Dear Diary
This is by the author formerly known as Uoikih. Hi, all! Long time, no see. And sorry about how slow this story begins. . .
"Hi."
"What's up?"
And so it began, a conversation of angst that ultimately progressed towards a promise to see each other that night.
I'm getting ahead of myself - I should explain the buildup behind this little encounter. I'd known him since high school, and there'd been a---spark between us, something built on our shared love of death metal and perusal of darker religions. I fell in love with his eyes first - a piercing ice-blue, they took my breath away and seemed to raze my soul each time I looked into them. Sounds childish, sounds crushy, but it was true. His hands were large, the fingers long and lovely. He was freakishly tall - or was I merely short? - and my forehead barely reached his collarbones when I hugged him after class. I began writing about him in my diary, in such lovingly explicit tones that it sometimes shocked me. I didn't love him, but the physical attraction was there and it was tangible. I suppose I was young and stupid then, definitely too stupid to have hidden my secret writings in a better place.
My mother found my diary. That night, I was forced to read it aloud to my parents at the dinner table, while they took turns dissecting the writing and shouting at me about what was wrong with it, why I shouldn't have written it, and what the repercussions of my diary would bring. I remember seeing my sisters cowering in the bedroom, my mother's tearful face, my father's disgusted tone, as he all but disowned me, his anger based on the awkward, hormonal rants of a teenage diary. It ruined me, and broke my friendship with my beloved wolf - for a year and a half I did not speak with him. And I stopped writing.
And then came the day. I heard his voice on the telephone - the number I had dialed had brought him dancing ecstatically back into my life. Every night that week, I gathered my pillows and my blankets, and I plugged the phone into the wall so it wouldn't die. Then, four four to five hours, we would talk, he laid out on his bed, me curled on the floor of my own room, rehashing old events, sharing memories, having unguarded talks during which we shared sexual tendencies, fantasies, and the occasional joking 'what ae you wearing?' line. I loved those long conversations - I lost myself once more in the sound of his voice, his laughter. Maybe this was wrong, maybe I shouldn't have contacted him again. But then, it was me. It was him. He was my friend, my wolf of blue eyes and tall fire. However, all romantic thoughts had tumbled away from me. I was devoted to him, but as one companion to another. I didn't love him.
Events came and went, during which we bonded more, laughed more, talked more. And then one day, something so enraged me, so shocked me, that I did the only thing I could do: I went to my wolf for help. The family situation had changed, and it was simple, but it was there: I would not be alone that night to do as I pleased for once. My wolf suggested that he might come over to my place late that night, and I agreed, committing to breaking trust and sneaking out. That night, as my family prepared for bed, and wrapped themselves in blankets and dreams, I showered and combed my hair and fur into silky smoothness. I perfumed my body, rubbed Eastern oils into the flesh of my breasts and thighs. I clad myself in light clothing, disregarding the fact that it was winter, and as I did all these things, I hummed to myself with butterflies gathering in my belly. I didn't love my wolf. We were merely friends, and yet I wanted to please him. The female in me was speaking.
The time to leave the house came fast - I was surprised and nervous. Gathering the things I needed, I quietly left the house and stepped lightly down the stairs into the parking lot. Pausing for a moment, I inahaled the frigid air and commended myself. I was outside! I'd never snuck out before, and so the exhilaration of this was amazing. The night smiled at me as I crossed the lot to the family car, from where I called my wolf on the phone.
_"Are you coming?"
"You walk really slowly, you know," _
he laughed.
_"You're already here!?"
"Yeah. C'mon."_
I got out of the car and walked into the shadows, spotting his tall form from a distance. I couldn't resist the purr that rose in my throat as I trotted to greet him. Wrapping him in my arms, I held his friendly body to mine for a long moment. "Hi," I said, looking up at him. "Hey," he replied. There was silence, and then I smiled. "We can go sit in the car, if you'd like." He paused for a moment, eyes flickering around for any sign of another presence, and then shrugged. "Sure."
I led him back to the car, and he slid in on the passenger's side. Drumming his fingers on the dash, he smiled at me and said nothing. I peered behind us at the backseat. "There's more room back there," I said, sounding naughty and feeling guilty. It wasn't the message I wanted to convey at all, but the effect wasn't wasted on him - he arched a brow before lifting his tall frame easily into the next seat with me. I leant against the opposite side and nudged him with my foot. "Thanks for coming," I said. He shrugged, watching me. "No problem." He laughed. "Yeah, anyway, you walk really slow. I was watching you leave your house, and you were walking so slowly that it looked like you were gliding. It was creepy." I grinned at him. "You thought it was sexy," I joked. He rolled his eyes and drummed on my foot. "No," he retorted, flashing strong teeth at me. Seconds ticked past, and he spoke again. "I'm sick. I hate it and it sucks."
I nodded. "I'm sorry." He shook his head. "Don't worry about it." After a moment's pause, our conversation began in earnest. We talked about politics, about huge fucking snakes that landed on people, about magick and sex and guns. The military, cars, family, colds, and clothing all took precendence in our marvellous and random conversation. We even wrestled - he won each time, though, pinning my arms down or around me with superior strength. We laughed and rocked the car back and forth, trying to garner lustful attention from any hapless neighbor. He bit the seat in front of him, and I threatened to return the favor if he didn't stop. He only flashed that grin at me, and so we traded bites and blows, smacking each other and calling out the worst names we could think of. In short, we acted like stupid teenagers and enjoyed every moment of it.
There came a time, though, where both of us were silent, aware of the tension that had risen in the air between us. My hair was tousled and his shirt was rumpled from the wrestling. He smirked, then coughed and slumped against his side of the car. I felt bad for him, and gathered him into my arms in true friendly affection for a good old-fashioned backrub. He muttered something about falling asleep, and so I stopped after a while. We talked briefly about soldiers, and then it ended up being that my wolf wanted to return the favor. Now, I have had backrubs before. I have had exceedingly good backrubs. But there is something about being small, being slender, in a darkened car with strong hands essentially having their way with your body. Despite the fact that we were merely friends. He was deft and articulate in his movements - there was a definite pattern. And when he reached my lower back, I had to keep from crying out as his fingers massaged the knots gathered there. I arched my spine and gripped the headrests, making him start with worry. "You okay?" I nodded. "Yes. It just feels really good." He laughed gently and went on in earnest; silent, focused. My wolf soon slid his hands around my waist and drew me back into him. I lay across his lap for a long while, his hands trailing slowly across my ribcage, and we talked of light things, of unrelated topics. We'd already admitted to the fact that there had been attraction between us when we'd first met, and so I found the gentle touch of his hands just an extension of this fact.
His fingers soon glided to my breasts, however, which he massaged gently, grinning down at me. I closed my eyes at the sensation, purring with delight. Encouraged by this, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of my jeans, exploring. I opened myself to him, undid the catch, and he pulled them off for me. Lying back, I stroked his shoulders as he slid his fingers into me, probing, stroking. The waves of pleasure that swept through my pelvis made my breath hitch in my throat, and he lowered his mouth to mine, apt hands manipulating my body.
As my flesh warmed to his touch, we migrated to the very back of the car, tossing articles of clothing away recklessly. He was swift, manuvering my body and covering it with his own. I can still recall the delicious heat of his skin, the way his shoulders felt under my hands. My wolf kissed my, licked my throat, and bit my collarbone, sending jolts of fire running through me. Breathing hard, he teased me with his hips, working his way into me slowly. I was untried and untested - I did not expect that I could take his girth. But I did. Slipping a hand down, I spread my knees and guided him inside, lifting my thighs and crossing them high on his back. He moved snakelike atop me, pressing moans from my throat and making my breath come faster. I ran my hands along the muscled back and shoulders, raking his flesh with my claws. He groaned in response, sliding a hand down to grip my hip.
The night was fast, hot, and passionate, punctuated by my delirious cries and the feel of teeth upon skin. At his request, I took over, straddling his beautiful body and having my own way with him. He grasped my hips and deftly manuevered himself inside of me. I dropped my head, hands hot on his chest, as he slowly slid to a perfect fit. There was pain, but it was the kind of pain to be savored. I rocked my hips back and forth slowly, leaning down to press my lips against the side of his neck and sink my own teeth in. He stiffened, breath coming faster, and his hands tightened around my thighs. I was suffused with both a sense of urgency and an overwhelming desire to take things slowly - my mouth trailed across his hot flesh to his nipple, which I raked with my fangtips gently, moving at a novice's pace. I was by no means experienced in the art of lovemaking, but the hot look of adoration and lust on his face told me that I was doing well.
But I had liked the feel of his body pinning mine down, and so I assumed my former place beneath his godly body as he began to thrust in earnest, with strokes that made my head spin and exuberant cries break from my lips. My wolf's breath singed my ear, and I began to rise and meet him with my hips, unconsciously. My hands explored his back, his legs, his muscled belly. I touched him everywhere, as he brought me to my zenith before finishing explosively himself, with a choking cry that he buried in my hair.
We lay for a moment, breathing hard, smelling of lust, sweat, and blood. I touched his face gently and smiled. My wolf smiled back, prespiration streaking his body, his iron necklace lying across his chest. We needed no words, and my heart did not ache for him, my arms did not ache to hold him, to make him love me. I basked in the afterglow as he slowly and reluctantly pulled his clothing on, reaching over the edge of the seat to trail gentle fingertips across my bare body once more. His eyes glowed with a quiet, amused fire, and I purred in return. He would take his leave, and I would return to my home as a true woman, but our friendship would not be broken by this. He flashed that grin at me, and I knew that everything would be all right. Just with a little more fun in the dark. And I smiled, watching him with a tired, friendly affection in my eyes, while the crickets chirped outside and the moon smiled approvingly at our sharing.