Theo
Her snoring was soft, peaceful, innocent. Unlike the thoughts keeping me awake.
Vivian had fallen asleep quickly once we were settled, tired from a full day of hiking. But I was still reeling. I’d already been on the edge of coming undone, and that kiss only nudged the beast forward.
She’d implied males in the past had only used her for…
I didn’t want to fill in the blanks. So, I had a fucking point to prove.
That her kisses were more than a means to an end.
She deserved intimate memories that were tender and reverent.
Her beauty wasn’t up for debate, it was gospel.
My lips were more than happy to express those sentiments without a single word.
The new problem was, I didn’t know what to do with my less delicate feelings. They’d heated from a simmer to a boil the moment I tasted her.
I’d never needed so much.
A hitman denies themselves nearly everything. Most of all, they deny “need” itself. Without it, they aren’t held back by anything—hunger, rest, thirst, comfort, desire. If there’s no temptation in the first place, they don’t have to waste energy on self-control.
But here I was—famished—and her bittersweet blackberry taste was the only thing I craved. And my gods did I crave it.
It was the second night in a row I could smell her arousal coating her inner thighs as she had exciting dreams. Fresh for the licking.
I could so easily grab one of her bent knees and separate it from the other.
I’d be careful to not wake her as I satisfied us both in the still of the night. Stealth was in my wheelhouse.
But the thought made me disgusted with myself.
I’d never defile a sleeping female—at least not without their expressed consent.
Something told me that wasn’t a request I could make of her.
“Hey, I noticed you’ve been getting really horny in your sleep, mind if I act on that?
” Absolutely not a conversation we’d be having.
But what was I supposed to do?! I was a man of action. Be it quick kills, pub management, or hard decisions—I handled things. Whenever a dilemma appeared, I asked myself what the right move was and proceeded accordingly.
I wasn’t sure what I had planned was the right thing to do, but it was certainly better than the wrong things clouding my mind. It was time to take care of the situation. Act before things got out of hand.
That’s what I told myself as I rose to my feet.
Vivian slept slumped against some of our softer cargo. Her hair looked purple in the blue-tinted light. She was exquisite, and I would be able to reflect on that with nothing but pure thoughts once my head was cleared.
I moved each of the glass jars full of my gifted blood to surround her in a hexagon for safety. I wouldn’t need them. If anything got in my way right now, it wouldn't be met with pacifism.
After taking one final look to confirm she was safely surrounded, I disappeared into the trees.
Quickly putting distance between us, I rubbed my hands down my face and neck in exasperation.
They still smelled like her. “I want to smell like her,” I thought to myself, repeating the motion.
I licked my lips and cursed myself for eating and drinking after our kiss.
I wanted to taste her too. Experience her with all my senses. Drown in her essence.
I clenched my fists into balls and hated the rough feeling of my own palms. I preferred her softness.
Quadmos were a tactile species. We had four hands, grooved to grip firmly and feel with heightened sensitivity.
We hugged tight. We kissed with intensity.
We fucked. And she was designed perfectly for all the above.
I could only imagine if she were to let me part those thighs… fill her to the brim… show her what it meant to be utterly consumed by someone who adored her…
Quickly losing my sanity, I practically stumbled into a tree, bracing an arm on its trunk to catch myself.
The tattoos on my forearm darkened as my natural feral marks appeared beneath them.
I wished I didn’t have the body art so I could see my natural striation in its full, untampered glory.
It was a visual representation of how she was affecting me, and it only spurred me on.
I licked my sharpening teeth. Had I ever shifted feral over a female? No. Just her.
Still holding myself up with one arm, I used my other hands to undo my pants.
The black, vine-like sheath branching from my pelvis struggled to hold my cocks together.
Each half of me throbbed and strained under the sable cage that kept them united as one.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, sliding the black netting to my base with the ring of my forefinger and thumb.
Both cocks were freed to grasp as individuals. And I took hold of each with one hand like my life depended on it.
I groaned through my teeth as the warmth and texture of my palms swallowed me. I wanted it to be her. So. Fucking. Badly. Closing my eyes, I bid farewell to the religious doctrine of my upbringing. There was no redeeming this blasphemy.
“That I might turn my attention to that which is sacred”: the prayer took new meaning as I focused on the Little Goddess of my undoing.
I pumped a fist along each shaft. My full-body shudder rumbled softly into the quiet of the night. Precum slipped between my fingers, and I was grateful for the way it helped the grooves of my semi-feral hands massage me more smoothly.
Would she be textured? What would her massage feel like?
“Fuck, Vivian.” I groaned, stroking myself like my sanity depended on it.
Tree bark crumbled in my upper hand’s grip as I braced my weight against the trunk. My arms strained to hold me up as my head hung forward, panted breaths escaping from my slack jaw.
I closed my eyes and pictured the way she looked at me when she lay down every night.
Awake, but half-lidded. Would she gaze at me like that as I pushed into her?
Her words were slurred, nonsensical as she dozed off.
I could so easily imagine the same listless voice telling me what she needed from me to come apart.
That raspy tone of her whimpering, telling me where to touch her.
How rough I could be. How I was making her feel.
Imagination wasn’t enough. The sound of crunching bark, the upright rigid position, the way my hands did all the work....
None of it was what I wanted. I pushed off the trunk with a frustrated growl, letting go of my cocks for a moment as I desperately considered how I could satisfy this need. Satiate the beast.
I turned to the patch of feathery blue-green grass behind me, collapsing to my elbows and knees. My bottom set of arms rested my fists below my hips, the sides of my palms pressing into the cool ground.
I didn’t need to yank myself off like some young Quadmos who just discovered his own dicks. I needed to fuck. Lining my cocks up with the gaps in my partially open hands, I thrust my hips down. The tips squeezed into my grip, and I moaned loudly. Her small body would be just as tight of a fit.
I clenched my eyes closed, revisiting the fantasy. Thighs spread. Chin tilted back. Pussy stretched tight around my cocks. Begging for me to make sure every drop from both made its way into her sacred body.
“So—fucking—beautiful—” The words groaned and panted between my sharp teeth in rhythm with my stomach contracting for each thrust.
I pumped in and out of my fists. They were her, she was swallowing me whole.
I didn’t know what anatomy was under that delicate dress of hers, and I didn’t care.
All I needed was to inhale those traces of her blackberry aroma I’d rubbed on myself.
To remember her warmth. Her taste. Her voice.
The way her cheeks visibly flushed even when bathed in the blue light of the grove.
My surroundings faded away as I fucked harder. My back flexed and my neck twisted with pleasure and strain. I would ruin her. Broken and bred. And then I’d rebuild her while my seed dripped from between those full thighs. A goddess devoured and defiled so she could be properly exalted.
She would be mine.
The unexpected sentiment invaded my lustful fantasies, causing my heart to stop.
But only for a moment. As I pushed my hips down to slip my cocks back into my fists, my muscles tensed and every nerve in my body sparked alive.
My mind went black. I groaned out into the silent night like a wild creature as I spilled all over the grass beneath me.
Amidst the guttural noises snarled between my clenched teeth was one name.
“Vivian.”
I collapsed onto my side, my chest heaving as I caught my breath. Had I ever done anything like that? Something had come over me. I wanted to think I’d tamed the beast, but the rush in my head told me I’d only fed it.
My eyelids cracked open, and what I saw made my stomach drop.
There—shrouded in the glittering blues, teals, and whites of the grove—stood Vivian.
Eyes wide, lips parted. Her dainty hands clutched the skirts of her dress with the same death grip I’d just had on my cocks as I came with her name on my tongue.
“Viv—” I panted, my mind reeling between carnal desire and fresh shame.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just—um—” she stuttered while taking several steps back. Her blackberry pheromones were thick enough for me to drown in.
I pulled myself to my feet, wiping my soiled lower hands on my denim while the upper ones tucked my cocks behind my zipper.
I knew I was semi-feral and somewhat frightening, but I needed her to stop retreating.
Now was not the time for the thrill of a chase to take over. I still wasn’t in control of my urges.
“Don’t run,” I plead. It wasn’t wise to run from a hungry predator.
It was too late. She’d already turned on her heels and disappeared into the thick of the grove. The skirt of her pale dress rippled behind her through rays of cyan light.