"Devour by can-o-meat, Feb 25, 2013, 6:57:33 PM Literature /" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/wZ8tqM3W Created on: Wednesday 31st of August 2016 09:23:08 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:27:21 AM UTC Devour by can-o-meat, Feb 25, 2013, 6:57:33 PM Literature / Prose / Fiction / Romance / Erotic / Flash Fiction & Vignettes FANDOM: My own PAIRING: Tara Miller(Dances-in-Ashes)/Jessica Cavanaugh RATING: M WARNINGS: Lesbian sexy times. Biting that involves blood. DISCLAIMER: These characters and concepts are mine, please do not steal. AUTHOR’S NOTE: A small part of a bigger story I've been working on. This part I'm posting is simply smut for smut's sake. ;D All you need to know is: werewolves develop mental bonds with their mates; during sex the transfer of blood memories occurs as an unconscious self-defense mechanism to keep their mate from leaving before coitus is complete (distraction and confusion, basically). Bear in mind that Jessica is a willing mate…. not all werewolves have that luxury. Also: COMMENTS/REVIEWS ARE EVERYTHING TO ME! #*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*# The kiss is fierce, demanding. Tara tastes like moonlight and spiced rum, the smell of fresh snow lingering on her enveloping them. Foreign memories of star-filled skies and endless stretches of wilderness flood her mind as the Wolf enters her with two fingers, beautiful and tempting in their promise of eternity. More than once she moans from the sensory overload, mind and body filled with the woman before her. Her lips are velvet-soft, breath hot, the line her tongue traces on her jaw like fire. Jessica’s fingers tangle in thick, wavy hair that she presses her face against, air stolen from her lungs in a long groan. The fingers inside her curl and twist in the most obscenely delicious way, causing her to arch her back against the cold wall Tara has her pinned against. The deep, rumbling growl answering her draws a shiver up her spine, the danger she’s knowingly put herself in exciting her. She doesn’t mind when Tara gets this way… far from it, really. The Wolf loses all inhibition, her instincts kick in, the animal takes over. And, suddenly, it’s like the world is spinning around them. Her shirt is unbottoned and pulled down to leave her shoulders and chest exposed before Jessica can even comprehend what has happened, so when distinctly sharp teeth nip at her throbbing carotid she cries out in surprise. The nipping goes from playful to painful quickly, and she realizes the tickling feeling on her chest is a line of blood. “Tara,” she mewls into the black as sin hair, drawing a ragged breath that brings further images. A dark, thick cove of pine trees, their sap filling her senses, needles snapping under her weight. A sunset over distant mountains, the sky bloody and pink and bruised. The hand working between her legs becomes more forceful, catering to her sudden wetness. Pleasure builds and mounts until every nerve is alight and vibrating, and when she tastes her own blood on Tara’s lips she feels her hips rock forward against the Wolf. She fucks the woman’s hand, meeting her thrust for thrust, until she’s tumbling over the edge. There’s a brief flash of bloodied fangs and a snarl as bodies collide heavily, and Jessica knows only Tara is holding her in place… her own legs gave out long ago. She can see the birth of a galaxy behind her eyelids, pure and bright and wonderful. The new stars are spilling across the inky darkness even as her fluids are spilling into Tara’s palm, dribbling to the floor with embarrassing wet plops, coating her inner thighs. Tara holds her in place for as long as it takes for her climax to subside into shaking, and only then lets her slide to the floor. In the near-darkness, Jessica can see Tara’s covetous gaze as her eyes drink in the image before her. The werewolf loves seeing her like this: ravaged, spent, drunk on passion. She lifts a hand to her mouth, raking her tongue over her palm, sucking on her fingers. Cleaning the evidence. And, that Wolf be damned if she doesn’t feel another bought of lust turn so quickly into an orgasm her brain short-circuits momentarily. There she is, sitting on her floor with her skirt bunched around her waist. And now she’s sitting in another puddle. She’d be ashamed if it weren’t for the sudden predatory look in Tara’s eyes, clearly hungry for more. Those golden eyes have fixed themselves intently on the feast spreading across the floor, and a lick of her lips reveals the Wolf’s plan. Jessica braces herself with a shudder; it wasn’t every day you got eaten by a Wolf.