A Salacious Declaration

Transcript

Alright, today, I have something a little different to share. This is a letter from a secret admirer, well, he's a secret to you. I am fortunate enough to call him my friend, and to have been gifted with a very touching description of the effect that I've had on him.

Oh, and before I start, ladies, he is single. Well, let's get to it. A salacious declaration.

What words are there in the tongues of men to do justice upon admiration for you, fair fae? Surely, in all the flowery poems of earth, the ballads some great wordsmith would offer me hope in facing this impossible task. Perhaps a sliver of courage to dig deep into the hidden places of myself, in service to the desire to thank you properly.

Maybe, to start, I could speak of the despicably delightful shiver down my spine when I hear that throaty whisper in my ear, mischievous and thick with a thousand lusty promises of what's to come. The heat I feel as a flush blooms across my skin, driving me to distraction as I struggle to remain in control. Could I forget the sinfully warm, demure purr or the glint of dark mischief in those pretty eyes? How that feeds a part of me long buried, pulling at the chains of petty civility and burdensome duty with ever-growing urgency, eager to be unleashed as it catches your scent, remembering those glorious breasts laid bare close to driving a man to madness, into a frenzy more akin to a savage beast than a civilized soul.

That is the gift of which I'm most grateful. Good girl. You reminded me of the animal self, the savage spirit too long left to dwell in darkness, and now possessed with visions of what a fateful meeting betwixt us might incur.

Would you care to know how that would unfold, with someone just as much a beast as a man, stalking about you as a wolf nearly feral with want, with need, so close to snapping at the last vestiges of composure as I listen to your breath hitch with every step nearer I take? How I'd admire the shape of you, the smell of you, the feeling of your shudder as I graze my teeth along the back of your neck, growling, threading my fingers through your hair to draw you aside and expose that tender spot where neck and chest meet as the other pulls you to me, pressed against my body, and then, the final deep breath before the plunge, teeth pricking your skin hard and urgent. After a moment to relish the shivering moan I coax from you and your racing pulse, I pull back to rasp in your ear about how I'm going to commit myself utterly to the task of fulfilling your desires.

Both hands would roam the front of you, caressing every curve and squeezing your breasts as I kiss and bite my way up your neck to travel along your jawline. As one begins to tweak those proud nipples, I'd use the other to tilt your head toward me so I could take you in a deep kiss, unable to resist the pull of gravity emitted by those enticing lips. I marvel at you, this whimpering, completely magnificent human in my arms.

What epic miracle do I have to thank for even the faintest hint of reality in this fantasy? What could I conjure with the meager language of humanity to capture the majesty of the wild creature before me? How could I worship at this temple of pleasure? Awestruck by the opening notes of a depraved symphony we've only just begun to write, a man might quail before such a task, balk at the daunting odds of succeeding in such a mighty quest.

This is where the beast, ravenous in his thirst for you, would finally be set loose to join with my well-mannered half, and perhaps together find the strength to give you everything I've got. Now I must rest for a spell, to gather my wits and muster my courage to embark on this grand, joyous affair. I promise you will not find me wanting in my devotion, my profound need to see you satisfied when that moment arrives.

Then the dam within cracks as I realize the inevitable has arrived, the moment of transformation as I meet the primordial thing that lives in my heart. Raw, undulterated passion erases the final barrier that separates me from the primal avatar that takes shape in my mind's eye. Through the haze, the silhouette shifting through several distinct figures before settling, for now, on the shape of a lean, restless werewolf.

Not terribly tall, perhaps, but unchained, vibrating with the effort to contain the relentless urge to breed you, because it, I, know the time isn't right. We clasp hands in that hidden place, an unspoken agreement forged that tonight there will be a union of purpose, to please the writhing human who's entrusted us with their vulnerability. The moment is approaching, oh yes, but it mustn't be rushed.

Newfound power sets fire to the blood rushing through my veins. As my breathing becomes more ragged, I made a new sense of the world around me. Gentle caresses become rougher, more insistent, as I endeavor to worship every inch of you with my fingers.

My inner ache is augmented by the heightened feel of you shaking against me, the sweet sound of your panting need, and the scent of your arousal tinged with sweat floating in the air. Where before I feared being incapable of bringing you to the peak which you seek so fervently, I now look upon the challenge with anticipation, as the wildness I once feared sears every nerve ending in preparation for the pounce. Hesitation, fleeting and unwelcome, banished in the blaze of wanton lust that howls within me, far and above anything a tamed man might know.

More frequently, I nip at your ears, sink my teeth into your neck and shoulders to convey that though the moment has not yet come, when it does, you will be bred good and fucking proper in every way you desire until we're utterly spent. Mere admiration is incapable of encompassing the lengths and depths to which we will travel together, a faint hint of the harvest to come. As with all good things, my good girl, we must be patient until the time is right.

Sincerely, your admirer.