A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Confessions | August 21, 2010

Paris and I are out, standing out back of his place, in the sunlight.

“I have a confession to make.”  Paris says to me, as his fingers dance across my warmed skin, and he slips the spaghetti strap of my dress off, down my shoulder.  My eyes flick over to it and back to him, as his gaze travels across me, to my other shoulder and the strap there.

“What’s your confession?”

He flicks the other strap off the top of my shoulder too.  So both straps are hanging down my arms.  His blue eyes trail up my chest, to my face.

“I’ve never really done it in the sunlight on a lunar week.”

Now his fingers, are caressing their way across the top of my clothing as he tugs it down lightly.

“Done it?”

His lips quirk, into a quick sideways smile. “Never made love.” He corrects himself for me.

“You could’ve said, had sex.” I reply cheekily back at him.

“It’s not just sex with you.”

This statement causes us both to fall silent and stare at each other intently.  It’s coming up to my birthday, and it’ll be the first time we’ve ever been together on my birthday.  My birthday on a lunar week.   What crazy ass divinity decided to do that, to this werewolf?

Paris has been treating this coming event, like it’s a very big deal. I mean, we don’t spend a lot of time apart as it is normally, pack werewolves don’t do al that well alone for long periods of time. We crave other werewolf company.  It’s in our genetics.

“Never?” I break the silence with.

I’m fairly certain he means the act of loving another wolf outdoors in daylight hours, not just outdoor sex, since, we’ve done that a few times already.

He shrugs his shoulders loosely, his mind is elsewhere as he starts kissing me, pressing into me. His warm hands flat on my back.  He finds the zip in the back of my dress and pulls it down.

“Not out in the open, under the sun. No.  I tend to wait for night and the moon.” He tells me when we part and my dress loosens around me, held only against me, by the press of his body to mind. He kisses me along my jaw. He feels warm against me and my skin starts to sweat between us, making the dress cling, like a second skin to my front.

“I feel more at home at night time.  I like the dark. I feel in control there.” His voice is soft as his lips trail along my already sun kissed skin as he works his way around to my ear lobe. “Day time is like, someone else’s time zone that I’m thrown in.” His teeth graze my ear lobe. He nibbles lightly before shape shifting them to werewolf fangs. The sensation of the shift on the sensitive skin of my lobe, makes me gasp out loud. On hand slides down my side, and lifts up the flimsy material of my sundress. His fingers slip under my underwear and he pushes two of them into me.

I groan loudly.

“But you, standing here, in the sunlight,” He runs his nose along my neck line, inhaling my scent. “The touch of the light on your skin, it’s like this flavor of…” He tries to think of the word. “Honey. Makes me want to.”

Those fingers are moving steadily in me and I find myself suddenly gripping his forearms, as if to steady myself. It’s lunar week and we’re both being bitch slapped by our hormones being amped up to maximum capacity.  It really doesn’t take much to set us off onto one another.

Being around another werewolf on lunar week, is like temptation, expectation and candy treats all in one being handed to you to figure out what to do with. I groan again.  He’s not the only one who’s loving the sunlight and being out in it.  Werewolves, love nature, the elements of our human world excite them.  And on a lunar week, they kind of drive us mad, to distraction or insane.  It’s like the time in our lives when we are so saturated in heightened sensation, that I suspect this is what it must feel our past lineages of werewolves, felt like, all the time, especially when not in human form.  Lunar week tests us all, to our limits, and I’m no exception, especially when Paris is making me want to shape shift against him to see what will happen to him. How much that sensation will affect him.

My dress flutters against the wind and falls down my front as he moves with me and my breasts are warmed by the sunlight on them, as the push at the bounds of the bra their in.  Paris’s mouth descends on one of them. The same time I am letting go of him, my fingers having already left nail marks in his forearms, as I push the rest of the dress down and off me. With one free hand, Paris is undressing himself too, ready to meet me in the light of day, together in our own little world, where we can take all the time we want to be together.  I work around him, uncatching my bra and sliding my briefs down my legs. He’s working the jeans over his hips, one side at a time, not wanting to loose his connection to me, not wanting his mouth to leave me. He falters, when he sees the last of my clothing fall away. Straightening up, stunned by my brazen move to get naked, out the back of his place.  It’s not like we can’t be seen by other people.

He groans deep in his throat, at the sight of me. His fingers still, paused inside of me.

“Make you want to do what?” I ask completely naked before him, seriously aching for him to loose the jeans all together.   My hand drifts over his hardness lightly and he stills gritting his teeth. “Make you want to do what?”

His eyes narrow on me and he lets out a low growl. No more teasing this wolf, he has control of himself, but he wants to loose that control in me.

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