Page 99 of Little Red Riding Hood
“You’re so perfect to me,” Wim whispered in Red’s ear, as his trembling hands found Red’s belt, working the leather free with deliberate slowness. Red’s breath hitched as the last pieces of clothing fell away, leaving him bare beneath the star-scattered canopy.
It took moments for Wim to shed his own clothes, grateful for the warmth radiating from the pool. Then, gathering the necklace from Red’s fisted palm, Wim lifted it high. The sharp teeth gleamed like pearls in the blue light as he lowered it over Red’s head. The cord settled against Red’s throat, a perfect fit, as though it had been crafted for this moment alone.
“My Red,” Wim breathed, pressing his forehead to Red’s sternum. The steady thrum of Red’s heart beneath his skin sang of home, of belonging, of forever. “My mate.”
Red’s eyes were impossibly wide as he ran his fingertips over each of the teeth in turn, as if he were cherishing every one. “Thank you. I’ll never take it off.”
Red’s hand travelled through the scruff of Wim’s beard to cup his face, and Wim shut his eyes, leaning into the touch. Every gentle stroke felt like the first warm breeze after a long winter, thawing something deep within him.
Wim ran his hands over Red’s ribs, still slightly protruding despite Wim’s best efforts. When they got back home, Wim would hunt every hour of the day until he found Red enough food to eat.
Most importantly, he was going to love him so hard, it would become impossible for him not to love himself.
His Little Red was far from perfect, but those imperfections were what made him perfect to Wim.
“I knew it in my bones when I first caught your scent—you were meant to bemine.” Wim dropped his tone to a seductive purr. “And now I get to have you.”
Before Red had time to register what was happening, Wim brought the flat of his palm against his left buttock, giving him a very firm slap.
Red let out a yelp of surprise before his lips turned up into a challenging smirk. “Oh, will you now, wolf? You think you can tame me that easily?”
“Tame you?” Wim circled behind Red, trailing his fingers across bare skin. He ran a finger up and down Red’s spine, then lightly squeezed his nape. “Never. I like you wild.”
Pressed up against him, Red shivered into Wim’s waiting arms. “Good, because—” His words cut off with another yelp as Wim landed another swat to his ass before kneading into the muscles, rubbing deep circles with his thumb.
“Because what, sweetheart?” Wim’s arm pulled Red even closer to him, and he began nuzzling into his neck where the milk teeth rested. The scent of berries and arousal filled his nose, making his wolf growl with satisfaction.
“Because I bite.” Red twisted in his arms, nipping at Wim’s jaw through his beard.
The sharp sting of teeth sent heat coursing through Wim’s body. He caught Red’s wrists, pinning them behind his back with one hand. “Surprise, sweetheart. So do I.”
Red’s pupils dilated, eyes dark with desire. “Prove it,” he said, on a heavy breath.
Wim dipped his head to Red’s throat, grazing his teeth over the silky soft skin. “Last chance to run away, Little Red.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Red pressed closer, defiant even in surrender. “You’re stuck with me now.”
Wim’s heart raced with an intoxicating blend of primal hunger and a tender possessiveness he’d never known before. Red was his—all sharp wit and sweet surrender wrapped in soft, freckled skin that begged to be mapped with Wim’s lips.
Wim ran his thumb over each of Red’s nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. Red’s sharp intake of breath sent a pleased hum through Wim’s chest. Fiery blood flooded south as he savoured the feel of Red’s responsive body.
“Fuck,” Red gasped, arching into the touch. “God almighty!”
Wim chuckled, dropping to his knees like a devotee, drinking in the sight of him in the luminous glow. He pressed the flat of his tongue against first one taut bud, then the other. Red whimpered, then groaned as Wim nuzzled his face into the soft hair at the top of his prick, mouthing all the way to his hipbone.
“Please,” Red panted, voice rough with longing.
Wim raised his head, eyes gleaming with desire. “I wish I could take my time with you,” he murmured. “But I’m too impatient for you to be mine.”
Red’s glorious cock—so slender with its slight curve—was there waiting, fully erect for him without even the slightest of touches.
And as he pressed his lips to Red’s shaft—that first touch deliberate and lingering—Wim’s eyes never left Red’s, two different stars shining in the dimness, making Wim’s world entirely brighter.
With a hand on either side of Red’s hips, he savoured the soft gasp that escaped Red, the way his body buckled ever so slightly. And then, in a single greedy swallow, Wim took Red fully into his mouth, taking him as far back into his throat as he could.
Red’s reaction was instantaneous—a sharp, high cry, his fingers threading through Wim’s hair. The pull against his scalp spurred Wim on, and he worked Red with relentless dedication, the wet suction of his mouth matched by the rhythmic squeeze of his hand around the base of Red’s cock.
Every moan that tore from Red’s throat, every shudder that racked his frame, every helpless jerk of his hips fed Wim’s desire.
