Having a bloody good time

Alastor knew he wouldn't be content releasing himself upon Manea just once. The pent up dire brute took his mate, and he took her hard and violent, borderline violating her up against the cave wall as they baptized their new marriage in blood and sex. While he ravaged her and unleashed everything she'd built up in him, Alastor listened with maddened glee to the sounds his mate made, listening to her cry and sing and moan and scream for him. So distracted was he with their passion and pleasure that he hadn't noticed the blood moon shifting the colors of the crystals in the cave walls, and as the blood moon reached its peak, so too did he, howling as he filled his love with every intention of filling her belly with his puppies. He had slumped against her, pinning her body to the wall while he panted and tried to catch his breath. Once he had, the giant of a wolf had pulled Manea down to the ground with him, pinned her body beneath his, and taken her again—and then again, and again.

When Alastor did finally collapse to the bedding they'd spread out across the cave floor, the Mendacium man felt completely and utterly spent. His pink tongue hung from his open black muzzle as he panted hard, heart pounding in his chest almost painfully hard. He was covered in a small assortment of scratches and bites from where Manea had managed to get her teeth and claws into him during their wild mating, but it was nothing compared to the blood he'd drawn from her. Alastor scooped up Manea in his arms, holding his mate's limp, exhausted body across his chest while he set to work licking and cleaning each and every wound he'd left on her. With all of his animalistic desires and lusts slaked for the time being, Alastor was once more in control of himself and could tend to Manea the way her husband should.

"That's what you get for keeping me pent up for so long," he commented without a hint of remorse in his voice, a sly grin sitting pretty on his lips. He continued to lick over her wounds to keep them clean and stem the flowing blood from the fresher or deeper ones. They'd definitely need to patch themselves up once they could move again, but by the Ancients, had it been amazing! "I think it's safe to say you're probably pretty pregnant by now, hmm?" That grin on his face grew a little wider while he squeezed Manea in his arms. "Although I think we should keep trying, you know, just to be completely sure!" Chuckling to himself, the dark-furred brute began to cover her forehead in tender little kisses while his paws roamed over her body, keeping her held to him at all times. Manea was his, all his, as if the plethora of bites and scratches and his scent all over her in all of her crevices didn't claim her enough.


"Alastor"