Werewolf Consort Read online

  Really? I ask Paris back as I try to see Zane amongst the dense landscape around me.

  Make a connection with Zane and he’ll tell you exactly where you are. Paris say back at me.

  I reach out to Zane thinking of him and feel his mind open for me.

  Zane?

  You really shouldn’t have stopped running. They’re almost on you.

  I turn around behind myself to see as well as hear the crashing of paws through the forest. He’s right, I got distracted and wrapped up in knowing that I was being shadowed by this werewolf so well that I had no idea he was merely just down wind and a few hundred meters away from me.

  Giving up, that doesn’t seem like you little wolf. Paris says regaining my attention as I scramble to start running again.

  The sound of wolves barking their alert signals makes me panic and I know now that I can not outrun them despite still having a lead on them all. I look to the side of me as werewolves who have fanned out wide run beside me, weaving in and around tree trunks, one werewolf barreling into another with a growl as it changes direction to head straight at me. Looking to my right, another werewolf fight is ensuing and I know it is the boys, protecting me from over eager werewolves looking to claim me, as if they have any right.

  Paris?

  Right behind you. He pants as I look over my shoulder whilst still running forward. Just in time to see a large grey wolf leap through the air, towards me. He lands on me and we tumble forward heavily around and around a few times.

  Got you. Paris says smugly as we play wrestle until he quickly mounts me, grabbing at my hind legs. I love you to the moon and back. His cock thrusts into me and he moves quickly. The werewolves gather around us to circle and watch as their alpha fuck the living daylights out his consort, soon to be pack mate for life, me.

  I love you my alpha

  His fangs sink into the back of my neck and his thrusting is fast and furious and all I can do is try and stand still but we keep moving because it’s hard to be still with such powerfulness. As Paris ejaculates into me, he lifts his head to the moon and howls out his pride and joy. The werewolves around us join their leader in recognizing us as pack mates.

  The sound of howls ring out loud and clear, our message to the moon that we are united, and we are pack. Paris pulls back but I am yanked back with him. Not uncommon, that his cock is so swollen inside me that we are joined. Instead of separating from one another he pushes me down to the ground and we continue to lay joined, until his cock becomes flaccid again, Paris laying on top of me. We pant and breath heavily, and he licks my fur.

  Are you okay? Paris asks.

  My heart is beating like crazy.

  I can tell. Paris replies licking at my ears as I notice the werewolves around us start sniffing one another. Some mounting others, some challenging for the right to fuck the werewolf before them.

  But I’m good. Better than good, now that we’ve done this. I feel tiredness wash over me, all my anxiety all my adrenaline leaving me exhausted under him.

  Love you little wolf are the last words I hear as I drift off to sleep, the sound and movement of werewolves around us, cementing the feeling of love and desire that riddles us all and finds us here in this forest.

  12

  There is a wetness to my dream and I move with it. It’s not that I’m in liquid, it’s that I am liquid. Liquid heat that is tightening inside me, pressing at me, taking me up high within my own body. So high that I need to move, I need to move more than this, I need to move fast. Riding this pleasure out is a pleasant torture.

  One that on the one part of me I don’t want to end and on the other, I know how good I will feel if it does end. My hips thrust up and my hands reach down automatically seeking my release. Instead they find a handful of hair between my legs and they grip it tightly, silently begging my lover to bring me to my end so I can be bathed in the bliss he is creating within me.

  Paris’s mouth is eager, so damn eager to lap me up I find myself squirming too much, unsure how to be still as his hands grip and try to hold back my thighs from crushing his head as he keeps licking me like I am a delicacy that must be consumed by this passion between us.

  I don’t remember how I came to be so liquefied and boneless like this but now I am semi alert to my state and all I want to do is reach that high tingling underneath me, that taunts me by being close and far, seemingly at the same time.

  The moon’s light strokes its way along my abdomen like a caress of night that enhances me in its seduction. A light breeze flutters across the bedroom and I feel wisps of my hair scrap across my skin like the softest of claws exciting me further more.

  I feel every stroke of his tongue and suck of his lips along me and somewhere from deep down in my throat I groan. Gutturally at the difference in the pleasure this brings as we both keep moving. I may never wake from this dream and in the back of my mind I am grateful for that escape. To be trapped in such pleasure for an eternity is enough for me.

  Passion is unique. Most people probably wouldn’t agree, but I believe it is. There must be a number of people in the world, maybe a handful if you’re lucky that know exactly how to press your buttons, how to excite the skin you live in. How to elicit sensations that you never knew you could feel from within yourself, all because of someone else.

  My lover, Paris is my ignition. He is someone I’d never have thought to seek out if we hadn’t accidently come together in a round about sort of circumstance. It wasn’t planned, I wasn’t on his radar and he wasn’t on mine.

  That isn’t to say that we didn’t know of each other. In a strictly logical, background information of irrelevance kind of way. His pack did business with my pack. That kind of thing. I’d heard of his name when my father, would hold pack meetings with other New York packs, but that was it.

  I had a boyfriend at the time, and reality would suggest my older sister would be more in the social circles that Paris would inhabit, not me. But fate is funny and love has a mind of its own, so no one is safe when those two combine to play up.

  The crescendo of our endurance in pleasure is almost at its end and I want to lift myself up into weightlessness. I feel the solid press of his hands against my hips as if holding them down, connecting me to some form of reality to make my hazy sleep addled eyes half open to glance down my body at the man between my legs. Delivering me into heaven as my orgasm grips me tightly.

  This must be what heaven’s embrace truly feels like, when the sister moon allows you ascendance whilst being labored with a cumbersome weight of body that wants what it is not allowed, to let go. To be swept up and turned around and turned inside out and upside down. To capture all parts of this essence that drips from my legs and into his mouth.

  I love you Cadey.

  Paris’s voice breaks through the fog of my self pleasuring induced mind because he uses my name. Not a common thing that he does and therefore it always stands out more when he does.

  I realize, seconds too late, he is doing exactly what I was just thinking in my head. I’ve been flipped over onto my stomach as his mouth and tongue and lips continue their feast of my flesh and consumption of my taste. I am unaware of where the sheet coverings of the bed have gone and I no longer care, as long as I reach my destination with him underneath me, drinking my orgasm down as it pulsates towards the surface of me.

  It makes me crumble as it breaks inside me causing my breath to capture and still like it does not know how to escape my lungs as I rise and fall what feels like time and time again as pressure between my legs, reminds me that I am not alone. Paris is consuming what he has created in me and we are drowning in the joyfulness of it. For we are free and one at the same time and the earth presses back against me to remind me that I am not in our bedroom. I am outside in the beauty of nature, at the midnight hour, on the night of my wedding, taking my place, within his pack as we consummate the relationships between the Breukelen and the Manhattan werewolf packs in the forest of our choosing.

 
; My apprehension over what was expected of me has long gone, after Paris, my lover, my husband, assured me that everything would be as it should be when he took me in front of his pack to show them his queen.

  13

  My sigh escapes my lips now that they remember how to function again, as I lay curled up against Paris’s chest, my head resting under his chin.

  “Thank you, that was amazing.” I mutter almost shyly at him. I know, it’s ridiculous, we’re both naked without a stick on us, and stick with sweat and body fluid from Paris giving me fellatio in the darkness of the woods around us.

  It’s our wedding night, round two, so to speak. We did what no one really saw coming and eloped together. Took a fair few people by surprise and panicked a couple of others.

  “You’re welcome.” Paris mutters contently holding me in his embrace, his lips kissing the top of my head.

  Werewolves from differing packs, marrying together. Would be for some, odd enough. But considering we are both high profile werewolves as such from two powerful werewolf packs, it has rattled a lot of cages both near and far.

  Many people opposed our relationship together, but we ignored them. Many people tried to use us both against each other, so we destroyed them. Now we’ve done the next thing we wanted to do, we got married.

  That isn’t to say we did it animal skins and howled at the moon and chanted old and ancient songs around a campfire of the like. No, there was a gown, rings, a reverend the whole deal. Well, you know, almost. After all it was a secret wedding. Secret from me mostly. Paris pulled off a fantastic proposal that immediately turned into our wedding ceremony without me suspecting a thing.

  “Glad I can make my werewolf happy.” Paris says softly and I can feel his smile without even looking up at him.

  Of course doing the human way of things, means we still have to appease not only our elders, and werewolf cultures, but our packs too. Especially with us, there is a certain expectation with protocols given our high profile nature within the New York werewolf community. I’m from the leading werewolf pack in Brooklyn. The fiercest fighting pack in all of New York, we’ve proved ourselves time and again and sometimes, even me, on my own. I’ve managed to earn myself somewhat of a legendary fighting reputation, without nearly being in half as many fights as my sister Bodil. Surviving a hurricane, kind of cemented that one in place for me.

  Paris is the pack leader and a young one at that, for the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack, the richest old money werewolf pack in New York and one of the biggest. Together we’ve become somewhat of a formidable force to be reckoned with.

  I lift my nose and sniff the night air. I can smell the sex on it and I am sure it is not just us. For we are not alone in these woods. But I knew that, all along. After all that was the point to being out in the cool night air, naked as the day I was born. The werewolf way of inter-pack marriage, goes back to very old ways in ancient, old days of long gone by. That was why I was a little freaked out when Paris first broached the subject with me a week after our actual marriage. His parents, elders in his pack and highly respected in the community, wanted to start announcing our relationship to others. At first I didn’t get it. I thought it was because they were proud and excited about our relationship reaching such a precipice. But that wasn’t it. Of course. I’ve always underestimated the savvy of his mother, Marion D’arenberg. They wanted to announce our alliance for purely business and werewolf pack reasons.

  “Can’t believe I fell asleep on you to begin with.” I reply back at him. Paris chuckles and I love the feel of it against me as I lay against his chest. “But you seriously wore me out.” I say remembering the pack run and why I was smiling so greatly.

  “Couldn’t help it Sweetheart, that is what you do to me. You always have.” Paris says tightening his hold on me.

  The werewolf way of marriage that we decided to pay homage to, involved Paris, my intended, and his pack, me and my pack, or at least the closest members into my pack, shape shifting to our wolf selves. And running after me through the forest, until my future husband had caught me, and mounted me in front of his pack. Spilling his seed into my fertility before both our packs as they all watched on before howling towards the moon. I had initially been wigged out by the idea. Paris knew why. I’d been attacked in a similar fashion when I was younger, on the night of my first shape shift.

  “Was it okay for you?” He asks me concerned. “Did I hurt you?” We’ve already fucked. I’ve lost my sense of time already.

  “You were like a werewolf on a mission, hard and fast and resilient.”

  I shifted and had a brief head start on the competition, which was too say, both packs. Traditionally it would have been open slather to whoever caught the female werewolf and mounted her.

  “I’m sorry if I was too excessive and I hurt you.” However, everyone knows that Paris and I have been dating and no one in their right mind would fuck with the Alpha’s werewolf partner. Ever.

  “Not hurt, just uh, tenderized and breathless.” Paris had assured me, repeatedly that he would have all his hierarchy and all my breukelen hierarchy play buffer and guard me throughout the run, should another werewolf try to claim me before them all.“But I know you were just staking your rightful claim and It was amazing, to sound like a broken record, again.” I say curling into him as my eyes begin to flutter closed again.

  “You were amazing, allowing me to do that.” He tells me.

  “I hope everyone liked the show as much as me.” I yawn and again feel myself drift towards sleep.

  Public sex isn’t really our thing. We’re each other’s turn on and for the most part, we’re fairly private about it. That isn’t to say we’re boring and vanilla. We’re certainly not that. But public sex isn’t my deal and Paris knows it. Along with being tied up and restricted. I hate that.

  He’s accepted that and I’m grateful.

  But when Paris charged at me tonight, he pounced and pushed me to the ground under him and fucked me, one wolf to another, fiercely fast and hard. I might have freaked out and fought it if I knew it wasn’t him and what we were doing was an important display to the wolves around us. To those that would then hear about it further afield.

  I might have hated it, if he hadn’t prepped me for it before hand letting me know what our game plan was with the pack run. If he hadn’t shared our telepathic link the whole time we were running. The whole time we were fucking, with him telling me how much he loved me, wanted me, couldn’t wait for our lives as husband and wife, as well as soul mates and pack mates to begin anew.

  But Paris’s cock and his fucking abilities had worn me out, more than usual. I think I’d held on to a lot of hyper tension and anxiety and after we were done and the wolves howled. And I knew that I was safe and accepted and where I was meant to be, I kind of let the emotions I’d been carrying for so long, drain me. Completely and fell asleep, curled up beside him.

  I hadn’t held my shape shift for long. Which was somewhat of a problem with me. Exhaustion didn’t do it for my werewolf self. Never really has. Each werewolf has small nuances that differentiate them from others. I’ve always had trouble with shape shifting. Ever since I was attacked at the age of fourteen on my first shape shift night.

  “Hmmm,” I murmur and allow slumber to drag me down again.

  Paris has helped me a lot with my shape shifting. Having a caring, and passionate partner trial and test your abilities and work out routines that work for you during lunar week and under duress, is nothing short of a miracle in my books. I awoke again when he started giving me head. The other wolves we’d run with, no longer stayed with us. But even so, I knew that not far from us were at least six to eight body guard wolves if I knew Paris and his thinking at all.