what was unfolding in the present. It wasn't intentional. I was trying to get through this yearly tradition of grief, but it was hard.
I was struggling to move forward.
My eyes trailed her movement as she lifted her hands up to gather her hair as if she had something to tie it with. I moved without thinking until I was pressed behind her. She didn't stiffen like I had, her small frame somehow fitting perfectly against mine.
I placed my hands upon hers, and she didn't hesitate to let her hands slip away as she allowed me to gather her hair. A habit of mine was keeping elastic bands and hair ties on my wrist.
After years of having long hair, I'd gotten used to keeping those handy for when I, or any of my comrade fighters, needed one. It was a habit that never really died, but it now seemed to give me this moment with Willow.
I felt that whatever we shared in the shower that day after the fight was still present. The raw desire to comfort one another was still within us. I wondered if she sensed my dismay and decided to intervene because she wanted to return the favor?
Or she sought to give me a glimpse of hope when I felt like my world was crumbling.
I gathered her long pink strands, noticing the multiple white strands that stood out. I'd noticed with her magic inconsistencies, her hair would change from pink to white many times in the week, and she'd have to use magic to tame the color change.
I wondered how she’d look with pink roots but white ends. The transition was rather uncommon. To me, she'd look hot with any hairstyle and color transition, but I think the pack could agree: we did like her barbie pink locks and the length of them.
Good to cling to in bed.
The thought of sex reminded me of my celibacy. I wasn't sure if that was the term people used for it, but I chose not to have sex, even when it was beginning to grow harder with Willow in the picture. I bet some would say masturbation was within the sex department, but I considered that foreplay.
How else would a man like myself stay sane with a shifter sex drive?
When my grief was new, I didn't have the mood for any of that, but in the last couple of months with Willow in our lives, my sex drive was growing. I could envision myself fucking her. Envision her small body beneath me as I fucked her senseless.
I bit my lip while I began to tie her hair, my eyes lowering to her shoulder. There was a space between the mass of hickeys on her flesh that called to me, the nudge of desire growing within me while my cock was beginning to grow hard with need.
I couldn't ignore the urge any longer. My head lowered until my lips pressed firmly against her flesh. She remained still as if expecting my brief touch of affection, and because she didn't move away, I allowed myself to get lost in the moment of tenderness.
Her soft moan encouraged me to continue, my kisses turning into light sucks and nips. I sank my teeth a little deeper while I let go of her ponytail to lower my hands down her sides and keep her steady while I pressed her lightly against the island.
My lips continued to do their thing, while I moved along her shoulder until I was nestled into the side of her neck. She arched right into me, and fuck, did I want to fill her up with my cock, but I reigned in my spike of arousal, trying to take things slow.
I didn't want to fuck this up or make Willow think I only wanted to connect with her because of sex. I enjoyed her company, admired her strength, and acknowledged her independence. Maybe I craved a relationship at a slower pace than when I'd connected with my ex-mate.
Maybe I need that slowness to move on.
When I was satisfied, I released her and slowly shifted her stance until she was facing me. One look into her eyes made my tongue glide over my bottom lip - seconds before I devoured hers.
She accepted my kiss and combated my tongue with her own. The two of us enjoyed a new realm of fighting, each kiss stronger than the last while our bodies meshed together.
I was breathless, just like she was, when we finally parted, our