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Master Wolf

Master Wolf - A short story from the Full Moon Erotica Flash Fiction event. 

The strong hand gripped her nape and she whined, guided like a pup through the throngs of people grinding against damask wallpaper. The hallways were packed, the noise a din, roaring along with her own heartbeat, her own hunger buffeted back at her a thousand-fold as she stumbled over clothes shed in a preference for skin. She struggled to touch the man marching her away instead of fucking her stupid. She needed him. She'd sought him out, aching and drenched at the caress of the full moon, and he turned her down. When his grip loosened, she turned, teeth taking his lip in a hard kiss she knew would make him wild. His massive frame cracked her to the wood of a door, his hips trapping her, stroking her...and then her support gave way. The door disappeared and she stumbled into a silent darkness.
 'Have fun.' The flash of Brandr's grin and low, laughing words were the last she knew of him before he locked her from the orgiastic party outside.
‘Wrong room,’ a deep voice rumbled from the shadows. ‘The party’s outside.’
She stuttered to answer. 'I'm so sorry, excuse me...' Fingers found the zipper to her navel-plunging neckline and yanked it high, her smile timid, flashing an apology in the direction of the voice. Her hand found the door knob, twisted. 
Silently, Rún let his eyes roam, tracking the slide of the zip as the intruder yanked it throat high, encasing her slender femininity in a bind of tight, black lycra. As she gifted him her shy, smiling apology, full lips parted, revealing the gap marring otherwise perfectly white front teeth. Stained fire-engine red, the spread of her lush mouth kindled his lust and his mind formed a picture-perfect image of those beautifully flawed incisors grazing the delicate skin of his cock. 
Just as she turned to leave, he snapped the book closed and she wheeled back around to face him, one hand still wrapped around the door handle. 
‘Wait,’ he commanded. And she obeyed.
Leaning forward in the armchair, pale features emerged from the shadows, long russet hair framing a face that was chiselled masculinity, and those eyes … bright indigo blue and burning with an intensity that stalled the breath in her lungs. Her throat felt parched. He let his legs fall open and ran the heels of his hands over the fabric covering his thighs, as though attempting to ease an ache.
Her throat bobbed in a hard swallow as her eyes were drawn down, led to what his parted legs revealed. Powerful muscle was clearly defined as he shifted, soft material stretched tight at the thighs and tested by the ridge of a massive arousal, straining the fabric in shocking anatomical detail. Her mouth watered, tongue tasting the flesh of her lips but imagining something harder, thicker...more.
‘You don’t hide from me, Thrall.’ His growl was a rough command, but before she could comply the zipper clicked down its tracks, parting metal teeth to reveal the smooth skin she'd hidden from him. When she glanced up with confused amusement, gorgeous indigo was shining with a glimmer of opalescent red, his lips curved in a satisfied smirk. 
‘How did you did you do that?’ He had to be a wizard with magnets or something. ‘Brandr never...’
Brow cocked, the tip of his tongue ran the sharp edge of his teeth and his eyes stroked heat to her bared skin. ‘It’s a talent...What’s yours?’ Like he couldn’t guess. With that bee-stung pout and the salacious promise of her gapped smile, the thrall had the kind of mouth that launched a thousand obscene, deep-throated fantasies.
‘You’re not the only one that can work hands free.’ Her tone was low, seductive and confident as she watched his gaze darken. His thoughts could be guessed at, the flex of his hips a tell she locked into. 
‘Show me,’ a gravelled demand, a challenge, he eased back in the chair, getting comfortable for the show. One large hand strayed between his thighs, shaping the throbbing swell of his own arousal. A flick of metal, a tug on the leather strap and his belt was undone, an unspoken invitation.
With a sultry smile, she dropped to her hands and knees, lithe body stroked into a graceful crawl by his gaze, by the promise of what lay under the taut fabric ready to bust its seams. She was ravenous now, lycra slicked with her need and rubbing against the sensitive flesh between her thighs with every movement, slowly advancing with feline arches of her spine until her cheek ran up the inside of his leg and her eyes fixated on her destination. So close, he smelled of sex and power. 
He felt the heat of her ragged breath through the thin fabric, like tongues of fire stroking his erection. Her mouth traced the outline of his cock, her lips encased the weight of his sac with wickedly teasing suction, her eyes flipped up to sear him with the heat of her need. Scarlet, swollen lips tugged into a wicked smile, coaxing a moan from deep in his throat. She snapped her teeth and his cock kicked, straining against the zipper of his pants. Capturing the metal tab in the bite of those provocative incisors, she tugged, slow and deliberate, and the slider yielded, splitting the fabric over the thickly veined shaft of his pulsing cock. ‘You do have a talented mouth,’ he growled.
His praise teased her lips with a knowing smile and as her gaze dipped back down, it went wide, her breath hitching at the sight of him. What she'd seen hadn't done him any justice, the confines of material shaping his erection no match for the reality. Thick and long, he lay larger than any she'd seen before. Her jaw ached in anticipation. He'd fill her, bruise her. Warm lips kissed the hot underside of his cock, testing her way through his reactions, tasting every pulsing vein with flicks of her tongue until she touched his tip, glossy with his own lust. Mouth sealing a rhythmic suction around the throbbing head, she worked him on her tongue, keeping fingers that longed to stroke clamped between her thighs. She’d have to take all of him and for once in her life, she was doubting if she could. Her throat was starved for him, it wanted more than the short inches she let pass her lips.
Her tongue rasped wet, sensual velvet to the exquisitely sensitive head of his erection, firing off shivery pulses of erotic energy that tensed his thighs and deepened his breathing and left him fighting off the urge to thrust past the barrier of her wickedly teasing lips. The animal growl that ripped from his throat was a warning. His wolf was close to the surface, and the animal had no patience for games. Lips curled off daggered canines on a snarl, his powerful hand clamped her slender throat just beneath her jaw and forced her eyes on him. ‘You can do better.’
Her eyes narrowed at the challenge. It was a demand and comment all rolled into one and she bristled, the threat wrapped around her throat stoking the fires of her lust until she was panting from the heat. It hurt, just a touch, a display of strength that would leave a mark and with the wildness in his eyes blazing out of control, she knew she would do better. Or he’d punish her. Teeth nipped, slid roughly along his shaft, dragged down from tip to base as her tongue sucked and soothed and glossed him in deeper, thrusting him beyond the barrier of her nerves and constricting him, slowly, into the sheath of her throat. He stretched her, the tension in his thighs trembling with restrained thrusts. He’d told her to do better, and now she needed him to let go, she needed the animal she’d seen. Her lips cushioned his shaft on every tight-pumping stroke, drawing out sensations, closing her teeth around the crown of his erection as she pushed to the base and once more took him in.  
From beneath his collaring grip, Rún felt her swallow and snarled at the wet silken suction of her throat as it collared the head of his cock. Her life drummed against his fingers, she was his to possess, and yet, down on her knees and taking his girth to the hilt in the constricting vise of her mouth, she was the one in the driver's seat, revving his lust to fever-pitch and testing the limits of his control. Releasing his hold, his palm stroked her jaw, cranked wide to take every thick inch of him. ‘Good girl,’ he growled huskily, winding a fist into the shoulder-length waves of her hair. Rún’s hips bucked, pumping her mouth, bruising those scarlet, swollen lips with the violence of his thrusts, riding the tight vacuum of her mouth down onto his pulsing cock. Fuck, she took all of him and purred when his blunt head kissed the back of her throat, devouring him, glossing the iron shaft with the slick velvet stroke of her tongue. Head kicked back, hair falling over his shoulders, Rún’s moans spilled into the quiet of the room, sharp canines cut into his lower lip, every muscle in his body stood out in hard relief, tensed with the rhythm of this carnal dance that pounded closer to an explosive crescendo with every kiss of her lips to his base.
Magnificent, he pounded down her throat, an animal taking her hard, replacing her breath with the girth of his arousal, the scent and taste of him violent on her tongue. Fuck. His hips slammed up and her body welcomed him with purrs, clasping him within her, tongue lapping when he slowed, lips on fire with the swell of a bruising contact. He owned her mouth and she worshipped him, revering the male that responded so viciously whenever her teeth touched his skin, something that she sometimes hated, and he loved it. Her eyes captured his, her tears brimming and overflowing with the brutal intensity of his lust, spilling to stain her cheeks with streaks of her mascara as she begged, silently, for him to reward her with his desire. 
Her flawed teeth grazed the veined ridges of his cock in a slow, tantalising draw from hilt to sensitive head, snagging skin, trust and surrender a potent fuel to his need. Their gazes locked in a moment of crystal clarity that slammed the detonator of his release. His thighs flexed rigid, spine bowed up off the chair, forehead ground to the leather back of the chair as he came for her in hard, rhythmic jerks, pulsing liquid fire to bathe her throat in the howling ecstasy of his mind-shattering surrender.
Breathing for a moment, her cheek lay on his thigh, tongue stroking gently as he relaxed, spent and milked dry by the kiss of her mouth. His flavour was a cocktail to her tastebuds, her lips tingling, body heavy and throbbing with her own arousal. Large eyes turned to find his in questioning amazement as he hardened, iron once more creeping beneath satin skin, nudging at her satisfied smile. A smirk answered her first. 'Yes,  little Thrall, we're only just getting started...'

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