There was no thought of love or false idea of anything beyond singular bodily need. Anatole felt her on his back, felt the pain that was yet so close to pleasure, and his teeth found her throat. He held her bodily as he felt the arching need, and then there was sharp and sudden release. Pressure was released and his body shook once before he drew from her. The woman spoke, and Anatole, panting, barely made sense of her words.
She moved to gather her things and Anatole arched his back, feeling the pressure of her fingers still sharp from the hot wounds. There was no blood, but he would feel the bruising for days. She slipped off into the night and Anatole yawned widely. He extended a final burst of energy to shift down to his lupus form. Once completed, he licked himself clean and moved away from the area, unwilling to sleep in a place so thick with the smell of sex and a woman’s heat. A rocky overhang offered protection from the elements, and exhausted and satisfied, Anatole curled up and quickly slipped into slumber.
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