Unnatural Instinct: Blood Run

28.

You're relieved, so relieved you sag in his arms, biting at his nipple in apology.

He lets you slide to your knees. His groin is directly at eye level. Seizing his arse, you rub your face against him, bathing yourself in his scent and sweat and hair. You don't hesitate to put your mouth around him; you even lap at his balls, whining and growling as you do.

Meanwhile, he's kneading your head affectionately. His cock quickly becomes rock hard as you lick and lap and suck him all over. You're about to take him fully in your mouth when he stops you with a hard grip on your head. You look up.

He growls. You growl back. He releases your head as you slowly rise to your feet, your breasts sliding up against his front. He seizes your hips. You seize his shoulders. And then you're mauling each other with your lips and teeth and tongues as you snarl and snap and growl.

You claw your nails down his back. His teeth are sharp as he nips at your shoulder. It all feels surreal. You're not thinking. It's as though your brain has shut down and it's your body that's now taken over. You bite his chin deep enough to draw blood. He squeezes your arse so hard you snarl in pain. Then you're both on the ground.

The lips of your vagina unstick as he thrusts open your legs. His teeth are bared. His eyes are so dark they're almost black. Grabbing his head, you yank him down to your face and latch onto his ear, gnawing hard as you thrust your hips up against him. His cock slides along your sticky opening.

He pulls back, and you feel his rock-hard tip push against you. And then he's inside you with a hard thrust that makes you throw back your head with a cry. Snarling and growling in your face, he pounds into you, hard enough that you're moving along the ground, the sharp forest floor scraping against your back.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lift your pelvis, pulling him in deeper. You rip at the skin on his shoulders as you clutch him tight. He's gritting his teeth. The whites of his eyes are red. Something almost like pain burns up the length of your spine and you go back to gnawing his ear as your body shudders against him. He grunts, snarls, then raises his face to the canopy as he releases inside you with a howl.

Then you're rocking together, riding the last ripples of pleasure sweeping through your bodies.

When it's over, you sink back into the ground with a sigh. He lies on top of you, panting, his face pressed into your neck. You gaze into the canopy, squinting against a stream of light that filters through the leaves.

You smooth your hands over his broad back in a circular pattern, like you're giving him a massage. Then you begin lapping the blood off his mauled ear. You whine. You didn't mean to hurt him so much.

He looks at you with his no-longer-so-black, warm hazel eyes, licks at your nose, then rubs his face against yours. He whines too as he moves down and begins licking all the little cuts and wounds on your body. Some are from him. Some are from your harried run to, and your escape from, the village. Resting your hands on his head, you let him heal you with his love.

The forest glistens against the tears in your eyes. He draws lower, and you relax your arms by your head helplessly as he laps you between the legs. Groaning, you lick the tears from your lips.

Once he's done, he rolls you onto your belly, whereupon he continues to lick you all over. You hiss when his tongue brushes against a deep cut in the middle of your back you didn't know was there. You moan as he kisses you down along your spine all the way to your buttocks. There, he smooths his hands over you with a grunt.

Satisfied that you're uninjured, he gently rolls you back onto your back. You gaze at each other. He's sitting with his knees on either side of your hips, straddling you, his hands braced in the earth. His sticky cock rests against your belly. His hair is knotted and greasy.

Barely more than an animal ... maybe.

Then what does that make you?

You reach out to touch his cheek. Closing his eyes, he presses your palm to his lips. You glance back towards where the village lies, and you're suddenly fearful. You're not far enough away. They could still come after you with their guns and knives and horses.

And rage.

You don't need to explain your need to get away; he knows what you're thinking. He helps you to your feet. Grabbing your face, he briefly laps at your lips, then takes your hand, enfolding it in his. His hand is so big that it completely encompasses yours.

With a little growl, you rub your face against his chest. And then you're running through the trees, hand in hand, only stopping at where you last slept to retrieve your spear, pelt, basket of roots and seeds, and other belongings.

It won't be long before you reach the shelter. Your feet no longer ache. You no longer tire. You're no longer a nuisance. And soon, after a while, you begin to forget why you're running in the first place. There's something you've left behind. Something that's left an ache in your chest you can't describe. Something important. A desperate, muffled voice shouts something at the back of your mind in a language that seems familiar but which you no longer understand.

You shake your head. Best to forget it. The past is the past and the future lies ahead. Tightening your grip on your mate's hand, you press your other hand to your belly.

So much lies in the future.

It's very dark by the time you reach home. You smell it before you see it: his musk, your scent.

Home.

The moon is bright. The stars twinkle. A young monkey howls in the trees. The shelter is just how you left it, the pelts still ruffled from when you last mated. There's no meat, but you have your basket. As your mate goes ahead to mark his territory, you gather the dried grass for a fire.

It doesn't take long before you're sitting and eating together, your hand on his thigh, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you gaze across the forest's moonlit vista.

Barely more than an animal ... maybe.

But there could be worse things.