Hunter and Prey

“How did you get in here?” Hermione demanded so angrily it was more a curse than question. The werewolf shrugged, she felt the movement of his shoulders, and spooned tighter against her. He propped up his right leg to make it difficult for her to retract her own. If her stomach hadn’t been as big she could have twisted so he couldn’t stroke but she couldn’t and that was one more thing that was his bloody fault!

“Miss me, bitch?” Fenrir sniffed her hair. Still apples. He nuzzled against her, one hand rubbing her belly. She was fat with cubs. He liked that. Her fingernails pinching viciously into his arms did not distract him. She couldn’t draw blood and she wasn’t getting loose until he was done.

“You are insane!” She couldn’t kick, he was lying on her loose hair so she couldn’t head-butt him and he had her upper arms pinned. Clawing runnels in his forearms wasn’t working either, though it was ruining her French manicure. Hermione wriggled trying to squirm loose and get to her wand. It was right there on the bedside table barely a metre away!

“I do not think so.” Fenrir leaned against her, pushing her further into the bed. Not too hard. He didn’t want to hurt her, not when she had been so good in keeping his cubs. “I just want a mate and a pack and hunting.” He licked his teeth. “I killed that wizard for you. No one eyes my bitch.”

“I am not yours.” Hermione closed her eyes, biting her lip just in case this was a nightmare. It was a nightmare but unfortunately she was awake. And aroused. He was making her so wet she couldn’t stand it.

“What you say does not matter.” He growled another laugh and thrust harder. She was breathing fast and not just from anger. “You can talk and talk but you’re carrying my litter. That makes you mine.” Fenrir bit her ear. His bitch stiffened in alarm. He licked her neck, making a low rumble of pleasure. “You taste good.”

“And do you plan to stay to dinner?” Hermione asked tartly. She whacked her bare foot against his instep. “Should I go to the kitchen?”

“No, bitch, I bring you the meat.” Fenrir shoved his hips forward so his hardness filled her to the brim and grinned at his joke.

Hermione did not think it funny but that was not why she groaned. Stupid bloody hormones! She whacked him again, practically the only thing she could do to express her displeasure. He simply bent his left leg and she could no longer reach him.

“What is your plan afterwards?” She had to acknowledge that she would not be rid of him until he had finished and she hated it. Hermione was not naturally submissive. Why didn’t he just fuck her and go? Why was he taking so much time over it? And why were her nipples so hard they ached? She wanted to blaspheme but she didn’t know words bad enough to express how much she loathed enjoying this.

“After I make you howl?” He slid his hand down her belly to her sex and rubbed her there. She was as slick as spring ice. Her teeth ground at his question. Fenrir thrust some more until his bitch tightened against him then slowed. If he mated with her as roughly as he wanted he would hurt her and that might hurt his cubs so he didn’t. But she would have to suffer for making him control himself.

“Yes. After that.” Hermione hissed. The werewolf shifted his left arm to ease her weight off his elbow and groped her breasts. She shuddered.

“I’ll go away.” Fenrir rocked his hips, nuzzling her again. “Leaving you covered in my scent.” He rubbed his thumbs over her stiffened nipples then nibbled her ear. “You know I’ll kill you if you rid yourself of our litter.” He stroked faster making the witch moan and clutched her belly possessively. “I want these cubs, bitch.”

“I don’t.” Hermione gasped and came. “I don’t.”

“I know.” He panted exultantly. Fenrir slowed, baring his teeth. He was hot for her, wanting. But he remembered how she rode him in that other bed. Tiring him so she could run. He had to punish her for that. She had to learn she was his.

Hermione sagged against him as the werewolf slowly began to tease her anew. His grip eased a little. He was not so impervious to her as he would like her to think. She moved her hips up as much as his weight would allow, timing her movement to his upstroke so his entry was achingly prolonged. And so he didn’t notice she was just that little bit closer to her wand.

She stretched, grinding her backside into his groin as she arched. Stealth yoga, Hermione thought and had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. The noise came out as a grunt anyway. Fenrir growled, grabbing her breasts to make her vocalise again. He liked hearing her. So she put on good show. Not quite When Harry Met Sally but enough to make him think she was close.

Pushing her shoulders back to fill his hands with her breasts, Hermione shimmied her left arm free. She clutched the sheet as a shiver of pleasure ran through her. He leant back to thrust faster. Scratching her fingernails down his thigh, she risked a glance at the bedside table. Their exertions on the bed had bumped it, making her wand roll to the edge. Just a little bit more and she would have it. She squeezed her pelvic floor muscles and the werewolf grunted.

Fenrir decided his bitch had been punished enough. He stopped teasing and began to mate with her in earnest. He wanted her so much. Hermione made herself as tight as she could, rocking against him to bring him to climax. Timing. She cried out theatrically. He jerked inside her, arching as he came. She shuddered as her own body responded honestly this time. Flailing, she grabbed her wand, pointed it behind her and shouted.

“Stupefy.”