A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn
Craze me
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Tags: art, crazy, haiku, lunar nights, lunar week, lust, werewolf
No need to hold back
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Jack and Diane is a John Mellancamp song and it is also, an upcoming movie that heyyouguys.co.uk says
“Jack and Diane tells the story of two teenage girls who meet in New York City and spend the night kissing ferociously.”
I gather it’s a rather sexual movie in nature then, given this description.
Apparently “Diane must struggle to keep their love alive while hiding the secret that her newly awakened sexual desire is giving her werewolf-like visions.”
And singer Kylie Minogue is going to get it one with at least one of the girls in the film. Not bad going.
Only I’m not sure, I get what “Werewolf-like visions” are.
Is this a desperate reach to link sexuality and werewolves?
Or some film maker trying to “re boot” the notion of werewolves to the film going public?
Trying to out-twilight – twilight perhaps? Hmm.
Got news for you.
Twilight works because it’s about epic romance. A sweeping scale of ideal epic fantasy. That’s it. I’d want to hope that Jack and Diane if they’re going to do some sort of pseudo association with werewolves, they would not go down the twilight path of glitter. I’d want to hope they attempt to give us werewolves a good name.
Well, they are setting the film, in New York, apparently. So there is good source material there, if they know where and how to go looking for it. If they want the actors to go all method and get amongst the real werewolves of New York. Or if they could get anyone to talk about our culture. We could act like consultants to them, I guess.
Still, I’m not sure what “werewolf like visions” means. I mean, if you want to go littoral on this term. Are they saying that when the girl is turned on, her mind ticks over to that of a more baser animal and she see’s people through animal eyes, and gets turned on in a violent manner?
That’s not what happens to me. No, there is definitely only a feeling of potential violence when there’s blood and running and screaming. Then the animal werewolf in me kind of wants to go hunting. But most of the time my werewolf is placid by comparison.
There’s this thing about shape shifting, that we all work very hard to obtain and keep when we’re taught as werewolves grow up. The mindset of the human you, can affect the mindset of the werewolf you. So if you’re aggravated and traumatized and upset when you shape shift, then you’re wolf is likely to keep those sensations when your body physically changes. And you come to, in tribal form, like you’re on a rage spree. That’s when stuff is not good.
It’s also partially why we shape shift with partners, or in groups. If your werewolf comes to in a highly hyper-active state of anger, then there will be other werewolves there to contain the situation of your overly emotional state. Basically, they’ll pull you into line and put you in your place.
Werewolves, we look out for each other.
Werewolves and lesbians is there a difference? Well I’d want to hope whatever the difference was, it was a positive one, since Jack and Dianne is associating one of the lesbian characters of this movie with “werewolf like visions”. That term disturbs me. Makes me think the wrong thing. That maybe it’s some sort of euphemism for a way of saying same sex /werewolf sexuality is not normal. Which I’d hate to think was the message being sent out.
I’m assuming that the by saying “werewolf like visions”, that this term more than likely refers to some sort of carnal lust and control issue, when the horny teenager is at her wits end and turned on completely. Guess they are going down the twilight path, horny, teenager, holding back , werewolf visions…blah blah blah…yawn.
Anyway, I have to get ready for my night out, with my Alpha wolf in the clubs. No need to hold back. Thankfully, I’m not a teenager.
The night is young
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I stand up to leave and Conall shoots up beside me just as quickly.
“Stay.” He says kind of softly. I almost believe it’s a plea.
I pause before I look at him, noting his friend with the drinks tray heading towards us. Along with Davey and some skank who’s eyes are flickering from me to Conall and back again.
She looks un-amused, even though she’s dressed like a total whore to capture everyone and anyone’s attention in the club. Werewolves, never afraid to flaunt themselves. Part of the sexual liberation we have I guess.
I still think she’s a skank.
I turn to look at Conall.
“I got you a drink.” He says nodding head towards the oncoming gang reunion. Davey is practically growling at me.
Guess Davey’s none to amused about seeing me and Conall in such close proximity again. Last time we were this close, we were a fur breath’s way from having a full on physical dominance fight at his party. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven me for standing my ground like you should and not being a cowering she wolf. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m worthy of being there or being next to Conall.
Well fuck him.
“I’m outta here.” I respond and start walking straight towards Davey and co. I can see him tense up as I move.
Fuck Davey, he flatters himself if he thinks I want to bitch slap him around on a lunar night.
I’ve got better things to do, even if it does involve just me alone with my own body. I’m normally not so easily affected by lunar nights, until it gets closer to full moon. But I’m not immune to lust and I can see temptation in the club and that’s enough to stir up my wolf and make me think of what I could be having with Paris right now, If I hopped the subway to Manhattan and maybe begged him to put me out of my sexual misery.
“Let me walk you home.” Conall offers falling into step beside me as we pass Davey, the skank and drinks boy.
“Werewolf remember? I’m the scary thing that goes bump in the night and there are no dark alleyways on my way home.” I keep heading for the front of the club. My heart beat is beginning to pick up. Bit like my pace.
“Still, two werewolves are better than one.” He says walking beside me as we exit the club.
“I’d ask for what but I don’t want to know the answer.” I reply as we hit the sidewalk and start walking in the brisk night air.
The sensation of moonlight hits us, even though the moon is not yet at it’s highest peak for the evening.
You can tell these types of things when you’re a born werewolf. It’s like a natural intuition linked to your biology. It feels like excitement being stretched out in every muscle of your body. Taking you further and further to the edge of whatever it is you’re looking for to complete the ride. Which reminds me about Conall.
He needs to shape shift tonight, he’s always had to shape shift every night of the lunar week. Unlike me.
So why’s he out walking me home instead of making out with some skank wolf in the clubs, getting ready for the shift?
My eyes flicker over to him and look away again as we walk on in silence beside each other.
Conall the werewolf being Conall the good wolf. Showing me he’s not sleeping around on a lunar night, walking me home like old times. And I feel restless, edgy, that’s why I decided I wanted out of that club. Conall’s like a pressure on that edge that I don’t want.
Oh this is not good. Not good at all.
And the nights young.
Tags: conall, Davey, lunar night, lunar week, lust, moonlight, night club skanks, restless, werewolves
Lunar lust
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“Shut up and strip.” I command, as Paris walked into the small glass cubicle room. The door latches closed and the clear glass frosts over the walls.
Paris tilts his head and chin downwards, his dark blue eyes staring straight at me, like I’m pretty prey he is going to pounce on.
He is taking too long for my liking, stripping his shirt off. Unbuttoning the collar, and all the buttons down the front.
Come on!
A wry smile ghosts across his lips. He looks somewhere between a desperate man for a drink and something kind of dark and evil.
My gut is doing flip flops really fast. Like butterfly wings beating against it madly, to let them out. So instead of succumbing to his intensity which when he uses it on you, is incredibly hard to ignore or not react to, I decided to play with.
Kind of.
By fighting back with my own sensuality. I’m a female, it’s not like I don’t know a thing or two about the male werewolf species.
I pick up my drink and slowly sip it. Keeping eye contact with him the whole time.
Leaning back on my elbows, on the low rise glass table, in the glass cubicle room. I’ve chosen to ignore the black leather couches for the purpose of reclining suggestively.
Paris yanks his shirt off his arms impatiently.
In our last telephone conversation before the club, he told me in no uncertain terms what he wanted to do with me. He was having a rough day and he was ready to let off some sexual steam, so to speak.
My eyes run over his very muscular, arms. They looked pumped and strong. His chest, lean and solid. I think he’s been dieting or skipping meals because the line definition of his abs, is like playing, a little visual maze game on his skin. Running all around and over it.
He arches an eyebrow up, silently questioning me.
“Not enough.” I reply with a big smile back at him, slowly kicking off my high heel shoes, as I use the edge of the glass table top, to slip them off in response.
He’s late you see.
Said he’d meet me at Crescent. But he was late.
I’ve been sitting pretty and bored, in this room for three and half hours and of course, I didn’t have my mobile phone on me, because the werewolf clubs don’t let you take your phones in on lunar weeks. You have to check them into the cloak room like they’re dangerous weapons or something.
So I’ve been sitting and waiting for him. Drinking and waiting till he showed up.
By the time he arrived, I was wanting more than a verbal apology.
Much more.
I know he wanted more too.
But I’m going to drag this out.
Test him.
Tease and taunt him.
I hadn’t even hit the dance floor in his absence to join the warm comfort of bodies around me. So since I’d played good girlfriend, he owes me. And I’m making damn sure he knows it.
He started on his pants and I let my eyes drop as he pushed them down his solidly, muscular legs.
I smirked when he stood before me stark naked.
Magnificent.
He was rock hard, all over.
His hands are curled into fists by his side, I can see the tension in his body. He wants to move towards me. But I’m challenging him by taking command. And by complying with my little game, he’s agreed to be challenged.
Challenging an Alpha male, do you know how competitive they are?
He’s either going to play by my rules now or try in someway to reverse the situation and make me break first.
I’m betting it’s the later. Because I’m going to push his patience level out the window. He’s such a control freak.
“Happy?” He askes roughly.
“Not even close.” I smile back at him, finishing my drink.
“And yet, I’m naked here and you’re not.”
I let out a little laugh and sip my drink.
“I said I was sorry.”
I put my empty glass aside beside the table.
“and I’m going to make you.” I smile, sitting more upright. Hanging my legs over the edge of the table. Putting me directly in front of him.
At hip height.
There is only the briefest of space between us. I look up at him.
He moans deep in his throat.
I haven’t even touched him.
But this is all about anticipation. Building on the impatience and the want and need we both have.
I slide closer to him.
He remains standing still. Waiting for me to call the next shot. Showing his obedience to me.
But before either of us can do anymore, the door openes and we both looked over at Addison in the doorway. His best friend.
“We have a problem.”
I’ll say.
Addison continues, ignoring our dark looks at him. Or the fact that Paris is stark naked before us both.
“Black Dog is back.”
“Shit.”
Want
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The atmosphere in the werewolf friendly Manhattan club, Crescent, is building as the night goes on in New York. Taking us higher to our calling with the moon’s radiance.
Temperature is on the rise and skin, coated in films of sweat, like droplets of hunger are on display for all to see.
Some werewolves enjoy more than just the electric current in the air, of a pack playing together in the clubs during lunar week. They need more than a sexually charged atmosphere, that doses them in unbridled lust and wanton pleasure. It’s hedonistic to say the least and yes it is one of those things I enjoy in my life.
Being part of a collective feeling of burning fire and raw passion.
We do not hesitate.
We do not back down form acknowledging the werewolf in us, needs an out.
Needs to feel the love of pack and consummation of it’s energy matched by another kind of energy.
So when Paris’s hand slides up my naked leg, and cups the curve of my bottom, pulling me in tighter against him, I move eagerly with him. Press towards his solid body of heat. My want is his want and he wants exactly the same thing I want.
Our passion is on the rise, and is threatening to come undone in a ravenous wave that threatens to take us over and loose all sense of control.
But hey? Isn’t that the best part of it all?
I get pressed into the cool glass wall behind me, that I hadn’t known was there, until the solid reality of it reminds me, that I will be able to stand, if need be. My throaty laugh at this thought and the image of Paris’s solid arms, already encasing my legs, raising my hips, gets a special little treat from him.
The glass is frosted, but when it’s touched, it goes clear, so when my back hits it, the glass goes transparent and we become a live screen viewing for all to see.
He attacks my lips, causing my smile to falter, as his tongue takes control of my dirty little mouth. How dare I laugh his power tells me, I’m supposed to groan, and moan and sigh with every movement between us. Dry humping or not. Insert evil grin of pleasure here please.
But now I’m too focused on matching his magnificent mouth and letting it plunder mine to realize, I’m already making those small, pathetic, noises. The throbbing base of the music in the club is vibrating through the glass wall at my back and it’s shockingly just adding, to the sensation of my, already tender state.
I’m feeling targeted by Paris’s dominance over my body. I’m feeling loved.
And I want.
And I need. My Alpha werewolf.
But he’s not going to rush my haze of my pleasure. He’s going to take his time, because he wants to enjoy this rise of emotion in us, as much as me. Having held on to our control in the daytime, even as the moon appeared to approach the nightfall, we let it out so we can breathe together.
Everything’s ten times better during lunar week. Heightened till it seeps out your pores. Heightened so much you just don’t think you can take it.
My poor mouth, lipstick is smeared and my lips are tenderized within an inch of life. Paris bends his head, to continue his sensual assault on my state of half undress.
We stager slightly away from the glass wall again. It frosts up. Blocking us from view of the patrons of Crescent. A mixture of Manhattan Maen werewolves and a handful of humans.
The shoulder strap of my top has fallen, beyond low on my arm. Giving him the perfect opportunity to push the top further down. Paris’s eagerness pushes me back up against the glass wall causing us to be on display again.
Not that either of us minds, we’re so into each other that nothing could phase us.
As we join together, there seemingly is a sigh, lightly wavering through the air, from those around us, who see our union is only building. Heightened hearing during lunar week, means we can hear the sighs like whispers in the air.
More and more, as we touch, suck, kiss and grope continuously for one another, it brings pleasure to those in the club, sensing the Alpha’s fulfillment, my rapture as we ride together.
Now I gasp for air.
Air that is hot and infused with a sense of awareness, that we are not the only ones enjoying our time in the club, or each other.
My skin tightens as eyes watch us. I can sense them all around, looking towards our fascinating little glass cubicle room.
But I dare not take my eyes of the Alpha male in front of me. Paris has no intention of stopping, or making apologies and I find I don’t want him to either.
We’re not leaving this thing, alive, until we got what we came for.
Tags: Alpha, crescent, desire, love, lunar week, lust, Manhattan, Manhattan Pack, Passion, Sex, voyuer
Crescent
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Crescent is a werewolf owned and run nightclub in the meat packing district in Manhattan.
Actually it doesn’t officially have a name, but the Manhattan pack have dubbed it Crescent and so that’s what it’s come to be known as.
Even the staff answer the house phones with “Crescent night club”. I think the owners, have decided to go with it.
It’s a got a sunken dance floor, and lots of blue lighting along the walls and darker areas. The dark corners are never black, they’d all manner of hues of deep blue. The area towards the dance floor is more light blue lighting.
It’s got sleek modern lines and two full bars at either end of the club. But the big feature of this club is two walls of glass cubicle rooms on either side opposite the dance floor.
Private rooms.
Paris wanted to take me here, cause he wanted to try something out.
The glass cubicles, are all frosted glass, but when you touch them, they go clear and you can see straight through them. But if you’re not touching them, they remain frosted over and unable to see in.
Bit of a novelty, but a fun one!
I walked in to the glass room and looked around, it had two black, soft leather couches on either side of the small room, and a small glass table in the middle of it. I looked at the wall that would be facing the dance floor and put a hand to it. It went clear and we could see everything happening outside our room.
Paris moved up behind me and pinned my front to the wall, with his body. Moving my hair away from my neck he started kissing me and unzipping the back of my dress, decidedly, slow.
I could feel his hardness press into the small of my back. Uh oh. I had a pretty clear idea what he wanted to try out.
“Should I have not worn underwear?” I ask with a smile on my lips.
He’s an Alpha male who gets rather, hmmm, possessive leading up to and even during lunar week shall we say. No, he just likes to indulge in the build up, like all us werewolves. He’s no different in that respect.
I was literally pinned to the glass wall, watching the dancers on the floor and people walking past, glancing towards us and the other rooms.
He unzipped the back of the dress, the whole way down. Till it hung loosely, on my body. Still covering me, at least for a moment or two longer.
He slipped his hands in around my sides, and cupped my breasts under the light material.
I tried to turn my head to the side, to look back at him.
“What do you think?” He asked me softly, his breath floating and tickling my skin. Like a warm summer breeze of happiness. His tongue ran up and down behind my ear and I fought the urge not to shiver in response.
“I could just do you here, and we’d have an instant audience.”
Tags: crescent, desire, lunar week, lust, Manhattan Pack, Meat Packing district, Paris, werewolf
A Howling good time
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I feel the heat radiating from his skin, feel the burn in his touch as we press together panting, like there is little oxygen to feed our hunger for one another.
Lust and passion are driving the primal forces of our werewolf nature and we’re riding the waves of moon heat, as the new moon, the new years full moon, a blue moon apparently, crests our very being.
We’ve snuck off to be alone, together and alone with one another, because I can only fight a shape shift for so long before I have to yield to the power it has over me.
I won’t get to see midnight though. But Paris is helping me, Paris is distracting me and overpowering my beta werewolf with his own Alpha werewolf. He can do that, help keep my werewolf at bay or bring it rushing out, faster than I can blink.
So we try to tempt time and keep together as long as allowed before the shift breaks me and I have to do it.
His mouth on my skin, kissing trails over me, licking the beads of sweat that are forming. Nipping at sensitive flesh, make me buck up with want and need for him. Desperate to make him cave in to me in time. Paris can’t help it, he chuckles with laughter that rumbles against my skin and makes me gasp with the vibration.
I’m sure it’s evil to taunt someone this much when they’re all but begging for release. He raises his head and looks at me, eyes burning with desire and more, all for me, aimed at me, because of me.
That is what it is to see love and feel love.
I feel a building sensation in my chest, rising from my diaphragm, racing through my rib cage, like an unstoppable force as it pushes through my lungs, and reverbs in my chest.
Gasping as my mouth opens and I throw back my head, my mouth formed in a wide smile as I howl loudly into the night of the new year.
Best part of Lunar Week
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Burning Ground is an interesting club. It gets quite a mixed audience during Lunar Week. Where as The Reflex is for the younger crowd, and Disco and Rhyme is more my sister and her friends crowd and their nostalgia over the 1980’s music scene, Burning Ground is neither. Or rather, it could be both.
Everyone goes there, there’s no specific age group or music type or look to it. Which I’ve always found quite fascinating. It’s kind of like, anything goes is the golden rule there.
So second night of Lunar Week and that’s where Conall and I decide to be. You see, we don’t necessarily lock ourselves in our houses when Lunar Week starts up each month.
What would the point to that be?
We’d probably destroy everything in the house, in the process of shifting or coming to, in werewolf form.
The clubs are like foreplay for werewolves.
We’re all riding a wave of sexual wants, needs, desires and fantasies during Lunar Week. So we start our evenings off at the clubs, not so much to get us in the mood for sorting out those sexual needs. Rather for heightening all that sexual tension that we carry around with us, in the daylight hours of Lunar Week.
A pack atmosphere filled with heightened werewolf pheromones, it’s like we all use one another in there. Of course, all the dancing, sweating, grinding, rubbing against one another, adds to that desire, till you can feel it dripping down your skin. The sweat of sex, seeping further into you until you really can’t take no more, at least, publicly.
Although this is not always the case.
Sometimes you need to go with just how you feel.
A darkened corner in the club, and everyone is too busy doing their own thing to notice you and yours.
Eyes close briefly as a tongue licks up the side of my neck. His teeth sink into the back of my neck. He’s in no mood to wait and be restrained. He’s been patient enough all day. Going about normal life, working, doing the daily routine until he could be himself at night, with me, in Burning Ground. Till he could get me here to do just this. What he wants.
He wants me.
Hands run up the side of my body, holding me tightly, controlled with need to soak in the feel of my body in his hands. His thumbs brush the underside of my breasts and his teeth get harder, sinking into the skin across my back shoulder blades.
Serves me right for wearing a halter neck top.
Normally about this time, when his hard body is pressing into me, making sure I can feel what he isn’t verbalising to me, and he’s touching me so much, we would leave and head back to Conall’s place.
Normally I’m the instigator of this routine behaviour. After all, the boy has to shape shift for every night of the lunar week, I don’t. Especially not on the second night.
Sex helps shape shifting.
Well more precisely being with another wolf, helps shape shifting. There’s a feeling of safety and recognition and protection, which makes the werewolf calm down and so it doesn’t necessarily feel like you’re body’s being torn and ripped apart from the inside out. It tends to go a lot smoother if you are with another werewolf.
Add sex to that mix and it’s even better, smoother for those that need to shape shift around their partner.
It’s almost seamless and effortless and for the best part of all, fast.
A normal shift for a beta werewolf can take fifteen minutes to an hour, depending on the werewolf and circumstances. When you partner up and introduce sexual release into the mix, a shift is more like two to five minutes, max.
Conall and I know, exactly how long we have to tease out the sexual foreplay before he has to shape shift.
So he rides it out, because he can, because he wants to get me as worked up as him about what we’re both thinking of doing in the dark, at Burning Ground.
I don’t need to tell myself that this just for his benefit, as the back of my skirt slides up out of his way. Because it’s for my needs as much as his.
I may not need to shape shift, but I need to be with my werewolf.
Insanity would be what it feels like to be soaked in the air filled lust of the clubs during Lunar Week and then be alone and do nothing about it. I mean, the atmosphere the pack of werewolves creates in heat, is maddeningly delicious and touching it, tasting it, just once, would never be enough to be satisfying.
It’s like a powerful aphrodisiac, the body craves and responds to. It’s something I’d rather not, go without out.
After all, that’s the best part of Lunar Week.
Tags: Burning Ground, conall, desire, lunar week, lust, need, Sex, Shape-shifting, werewolf
The way he moves me
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You know there is something to be said for the way a man’s body moves.
I got hypnotized watching Conall’s. He was on an exercise bike, not that he needs the exercise. Another “health benefit” of being a werewolf, you do tend to have a nice burn up rate on the metabolism scale. His chest was glistening with a light sheen over it and his arms, defined by silhouette. I couldn’t make out on his face, wether he was hot, concentrating, lost in thought or angry.
Yes the man does angry nude, semi nude sometimes. I think he does it to try and disarm me or diffuse a situation. It works. Why wouldn’t it? I’m easily distracted by his bod.
I think he uses physical exercise as a way to let out aggression in a “healthy” way. He also has a punching bag set up in his garage which he can be found kickboxing on at times. He might have been stressed, or just working off extra energy. But hey, he could’ve come to me for that, also. Which again makes me wonder why the exercise bike.
I didn’t know if he knew I was there. Conall was so quiet and focused on working out. I was wondering what was going through that brain of his, to cause such introspection, by the look on his face.
The room was dark and I was sitting, very quietly and still, in a armchair in the dark just watching him work out.
The only light coming in was from the night outside and it was all half shadows and nocturnal moon light. His grey sweat pants were hung low, exposing his hip bones.
I watched the movement of his legs peddle the bike’s wheels, I got engrossed in the definition of the lines around his hip bones. Add the smooth sheen of a light sweat on that and I was biting my lip from moaning. It was highly erotic and he wasn’t doing a thing to me, physically. He was just working out and I was just checking him out.
Playing voyeur on my own boyfriend.
Those hips and the way they kept moving, had me in a trance and at one point, I was holding my breath, watching his lower abdominal muscles move and tweak against his skin as he rode. Small darkened stains of sweat soaked through the waist band of his sweat pants and my eyes slowly, took their leisurely time, travelling up over the rest of his muscled body.
Conall’s got a great medium build. It’s not too muscularly and big and it’s not whimpy and undefined.
I felt my face flush and get hot and just as my eyes made their way to his face he looked over in my direction, at the darkened corner in the unlit room. I was biting my lip between my teeth, staring hungrily at him. I hadn’t made a sound.
And I hadn’t moved and I was beginning to want to.
He smiled back at me, slid off the bike and strode over, like he knew exactly what I wanted.
His body was taunt, and confident, he gazed upon me with heat in his eyes.
“How long have you been there?”
Clearly something had been on his mind, his focus on that, rather than his surrounds if he hadn’t heard, scented or seen me until now. Werewolves have excellent night vision, heightened hearing and we can scent almost anything. But of course if you’re not using them, focused on using them…then…I guess uh, he wouldn’t have seen me.
I tilted my head to the side and shrugged my shoulders loosely. Suddenly the heat in my face was burning and my voice was gone, dried up in my throat.
He nodded his head in return, like he understood my lack of communication. It was more likely he could see the affect he was having on me, just by the way I was acting, holding my body so tight and still. Like it needed to be let loose, to unwind with him, on him.
“Do you like what you see?”
Conall’s voice was low and full of warmth.
Talk about feeling like having a run in for the first time with his male hotness! I gulped down a vat of syliva that felt hard in my throat. I just nodded my head again. He let out a low laugh and put his hands on those hips and I think I may have gasped a little.
How pathetic.
“Would you like to see more?” He asked me, hooking his thumbs under the waist band of his sweat pants.
It was a taunt, like he knew exactly what he was doing and what was turning me on about him. The pants stayed exactly where they were, hiding half of him from me. Allowing me to watch the rest.
Tease.
I nodded my head again silently.
He smirked down at me and said “Then follow me.” He walked out of the room, leading the way, with me following.
Tags: conall, desire, heat, lust, need, tease, voyuer, werewolf, werewolf mate
Doing Laundry
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I was doing laundry.
I can be somewhat of a slob sometimes. I tend to end up throwing my clothes aside quite often, and letting them pile up until I have no fresh, clean or whatever I would deem wearable clothes in my wardrobe to wear.
I found one of my tops was torn. A red one.
It always looks great on me. Usually an eye popper, show stopper.
But now I find it’s torn. Well shredded would be more accurate. Not just torn. Two whole sides of it, it looks like claw marks, have torn it from back to just around the front. It’s utterly ruined. It’s not even a top you could pass off as having deliberately meant to be like that. Like a deliberate look of fashion.
Fucking werewolf foreplay.
Doesn’t always have to be rough or rash, but more and more tends to be with me and Conall.
Granted, I like winding him up, pushing him to hold out till he can’t and then that’s when the fun starts. Right before the fur fly’s. Everything he’s feeling just rushes out of him desperately as he tries to consume me in his passion.
It’s like a form of devotion.
Being swept up in his sexual desire for me.
It works, how can I not get swept up in his heat? When his body feels like it’s on fire and his eyes tell me he’s drowning in built up desire. Just by looking at me.
The world drops away and I feel like falling to my knees and clinging to his body. Our breathing syncs and we’re gone. There isn’t anything else but us. That’s when we tend to forget that one off designer tops are hard to come by. Clothing gets torn, forgotten in a momentary bliss of blinded emotion.
It’s all body memory when we reach that place. Common sense and inhibitors go out the window. Werewolves, even locked up inside us, take over the carnal side of control. Fully. They want us to be together, maximum consumption anyway, anyhow.
You could call it a loss of control.
I prefer to call it surrender.
Times like this I feel like he says so much to me without saying a word. The sounds of his breathing, his moans, groans and little sighs of air. They make me aware of his sensuality, as much as where his lips are on me. Or how his hands grip me, where his teeth nip at me.
I liked that top. Really liked it.
Conall liked it too. That’s why it got shredded. He’d been eyeing me all the time in that red top. As if distracted by it’s coloring on me. Hard to not notice and look at.
That top was a favorite of mine.
But then so is Conall and carnal pleasure.
Happy thoughts as my heartbeat picks up.
I think that’s the only time I’ve ever enjoyed doing laundry. Hmmm.
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Altijd Breukelen- I’m a Breukelen. Altijd.
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