, feeling her ass ripple as the beast's hips collided with the smooth curves of her cheeks. Her chocolate-tipped tits swung beneath her, their nipples tingling in time with her clitty as the big cock parted the slippery walls behind her nether lips.
The louder Red moaned, the faster the beast fucked her, pulling her pussy back hard onto his cock, slapping her ass with his hips, and banging his heavy balls against her clit. Fire burned across Red's body, her insides pulsing with heat and buzzing with each deep-dicking plunge. The fucking had turned her pussy into a juicy mess of slick froth that coated the monster cock pounding her from behind.
The beast growled as it threw a flurry of fuck strokes into her wetness. Red whimpered, gazing at the moon with a rough, underhanded stare as she bit her lower lip and clawed at the grass, unable to brace herself as the beast turned her into its pretty little fuckdoll.
So fucking deep, she thought. So fucking hard. So fucking hot inside me. She could feel her cum rising and swelling, wanting to smother the cock fucking her with an ocean of sexual heat.
"Fuck," Red groaned as the beast's rough hands slipped from her hips to the front of her thighs, lifted her, and fucked her with wave-like thrusts of his rigid prick.
If he wanted to, he could break her with that cock.
"Oh, fuck me," Red whimpered as the tingling between her legs overwhelmed her senses, and then she came, dripping liquid from deep within her body that spilled out around the edges of the beast's pussy-pounding fuck pole.
Behind her, the beast howled something like triumph as she came beneath it. He slid faster into her body, fucking her with an unnatural smoothness that showed no sign of slowing down.
"I can't, I can't, I can't," Red tried to say as the rain beat faster against her, soaking her hair and face, providing some relief against the heat surging within her. "I can't--"
She yelped as the beast pushed her forward into the prone position. Her tits slid against the wet grass. The beast straddled the backs of her thighs. He was fucking her even deeper now, both hands on her ass, spreading her cheeks apart as he pounded her with long strokes that rubbed every inch of her inner pinkness. It was too much for her little pussy to take. Another warm flood of pleasure erupted throughout her body, and she came again, clenching her eyes shut as her face trembled and pussy quivered.
Red was on the verge of tears when the beast's cock swelled, then pushed all the way into her twat, making her grunt. It ground her body into the grass, then it howled and came, filling her pussy with one long torrent of cum that felt never-ending. She could feel the beast above her as it painted her insides white with his hot jizz, hotter than a normal man's--hot enough to truly feel. Red pressed her forehead to the grass, biting her lower lip and coming again as her greedy little love-hole accepted the werewolf's seed, her pussy muscles squeezing him tight and milking his big balls for more baby-making batter.
"Oh my god," Red breathed when the beast's orgasm came to an end. He gasped for breath, panting hard, but the beast hadn't gone soft--that was something Red had never been able to get used to, no matter how hard she tried. It took forever for the beast to go soft once it caught a whiff of her in the night's air.
Red had a moment to catch her breath before the beast turned her onto her back. He grabbed her hips and pulled her toward him, spreading her legs wide. His harsh and primal appearance was softened by the all too human love she recognized in his eyes.
He was on his knees, hamstrings resting on his calves as he held her by the ass and brought her pussy closer to his cock. She planted her heels on his hips, knees spread outward, and she tried to gain another second to breathe before he was inside her again, fucking her, humping his ass and thighs upward while her body arched upward with only her shoulders braced against the ground. She took all of him with each thrust and howled as madly as the beast above her ever could.
Under the moonlight and bathed in the rain and held within the beast's steady hands, Red embraced the oncoming night of intense, animalistic fucking that she was about to receive.
As she stared up at the moon, the beast made her come again, and she cried out, "Marcus!" as her world erupted in wild, shameless ecstasy.
Morning
Red was awake before she opened her eyes. Birds sang, crooning something soft and joyful at the dawn of the new day. She opened her eyes, and the mist from the night before had turned into a delicate, whitish veil that would hide them from any eyes across the lake.
"What?" she asked the man staring down at her.
"I'm making sure I didn't hurt you," Marcus said.
"You never do in ways I don't enjoy." She sat and kissed him once on his human lips. The beast didn't kiss, but Marcus always did. "You've never tried to, either. Even that first night when I discovered your secret."
Marcus sighed.
"And you never will."
"Here," he said, offering her a bottle of water.
He handed it to her with his left hand, and his white gold engagement ring was back where it belonged. He always woke first, and it was always the first thing he put on. She took a long, grateful drink and gave the water back to him.
"Everything went well," he said, looking around.
She brushed his rugged cheek. "We're here, together, aren't we?"
"I wish I could remember." He made a face. "I lost another hat."
"Why do you obsess over the hats?" Red laughed. "Why do you buy them when you know you're going to lose them?"
He shrugged. "Dunno."
"Hungry?"
"Starving," Marcus said.
Marcus stood. Red let him help her to her feet with one masculine tug that gave her a weightless moment before her feet hit the ground. In his duffle bag were towels and their change of clothes, simple outfits that would make them look like joggers on a morning run.
"Oh," Red said as she stretched. She caught Marcus' eyes. "Sore--in a good way."
"Hmm," he said.
She laughed. "I like the beast within you. You promised me him once a month."
"I'm not saying anything," Marcus answered.
She watched him dress, admiring his lean body and smooth cock. He was larger in all aspects than an ordinary man, but when released, the wolf made him look small... everywhere.
"What?" he asked her.
"What would you do if we found out that I had cubs growing inside me in a few weeks?" Red asked, trying to maintain a serious look while her smile fought for its freedom.
"That's not funny," Marcus answered.
Red laughed. "It could be possible."
"They wouldn't be cubs. They'd be human." Marcus shook his head. "I can't have kids when I'm not me."
"How do you know?" Red asked. "I could always take a sample back to the lab. I could get it tonight when I have you sedated. I could... I don't know... jerk you off--with my mouth--and have it tested for potency and compatibility."
Marcus didn't say a word. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and walked her through the brush and back into the park.
"Hey, Marcus, maybe I already have tested your sperm," Red teased. She gave him a sidelong stare with a smile.
"You don't do things to me when I'm sedated, do you?" Marcus asked. "What if I woke up?"
"What if you did?" Red pursed her lips together and shook her head. "But, I can't say that I do."
"Can't say?" he asked. "Won't say?" He looked like he was going to say more, but his eyes drifted beyond her and through the fog.
"What?" she asked.
"Hard to see through the mist," he said. "Looks like policemen and paramedics and--"
"I don't want to know." Red took him by the arm and pulled him away. "Bad things happen to bad people."
"How do you know they were bad?" He was looking at her. His voice held an edge.
"Who else comes to Industry Park at night?" Red asked. "Other than us?"
Marcus kept staring. Red finally gave him a yank. It wasn't easy getting him to move. Even as a man, his strength was beyond reasonable. Traces of the wolf lingered in him.
"Red," Marcus said.
"They were bad people," Red said. "I tried to make them run, but they had plans for me, or someone else, if you hadn't come when you did. They were bad people."
"Who were bad people?"
"Three men... possible rapist," Red said, frowning. "Hey, at least you didn't eat them."
That didn't make him laugh.
"Maybe we should stop this for a while," Marcus said. "Just for a while."
"Sometimes the beast needs to hunt," Red said. "And I like it when the beast hunts me." She smiled. "We should go camping next time."
Marcus sighed.
She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling her body against his. She loved the feel of him. She loved the smell. She loved the man and the beast, and she loved them together.
"Marcus?" she asked, straining his name as she tried to pull him away from the distant police scene.
"What?"
"Let's go home."
He turned his head and kissed the top of her head, letting her pull him away.
"So," Red said after a few minutes of quiet walking, "how many cubs are in a litter?"
After
Marcus watched the moon through his window. Two more nights had to pass, and then he'd be free from his curse for another month. He could feel it calling to him, telling him to run wild, to hunt, and to fill himself with the power of the beast.
"Is my patient ready for sleep?"
Marcus turned his head. Red was standing at the side of the bed next to his IV drip full of sedatives. In her hand, she held a needle with the initial dose of tranquilizer that would keep him out for the night. She wore her white doctor's coat and nothing else. As always, she let it hang open, offering her smooth, brown body to him.
"Not anymore, Dr. Washington," Marcus said as he got into bed. "But I'm still going to sleep."
Sometimes the beast needed to hunt, and sometimes, the beast was better off in bed. Tonight, the beast was better off in bed.
It was safer that way.
