Bill gives her a head start.
Not that she realizes it, or else she’d probably hex him. Still, he counts to twenty in Arabic because it takes him slightly longer than doing so in English. He wants Fleur to feel like she has a chance to beat him, after all, because it makes her more competitive. He likes the fire in her eyes when she’s trying to win, and it makes his victory even sweeter when she’s defiant.
Once he reaches twenty, he takes off after her. He runs faster on the sand than she does, though she’s getting faster the longer they live at Shell Cottage. The moon is full tonight, and he can feel the moonlight against his skin as if it’s caressing him. Another wonderful consequence from the attack by Greyback. Sometimes, he almost wishes he’d just been turned, so he’d know what to expect and be able to prepare for it. Instead, he’s had two years of figuring it out for himself and experiencing traits that werewolves possess but weaker versions, just urges and feelings that don’t overtake his senses or make him dangerous.
The need to run on the full moon is one of those traits.
It’s like electricity in his veins, wired to the lunar calendar, and he can’t resist the urge without becoming cranky and mean-spirited. Fleur’s the one who suggested going for a run, quoting a textbook on werewolves and saying it’d be good for him to focus his energy in a way that doesn’t make her want to curse him. It’s worked, and it’s another reason he’s glad his wife is so bloody smart. Her beauty tends to distract most people from realizing just how intelligent she is, which works in his favor because he’s not one who has ever been swayed by a pretty face before, so it took realizing she was clever for him to even start flirting with her.
It doesn’t matter how pretty or smart she is when he’s chasing her on nights of the full moon, though. She’s prey, and he’s hunting her. He can almost smell the scent of her in the air, and he picks up speed as runs barefoot across the beach. The wet sand sticks to his feet, waves lapping at his skin as he splashes in the ocean water. He’s almost there. She’s just ahead of him, the moonlight illuminating her pale blonde hair like a beacon calling out to him.
When his fingertips brush against her shoulder, she tries to run faster, but it’s too late. He’s caught his prey, she’s his and he’s not letting go. He takes her down on the wet sand, rolling her over and kissing her as the tide comes in. It’s wet but not cold enough to bother him, not when his blood is on fire and she’s so warm beneath him. He slides into her easily, her cunt already wet from her excitement at the chase. She claws at his back and pulls his hair, fighting him the way he needs, and he fucks her harder, growling against her neck and claiming her again and again as the moon shines down on them.
End
Moonlit Run
Story Notes:
10/9/14