The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

When he tries to mash his mouth into hers, she turns her head to the side, pushing against him, “I’m not your wife yet, Tobias.”

He laughs, biting at her neck, “But you certainly will be. I’ve made it clear to everyone else; you will not get another proposal of marriage at the celebration. You are mine.”

She shoves him harshly, freeing herself from his grasp. Taking a few steps away, she can feel the hatred burn inside of her, angered that he would prevent her from having someone else. She catches her tongue before she says something she might regret, only able to retort with, “Fine, but until then, for the next two days, I belong to no one.”

He laughs, reaching towards her, “You’re only delaying the inevitable. If you think that playing hard to get makes me want you more, you’re right… but making me wait, won’t make me any nicer when I do finally take what I want.”

Coral back steps out of his reach, before turning and running. When she reaches the front of the tavern, she knows that if she runs towards home, though the town, he will chase her down. Even if she were sober, she wouldn’t be able to out run him in open ground. Instead, she turns the opposite direction, taking the road that leaves town, and she runs, hopping from the compacted dirt into the tree line, weaving her way in and out of the familiar trunks. In this territory, she has the upper hand.

Behind her, she can hear him crash into the brush, cursing under his breath, calling out to her in his drunken anger, “Coral!”

But she doesn’t stop, picking up her pace as she flies through the night. It is only when her lungs burn that she halts, pressing her back against a large tree, trying to catch her breath. She gasps in air, holding it, trying to listen to the night over the pounding of her heart. It is hard to hear, but she knows he isn’t following her any longer. He is the Governor’s son, and has never had to spend time in the woods or fields working for his own food, so he isn’t exactly light of foot.

Coral closes her eyes, her skin hot, as she breathes the cool night air in quickly. The pounding of her heart sent the mead coursing through her veins, making her slightly light headed and woozy. She bends over, resting her hands on her knees, trying to calm herself. It takes her several minutes to catch her breath, though her lungs and throat still burn from the sprint. When she rises up, she gets a weird feeling at the base of her skull, a shiver down her back, as if someone is watching her. Spinning around, her eyes discover the moonlight reflecting off of a palomino coat, almost giving the centaur a ghostly glow. He stands but a foot away from her, having snuck up so close that he could have reached out and touched her if he wanted. Coral stumbles back away from him, her intoxicated legs finding it hard to keep their balance.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone, maiden,” he says, his voice soft and gentle like earlier.

She puts her hands on her hips, heart still pounding, and pants out, “Yeah, well, I do just fine on my own. It is only when someone else is around, that I have to worry.” When he smiles at her quip, she continues, “Besides, you shouldn’t be out her alone either. There are plenty of young drunk men in town who would love to tell the tale of fighting a centaur.”

“They would lose,” he states, matter-of-factly.

“Doesn’t mean they aren’t stupid enough to try,” she snaps back.

His laugh, so sincere, so pure, helps to calm her anxiety of being caught alone in the woods. Regaining her composure, she apologizes, “I’m sorry, master centaur, I didn’t mean to speak so boldly. Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

“You were drinking?” he asks, sniffing the air as if he can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Ah, yes,” she replies, “but that is a sorry excuse at best.”

“You were being chased,” he says, more than asks. He frowns slightly, reminding her of Rainer. “I saw it from across the field. You do not need to worry; he is no longer following you.”

A shiver creeps over Coral; she wonders how many more centaurs are stalking around the outskirts of town. No doubt they could hear the rantings of the young folk.

She waves her hand offering an excuse for Tobias, “He was drunk. My presence seems to bring out his inner demons. Best to just remove myself from the equation at that point.”

The centaur takes a step towards her; when she holds her ground, he takes another so that he is within arm length, “As you say, that is a sorry excuse at best. A man should be a gentleman, no matter what drink flows through his gullet.”

Coral nods in agreement; she feels no reason to attempt to defend Tobias any further, his actions were truly despicable. Regardless, she is fated to be his soon, so she doesn’t want to bad mouth him either.

“I am surprised,” he says softly, “how well you can run through the woods, especially after drinking. Do you spend a lot of time in nature? When you aren’t healing the lesser creatures of your town?”

Coral shrugs, reaching up to smooth down her fiery red hair; she has no doubt that her impromptu excursion has caused her long curls to frizz out wildly. Piers always told her she took after her father, sharing his same unruly ruby hair and sharp green eyes; all she knows, is that she doesn’t look like any other in her town.

Picking out a leaf and discarding it, she gives up trying to tame the wilderness on her head, “I don’t enjoy the company of most people in town. I much rather prefer the animals in the stable, but I do walk quite a bit to harvest plants for medicine, master centaur.”

“Quell,” he says, “my name is Quell.” He holds out his hand in introduction.

“Quell,” she repeats, meeting his gaze, “I am Coral.” She places her hand in his, finding that it feels just as a man’s would.

He bends over slightly, bringing her hand up to his lips, where he places a soft kiss on the back of it, “I am happy to know you, Coral.”

Even through the heat of the mead in her, she feels her cheeks burn, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she says quietly.

“I would like to see that you get home safe,” he extends his arm out before him, towards the town.

Coral hesitates; Quell tilts his head at her, “You do not wish to be seen with me?”

She shakes her head, “I do not wish for you to be seen at all, sir.”

“You worry for my safety?” there is a slight smirk on his face when he says it.

She slowly pulls her hand from his grip, smoothing the front of her dress, “Yes. And for everyone else’s as well, master centaur,” she watches his smirk fade into a gentle smile, “I live on the other side of town regardless. If you must see me home, then we can walk through the woods to get there.”

“As you wish, Coral,” he says, waiting for her to lead the way.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

She carefully picks her way through the woods, her feet unsure with the alcohol in her system. Quell walks easily beside her, taking small steps to keep her pace. The make their way along in silence, neither of them sure what to talk about. After a quarter of an hour and not even half way there, Coral pauses to take a breath.

Quell looks her over, before bending his forelegs down to the ground, followed by his hind legs, until he is resting slightly below her stature. When she gives him a confused look, he replies, “Centaurs do not let humans ride them, but I wish to return you to your home before your not-father realizes you have been gone too long. You are too intoxicated to make good time in the dark, so you must get on my back.”

She gives him a shocked look; it isn’t that she doesn’t know how to ride a horse, because she does. She has ridden sidesaddle often, but she has never tried to ride a horse bareback; undoubtedly she would have to straddle him to stay on. Quell reaches out and takes her hand, pulling her towards his back, “I will not take a refusal. Tuck the back of your dress forward between your legs and put one on each side of me.”

With her face burning from embarrassment, she does a she is told, easing one leg over his thick back, barely able to keep both feet on the ground to steady herself. When he rises suddenly, his fore legs first, he catches her off guard; Coral gasps and wraps her arms around him, palms flat on his bare chest to keep her balance. When he rises completely, she feels the firm muscles ripple beneath her, through the thin fabric of her dress and against her inner thighs and cunt. He stands still for a moment, allowing her to get her bearings; then, she realizes, she is clutching onto his bare chest and quickly pulls her hands away.

“I am sorry, sir,” she says, mortified.

“You will call me Quell,” is all he replies, before starting forward through the forest at his normal walking pace.

“Yes, Quell,” she says softly, resting her hands at the withers of his tanned skin, where it turns into soft pale blonde fur.

The movement of her weight against him, the rippling of his muscles rocking below her, causes a dark tingle to grow in her lower back; she can feel her cunt begin to tighten and seep out wetness, as it did earlier in the day when Tobias pinned her to the tree. She tries to tilt backwards to give herself some reprieve; when it doesn’t work, she tilts forward only to discover that the added pressure against her womanhood excites her more. She returns to her original position, trying not to think about it much, but as the thought of her naked womanhood rubbing against the soft, blonde fur beneath her, her heart begins to beat faster.