Content notes: heightened senses, outdoor sex, cunnilingus
They’ve been here before, though not in this very woods. This is the game they play when the moon is full and when Christina’s instincts, usually dormant, awaken. The urge to hunt, to possess, becomes too strong to ignore. In a past life, Heather might have bucked at the change — the color of Christina’s eyes turning gold, her inhuman strength, speed and sense — but the fear was all gone now. All that remained was the chase.
Heather paused, panting against a tall pine. She had been running since dusk, and the night had soon fallen, swift and unyielding. She tried to quiet her breath to listen for any signs of approach — leaves underfoot, clothes rustling, a howl, but she heard nothing but the gentle sounds of the forest, the babble of a far-off brook. The moon was an imposing, full presence in an otherwise peaceable sea of stars.
She inhaled deeply and made to run again, but she was stopped by hands around her waist, pulling her in. Heather held in a surprised scream — it was impossible to get away from the grip, but she found she didn’t want to, especially when warm breath fanned across her neck and lips.
“I’ve caught you, little bird,” said a voice Heather would know anywhere, in any situation, in any woods. It was deeper now, a little rumbly at the edges, but still. She felt the nip of Christina’s teeth, the intention to mark.
“Chris,” Heather said, her voice caught between a whine and a moan. “Chris.”
Christina smiled that sharp, almost too sharp, smile. She pulled Heather into the cradle of her hips. “You ran so well, little bird. I nearly lost you.” She nosed her way into the soft place where Heather’s neck and shoulder met and inhaled. “Too bad you wanted to be caught, huh?”
Heather rocked back into Christina’s touch — she knew this push-and-pull. “You’re the one who chased me. I think you’re the desperate one.”
Instead of the rebuttal Heather was expecting, Christina laughed. “I think you’re right,” she said, and —
Suddenly, there were hands, one sliding up her stomach to the sparse patch of hair there, and one moving down, down, stopping at the wet spot right above her clit. Heather felt that deeply familiar pulse of arousal and felt herself grow wetter. “Chris,” she said again. She couldn’t help herself. “Chris, please.” She knew that Christina — this version of her, anyway — could smell her desire, that she didn’t need to say anything, but Heather couldn’t help it. Perhaps she, too, was changed on these nights. A little freer, a little wilder.
“Shh, baby,” Christina said, moving the hand on Heather’s stomach up to her chest. “I’ve got you,” she said while slipping her hand underneath Heather’s sports bra to squeeze a full breast gently.
Heather felt more than heard Christina’s moan — it was deep in her chest, like a rumble, like a growl. “Fuck, I love your tits,” she said. Heather wanted to cry out, to beg for more, but she couldn’t form the words. Christina finally, finally, slipped her fingers down to the source of Heather’s wet pulsing arousal.
Christina gathered some up, brought it to her lips and tasted. “Fuck,” she groaned again. There was no holding herself back any longer. Christina needed Heather’s pleasure — she craved it more than anything she’d ever had before. She knew she was being a little too rough, but she heard no complaints, and so Christina only tempered herself enough to avoid leaving bruises.
Heather quickly found herself with her back against the tree. Christina fell to her knees in front of her and tugged Heather’s pants down, only enough so that Heather could spread her legs and whine.
Christina leaned forward and buried her face in those dark, soaking curls. Using her thumb and forefinger, she spread Heather open. Heather squirmed but said nothing about being embarrassed, not like she would have all those years ago when Christina would have to hold her hips down with an arm to even look. She’d say, baby, you’re so beautiful, just let me see.
Art by En Tze
Not now, no, now Heather rocked her hips forward, seeking friction, seeking anything that would resolve the hot, deep-seated feeling in her gut. Christina could never deny Heather anything, and she kissed the rounds of her hips before she began her worship with long, curling motions of her tongue. Christina couldn’t help but dip inside that slit, gather honey on her tongue, taste her love in her most natural form.
Heather needed more, though, and Christina would give it to her. She had to give it to her. It was the only way to resolve this feeling of being too big for her skin, too large to contain. With one last fuck of her tongue inside, she moved to suck gently at Heather’s pink clit. Christina’s other hand gathered wetness on two fingers and slid inside, searching for that spot that made Heather clutch at her hair and say, “Oh, oh, oh, fuck. Fuck.”
Christina rumbled again, that thing not quite like a growl, but not totally human, either.
She flicked her tongue and moved her fingers faster, adding a third when she felt Heather’s hole, so warm and soft, give to more. They picked up a familiar rhythm. Heather, having nothing to hold her down, started to ride Christina’s fingers with more urgency. She had no words left inside her except Chris and fuck and baby, make me come, please make me come.
Christina’s fingers started to coax, her mouth working harder, her tongue lapping up all the delicious taste of Heather’s cunt. Heather moaned continuously, tried to hold eye contact with Christina, with those beautiful golden eyes, but she couldn’t. She was so close. Her pleasure came over her in a wave, her knees shaking, but Christina didn’t let up; she never did. Not until a second wave, somehow more profound and gushing, came over Heather and her knees gave out, shaking. Christina licked and licked, shoving her tongue as deep inside Heather as it would go, and it still wasn’t enough to sate her.
Heather floated. She could feel the now overstimulating rough drags of tongue as Christina let not one drop of her release go to waste. She heard, “Sleep now, little bird. I have you.” And let the darkness and exhaustion wash over her.
Heather awoke in clean clothes, back at the campsite. Christina was stroking her hair softly and humming an unfamiliar tune. Heather opened her eyes and smiled. Christina looked down at her and ran her thumb across Heather’s lower lip.
She grinned, a little crooked, a little silly. “Again?” she asked. Again.
I love this so much!