She and Knife had texted each other many dozens of times since she’d last seen him. They’d also had at least a half-dozen long video conversations, most of which ended with her having an orgasm.
He’d told her to text him when she was home and safe, so she did, and since she knew he was with his brothers, she wasn’t surprised when he responded with, “Thanks for letting me know. Look forward to talking to you after the full moon. It’s good to know you’re close.”
She slept ten hours. There’s nothing like returning to your own bed. Your own place.
Saturday was completely domestic — laundry, groceries, and damn, how did so much dust accumulate? Where the fuck did it come from?
Sunday night was the full moon, and she hung out with the pack for most of the day before everyonechangedand ran that night. This was where her wolf got to come to the front and stay there — open land, familiar scents, the absolute freedom of four paws catapulting her across ground on which her family had chased and killed deer together for longer than she’d been alive.
And then the camaraderieof the huge pack breakfast in human form the following morning. This was home to her in ways even her apartment could never be. This was where her roots truly lived.
She started to call him from her car on the way home, wanting to check in, but then decided not to. They’d both run under the same moon the night before. Just not together. Still, there was a common thread, and one she found herself hanging onto.
But mostly, she wanted to call him because she missed him. Due to the way the full moon landed, they couldn’t see each other on schedule. It was their third Monday apart, and the fourth since she’d been at his place. They’d agreed to move it to Tuesday, so she’d seen him the following day, but it was still hard.
But he had to work tonight. He’d told her with so many wolves in the club, only a third of them could run at a time during the three nights of the full moon. He’d be working from two in the afternoon until midnight.
She’d been surprised when he’d shared what she assumed was a club secret, about only a third of them running at a time, but then figured it must be widely known. Common knowledge, probably the way all supernatural business organizations with a lot of wolves had to manage their labor force.
She filled her day by looking over all her notes for her next big filming day, making small edits and changes here and there, adding notes about b-roll footage she could use when it came time to edit, and how she could showcase certain ingredients.
But that night, when she was alone in the dark with her thoughts, all she could think about was all the ways her life couldn’t fit into Knife’s, and his couldn’t fit into hers, no matter how badly both might want them to.
He ran under the full moon with his brothers. She ran with her pack. Two communities with their own rhythms, traditions, obligations, and bone-deep loyalties. Two orbits that would never merge beyond stolen Mondays.
They would never run under a full moon together. Could she live with that?
Thankfully, the following morning’s sunlight chased the maudlin thoughts away, and her drive to his house was all about trying to pay attention to the road while her body could only think about his ropes, his fingers, his voice — and his dick, pounding away at whatever hole he decided to focus on this week.
He was waiting for her on the porch, and he kissed her, took her bag from her, and told her, “Run upstairs, littlepainslut. Use the glycerin suppository on the vanity, and then…” He kissed her forehead. “You should know by now how I want to see you waiting for me.”
Ten hours later, she was an exhausted mess. She’d known it would be a long scene. She’d actually been relieved when they’d agreed it would be all sex without a date first, but she’d expected meal breaks.
Not that she was complaining about him feeding her meals from his fingers, but still.No breaks.She’d been bound even while she ate.
And there wasn’t a single focus. Oh no, he had enough time to thoroughly torture all herhigh nerve densitybody parts. She’d thought it a pretty cool kink, when he’d first explained it.
And it was, butdamn, he’d gone far beyond mere torture on her nipples, clit, asshole, vaj, even her fucking tongue.
She considered whethermangledwas the right word, or perhapssavaged. He’d crushed, twisted, battered, shocked, whipped, flogged… he’d done all of those things, and more. It was a damned good thing she couldchangeand heal.
But she wasn’t ready to do that just yet.
She didn’t hang from his ceiling that night. He took her outside. Honestly, the first pose was blissful hell, but it was still hell, in part because he decided it was time for herto graduate from jute to hemp, andfuck, it was abrasive and irritating.
It’d been a magical night in some ways. She’d never been bound outside like that before, but the rough, scratchy crotch rope dug mercilessly between her labia, the two cruel knots pressing hard against her clit and asshole with every tiny shift of her weight. She’d been a raw, mangled mess even before he’d tied her into this pose.
But it wasn’t just the brutality of the knots inside her labia. The bark bit into the soft skin between her legs, and her shoulders ached and pulled with every breath. Being outside made her feel exposed. No one could see her behind his privacy fence, but this wasn’t about logic.
And the ropes didn’t give. They claimed her, holding her to the tree, bending her backward while he took her apart, torturing her nipples and tongue in ways she’d never imagined.
Eventually, after maybe six hours, he’d cut her down, released her arms from behind her back, and then hung her from her wrists, her body right side up, her legs bound below her as if she were leaping over a hurdle. This gave him plenty of access to keep torturing her already raw clit, pussy,andasshole.
He kept her well hydrated, and he fed her regular snacks as well as meals — every bite from his fingers, no forks or spoons, and she tried not to think about what it meant that her wolf went quiet and content every single time. Like being fed by hand was the most natural thing in the world,when they both knew what it meant for a wolf to offer food directly.
But she soon realized that keeping her hydrated wasn’t necessarily a kindness, because she wasn’t allowed to speak, and that meant she couldn’t ask to go to the bathroom.
She watched the moon and stars traverse the sky while she needed to go so bad it hurt.
