Page 30 of The Longing

“It’s my period, Fenrother. I’ve got my period.”

“Period?” Fenrother shoves his nose right into my apex, and I shriek in response, but this doesn’t deter him. “What is that?”

“Once a month, my womb sheds its lining, if there’s no fertilised egg.” I gabble out the first explanation which comes into my head. “That’s what’s causing the blood. It’s completely natural, I promise.”

I try to pull away from him, but instead he spins me around and shoves my back against the wall, lifting one leg to hook over his shoulder, my toes touching the soft leathery skin of his wing.

“You are shedding because there is no young inside you?” Fenrother growls. “You should stop. I will put young in you.” He continues his inspection, one finger sliding through my folds and it comes out bloody.

I want to die and the ground to swallow me up.

“I can’t stop.” I grit my teeth at both the sheer awfulness of the situation and the cramping which is ramping up to be one of the epic levels of period pain.

“Of course you can.” Fenrother, to my abject horror, licks his finger. “When I piss, I can stop.”

“This is not the same. I don’t choose when my period happens, and I can’t stop the flow,” I snap.

Fenrother pauses in his inspection.

“So, even if I put my pizzle in you, right now, you will not have young?”

“It’s extremely unlikely…” I pant with the pain. “If you can just…I need to get more comfortable…”

I try to lift my foot from his shoulder, but he has hold of my ankle and is still regarding my pussy like he wants to…eat?

Fenrother presses his face right into my bleeding slit, his tongue lapping at the blood, twitching over my clit and making me gasp.

“Fenrother…do you…?” I’m not sure what it is I’m feeling but I’m absolutely sure it’s not what I had in my mouth last night. “Do you have two tongues?”

He looks up at me, licking ruby red lips with the flicker of a forked tongue before diving right back where he was. He presses my thighs further apart with his huge hand, and as he licks, he slides in a thick digit, slowly circling it as he explores me.

With another flick over my clit, I see stars, groaning without thinking as he hits the sweet spot with his clever tongue. The cramping doesn’t lessen, but the touch of Fenrother on my clit and the way it makes me feel take my mind from the pain. I shouldn’t be allowing any of this, but I can’t deny, it makes me feel…good.

Better than good. There are so few men who wouldn’t be put off by a period, finding the things dirty and shameful, but Fenrother is working some sort of magic down there where anyone else might have run a mile.

He was willing to battle my period to the death, and now he’s eating me out to within an inch of my life.

FENROTHER

Alice shifts under my touch, her breathing fast, then slow, then fast again. My pizzle throbs in my pants, but my mouth is too occupied with the slit where her pizzle should be. It reminds me of the time I found the huge honeycomb and ate and ate until my stomach was too full to move. The sweetness was too much for me to enjoy such a thing ever again.

Until now.

She is delicious, and while I get to eat from her, I can also explore her slit, finding it goes deep into her body, like my anus, only she has one of those too. One my tail seems like it would like to probe.

My pizzle is more than interested in what I’m doing. It is hard like before, aching against the fabric of my pants, and it means I have no option but to rock to gain some friction over the tip, to flood my body with all the strange feelings it gives me.

As I clean her up, as I enjoy my work, Alice’s breathing increases, her entire body heaving until, out of nowhere, she grabs hold of my horns and yells, her slit clamping down on my finger, pushing out more of the blood I want to consume,and then pulsing and pulsing as she floods me with more than just the blood. Something which smells like it was sent by fate. Something delicious.

My pizzle explodes in my pants.

For a moment, the only sound in the bathing room is one of our ragged breathing as we both attempt to take in the air enough to get our lungs working again. I lift Alice’s leg from my shoulder, but she struggles to stay upright.

Perhaps this inability to stand is a result of the blood coming from her. I pick her up, marvelling at the softness of her skin on my scales, and carry her to the bath, ripping her clothing from her body. It has filled with hot water, and I gently lower her into it before partially shifting into my Wyrm form, the one I usually prefer to bathe in. I slide in next to her, allowing the warm water to cleanse my pizzle of the mess it made before it slides back into its sheath.

As for my Alice, she will need more cleansing.

“You don’t have to do this, Fenrother,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Perhaps we shouldn’t…”

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