Fu did another lovely piece for my wedding attire and I coupled it with a lil’ short story for you. Have fun~
The flames dance in the fireplace but the bed is cold; the show whirls outside but the room is still. I set down my glass, wondering if I have a drinking problem, wondering if werewolves can have a drinking problem.
The notebook is open; the paper is pristine. What month is it? My muse left aeons ago, sick of all the blood and sex.
The wine doesn’t warm me anymore. I stretch out on the sheets shimmering golden in the sunlight, squeeze the pillow. My tail twitches; the erect hackles stiffen my shoulders. The pine smell of the firewood mixes with the zingy aroma of my lust. I run my claws down, leaving white traces: a notch harder and I would draw blood. The room’s too warm; I squeeze my knees but that only makes the heat worse. The warmth spreads from under my belly, persistent and unstoppable. I think I moan, but maybe that’s the wind approving of the show.
My fingers glimmer in the setting sun when I give them a tentative lick, press them to my upper lip, inhale my arousal. I’m the hunter. I’m the prey. I play with myself; the thrill of sexual excitement boils through my veins, my breaths rasp and hard. My fingers travel from my loins to my neck, over my nipples and down to my hips. The touches burn, the body craves for the release, but I’m a skilled hunter, the chase will continue until very end. The angle, the pressure, the speed – my body became a delicate musical instrument and I’m soloing my best performance. Two fingers curled, I push harder into my vagina. The sweet tension is almost unbearable, my toes curl up, my tail trembles. I don’t feel my fingers anymore; my mind is on its own with the inferno it started. For a shortest moment I can’t breathe, I’m a marble wrapped in the lavish fragrance, a mind suspended over the abyss, staring wide-eyed into the depth of my soul.
The sizzling blaze of the release rushes over me and through me, washes the mind clean, reaches into the deepest corners. The shock releases the beast; the I is gone.
The bliss snaps as my arms spasm, ripping the tendons. The icy numbness replaces the sizzling heat as my legs break, tearing the nerves. For a second the heart stops beating but then it catches on, sending the blood through my furred chest.
I shake my muzzle, stretch out my paws and bask in the afterglow, watching the sunset. My notebook is still open, the paper soaks up the red.
