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 wasgospel. 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 neverneededso 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 notemptation 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. Stealthwasin 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 therightthing to do, but it was certainly better than thewrongthings 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. Wefucked. 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 branchingfrom 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 wouldhermassage 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 meto 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 tofuck. 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.
