date night with a werewolf girl
She smelled like honeyed fruit and sticky summer nights
“I think I need to go,” I said with the wolf in my voice, staring at her beneath me the way I’d always imagined. Her body was so fucking perfect. I wanted to gorge on soft flesh and curves and her drippy sweet scent until she was too blissed out to be scared of my knot. But that was a fantasy, and the reality would probably be overwhelming and too aggressive for her. Especially for our first time.
“Why?” Even her confusion kind of turned me on.
“Because I don’t want to stop.”
We were quickly approaching what she’d dubbed my ‘wolfy phase’, where I was technically in my human skin and capable of human speech, but I had moon rocks for brains. Sometimes I ran little laps around the tiny cabin and sniffed every nook and cranny for new scents. Sometimes I sat outside and just stared at the moon with my mouth open, head completely empty. And sometimes, I flopped on top of her like a wolf who thinks it's a lapdog and covered myself in her scent. Maybe snuck a lick or two against her hand or her cheek while she giggled and thanked me for my doggy kisses.
I could really go for a less wholesome kind of doggy kiss tonight while I waited for the moon to call for me. But if I shifted with that taste in my mouth, we were not taking things slow. And I really wanted to do this right with her.
“I don’t want to stop either,” she whispered.
