Page 6 of Change the Plan
None of this is going to deceive him at all; his sense of smell is too strong, his hearing is far too advanced, and he’s no fool. I know I’m going to get caught, but gettingcaughtis the whole point.
A single howl echoes through the still air, and my skin breaks out in goosebumps as I fight the urge to run again. He’s done that before — flushed me out of the bush with intimidating howls alone, laughing in my ear about how I’m such perfect prey when he caught me. I’m not falling for the same trick twice.
If eighteen-year-old me could see us now she’d lose her mind. Me, a fairy — awitch— and Van a hulking werewolf. I’d thought we were kinky when we dated back then. This is next level.
It’s the snap of branches underfoot that first alerts me to his proximity. I stay frozen in place, listening intently, fighting the instincts I have to run. He’s my husband, my mate, the man I have a soul-deep bond with, but in this moment he’s also a beast, a huge creature with claws and teeth. While I know he will never hurt me, there’s a part of my brain that hears the heavy crunch of leaves and the deep rumble of a growl and wants nothing more than to put some distance between us.
It’s what makes this so exhilarating.
“I found you, little fairy.”
I scream and dart forward immediately. He’s much closer than I expected, and I zigzag through the dark forest, pushing my magic out ahead of me to light the way, a path of green to follow through the trees. He chases behind me effortlessly, and every time I glance back he’s closer, eyes shining in the dark, the green light around us throwing shadows that make him appear all the more monstrous.
Part of me has to laugh that it’s as soon as I near the creek and its steep embankment, close to the boundary of our property, that he closes in. He’ll indulge me in primal play, but never at the expense of my safety, and right before I reach the beginning of the slope I’m swung into the air before being forced roughly onto my hands and knees, my werewolf directly behind me, his body covering mine, hot breath panting in my ear.
“Give me a colour,” he bites out, nipping at my bare shoulder where my mating bite is, every nerve of mine lighting up in a frisson of anticipation and lust. My skirt is already around my waist, the air cool on my cunt, and I’m more than ready when the thick head of his cock drags through my folds. It should be too big. This should be impossible.
“Green!”
He thrusts inside immediately and I wheeze at the intrusion, pleasure bordering on pain as I sink to my elbows. His hugehands are on my waist, claws digging into my flesh, and when his cock drags backwards I let out a choked moan, my head dropping to my hands, surrendering completely to the pleasure. “Sowet,” Van growls, kneading at my ass for a moment before thrusting in deeper, setting a brutal pace that he knows I crave, the feeling of being absolutelyusedbringing me close to the edge of another orgasm.
With one arm braced on the ground I reach underneath myself, fingers brushing Van’s cock where he pistons in and out of me, wet sounds filling the air. I find my clit, swollen and overly sensitive, and whimper at the sensation.
“Do it,” Van orders in that monstrous voice of his, never slowing his own movements. “Make yourself come.”
I can barely manage with so much going on — the heat of his body, the snarling grunts, the way he leans forward suddenly so that his muzzle is next to my face, teeth bared — it’s all an assault on my senses that’s entirely overwhelming in the best way.
“Do it,” he repeats, and I obey, fingers working my clit until I hit that peak, groaning in relief, face pressed to the ground as he continues to fuck me relentlessly. Our bond is open and I lose all track of time and all sense of myself. We’re just two bodies full of magic and lust and endless satisfaction, his dominance so perfectly balanced with my needs. I can feel when he needs to come, can hear myself keening over the ringing in my ears, and when he knots me it’s a stretch like no other, the sensation of being so fuckingfilledby his cum making me orgasm anew.
Though physically tethered to him, I’m floating in the aftermath. It’s Van that takes charge, lifting me gently, taking care that our tie doesn’t tug at my cunt too much, moving our bodies until I’m being spooned amongst the leaf litter. Being in the arms of my giant werewolf husband here on a forest floor feels entirely natural. I stare up at the full moon, peeking down at us through the dense canopy, and slowly come back to myself.
Van senses it, too. “I went too hard on you,” he says, his tone gentle despite the deep rumble of his voice.
“No,” I retort, shaking my head lazily, turning my face to kiss at the massive bicep beneath my head, his fur soft on my lips. “I loved every minute of that and you know it.”
“You’re not sore?”
I shake my head again. “I’ve got a portal pussy, remember?” I joke. Idon’t. It’s more along the lines ofhe’s somehow always going to fit. I try not to focus on the how; I don’t need to know what this would look like on some MRI scan but I can certainly tell that there’s movement on my part when it comes to my organs, a literal rearranging of my guts as Van likes to say.
“This is nice,” I murmur, watching as moths and gnats flutter around the mushrooms that still glow. Van hums in agreement.
I always feel so empty when his knot pulls free, particularly in this form. If my kink is being chased, Van’s is absolutely to do with fluid, and I happily oblige him, spreading my legs so he can stare at how gaping I am and how much cum flows free. I watch his face, the way his ears are always so pricked forward in these moments, wolfish eyes filled with absolute satisfaction.
And because I’m watching his face, I catch the exact moment his mood changes before even feeling the echo of it through the bond. His ears flatten back, a flash of anxiety jolting from him to me as he leans forward, peering into my vagina like it’s a bloody cave.
“What?!” I snap. All I get is a very canine sound in response, and a moment later the sensation of a finger very tentatively touching me there.
“Stay still,” he warns, and I know why. Those claws are sharp. He’s never penetrated me with a clawed finger the way he does now, the entire thing feeling very clinical.
“Van, what’s wrong?” I demand. A moment later there’s a slight sensation of something being pulled out past the very entrance of my vag. “Van?!”
“It was just sitting there.” Van holds the something up by a short string pinched between two huge, wolfy fingers.
With the dim light it takes me a moment to focus on the little T-shaped thing dangling in the air, still dripping with cum. I know what it is immediately.
“Oh,fuck!”
CHAPTER FIVE
