My feet press softly into the thickly piled carpet as I tread to the front door. The familiar strong rap again the wooden surface drew my attention. I shouldn’t be surprised, but as usual, I was slightly startled from the quiet place I often drift to when alone. Breathing in sharply I grasp the door handle, my lips spreading unconsciously into a wide smile. He stands there, wearing a matching grin, his hands shoved awkwardly into his back pockets, as a child would upon entering a space of fragile antiquities. Most of his features are obscured by the brilliant albeit oppressive late afternoon sun, but behind him I see the pale ethereal ring of the rising full moon. I suppress a wave of panic.



Stepping aside, I permit him entry. My movements are gawky and hurried as I close and latch the door to my home. The darkness of the room swallows us, granting refuge from the astonishing heat. Before I can turn to face him, his scent engulfs me. I’m certainly not the first woman to have taken a notice of the fragrance that is nothing but his sheer masculine essence. It wraps around me, slipping over my skin, sifting into my pores. My heart beats faster as his scent enter my bloodstream, nourishing every fiber of my being with him. The primal part of me tells me I know this scent, as if recalling a distant memory.



The hardest part about these encounters is trying to look at his eyes the first time. This certainly isn’t the first time, but each introduction feels as if millions of butterflies are seeking freedom from my belly. I feel him watching me. Peering first over my shoulder I slowly turn to him. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears. From beneath my lashes I catch my first glimpse of blue-gray shimmering in the darkened room. It’s a shade of blue I have only once seen before. A chill races across my exposed shoulders, recalling the glint of silver moonlight glancing off of a wolf’s pelt, rivulets of cerulean blue weaving between the dense fur, as it bounded after a rabbit through a winter’s night. I see the same hunger in his eyes now; wild eyes contrasting sharply with his otherwise gentle and kind face.



I’m momentarily paralyzed, but I manage to open my mouth to speak. There are no words I can muster, and as I feel myself pulled deeper into his eyes. I know I am panting. I see him watching my own eyes, pale green, and wonder what they must look like cast in the heavy shadows. I feel green; every never in my body feels new and electrified. Without warning I feel a shudder course along the insides of my thighs, the wave traveling towards my hips, along my spine and enflaming my cheeks and ears as it leaves my body. for the moment I feel as if I am floating, unable to gain purchase to anything tangible. The roaring in my ears is wholly deafening. The hunger begins to gnaw at me. The glint of his teeth, revealed by his widened smile, grounds me.



Laughing heartily he pulls me towards the kitchen, quipping about needing wine. The harsh glare of fluorescent lighting slows my heart and I can hear once more. Fishing two glasses from their home in the drying rack, places them upright on the counter and reaches behind himself, yanking the refrigerator door open in a single movement. I scurry to my favorite perch on the kitchen counter, so when he turns back to fill the glasses he is forced to maneuver between my knees. The rough denim of his jeans lightly scratches the sensitive skin along my inner thighs. He chuckles again this time, and I can feel the warmth of him growing. He moves in closer, his arms brush against mine as he retrieves the glass from behind me. In the process he unflinchingly grazes my clothed sex with his own. He lingers only long enough to trace the outer contour of my ear with a stiff tongue. Then suddenly his back is turned to me as he busies himself with the wine.



I watch nearly mesmerized as the deep red liquid tumbles elegantly into the glasses, slipping along the walls like an otherworldly tide. My hair stands on end as I watch the delicate movement of his hands as he tends to each glass, thinking of the sticky, hot flood rising at the apex of my thighs. I wonder if he feels me studying him, as I have often felt his penetrating gaze drift over me. He turns to me, offering a glass of the dark libation. He whispers an amusing toast, but it is quickly forgotten as I fixate on the precise movements of his lips. The wine is thick and heady in my mouth; a startling contrast to the smooth blandness of the glass. It smells of wet wood, rich fruit and a distinct muskiness that I often associate with him. The wine’s warmth slides down my throat, adding fuel to the fire that is already burning in my belly. A crimson stain spreads across his cheeks. We share an ephemeral exchange of glances over the horizon of wine glasses, as if two beasts meeting for the first time. I try to ignore that I see his pulse quicken along the graceful line of his ventricle artery, so I drop my eyes to the remaining liquid in my glass.



With his thigh he spreads my knees further apart, until he is able to fully settled against my heat. The hem of my flimsy skirt rides high over my thighs, exposing the lacy edge of my panties. Empty glasses are carelessly discarded into the sink, and only a moment later his fingers are weaving tightly through my hair, his hands grasping my head. His lips are soft but demanding against mine. I seek to devour him with my passion. I respond to the ferocity of the kiss by moaning unabashedly into his open mouth. Grasping the waist of his pants with both hands, I pull our hips closer together. Instinctively, he bucks against me, the full weight and fire of his cock now grinding again my nearly exposed delicate flesh.



His hands leave my hair, and without ceremony, yank away the fabric covering my breasts. My furiously blushing nipples contract against the exposure; the glint of stainless steel nearly perverse in the artificial lighting. He thumbs the pierced numbs, groaning hotly at the contact with the self-inflicted violation. I wrap my legs around his hips, desperately rubbing myself against the hardness I needed. He breaks the kiss, crassly rubbing his stubble against the side of my neck. I buck against him, moaning at the rough contact. Abandoning my breast, one of his hands slips under my skirt, fingering the edge of my black lace panties. He moans as his fingers graze the soaking wet fabric concealing my hungry sex. Carefully pulling the fabric away, he seeks more contact. A slight flush rises on my chest as I hear the telltale sound of my juices leaking from the security of the garment. The scent of my arousal is now mingling with his: the ultra feminine colliding with the absolute masculine.



Tenderly he caresses the outer lips of my wanton desire, allowing it to bloom around his fingers. Evidence of my need flows freely, coating his finger and spilling across my bare flesh. Momentarily all I can hear is our heavy breathing, but all tangible sound disappears as his fingers slipp into my heat. Waves of hot blood pound in my ears and the fire in my belly engulfs my heart. Every inch my being turns into kindling. Instinctively I reach between us, grasping his clothed cock, but find the contact insufficient. He finds the right spot, and I tear my lips away, crying out in pleasure unabashedly. In response, he grinds against my hand.



Before I can attend to his belt buckle, he pulls away and I whimper at his absence. Before I can lodge a complaint, I am tossed over his shoulder, my panties still askew. The short trip to my bedroom seems endless. Upon entering the unlit room, I can see from my inverted position the sun sinking low into the horizon. The moon vivid against the violet and vermillion dusk, and I easy push aside the warning pleading me to turn back. A deep amber glow fills the spaces of the room not occupied by black shadows. I am discarded onto the bed and I smile widely at the obscene bulge struggling against the front of his jeans.



Without hesitation, I grasp the waist of his jeans, aggressively attacking the offending belt buckle that seems to only exist to cause me frustration. Yanking the clasp away from the leather band, I find pleasure in overcoming my first obstacle. He reaches to caress one of my still wickedly exposed nipples, but I bat his hand away, returning to my task. The button and zipper fly are easily undone, and the garment slips low on his hips. I push it down further, but only enough to satisfy my immediate desire. I pull him closer, urging him onto the bed next to me. I nearly lose my grasp of the denim as the mattress shifts under his much larger form, but I remain undeterred. Rolling over, I straddle his hips, my fingers seeking the last button separating me from what I knew to be the source of immeasurable pleasure. My fingertips feel scorched as they caress the burning flesh of his cock. The velvet-soft skin betrays the turgid, puling structure beneath.



I pull his manhood through the now unfastened opening in his shorts, and I feel both relief and elation. I know I am depriving him of the satisfaction he desires, but for the moment I want nothing more than to consume him in the most primitive fashion. Taking a moment to rub my thumb over the hot, pink tip of his cock I am rewarded by a salty bead of precum. Needing no further encouragement my mouth descends upon him. My tongue licks the musky wetness as my lips envelop his shaft. My lips are thrilled at the viscerally intimate contatc. Moistening the burning skin, I bring him deep into my mouth until my nose grazes his pelvic bone. In my throat I feel him tense, and while generally a reserved man, a throaty sound rumbles in this chest. Encouraged I begin a long, steady rhythm; every few strokes I bring him deep into my throat again, massaging his cock with a deep hum.



My thighs are now wet, my juices running from my expose pussy, thrust provocatively high in the air. With each deliberate bob of my head, my clit aches to be touched. I glance up watching him watch me. His eyes are startling, as if a cosmic shift is taking place within him. Inspired, I slip one hand down over my nipples, across my belly and bury my fingers deep in my ravenous sex. The sound of my digits’ efforts are loud in the otherwise quiet room, echoing vociferously over his occasional moan. He is watching me intently now; his gaze branding my skin. I bring my slick hand up, fondling his heavy sac. Unconsciously, he thrusts deeper into my throat. Overwhelmed with adulation, I feel a tremor quake deep inside of my pussy; I am moments from release.



With a flash of fire in his eyes, and he grasps my shoulders roughly. With tremendous grace he pulls me under him, my skirt around my waist and my soaking wet sex now vulgarly on display for him. His cock, glistening with my efforts, strains indecently into the air. This sends another shudder coursing through my womanhood. He pushes forward, my legs tumbling over his shoulders. He licks each rosy nipple harshly before setting to work. Skillfully, he slips down my body until he is settled between my thighs. Tenderly at first, he licks my out lips and I begin to bloom again. I am rewarded by him taking my tiny petals in between his lips. Sucking my clit hard at first, he then soothes it with a delicate nibble. My thighs are shaking furiously now; my toes curled painfully tight.



With each pass of his nimble lips and tongue I feel a familiar stirring, starting first at tiny sparks dancing across my skin. Then the aching begins deep in my sex, and I suddenly feel a hunger so ravaging I fear I will never be satiated again. He must feel my need now, my thighs pressed painfully tight against his face. The rough stubble there merely heightening my need for release. Gently he presses two slick fingers into my anus. Suddenly I am lost. The small spasms, that had started so deep in my pussy are now all-consuming, desperate to claim purchase on something hard and tangible. He maintains his artful rhythm until I am spent.



I crave him more now. The overwhelming essence of him permeats my entire being. I am enflamed, but as I turned my head, I saw the sun had finally descended below the horizon. Now I need him; now as Hell burns wrathfully within me. With my knees still cradled over his shoulders, he shifts forward, the weight and feel of him exhilarating. But there are still too many barriers between us. I tear at his shirt indiscriminately, pulling it roughly over his head. As I rip and mangle the remaining garments, he meets my fevered desperation, lurching forward and burying himself completely inside of me. With the sudden molten heat inside of me, the delicious stretch to accommodate his thickness, I am sent hurdling over the edge again. The smell of him, flesh to flesh and the dizzying rhythm he keeps pulls me over: again and again and again.



But, my ecstasy is broken by an all-too-familiar sensation. Primitive hunger stirs inside of me and I fear I cannot quench the inferno inside of me. Tearing, razor-like scratching pulls at my spine; sudden rapid snapping becomes audible over our exertion. I pull my legs down, wrapping them around his waist; drawing him in impossibly deeper. Using my new found leverage I grab his shoulders and I roll him under me. He grasps my hip, driving into me furiously. Parallel slits running along my spine rip open, and my secret unfolds from my body. In the shadows of the room two leathery wings, topped with cruel horns, rise above me. I run my tongue along the parameter of my teeth, feeling where my tiny fangs emerged from behind my eye teeth.



His eyes are staring into me, and I can feel him peering deep into my soul. But he doesn’t stop, so I grasp his shoulders harder – my dull nails cutting tiny crescents into the skin – pulling him upright. Seated in his lap, I writhe around his hardness, relishing the feeling of his lips scouting a long, rough trail along my neck and shoulder. My eyes slip close, and I permit myself to fall free in to the moment. Hard, fang-like teeth, sharp and hungry nibble along my architecture. I don’t anticipate them biting deep into the flesh of my shoulder or the overwhelming climax that follows. As the waves subside, I allow myself to open my eyes again. I am met with familiar startling eyes, but something is very different. The rough plane of stubble on his cheeks is now overgrown with downy, silvery sparse fur. My fingers glide over his chest, back and flanks finding the same pelt there as well.



His mouth opens to speak, but I swiftly cover it with mine. Tonight is not a night for talking. Finding new vigor in my rhythm, I press my feet flat in the mattress firmly next to his hips, riding his cock. My mouth is still entwined with his as I bite his lower lip, tugging, and drawing a bit of blood. I smile at his angry growl, but I am soon interrupted as I am rolled onto my stomach, and repositioned on all fours. Now I know, without a about, he can see the grotesque wounds where my wings have sprouted from my back. My moment of self-depreciation ends with a warm mouth caressing my sopping pussy. The shudder that careens down the length of my limbs is met with a resolute chuckle, almost vicious. This time his attention to my sex is different. It’s harsh and crude, and I am reeling because of it. There is nothing for me to see but black, so I relinquish my control, savoring the sensation.



A gentle finger draws moisture upwards, coating my puckered entrance. First one, then a second finger push into my anus. The feeling is exquisite, so I thrust backwards encouraging him to go deeper, but instead he pulls away. Rustling behind me only stirs my frustrations, now yearning in the loss of his heat. Unexpectedly, a firm hand cracks down on my ass, and I jump forward a bit. But I am just as quickly drawn backwards, the head of his cock now pushing against my anus, where his fingers had just ventured. I bare down forcing the tip inside, hurrying what he clearly anticipated to be a slow, torturous action. I cannot wait, and he senses this. I shift my weight onto one arm and I slip my free hand between my legs. My sex is now overflowing, evidence of my need and his meticulous attention. The familiar pop, just past my sphincter is followed by a shared groan of relief.



Shoving two fingers into my drenched pussy I feel deliciously full. Another hard slap across my ass sends bolts of electricity straight to my clit, now exposed beneath its tiny hood. I grind against my palm as he pulls nearly all of the way out then plunging forward. I gasp again at his girth. He thrusts firmly and slow at first as he tentatively grasps the horned bottom tips of my wings. No one had ever touched my wings before, and certainly not while buried to the balls deep in my ass. The dull ache where my wings extend from my body enflames my need further, I have become the inferno, so I push back against him – hard. He is no longer gentle with my wings, grasping them roughly, now slamming himself deep into my ass. Juices pool in my cupped hand as I grind my engorge clit against my palm. And despite my unsteady perch on one hand, his thrusting drives my finger deeper into my pussy. Grazing that precise spot, I feel ecstasy like never before. I rise my orgasm out violently, punishing his impossibly hard cock with my hunger.



Trails of stars pass before my eyes as the universe seems to explode from between our joined bodies. Somewhere, in a distant thought, I realize his cock is swelling and his fingers are now bruising my waist under their vice-like grip. A strangled groan tears from his mouth as his teeth sink into the delicate flesh between my wings, the pain exquisite. Hot streams of cum flood my ass, leaking down my backs of my thighs, pulling me into a black orgasmic abyss. Before I black out, I feel him slipping from me and his arms encircling me in a deep embrace.



Sometime later I awaken to sensation of incredible heat. Draped over my shoulder is a familiar arm, donning that unfamiliar silvery coat. His breathes heavily at my neck, in near-slumber. I consider the moon, heavy and full and for the first time feel a sense of relief. While we may not always take on these other forms, they are essential to who we are. I am relieved that a werewolf cannot turn a succubus just as I am sure he is content knowing a succubus cannot drain his life-force and steal his soul. It’s a relief not to have to devour a lover under the full moon. For the first time, we are exactly what we are.

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