Feel

His grin in the moonlight.

Handsome.

Insane.

He turns his head to give her what will become his trademark killer smile.

"Where to?"

While he drives, the beretta weighs heavily on her lap, the night on her mind.

She was taking him home.

Tyler, who she had no intelligent reason to trust, who had plainly admitted to her he was a predator.

She was taking him home.

Likely to her bed.

No, for certain to her bed.

And no voice presented itself within saying, stop, this is wrong.

This could end you.

Of course it could, but her gut was so much louder than her emotions, and it said...

See this through.

So here she was, riding shotgun in her own car, beside a man she packed a gun to meet.

Devouring his closeness ravenously.

Driving in the quiet, she sees him set his right hand on his thigh, but it's strained.

It's too far in her direction to be an absent minded action, and she's looking at it when he asks, "You're too quiet. Silence, at least with you, makes me jittery as fuck."

She has to smooth out her smile, calm her joy.

"I was thinking."

He rolls his eyes pleasantly, both too comfortable and amped with one another.

"Tell me?"

It's a little stern, like he's really asking what's bothering you is bothering me.

She shifts her own left hand, just so, it's unconscious, but after she catches it she lets it go.

Testing.

And sure enough, doesn't his pinkie twitch?

"You want to hold my hand."

She tells him, and swallows in what feels like an audible fashion.

He snorts softy, eyes tighten fast then find the road again.

"Yeah, I'm not going to break my promise though."

It's said smoothly, his eyes lit like he was tempting him with an apple, but she can see part of him is warning both of them it won't work.

"Have you ever broken a promise before?"

She's slipping too fast to stop herself, and he's responding with nearly no thought, "Not to you."

She stares at him.

Trying to understand.

What is it about you I can't walk away from?

That I might allow myself to die over?

He's feeling her eyes in his skin and enjoying it, but also can't handle it.

Too intimate.

"That's not all you were thinking."

She doesn't move, "No. It wasn't."

She waits a few seconds, sees the T in the road approaching and mechanically tells him, "Right." before deciding what to admit.

"I'm trying to figure you out. Or, trying to figure me out."

This makes him happy.

His chest inflates smoothly before releasing the air in a sure fashion.

"Your trying to analyze your attraction... mine to you? It's simple."

She is unable to pull her gaze away, "Is it?"

He shakes his head, "You already have an idea, I can tell."

She's turning her head before asking her next question.

"I want to hear it from you first."

He turns to her slightly, "Honestly?"

She doesn't look at him, slightly flushed and he has to remind himself to watch the road.

"You color so nicely when your anxious."

He murmurs.

It's hungry and she feels her belly tighten at his words.

"I said men are wolves? Some women are too. Not all men, very few women."

She has to swallow, shifts in her seat.

His voice, his hands on her steering wheel, the pale skin of his throat.

It's like she's addicted to him as hasn't had a single taste.

She realizes he's waiting for her to speak, "I'm a wolf then?"

She manages, voice too low and she tries to quietly clear her throat, he hums at this.

Happy to see how she warms to him.

"You're no lamb, though you look it."

After he says this he's suddenly looking at her in a strange way, and she sees it from her peripheral, understands right away and can't meet that look.

It's a tiny peek of what's hiding within him.

She's certain it was him in confusion that she might actually be dangerous to him.

And he let's it pass within that minute, back to his erie ease.

"I had a friend once I wrote to," she starts, and he raises an eyebrow but it's only teasing, "Not like with you." She mouths and he finds his smirk again.

"I was dating a guy at the time, a decent guy, but there was no spark, no pull, and as badly as I didn't want to admit it I knew it was my fault."

He could cut her off, tell her he's sure that's not true.

That's polite conversation and they don't have that.

It's all flat.

Honest.

"I asked my friend, could a Raven be happy with a Robin?"

She has to pause speaking this aloud.

It's hard, the memory.

He had warned her, and it was exactly as she feared.

"He said no." Tyler is certain.

His hand on the wheel, car lights pass and reflect in his eyes, lighting the windshield.

She smiles softly, "He said, for a little while."

He loses his smile, thinking.

"And you tried, even though you knew."

She inhales deep.

Blinking in ache over the loss.

"I thought I could be normal."

He's stopping the car slowly at the yellow light, he would have made it under.

He's purposely giving her words their moment.

They sit, at the red light, him watching her, her trying not to hold his hand.

Not to touch him.

He's aware.

When the light turns green, he let's the car move, and opens his mouth softly.

Trying to find words that just aren't there.

Maybe because they aren't needed.

He knows, she knows he understands.

This is both so strange and so comforting about her.

He's never had this level of closeness, with anyone.

He imagines it's like being shot, bleeding out, EMTs there just in time, and when you wade to consciousness in the hospital bed, the dry chemical air in your throat, everything should feel terrible, being that close to death, but it's not.

Instead, that bed is the most comfort you've ever known.

Strangely safe.

He looks at her again and her hand is closer to his than it was, but this time she's so within her head he's not in control of it, and as he lets his eyes rake her, he understands he could take her hand, play nice, be normal.

For a while.

The feel of that cop out, the taste of it so acrid, it's never been a hard choice.

He will not take the easy way out this time.

He will be honest, not because he should, but because she can handle it.

Then a sneaky voice says to him...

For how long?

Oh.

There it is again.

This ache in his chest like he was kicked in both lungs.

His stomach churns as if to tell him he's going to rescind a meal, and his upper teeth find the lower set too hard.

His pulse elevates and he's suddenly shaking.

He exhales too harshly and her eyes find him, hold him, in them an awareness from before his breath turned him in.

A stop sign not far ahead so he drops his foot down to meet it faster and then finds the brakes harder than he should have.

At the sign he closes his eyes and inhales.

He turns a little, just a little, to see her.

Her dark eyes are so black here, they hold him at bay and show no fear.

She's taking the gun from her lap, he watches carefully as she opens the glove box, and slides it in.

This is calculated.

Her words on a screen, her actions in real life.

She's the same.

Everything she does so intuitive, her mouth and mind so well linked her body has no trouble translating.

It's not to calm him.

Not in a way that tells him she's afraid.

She's doing it to get him to snap out of whatever is wracking him.

He's never felt like this before, not exactly.

This is loss, it feels like he lost something.

She's licking her lips, putting her left hand on the center console to lean closer.

Tell her to run.

The voice begs.

His gut hisses at this, his eyes narrow and he says, "No."

It's strange, timbre bizarre.

Inhuman.

So, she leans closer.

His eyes contract and dilate so fast she could have imagined it.

But she didn't.

He's fighting a war.

She can tell, he's right on the edge.

What is it?

Fingers want to touch her lips.

Lips want to set her free.

Tell her to go.

He shakes his head, is able to hold his tongue.

She's suddenly afraid, but not of him.

She feels his legs on either side of the fence and wants him to choose her, wants it desperately can't fathom why she needs this strange beast so badly.

It's not just because she knows there's a broken little boy inside it.

"Tyler."

Her soft voice stuns the turbulent silence.

It's commanding him, he wants to obey and finds he's able.

His pupils find and set on her.

Both afraid and unaware.

It's here, he'll make a choice and she should let him.

It's fair to let him.

Her mind is dead set on doing exactly as logic demands she should.

Her gut?

He watches in what feels like slow motion as her lips part, as her voice forms the words,

"Touch me."

His jaw unhinges just so.

Eyes widen to let her take in every facet.

His breath warm against her face.

She can't stop her eyes from finding his mouth.

He has a death grip on the wheel, when he finds he will jump at her, he's able to do one thing he's proud of.

Give her one last out.

"Lace?"

His voice box is clear, it's asking, "Are you sure?"

His mind?

Frozen, here's the clincher...

She knows just what to say.

"Please."

Not begging, but not patronizing.

She wants him, and the path is set.

His breath comes out in a throat groan, almost inaudible, his eyes rage as his hands loose their grip on the wheel and he turns fully to find his flesh and blood mate, her hands already on him.

She's got her fingers around the back of his neck, cupping, stroking the short bristle of his hair.

Her left hand on his chest, finding his coat, grabbing the opening and pulling him to her.

Had to.

His face almost touching hers, hand around her cheek, arm about her ribs, eyes staring his lips down as he says, "You asked for this."

Her eyes have to close at this intensity.

It's a warning, but so heated she whimpers without thought and it's done.

No going back.

He's throwing the door open, marching around the car and pulling her out.

It's so fast she wouldn't have time to protest.

Even if she wanted to.

He's got her against him, she feels and hears the back door open and she's being tossed in, he's unbuttoning her coat like he's the one who owns it, tugging off her jeans with a practiced hand that flaunts dexterity he may be unaware is impeccable.

He's on his knees between her legs, unbuckling while looking down in her with a terrible glare.

She's in shock, chest up and down fast, open mouth panting in anticipation.

He's got his length in one hand and strokes it. "You want this?"

Her eyes blink hard at his rigged cock and she squeezes her eyes tightly shut.

Too good.

"Lace." asking her to wake up.

She exhales, "Yes."

And he's dropping down onto her, tip pressed hard into her opening, she gasps and he grins.

He stretches his jaw, she hears it crack and he's pressing in, hard and slow, dragging his thick length into her unforgivingly, and her thighs come up and open to accommodate him, her left hand goes to his belly, he waits for her to shove him off and then her right hand falls on his tailbone.

Pushes.

His grin now, part teeth, part terror.

Joker like madness at her complete yielding and he goes balls deep, rocking his hips to grind her.

She cries out, her thighs shake around his hip bones and he draws back sharply and pounds her hard, so hard she can barely catch a breath.

He sees and pushes it to the limit then slows just enough for her to intake air and smooth out her stuttering moan.

"Awww," he teases like a bully, then starts at her again, pounding so fast his balls slapping below get entrance and she's struggling to keep up with him.

She tries to rise up but he pushes her down with his body weight, then slides his hand under her ass, cuping it, pinning her into his penetration.

This drives her mad, and she starts thumping him, alternating between this and tugging down slowly, thickly.

Milking him.

He opens his mouth and releases a growl that's mostly air, shakes his head around and rests his chest on hers to free his other hand propping him up, grabbing two hand full of her ass.

This undoes her, and she focuses on how fiercely his head rubs her pussy right before her cervix and she cums so fast she didn't expect it, muscles kneading his member while he holds rhythm.

She's riding his cock, hit by wave after wave of deliciousness when she needs him to cum inside her.

"Fill me up." She begs into his ear, and he's leaning his mouth into her ear, "You want it in you?"

She inhales a hiccuping breath over his perfect questions and nods deeply into his neck and cheek.

She can feel his smile against her face.

He sighs through his nose, "I will only cum in your holes, you don't waste a drop of me."

She's feeling like his words caused a second orgasm, and with her jumping and spasming around his member again, he's not missing an opportunity so he drills her viscously till she feels him jolt into her deep, his cock pumping her, fingers kneading, mouth open against the cup of her ear giving her every gorgeous lust drunk noise.

She's sure he's cuming when headlights shine through the Buicks back window and her mind immediately remembers where there are, decided by the rise of the lights it can't be a cruiser, and is tempted to force him to spill but it's too late, the truck is honking and Tyler is stopped still on top of her.

Time feels like slow dripping honey and her brain is screaming for speed.

He lifts himself up on his hands, one on either side of her waist, and just as she's able to see his face the truck blasts it's horn twice more.

His face shifts.

Lustful to darker than she's seen it.

He's drawing out, stepping back and standing up.

He squints his eyes into the beams, trying to make out his victim.

She sits up on her elbows to peer out.

A huge F350 is loudly purring, and a furious arm is suddenly pumping fast, she knows it's to wind down manual crank windows.

She's irritated until she looks to Tyler.

Then she's afraid.

A different hunger has found him, one she's not sure she's able to feed.

"WHAT'S THE PROBLEM??"

Barks loudly from the cab, yelled partly to be heard over the engine.

Her mate, who now has a grin in his eyes that not as evident on his lips, is partly obscured from his position in the door frame, his cock still standing out nicely from his jeans, just leaned into the open passenger door well with his hands on the hood.

"There's no problem." Tyler tells them smoothly, the tone so wicked she knows he won't let the man leave.

May even gut him to show her what he's capable of.

Is she ready for this?

"MOVE YOUR SHIT!!"

The man sounds slurred.

It's late, she's wondering when the local cop who has this section on his route will come by.

Wants to be long gone before then.

She goes to reach for him, and his hand goes out, flat in stay down motion followed by the stern, "Don't move."

He turns, dick visible in the trucks headlights now, and offers, "See if you can make me."

The man from within the cab is throwing his door open then catches sight of the bare dick and curses, "What the fuck?"

He's tall and massive, power lifter build with an impressive beer paunch, light brown beard, thinning hair up top and soft eyes.

Shes afraid for him.

Tyler flicks his wrist and she sees a long knife glint in the lights.

Where was it?

His boot she thinks.

Now the man looks to the car and she knows what he sees.

A car parked at a stop sign, an abrasive man, half naked outside, and now a girl being told to stay put.

This roughneck is about to get planted for her, what will she do?

Fuck.

Tyler is stepping forward, the man's eyes are taking in the knife, likely going into fight or flight, trying to imagine if he can leave now and not spend every night wondering if he could have kept a girl above ground.

Alright now, get up.

Tyler is now marching towards the man, his body lithe and his hands ready.

Fast, she's up over the small space between the bucket seats, glove box still open.

Tyler feels her move and absently over his shoulder throws her name in warning, but he's too late.

She's out the front passenger door, resting the beretta on the hood, aiming it at the good samaritan.

His eyes are trained on Tyler, so she bangs the handle of the weapon on the hood just right.

She's got his attention.

"Whoa-"

She's not sure what she's doing.

Not sure who she is.

This separation from self actually does a favor, because she hears a dark female voice call, "Go around."

The man does a double take in disbelief, his hands up, and makes a strange irritated infuriated face.

Tyler inhales angrily and lowers his lids but doesn't close them.

Before he says another word, she racks it.

The man bites his lower lip and snorts, jumping back into the can muttering "Fuck this."

Tyler heard her rack the weapon and didn't move.

Now he watches the truck burn rubber backing up, he turns slowly to look at her.

"You didn't hear me?"

He's asking softly, but there's rebuke in his voice.

"Get in the fucking car."

She tells him, shaking, somehow still in control.