Hungry kiss

It wasn't tame. It wasn't vanilla. Hell, it wasn't even French Vanilla or Vanilla Bean or any other ice-cream I knew of. His lips parted, his tongue parted mine. This kiss was hungry. My heart raced. I may have kicked his shins, my heels bounced against the door. And then his lips dragged down ever so slightly. His mouth trapped my lower lip, he sucked on it, teased his tongue over it, and then bit.

Hans bites. I dimly remembered my warning to Sarah, and couldn't figure out why I was so shocked now. Hans' teeth scraped over my skin as he pulled away, tugging at my lip and dragging a whimper, or moan, out of me. Then my lip popped free and Hans' teeth closed on air and he was just kissing me, lips pressed against lips but otherwise tame.

When he was done he sighed. His hot breath caressed my cheek and he leaned forward. "I'm going to keep kissing you," he said softly in my ear. "If that's acceptable?"

I didn't know what to say. Don't? Stop? My heart was pounding and my breath would have been ragged if I could have even remembered how to breathe. Megan was wrong. I had been wrong. Hans didn't have a submissive streak. He was a wolf. He just kept himself caged and kenneled and safely leashed, until some stupid fucking bunny like me came along and rattled the bars and unclipped the lead and basically hopped around singing 'look how tasty I am!'

"Don't stop," I managed to gasp.

Hans growled again. His hand dropped from the back of my head and he hitched me up. My shoulders scraped against the door and he leaned into me again. Hans kissed the hollow of my throat. Repeatedly. His breath was hot on my skin. His kisses wound lower along my neck. His lips nibbled at my throat; sucked at my skin. And... Hans bites.

He didn't, but the thought threw me into a panic. "Stop!" I gasped. "Oh, God, stop!"

And Hans stopped. His mouth was just above the collar of my blouse when he pulled his lips away and set me down. I think he set me down, but he could have dropped me and I probably wouldn't have known the difference. My feet hit the floor and the only reason I stayed standing was that I had the door to lean against. I caught myself on the doorknob and held myself up. I felt like my knees were going to give out any moment.

"Wow," I stammered. "Oh, wow. That was..."

"Too enthusiastic?" Hans asked ruefully.

I looked at him. Probably wide-eyed. The wolf was caged again. Hans looked...sheepish. Sheepish! A wolf in sheep's facial expression.

I giggled. Nerves and relief and the thrill of it all had definitely done in my good sense. "No," I said. "That was better. I'm sorry. It's just..." I laughed. "You bite, Hans. And for a moment there I thought you were going to go ahead and turn into a wolf on me and tear my throat out." Oh damn, it sounded like my verbal filters were off. That could get bad fast, because I was thinking that if Hans wanted to go back to enthusiastic kissing I'd be fine with it if he just skipped my neck and, say, tore open my blouse so he could get to my breasts or somewhere else where it probably wouldn't kill me if he got too enthusiastic and accidentally took out a chunk.

"Actually," I found myself saying, "If you want to..." but I was distracted from whatever I'd been thinking by the look of pure horror that descended over Hans' face.

I'm familiar with panic. I've spent most of my life a step away from it, and I think I'm pretty good at not letting on. But all that time I've spent schooling myself to not give off the signs also meant I was pretty good at spotting them. Plus, it helped that Hans was pretty obvious about it.

His eyes went wide. The blood drained from his face. He backed as far away from me as he could, which practically put him in my bed, but I don't think he noticed.

"Hans?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

"I wouldn't..." Hans said. "I've never..." He took a deep breath. "You know?" he asked. He did a pretty convincing 'relieved laugh' and sat down on the edge of my bed. "Wow," he said. "You know. It's actually a relief," Hans said to me. "Usually I have to agonize whether or not to say anything or to just break things off before I get found out."

"Uh... right," I said.

"You don't have to worry," Hans said. "I have complete control over it, even after I have 'wolfed out.' I mean, as long as it isn't the full moon. And the next one of those isn't for another week.

Oh. Oh! I still didn't know why Hans had freaked, but if there's one thing I know as well as I know panic, it's making up crazy stories to cover it up. 'I am a werewolf, not a sexual predator' was pretty much just the sort of thing I'd spout off, too.

"That's good to hear," I said, playing along. "Have you made arrangements for then?" I asked. "I mean, I don't exactly have shackles in my nightstand." I paused thoughtfully. Hans chained to my bed? I don't know if I'd ever be ready for that, but if I were I could probably borrow some. Megan didn't have a nightstand for her toys. She had a small travel chest at the foot of her bed and a couple of drawers in her wardrobe.

Hans snorted. "Yeah, I have," he said. "Shackles wouldn't work, anyway. Unless they were silver I'd just slip out of them when the transformation hit." He shook his head wryly. "I can't believe you knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

I folded my arms. "Hey," I protested. "I told you I was new at this! What do you want from me?"

Hans glared at me, but not angrily. "You said you were new to dating," he said with a chuckle. "Not that you were new to dating werewolves." His eyes softened. "That's really not going to be a problem?"