Blood Moon Date Night

It was almost painful kissing Scylla like this, pretending for the moment that nothing else existed outside of themselves and this moment. It was painful because Saracyn knew that there was an afterwards. There would be an end to their night, and they would have to return to reality and to the consequences of his choices. The little sounds of delight that Scylla made while he kissed her made the dire brute's chest tighten and heart pound like a sledgehammer against his ribcage. He thrived off of her reactions and sounds, each one fueling his desire for her and spurring him on to make her make more of those noises. He was treating Scylla the way he would if they were lovers... and fuck, did the bittersweetness hurt.

Saracyn savored their kiss, her taste, the feel of her tongue against his own. Their flavors together were rich and sweet and heady, and everything he imagined they'd be. By the time their kiss ended, their bodies had enough time to recover to allow them to separate, leaving the pair of wolves loose but still connected. Breathing a soft sigh, Sara opened his bright cerulean eyes and was met with the little Klein fae's face so close to his that he could feel her breath against his lips, her claws gingerly grazing his broad chest. Fuck... Sara knew the emotions tightening in his chest, but he dared not acknowledge them aloud. He couldn't—not for both their sakes.

Scylla spoke to him; she'd had her ride (which hell yeah, she had) and now it was his turn to release his beast for her. She slid her hips forward, separating their bodies. The cool spring evening air chilled his exposed length, and already he was missing the warmth of Scylla's body wrapped so snugly around him. It took all his self control to keep from grabbing her hips and sliding her back down onto him for round two immediately. But Scylla, it seemed, had other plans. The svelte minx of slate and cream slid off of him to the ground, leaving the Mendacium brute more than a little confused. What was she up to? Following her lead, Sara rolled to his paws and joined her in being upright, the head rush that came with it a pleasant little digestif to follow their passionate mating.

No sooner had he gotten up, Scylla was commanding him to bring his beast to her, claiming he might never get a chance to fuck someone as hard and rough as she wanted again. Saracyn stared down at Scylla in awe; she truly was a goddess of sex given flesh, wasn't she? She was right though. Avacyn wasn't the kind of wolf to enjoy the type of sex Scylla did—or the kind that he did deep down also. He didn't get to cut loose and go absolutely wild on her for sake of appearances, with her being the Matriarch and all. But Scylla... Scylla promised him a world of no restrictions, of no restrains. That was why when she ran, it didn't take Sara's primitive brain more than a fraction of a second to kick in and have him chase after her like a hunter after his prey.

Saracyn sprinted after Scylla with all his might, thundering over the rolling hills of the Rock Garden in pursuit of her. Scylla was quick and nimble, but Saracyn's long legs and wider stride allowed him to quickly close the gap. Sara was a primal beast in this moment, all traces of rational thought gone from behind blue eyes as he chased after the little fae that reeked of artificial heat scent. He was practically drooling as he leapt over rocks and pursued her like a ravenous predator. Powerful cords of muscles flexed and pulled beneath his coat while he chased her, giant paws racing across the ground. He was gaining on her, but she was a slippery one to catch. More than once, she would dart around some rocks and Sara would go skidding out trying to catch her, only to scramble to his paws and race after her again. Refusing to give up the chase until he had his fae in his paws again. He would have her, and he would make sure he'd planted his pups within her belly before the night was done. Tonight, she was his. Only his.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"