A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

The Flesh & Blood show | July 25, 2010

Walking through the club back to Paris was rather surreal. Everyone was watching and it felt like they were holding their breath. But of course, they weren’t.

Addison and I walked side by side, silently and I walked up to Paris, as he continued to sit at his table, with his warriors, standing, either side of the booth he was in.

He looked incredibly calm and non-plussed, and somewhat happy to see me walking towards him.

There had been a fight, in his presence, and now nobody would get near the Alpha, without going through his personal body guards. Of course, that was my doing, having an all out bitch fight with Gabby. But still, there had to be a standard show of power and hierarchy, really. To remind werewolves, to behave.

To remind the werewolves there, who really called the shots in there and what could happen, if their leading Alpha wanted it too. He was sipping a beer, his eyes watching me over the top of the pint glass as I got closer to him.

He put the glass down and smirked at me. The guards, near his area of the club parted to let me and Addison through, before closing the gap between them again.

Show time.

I’m a good werewolf. For the most part, I know my place.

I flicked my hair over my shoulder again and crawled, very deliberately into the soft red leather booth, around to where Paris sat.

His eyes dropped from my face, to my gapping, half torn top and the vicious claw marks across my skin, to my breasts, hanging heavily in my bra as I crawled towards him on my hands and knees.

His eyes darkened, they were almost black, and glistened with flecks of amber. The man and the werewolf, were turned on. I was turning him on.

He pulled me across himself, so I sat, straddled across his lap.

Just us, in the booth.

“And I thought, you two would play nice together.” He muttered, his arms held me tight, close to him.

“Well, that was nice, wasn’t it?” I asked, angling my head to the side as he ran his nose up the side of my neck, that probably had blood splatter on it.

“Very.” He murmured, as his tongue started languid strokes of my skin, cleaning me of the dried liquid that was across my neck, shoulder and upper chest. I sighed contently.

Post fight recovery, was a very good idea indeed.

He kissed his way down to the start of the claw marks above my breast. His tongue running over the gauged marks in them, making them sting, ever so slightly, as he cleaned the wounds on me. I felt Paris harden beneath me. His werewolf wanted to mate with me, because it was being unbelievably turned on by the flesh and blood show I’d given him.

See for humans, the sex is about the flesh. Visual display of flesh and all it’s pretty glory, gets you the reaction you desire.

For werewolves, it’s the flesh with the blood. Well, it it’s about that when we’re still in human form.

So whilst, I was actually hurt from my girl fight with Gabby, I really was forgetting about how my wounds were being tended too, because like Paris, I was getting turned on by our very public display of erotica in the club.

The music was still going and I assumed behind me, and around us, all had returned to normal again. I don’t really know, because I honestly wasn’t paying attention.

I was kind of liking what was happening to me in Paris’s arms.
With his mouth.

He mouth sucked and moved material out of the way and kissed my skin, his tongue stroked and teased and I began to rock, unconsciously in his lap, against him, sighing with pleasure.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else.” I murmured at him.

“Maybe I should just take what I want, right now.” He husked back at me. He started to undo the fly on his jeans. I couldn’t say I didn’t want the same thing. Our needs and body tempreture were rising.

His hands on my hips, raised me up and our eyes locked on one another. Nothing else mattered. I’d forgotten where we were, or why I was there, or that I’d been in any kind of altercation. Because in our little private bubble of heat, blood, lust and flesh, there was only us.

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