A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Last night | August 4, 2009

Last night, I was desperate to feel his body with mine.

We’d gotten out of the club and we couldn’t wait, didn’t stay as long as we normally would.

Because as the moon gets fuller during the lunar week, we get more affected.

Our sense of control gets inched out further and further.  Till you’re barely holding self control together.  Well, those of us that fight it, test the limits, it’s like that. Till you can barely stand to function, without just caving in to whatever it is your wolf desires, early release, insatiable hunger, lust. Take your pick.

It prickles at your skin and itches your scalp and makes you sweat profusely as you try to fight your hold on having some time, in this world. Keeping the hours at bay until you have no choice but to shift.

“Need to breath the same air as me.”

His voice was husky and getting gravellier.

We were racing the clock down.

Something we do, sometimes, as it gets deeper into the week of wickedness.

Not much longer till the obvious changes would start kicking in and we would have no control and choice but to shift shape.

Let the were-wolves out.

Hands on each other, roughly pulling. Clothing got torn as he lifted my legs up around his waist.  I felt his hips dig in. My back against the cool wall. My skin felt relieved, against it, my chest,  feverish against his.

It’s all about touch for were-wolves, we need to feel each other.

Skin to skin, heat and heartbeat, we pulse.

It’s like white noise, you hear nothing but it when you’re in sync with one another.

When it’s so deeply intense, as it with Conall.

When it’s all you can focus on.

When it’s all that you know, will sate your wolf and make the shift far more bearable.

We moved quickly, eagerly and I clung to him, entangling our bodies and racing, as hard and fast as we could. Surrendering to the sensation.

His face hovered above mine.

His breath panted, danced, heatedly across my mouth as he said

“is leath díom tú”

Before consuming me in a kiss that I got lost in, bathed in the light of the Brooklyn moon.

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