Stand alone piece
Rated M - Sexual Content
I own nothing but my ideas and my original character
He had her pressed up against the wall; her legs were wrapped around his waist. He squeezed her thighs and kissed her neck. She felt his teeth brush her skin; she knew he was a blutbad but she didn’t care. It could be dangerous, yes, but she had all the faith in the world that he could keep control.
Her family had always been allies of magical creatures. They were creatures, themselves, but always kept a human façade. Her mother was a witch and her father was a healer. Her father died a few years back – killed by reapers for helping a blutbad one of the reapers left for dead. Her family had run an apothecary, and since her mother died – car accident – it was all hers. She’d seen almost every kind of creature come in seeking help, and she never turned one away.
She remembered the first time she saw him. He’d come in bruised and beaten; she felt his pain as soon as he walked through the door. Reapers – he didn’t even have to tell her. She’d picked him out some herbal tea – good for relaxing the muscles – and some green tea/mint/aloe ointment to keep his cuts from scarring. She also grabbed a hot/cold compress – handmade from recycled material – that he could heat in the microwave or freeze in the freezer.
“You might want to get some stitches for the cut on your cheek,” she’d told him.
“Eh, I’ll be fine. Can’t exactly walk into the ER and say I got beat up by a gang of reapers.”
“Come on.” She led him in to the back room and showed him to a chair. She cleaned the cut and grabbed a needle and medical thread. She told him to hold still, she’d done it a million times, but it always helped to be still. He noticed the precision with which her fingers moved. She was gentle and kind, relaxed – he could smell it. Her hands were soft and meticulous. Her pale green eyes kept their gaze on his cheek, pupils wide and focused. She had the typical eyes of a healer. Her dark hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders. She was absolutely beautiful; not the kind of woman a blutbad deserved, not even one as reformed as he was.
She applied some aloe – fresh from an aloe plant – and a bandage. He followed her back out to the counter, watching her body almost glide across the shop. She was quite tall for a woman, coming up to his shoulder – maybe about five feet ten inches. Maybe a little giant in her bloodline somewhere, he thought. She handed him a canvas bag containing everything he’d need. He reached for his wallet but she shook her head.
“For a handsome wieder-blutbad such as yourself, it’s on the house.” She smiled.
He blushed. That didn’t happen often.
“I hope I’m not crossing some kind of line, but would you like to have dinner with me?”
He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
She scribbled on a piece of paper, handed it to him, and told him to call her. She reminded him some warm milk and honey would complement the tea nicely.
“I’m River, by the way.”
“Bedroom?” She whispered.
“Yeah.” He carried her down the hall.
He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care. Control, he thought, don’t scare her away. He was determined not to “wolf-out” as his Grimm friend had put it. He was confident he could stay in control; she made him feel warm and fuzzy.
Her hands worked the buttons of his sweater, then his shirt; he shrugged them off. He moved a hand up her side, under her shirt. She sat up and let him pull her top over her head, revealing a black lace bra. His hands caressed her body, massaging her breasts. She ran her hands through his hair, down his chest, up and down his arms. She kissed him hard and forceful, tongue brushing his lips. Their tongues danced, battling for control.
Her hands made their way to his belt, his fly. Finally, he thought. The restriction had been killing him. He wiggled out of his jeans then flipped them so she was on top. She grinded down on him, feeling his growing enthusiasm. His hands rested on her thighs, squeezing them when her mouth moved to his neck. Her mouth moved on to his collar bones, nipping and sucking little red marks onto his skin. He flipped them over again so he was back on top. One hand explored her breasts while the other worked on the fly of her jeans. He pulled them off, revealing black lace panties. His eyes were overcome with a wolfy-red glow. He knew it – he could feel it – but he put it in the back of his mind.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck as he nipped at hers, leaving the same little red marks she left on him. He could smell her arousal, but also her calmness. She wasn’t afraid he might lose it. She didn’t panic, or even tense, when she felt the pinch of his fangs on her neck. He noticed; it put him at ease. The red in his eyes faded back to brown. His fangs dulled back to human teeth. The claws that were starting to grow, stopped, and shrunk back to his normal chewed up nails. Any tension in his body dissipated…well except his throbbing cock…but there was a solution for that.
He slid a hand beneath her and unhooked her bra. He brushed his tongue over one nipple then the other; she moaned. The tickle of his beard on her bare chest made her giggle. He smiled and moved back to her mouth. She grinded up against him, making him moan into her mouth. She moved her hand down and tugged on his boxers. He took them off and tossed them across the room. Her panties joined them not five seconds later. He slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing up her legs, and massaged her clit. She bit her lip, tossed her head back, and let out a primal-sounding moan. If that’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, he though.
“Monroe, I want you to fuck me. Now.” Her voice was strained from the overwhelming lust.
He retrieved a condom from the nightstand, tossed the wrapper, not caring where it landed, and rolled on the rubber. He positioned himself above her, looking down at the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her smell was so intoxicatingly good he almost couldn’t handle it. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer. He slid inside her slowly, letting her get used to his size; it was no secret that male blutbadden were well endowed. She felt instant tension in her lower stomach, hot and unrelenting. He moved in and out of her, slowly, still letting her adjust. As their pace quickened, their moans got louder. Her nails scraped down his back, across his chest. That’ll leave a mark, she thought. She felt him pounding into her, her body flooded with hot passion.
His inner wolf was waiting, just below the surface. He growled the most inhuman, animalistic growl she’d ever heard; it was enough to send her straight over the edge. The pent up tension from down below erupted through her body: up through her arms – hands fisted in the sheets – and down through her legs – toes curled as tight as they could get. She moaned loud and cried out his name. He came fast and hard, slamming into her a few more times before his body gave out. He planted the sweetest, most tender kiss on her lips then rolled over next to her. He tied the condom and tossed it in the trash. She curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through her hair a few times before he kissed the top of her head.
Had he known getting beat up by a gang of reapers would land him the best sex of his life, he’d have fucked with the status quo a lot sooner.