"It's meant to feel good," he breathed between their kisses.  "Before too long, it's going to feel better, when I'm moving inside of you."  His hand went between her legs, stroking the skin on the inside of her thigh, then up to touch her sex before circling around to hold her hip.  He did this and kissed her, too, almost pushing the two of them underwater as he tasted her, sucked at her tongue, her lower lip, kissed her, again.  He wanted her badly enough that he put aside all worried about Blackvayne or the nagging feeling he had.  He ached for her, in his heart, in his cock, he wanted to touch her and not stop.<br/><br/>Under that, though, as their minds mixed up, there was beneath the lust and need that erased his thoughts something dark.  It moved just under the surface of his mind, the surface of his skin.  Many werewolves spoke of the Beast - their animal nature - as a thing apart from their humanity.  In Geraint's case, though, it was not fully true.  The darkness in him, the thing apart, wasn't natural.  Calling it a<i>beast </i>was an injustice to animal nature.  It was cruel for cruelty's sake, it was bent towards destruction for the pleasure it brought, yearned for chaos with ferocity and intent that was alien to an animal's nature - but neither was it anything human, either.  If it was a wolf, it was more akin to something out of mythology - the wolf that eats the sun, the wolf that ends the world.<br/><br/>But Geraint ignored that because it was under wraps.  He paid attention to Vara's body, pulling a leg over his hip, holding it there so she could feel his erection pressed against her belly as he moved from kissing her mouth to kissing the skin of her throat.  His other hand no longer held the edge of the tub, but was on her body, too, her belly, her flank, her breast.