I’m Hungry

DEON

I'm still scavenging in this console. Apparently, I was right. There are candles in there, but where, is the question.

Candles, candles, candles... I snap my fingers for a flame since I can't see a damn thing. There are outdated magazines, two old mobile phones, tons of chargers and other cables, receipts, empty gum boxes, lipsticks, pepper sprays...

"Donna, are you sure there are candles in there? Can't find any," I shout.

"Try the left cupboard." I turn my head to a murmur sunk in gloom. Donna's holding a bottle of wine close to her chest, blanketed on the couch.

My brows furrow. I'm already on the left one. "This one?"

"The left one!"

Keep a cool head, Deon! This thought goes down like a lead balloon, my horns instantly flaring up. Even though I'm quick to fan off the flames, I can't remove the halo of smoke around my head, the smell hanging nothing close to a scented candle.

I swing the right panel wide. Ah, yes, a whole collection of thick, round, waxy chunks, and I wince at the smell. Of all perfumes, cinnamon had to be the one.

A spreading of licks slashes against my bent thigh. Cerberios is extremely touchy, and I don't know what I prefer, his threatening growl or this.

With about six kilos of candles stacked in my arms, I stand and walk to the island, placing them there. I snap my fingers again and light them up.

And like following a checklist, I put one on the kitchen counter, another two on the buffet in the corridor, and a whole bunch on the coffee table.

"Mission accomplished." I smile, clamping my waist, pretty much feeling wholesome. "Now, let's put something down our stomachs. What do you say, ladies?" I say, starving eyes turning to Donna. In my defense, midnight's stroke is already behind us.

Her head doesn't turn; it stays fixed on the wall as she imprints her stillness on the sofa.

"Sure." A small voice erupts from the fairy's bedroom. Then, out of the doorframe, pops Fay with a towel doubled over her head and a simple dress made of moss for sleepwear. They call it eco-friendly apparel... and based on how it's worn out, I can tell she loves green. "There's not much, but um... let me check. There must be some soup powder or something."

Keep your smile stretched, boy... I stare at her, trying not to break a tooth. I was thinking of something bloody that was muscly and chewy, like the nice leg of a horned chimp or the rump of a tusked pony, for instance, not... insta-grass juice.

But I won't shun her proposition. It's the first of the night. Gotta keep that energy going. Her breathing is back to normal, her mood back to a semblance of cheerfulness... Let's make cold soup!

"Soup..." mumbles the beaten-down wolf. The candlelight is tripping flickers of light over her slender nose. Despite the dim light in this room, Donna looks as radiant as ever. Wish she would smile a bit more, though; and maybe it's better that way, the desire to embrace her is already so hard to contain... It's just me and her now that Fay has headed to the kitchen.

I've been dreaming about this moment. And what a better time to reek of sweat, slag, and beer...

I should call it off. Yeah, I should. Just go to bed with a girl under each wing. Now, I just hope this wolf will be complaisant. Maybe a game-based method of convincing? But as I walk to the couch, I realize I might have already lost the game. With her feet on the couch, Donna's short pajamas are revealing most of her pretty figure, the stretch marks streaking out from the crease where the thigh and hip meet making me salivate with fucking hunger.

Donna flashes her attention to me. It was short, too fast, in fact, because her eyes barely caught mine. "Fay needs to sleep," she mumbles.

I halt in front of her, legs an inch from the couch, an inch from brushing against her skin, an inch from touching her. Fuck, I want to so much. "What if we first put something into our stomachs and then we'll all go to bed??"

"I'm not tired." Donna hunches a little and lets a bottle of wine slip effortlessly down her grip to the floor.

I watch it topple and roll at my feet. "Thirsty, in all cases..."

She raises her drowsy gaze up my body. "It was a bottle from last night. There was hardly any left."

This time around, her eyes agree to stay on mine for longer than just a second. "I'll get you water..." Lined with black, two rings the color of stained burgundy wood engulf me, and I petrify like a dead tree. The mouth below those eyes moves. "Are you, now?" It's hard to believe, but I drag my eyes down to it. There was a sarcastic tone in Donna's question, enough for her voice to douse me with burning desire, and I wish I could bleed it out because it hurts between my legs.

"Yes," I drawl like a drunk.

"T'wil be wine for me, thanks," she adds with a slur as though she'd swallowed a whole tablet of horse tranquilizers.

"Only if we talk."

"No."

I suck in my cheeks. Certainly wasn't expecting that answer...

What did I do to disappoint the wolf? I know! Should've carried her differently. Maybe she was expecting a kiss from me as I held her. Yes, idiot, you should've kissed her. Look at her. She's disappointed. Maybe she thinks you don't like her. Is it even possible for Donna to believe that? A tight grip forms around my face. I don't know where it's coming from. In all likelihood, it's a wince. I'm spiraling. I need a drink, too. I push myself up while my eyes abound with the sexiness of an Elatina werebabe with no interest in my company and start walking to the kitchen.

"Sorry, princess, mind if I take a peep in the fridge," I murmur, gently pressing against Fay's arm.

"Ah. Sorry." Almost all the cupboards are open, and Fay is now boring the color of purple tracing paper as she blankly stares at a yogurt cart.

"All good, Fay?" I bend over, wondering whether to go for the Dragonnay or the very precious vintage Ogré cuddling it.

"Yes, as fit as a fiddle!" A frosty fae smile comes my way, and I smile with equal tension. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because there's too much estrogen in this flat! Tyke, where are you? When it comes to hormonal groups, he knows how to handle them.

"You?" she asks.

"Need to eat something and then, I'll be as fit as a..." I rub my chin. What could make her laugh? As fit as a butcher's dog? Nah, that's too chunky. "Ah, I know, as a flea."

Two chlorine eyes, very googly, too, stare back at me, the overall of Fay's reaction stifled in mutism. Well, that was my best for tonight.

I slam the fridge, a duo of bottlenecks between my fingers, as a fairy gets back to scuttling around me in search of something she apparently isn't finding.

As I turn to the sink to thin out Donna's wine with pure, cold, sobering water, light fingers fold over my arm, and I turn to find that very same fairy, but this time, without the googly eyes.

Fay's looking more petite than usual, head tucked in, her eyebrows knitted into a triangle... her wings loosely collapsed behind her back. What worries do you have in this firecracker head of yours? "Yes, Fay?"

She's twisting her fingers like scoubidou craft lace. "Thank you."

Thank me? And I sigh because this little warrior has some in her. I knew it. But it was nice to witness it. It's hard to imagine a monster rarely manipulating weapons, simply firing at someone and working out the aftermath alone like a pro.

I can't help but rub her back. Fay's warm. It's a sweltering type of warmth, and I hope the fever will subside soon. Illnesses in times of war, even the smallest, are not desired... "Hey, dove, you played your part well. Saved my life and kept your cool... not to mention Tyke's hammer and ax. That'll for sure put a smile on his face."

I chuckle at her cute expression, a little rigid, but, yeah, cute, and turn to Donna, Fay, a reminder that I must release some steam. Fay has shown resilience in the face of all this, so I had to remain unfazed to maintain hers. And I'm beat right now; by all means, debriefing exists for a reason...

"Donna, what if I do all the talking?" I lance, feet, legs and the whole of who I am, moving for the one and only wolf girl I want to be with at this instant.

"No," echoes against the sink I freeze on. She's a tough nut to crack, I'll give her that. Staring intensely at the drain, my lip twitches. I can't stop it.

Dream girl wants it that way. I'm down for it.

I uncork the Ogré with my teeth, spit the cork to one side, take a glass, and fill it up just a little, then open the faucet and run the glass under it, cramming it with very boring water. Everything is very mechanical because hell.

My face scrunches at the result. There's too much transparency.

I glance at the pink beers on the counter. With one wrist twist, I open one, sip three-quarters and a half, and pour the rest into Donna's glass.

Of course, I grab the remaining bottles of beer, their necks hooked between my digits before leaving.

The girl grasps the glass I extend to her, immediately taking two full chugs.

I smile silently, and with a claw, decapsulate another beer.

"This Ogré tastes weird... maybe it's spoiled," she mumbles to herself.

And then, small, so small I'm not sure it really came from her, I identify a word. "Thanks for today."

I won't answer. Instead, I watch the bubbles of my brew travel up behind the glass bottle.

"Sorry, nerves. I get a bit grouchy under stress," she adds.

I stay silent.

What? She told me not to talk. Though I'm working on body language like a pro, giving her a tilt of the head with a little groan. I then add a smirk and rub my neck for special effects. I've worked hard on perfecting those moves. Nowadays, girls won't take any snowjob... It takes some training.

"A-are you hurt?"

I inner-cackle. My mutism is outshining my expectations.

"Deon?"

My smile continues to grow as I sip on my beer.

Her face darkens. Oh, this is it.

"Deon..." she grumbles, my sweatpants swelling between my legs. "Why are you not answering?"

She shuts her eyes, and I'm in a dream when two big ears pop out from under her unruly curls.

"Answer!" she barks, her foot nudging my shoulder. And this is the moment my smile breaks wide. "You..." I snatch her ankle, yanking her down the couch. "Damn demon!"

"Wait till I possess you, darling." My growl is in a league of its own, holding her close to me, my arms wrapped around her smooth waist, abusing her balance. You bet I am!

"I'm guessing you've never been embraced by such powerful muscles." I smirk, shifting a little for her to rock on me with more ease... This is too real!

She gives me a genuine, sharp smile, fangs unlatching out her gums. Gods, her teeth. This is a perfect example of impeccable hygiene.

Donna's eyes expand like two full spheres of golden fire as her curves unwillingly settle on my lap. "Deon, what is...?" She looks down at where her thigh is pressed and then lifts her face to me with a peculiar expression. "This?"

"A cock," I chuckle.

"You disgusting perv!" She pounces on me, and I've never been so ready for it.

I like my girl mean, feisty with curves at the plenty. My hand, right there, on her rear, agrees with me, her hand striking like a bullet toward my head, the exclamation mark serving as a confirmation. I snag it, sipping in the squeezing feeling of her plump breasts against my chest as I pull her close to me. I hum a soft growl in her ear, spilling out my truth. "Well, hello, big girl... thought you should know the cock you're sitting on is all yours."

"Big...?" Donna halts, every limb coming to a halt as I discover my new ideal weight is when my girl sits on me.

"And grabby." Yeah, some good love handles to hold on to. I stare at her, breathing in her throaty exhalations, and time stops. My mind fizzes like Kracken-Aid on ice, every facial flex melting away. She is impossible not to love!

"I'm going to..." My hands firmly cuff her wiggly wrists, and now look at us, making doodles in the air. Our first-ever activity together!

"Finish you off!" That's a hell of a deal!

"Here, in the middle of the living room?" I mean... Okay!

Her cheeks take a fabulous taint of red as she roars, "I'm going to strangle you!" Next thing I know, she's grunting, her lips a tease from mine, raging with that passion.

"Please do."

"Rah!" She hurls her entire body at me, helping me fall flat on my back. Here she is in a cowgirl sex position, so, of course, I tug her wrists forth. She falls on me, about to seal our first true kiss, when "I have good news and bad news" walks in with the deal breaker who said it. Why do the gods fucking hate me so much...

Donna pulls away, or maybe she shoves herself away. "Great. Let's hear them," she spits. But I know she likes me—my nostrils picked up the scent...

Fayra's face is an indecipherable map of scribbles, and I grin.

"Stop smiling like that." Donna caresses my thigh hard. Okay, it's a slap, but really, a soft slap.

"Whatever you want from me."

Taking a strand of wonder behind her ear, she hisses, "Tsk." And you know what else? Gathering her legs in a crisscross applesauce, she stays next to me!

"No soup," Fayra exhales, twisting her fingers on themselves, a snarly cringy smile toward Donna.

Is that good or bad news?

"But..." Fay points upward as if instilling wisdom. "Now that the fridge is toast from the power outage, we might have dessert!"

Great... I'm a carnivore.