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Her scent was exceptionally overwhelming tonight. In this moment, with his arm wrapped around her naked body and the heat of her flesh pressed up against his bare chest, there was little opportunity to escape it. He’d woken up to the assault of the sweetness radiating from her coconut, aromatic curls and the pheromone heavy smell he inhaled from the nape of her neck while she slept.
Remus couldn’t handle it much longer.
The full moon was tomorrow night, which meant the wolf within him was craving to take control. Remus was used to the push; he’d been battling the same urges for years. Ever since he was a young boy, he’d managed to control the feral desires that tried to overtake his senses. It was never an easy task, but he’d mostly managed to keep the wolf at bay. Devouring others had never been an option.
Hermione Granger had been the downfall of his resolve.
Ever since she’d waltzed into his life, with a bouncing mane of curls and an astonishingly bossy attitude, all the defenses he’d spent his life erecting had imminently fallen. She was too pure, too delicious, too perfect for him to restrain himself from giving into the carnal instincts of the wolf.
Instincts that incited him to swallow her whole. Not just her body, as he had last night, when she squirmed under his weight, whimpering, and moaning as he chased her over the edge of pleasure with untamed passion.
No, he wanted to consume her by every definition of the word. Usually, it was easy for him to keep the thoughts of her taste at the back of his mind. Back in the occluded space of his brain that he reserved for the wolf, these thoughts could not disturb him. He needed the constant reminder: eating people is wrong.
He shifted, careful not to wake her as he removed himself from the bed and retreated from the room. He was eager to put as much space between him and her enticing scent as possible. A feeble attempt to placate the wolf. He made his way to the kitchen, where he set the kettle, and proceeded to open a window in an attempt to breathe fresh air - air that was void of her irresistible aromas.
His efforts were futile. Their trysts hadn’t exactly been going on for too long, but it was enough for her presence to be evident in various corners of his cottage. Even when she wasn’t here, her odor was permanently embedded in each room where they had made love. He could see hints of her in the lilies she’d placed on the table, and the pillows which weren’t usually fluffed.
Not to mention that the pleasant taste of her was still on his tongue.
The whistling kettle resurfaced him from his thoughts. He’d hadn’t finished pouring his mug when a sweet smelling breeze wafted over him, sending a chill down his spine as the wolf growled deep in his chest. He turned to find her at the doorway, one of his simple white shirts covered her body, as she leaned against the frame.
He tensed in a failed attempt to keep from breathing her in as he stared into her honey brown eyes that were wide and curious. She looked ready to provide comfort. Hermione always took care of everyone.
“I woke and you weren’t there,” she said softly, tentatively taking a step towards him.
“Don’t-“ His voice was rigid, pleading. A hand shot up into the air, motioning for her to stop.
Her demeanor shifted, curiosity gave way to concern as her brow furrowed and she worried her bottom lip.
“Remus, are you-”
“I just need a minute,” he said, interrupting her with far more severity than she deserved.
He watched her gaze flick downward, as her arms folded over her chest. He’d seen her retreat in on herself like that before, and he knew he had made her doubt herself. The wolf growled, exhorting him to sweep Hermione into his arms, to kiss the worry from her brow, and to hold her until she no longer felt insecure.
Instead, he watched from afar as she opened and closed her mouth several times before she seemed to finally make up her mind. His heart ached when she spoke, still looking down at the floor.
“Do you want me to leave?” Her voice was low, broken. Before they fell asleep last night, in a mess of limbs and sheets, she’d confessed a desire for them to be exclusive, and public. He had disagreed, saying she could do better than a poor, old, werewolf. She started to argue, but they settled on allowing him to think about it. Now,.She probably believed he’d already made his mind about rejecting their companionship. .
As if he could reject anything about her.
When he didn’t reply, she met his gaze once more. The hurt reflected in her eyes felt like a Diffindo straight to his heart. It was unbearable. Watching her stand there in distress was much worse than his never ending battle with the wolf.
He let it growl. The reverberating snarls took over his consciousness for what felt like only a moment along with blinding rage. Giving in to it was innate, congenital -
Natural.
When he came back to himself, Hermione still stood at the door. The expression on her face no longer hurt, but determined. She stared at him with defiance, realizing that Remus was only trying to push her away by allowing his self-deprecating thoughts prevail. He took in the surrounding kitchen and noticed the pieces of his ceramic mug littering the wet floor. He must have shattered it in his desperation of taking control again.
Remusshifted, facing the wall opposite Hermione, and before he could even rationalize it, he sank down to the floor. His breath came in short gasps as he curled into himself, holding onto his knees tightly. His whole body shook, while wave after wave of frustration come over him.
What if he failed to convey that his desires for her were beyond anything she would ever be willing to give? He would always want more of her because he would never be able to have enough. Despite how infuriating the desire to make her his had grown, he would never dare to sink his fangs into her soft flesh.
Several heart beats later and Remus felt her dainty hand cover his shoulder. He looked up to see her crouched in front of him. Her coconut scent briefly caught the attention of the wolf, before Remus was completely brought back to reality. She gently pushed his fringe out of his face, exposing his sweat covered brow. He melted into her comforting touch with a sigh.
“Remus, I need you to tell me what’s happening.”
She was so close, he could feel her warm breath ghosting over his face. He inhaled deeply.
“I-” The words lodged in his throat and he pushed them out with force. “It wants to bite you. The urge to mark you is just-” He grasped for words to help him articulate what he felt. Hermione deserved to know, but in the end, he settled on the one thought that remained clear in his mind: “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hermione blinked at him with her delicious round eyes. Confusion riddled her face, until slowly, understanding took its place. Then, much to his surprise, her eyes settled on blazing with passion.
He felt her lips crash over his with a desperate need. Her hands, no longer gentle, dug their way through his hair. Remus could feel her nails digging into his scalp.
It was primal.
Her taste was enchanting, it was impossible not to drink in. He’d never tasted anything like her before; she tasted hope and happiness, with a strong undertone of freedom. Her scent, inescapable before, now seemed to be etched into his very being. He scooped her into his arms and brought her close to his chest. She arched at his touch as he splayed his long fingers across her back, holding her firmly in place. They only broke apart due to lack of air. Still holding on tightly to him, she rested her forehead on his.
Panting, and through quick, slow breaths, she managed to whisper, “Don’t hold back on me, Remus. If he wants to mark me, let him.”