Chapter 43: Cormac
“Are you excited?” Cormac asked as the silvered full moon sat heavy and rounded in front of them. That high up on the plateau, it looked to him like it was just out of reach; that there was a human somewhere on earth with arms long enough to reach it but not him.
The moon was bigger than he expected it to be that night. It rippled a lightheaded giddiness out to everyone in the pack. Cormac loved being affected by the moon, loved feeling it come forth in its grand fruition before disappearing slice by slice. He had been a little disappointed as a child to learn that shifters were not werewolves, and didn’t have an unbreakable connection to the moon like those old horror stories.
“Shifters control ourselves,” Tara had said to him when he was small and inquisitive, asking more questions than he was ready to know the answers to. “We understand the power of things but to ourselves, we are the rider. We hold the reins.”
Rituals centered around the moon, the seasons. They paid homage to mechanisms beyond their full comprehension, marveled at the winds when they picked up strongly in the middle of a ceremony, let themselves be humbled by the sight of far off rolling thunderstorms and the power collected inside ephemeral creatures like clouds. All of this was part of their culture but their decisions were made only by them.
Isabelle had kindled to this world of responsibility and control. Cormac had made it clear to her that they needed to wait until the next full moon to complete the ritual and if she wasn’t able to contain herself until then there was no point in continuing on this route.
“I get that we’re simple and all out here,” Cormac said when he sensed she was resistant to the idea, “but we got what’s important to us. We got rules that, ya know, make us who we are.”
After that, she seemed alright with waiting. He had woken up a few times to her lying next to him in bed with her hands down her panties, her back bucking as she brought herself to orgasm. The last time it happened, Cormac couldn’t pretend to be asleep any more. He rolled onto her, positioned himself in front of her eager cunt and began licking frantically.
“Oh god, Cormac. You’re killing me with this.”
He tongued her hard, his fingers slipping in and out of her. The sound of her coming was his favorite. Each time it brought him back to that night when they fucked outside, on her knees in the dirt. She growled like an animal; she moved like a wolf.
The ritual itself didn’t take a very long time but the waiting for the full moon was killing both of them. Tara had circled a date on the calendar then proceeded to watch them like a hawk. She seemed to be enjoying herself; she got a kick out of pretending they were horny teens.
On the plateau, cold white shine of the moon splashed across the faces of everyone he loved, Cormac didn’t feel like a teenager. He felt like a man; he felt like someone who had walked through hell and come out the other side unscathed.
The pack stood in a semi circle behind them as Tara pressed a handful of dirt into Isabelle’s left palm. “The ‘umans come from dust,” she told her softly. “We come from clay. We come from the molten core of the changing earth. There are ‘umans with enough ‘eat inside of them that we, as shifters, can’t look away.” She clasped her hand over Isabelle’s, her face smiling slow and somber. “You ‘ave shown us your ‘eat, Isabelle, and we want to share with you our fire.”
She kissed the tops of Isabelle’s hands then drifted towards the semicircle of pack members. Joey put his arm around her shoulder and hugged the tiny lady to him.
Isabelle held the dirt as she had been instructed to do. She lifted her clasped hands towards the expectant crowds. “To heat and fire,” she said, then jerked her arms towards the reflected glow behind her, and doing as Cormac told her to do, adding a piece of her own to the script. “To the moon.”
“To the moon,” the pack members repeated.
Cormac kissed the top of her head, pushing down on her hands until she released the dirt. “To Isabelle.”
“To Cormac.”
The rest of the pack drifted away. It was traditional to walk to the plateau for a ceremony, and Tara wasn’t about to let anyone get away with tradition. Cormac waited until he saw the group emerge from the bottom opening of the tunnel.
“Are we finally alone?” Isabelle asked. “After all this waiting, can we finally do this?”
Cormac pulled her into the cave, brought her into the depths of it where not too long ago a rival pack had coated the place in piss. Joey and Clint spent days restoring the place to its proper state; it smelled to Cormac like lemon peels and the mineral scent of being under an icy cold water fall.
“This is more than just where we finally get to fuck,” Cormac said, his hands finding their way under Isabelle’s clothes. “This is where you surrender to our kind. You’re human in name only now, and in order to do that, you gotta give yourself over to the wolves.”
He pulled her shirt up, exposing her high pointed tits. With one hand, he eased her skirt over her hips and let it collapse around her feet, shed skin, human and from a world removed from its source. His finger fit inside her smoothly; Isabelle whimpered as she clung to him.
“Who do you belong to?” he growled as he pulled her in closer. Wetness leaked around the finger plunged in her hole. “Who do you belong to?”
“You. Always you.”
“That’s right.”
He brought her to the ground, feeling around inside of her for the liquid and the heat she so readily provided. Her nipples pressed into his chest; he brought his mouth to them and bit down hard.
Isabelle shrieked and pulled away. “That hurt.”
“Wolves like pain.”
Isabelle guided his mouth back to them and nodded. “Do it again.”
When Cormac bit, she writhed and made whimpering noises that sat on the precipice of pain. Cormac wanted it to be pleasure but complicated pleasure. The type of pleasure that came from sheer exhaustion, from cresting waves of endorphins, from being unsure if it was time to scream or time to come.
Isabelle’s mouth closed around his nipples and bit down. Cormac groaned, pressing his hand against the side of her face. “Now you’re getting the idea.”
He rolled her onto her knees, examining her naked body as if this was the first time he had ever seen it. Each hole was spread and licked, every piece was sucked on, caressed. When he thought she was trembling and ripe with her need to explode, he saddled up behind her and slammed his cock into her pussy, his hands wrapped into her hair and yanking her head back.
“We fuck like animals,” he told her. “We don’t fuck any other way.”
“Never,” Isabelle panted as he pounded in and out of her. The weight was shifting in her legs, and Cormac smelled the building climax right before it shook her entire body. “Only like animals, only like-”
Her voice caught; her spine bent and flexed. Cormac held her in place, watching in fascination how alive her body became as it orgasmed, how it seemed to reach out and scream for something just out of reach. Like how he felt staring at that low hanging moon.
Cormac had to focus his energy to stop himself from coming once Isabelle had. It was tempting to but the only way the ritual could be done properly is if the inductee is spent completely, sore and utterly unable to perform one single act move. At that point, Isabelle had come once, and though it seemed to be intense from an outsider’s perspective, it wasn’t enough by a long shot.
“Don’t think you’re done yet,” he told her as she dropped limply into the dust and exhaled wetly. “This goes on all night.”
They were both sex drunk and tender by the end of it. That low hanging moon had made it to the other side of the sky; Cormac could see it from where he ended up, sprawled and sweaty and suddenly relishing the coat of grime sticking to his skin.
Most of the time in the cave, they fucked like animals: Isabelle on her hands and knees, Cormac behind her. A few times, she had been on top, her pussy swallowing his thick and ready cock as she bounced and rubbed her clit. Cormac watched the dark points of her breasts moving in the silver light. He almost came then too, and he had to bring himself away from where he was to keep hard. The ritual was important, and he understood the purpose of it but he hated how often he had to leave the moment as to not end their rough, loving fucking. He wanted to be there with her every second that he was; he wanted to be as present as possible, shivering with her as they exploded together.
He came just before sun up, a pressure of fluid funneling out of his cock and spreading itself sticky and warm over Isabelle’s chest. By that point, she had come so much that she could hardly lift her head as he dropped his body down next to her and rested his arm across her body.
“You’ve got your arm in your own jizz,” Isabelle muttered through her half functioning, swollen lips.
“I don’t care,” Cormac muttered back, unable to move out of his mess if he did care.
The sun started its ascent as they drifted off, half into sleep, half into the rush of chemicals released during such intense exertion. They hardly noticed when Tara arrived a few hours later, driving Cormac’s truck and armed with towels and water.
“You’re an angel, Tara,” Cormac told her once he realized who had dumped a cup of water over their naked bodies and tossed them something with which to clean up. “A perfect angel.”
“And your timing is wonderful.”
“This is not my first, ‘ow do the gringos say? My first rodeo.” She tossed a pair of clean pants at Cormac and a simple slip dress for Tara. “Put some clothes on you two. Let’s get you something to eat.”