He kissed me like I was real. But the blood moon was already sinking, and so was everything I let him believe.
The kiss began soft, so soft it almost broke me. His mouth brushed mine like a secret, a promise I wasn’t sure I deserved. But I didn’t pull away, not this time.
Not when every part of me ached to be claimed by him, not when his hands cupped my face like I was something precious, sacred, like I’m his.
"Stay with me," he breathed, lips ghosting over mine, voice rough with everything we hadn’t said.
My answer came in a whisper, barely more than a breath. “Yes.”
And with that, the restraint we’d both clung to snapped. His hands slid into my hair, fingers curling tight, and he kissed me like he needed it to survive.
I matched him beat for beat, lips parting, tongues tangling, the hunger between us spilling over until I was pressed against him, chest to chest, heat to heat.
I felt him, hard, tense, trembling, and wanted more.
The bond burned through me, a wildfire crackling under skin and soul. It didn’t just tug, it sung. Every brush of his fingers, every breath shared between our mouths, echoed through my bones like magic made flesh.
We sank to the earth together, tangled in moonlit grass, his jacket cushioning my back as the world around us dissolved. There was only us, only this. Touch became urgency, urgency became fire.
“Are you sure?” he rasped, hovering over me, his knuckles trailing down the edge of my jaw, brushing my pulse. “Because I need you to be sure.”
Instead of words, I pulled him into a kiss that devoured logic, that bared my soul. My hands roamed his chest, slipped under his shirt, fingertips memorizing every line of muscle, every tremor of control slipping through his body.
I’d wanted this, him, since the moment I understood what longing was. And now, with his breath catching against my lips and his eyes dark with need, I finally had him.
He stripped me slowly, reverently, every button undone like a confession. My skin prickled under his gaze.
My breath hitched when he whispered, “So beautiful,” like he couldn’t believe I was real. His hands roamed my curves, worshipful and unhurried.
Every brush of his palm over my breasts, down my waist, between my thighs, he touched me like he was learning, like he was memorizing, like this version of me was everything.
Not Gail, not the Beta’s cursed daughter. Red, the name I gave him. The girl he wanted.
When he slid lower, his lips trailing down my throat to the swell of my chest, I arched into him, gasping at the heat, the pressure, the way his tongue flicked across my nipple before his mouth closed over it.
Pleasure rippled through me, sharp and relentless. My fingers fisted in his hair, hips lifting instinctively.
“You smell like want,” he murmured, voice husky, lips wet. “You taste like moonlight.”
Then he slid lower, lips dragging down my stomach like a promise, fingers parting me with practiced care. The first stroke of his tongue was devastating, slow, deliberate, so gentle it made my hips jerk.
He hummed against me, the sound vibrating straight through my core as he licked a long, slow line up my center. My back arched off the grass with a cry.
He took his time, teasing and tasting, his mouth working me open with maddening patience. Every flick of his tongue, every circle around my clit, was a slow build toward ruin.
When he sucked, soft at first and then firmer, my thighs trembled on either side of his head. His hands gripped them, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there like I was something delicate, but his mouth was relentless.
“Please,” I gasped, breathless, fingers tangling in his hair. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He devoured me like I was the only thing that had ever mattered, like he couldn’t get enough. And when he flattened his tongue and dragged it up hard, then flicked that one spot just right, over and over, I shattered.
The orgasm slammed through me in waves, my body writhing, mouth falling open in a cry I couldn’t contain. I rode it with no shame, no apology, just heat and helpless need.
He didn’t give me a second to recover. He rose over me, chest heaving, lips glistening with proof of what he’d just done, eyes dark with need.
I reached for him, pulled him down into a kiss that tasted like my own pleasure, then wrapped my legs around him.
When he pushed inside me with one deep, claiming thrust, the stretch made my breath catch. He filled me completely, thick, hard, hot, and the pressure was exquisite.
It hurt just enough to make it real, to make me clutch at his back, nails digging into his skin. He froze, breath ragged. “Did I-?”
“It’s okay,” I panted, eyes locked with his. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
The pain dissolved into heat, into the sharp, pulsing ache of being filled, stretched wide and completely claimed. He didn’t rush.
His first movements were slow, deliberate, almost reverent.
He rocked into me with steady precision, drawing back just enough to make me feel every inch before sliding deep again. I moaned, high and breathless, hips lifting to meet him, greedy for more.
My legs locked around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back. Each thrust pressed deeper, dragged a new sound from my lips, made my fingers claw at the hard planes of his shoulders.
He moved like he wanted to memorize me, like he wanted to burn himself into every part of me, and gods, I let him. I welcomed it… welcomed him.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped, eyes locked with mine, pupils blown wide as he drove into me again, harder now.
My breath hitched, nails scraping down his spine as pleasure coiled low in my belly, tight and dangerous.
“Red,” he groaned, the name wrecked on his tongue as he buried his face in my neck. “Fuck, you feel like you were made for me.”
I was. In this moment, in this body, I was made for him.
The world melted away. No trees, no night, no past, and no future. Just the slick, filthy rhythm of skin meeting skin. The wet heat of him inside me, the sound of our bodies colliding under the watchful blood moon.
I wasn’t quiet anymore, I couldn’t be.
Moans tore from my throat as he fucked me harder, deeper, faster. His pace is unrelenting now, punishing in the most perfect way.
My back arched, spine bowing as I met every thrust with equal ferocity. I wanted to mark him, own him the way he was owning me. My nails raked his back, my teeth caught his shoulder. He growled, and slammed into me so deep I saw stars.
He was everywhere. His scent, his sweat, his voice in my ear, thick with need, telling me how good I felt, how tight, how fucking wet I was for him.
And I was soaked, wrecked, and ruined.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, words slurred and shaking. “Don’t you dare stop.”
The tension inside me tightened, coiling so sharply it almost hurt. My entire body went taut, thighs quaking, lips parting in a scream I couldn’t hold back.
Release hit me like a storm, hard, fast, devastating. I clenched around him, spasming as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through me.
He cursed, voice guttural, losing control.
“Red- fuck, Red-” and then he was coming too, hips slamming into mine, spilling deep inside me with a groan that sounded like it came from the core of his soul.
His arms locked tight around me as he pulsed inside, shuddering through his own high, our bodies pressed together, breath ragged and desperate.
For a moment, we didn’t move. Just stayed there, joined, sweat-slicked, trembling in the aftermath. And it still wasn’t enough.