(alpha girls in love get a wreck room for their ruts)
her body is full of static electricity, the need to move, to fight, to fuck
the room is plain - a desk, a chair, a double bed, a small fridge
her own scent is heavy in her nose - sex, salty and musky and sweet, pheromones, spilling from her like smoke from a censer
where is she where is she where is she
when the door clicks open, a snarl is ready at her lips, answered by a sharp, short growl from the woman who enters
so beautiful - she wants to rip her throat out she wants to kiss messy and sharp she wants to break her
"Oh, darling, you're a mess," the crooning sets her hackles up but she can't stop her body from launching, from taking the steps that she needs to to pin her composed lover to the wall
she presses her nose under the curve of her jaw, scenting and biting - not gently, harsh - she will make her lover a mess - she will make her beg and cum on her fist and with her teeth buried deep in the meat of her shoulder and on her thigh and on her strap as she breaks the bed
her world tilts as she is shoved back towards the bed-
and when they are sticky and sweaty and bite marked and the will to battle turns into something languid and dark, she will bite deep bruises to paint a claim in purples and yellows over her lover's body
mine, alpha, all mine











