Love/Hate (Lemon GarouxReader 🍋)

Pure Madness

You fall asleep, finally making it to bed, pressed terribly close together. Not a word. Only the steady feeling of his chest against yours, breathing slowly, calming, the familiar inhale and exhale, your breasts pushed up against him, his arms strong against your back.

You share a deep, contented sleep enveloped in protective darkness. If only the still weak morning light didn't decide to make its inevitable appearance through your open curtains rousing Garou, with his keen senses, first.
It takes him a moment to recall where he is and why and when he quickly does remember, feeling your warm, naked body against his, he decides he needs to prolong this heaven for as long as possible.
You're still soundly, sweetly asleep, recovering from last night's amorous exertions, but the light is coming quickly. He is conflicted. If he moves too much he might wake you, but if he doesn't the light will for sure.
He pulls his arm out from under you, slowly, carefully, trying his best to not disturb you. You feel something moving and turn onto your back, but thankfully still very much sleep, and kick the sheets off in the breezy warmth of the morning.
Garou, about to get quickly up and shut out the dawning light, pauses as the sheets fall to the side and almost off your bed. He stays calmly still, betraying no emotion while his heartbeat grows stronger, alarmingly louder inside. Even in the weak sunlight he can see... His eyes run slowly over your lovely body, completely exposed, bare delicate skin now covered with imprints of his volatile passion. The insatiable bite marks on your breasts, ribs, shoulders, thighs. The soft bruises blooming around your wrists and a little further up your arms, dark fingerprints on your hips from when you were on top of him on the floor...
The vivid memories return, flooding his quickly waking and alert mind. He retraces the night. Remembers the anger, no, the furious rage, the confusion, the almost violent frustration of not knowing, the agitation and then the relief of your open window, the absolute, overwhelming, dominating need for you as soon as he saw you with his own eyes, the brutally intense desire for you after all that. And then it becomes a frenzy, some sort of tender yet possessive madness with no regard for anything else...
But now, in a more rational and thoughtful state, the sight troubles him. His expression clouds over. These marks, they look painful. His unease grows as you continue to sleep, your face peaceful and serene. How the fuck could he do that to you? What in the fuck was he thinking? A hot anger begins to seep into him. An anger he doesn't know who to take out on, being the only one culpable here.
He traces his fingers over the bite mark on your shoulder, almost not daring to touch you. This can't happen again.
He gets up quickly and takes the few steps to the window, pulling the curtains shut, maybe a little too harshly.
The sibilant noise, the sudden plunging of the room into a warm orangey shadow pulls you out of your dream and you open your eyes. Though sleepy and still hazy you can make out Garou's naked back from here but something's not quite right. What are...? You're suddenly a little wary but not alert enough to quite remember and he's already turned around and heading back to you.
You prop yourself up a little on your forearm, hair a beautiful, disheveled mess as you try to cover a small yawn.
Ah shit. He wanted to make it more comfortable for you to sleep but just ended up waking you.
Your still half-asleep mind tries to put last night's memories into a coherent sequence as you lift one arm, bringing it closer to your face, examining the violet bruise on your wrist with a happy, sort of dazed curiosity.
"We really-" you start, a flirty little smile growing on your pretty mouth but you're cut off by Garou's concerned, intense voice as you find him right next to you again, your wrist in his hand.
"Sorry," he says. It's gruff. Not because of you, but because that self-admonition still simmers below the surface. He won't look at you.
"What...?" you're a little confused. Why is he sorry? That was...the most exciting, passionate experience of your life (so far). But he's not listening, kissing your wrist, slowly, carefully. Moving up, his lips now softly on your shoulder where his sharp canines had sunk into your skin. And then your breasts, one concerned kiss after another...
You find yourself sighing, head blissfully back on your pillow as your hands slip into his hair as he continues his hot repentant kisses down your body, making sure to not miss a single little mark, his mouth wandering over the insides of your soft thighs.
"I really hope you're not," you whisper into the morning, already losing your breath, as you feel something soft and beautiful start between your legs.
"Not what?" he looks up momentarily, his voice low, a little rasping as his penitence begins to arouse him too, take a firm hold of him.
"Sorry," you say. "I want it again-" you're about to say something else but are cut off by your own charming gasp as you feel his tongue on you, tasting your quickly growing trace of wetness, relieved to be forgiven, too excited to stop himself now.
"Mmm...!" your eyes squeeze shut as you feel his tongue hurriedly, enthusiastically on your clit, coaxing some more of those delicious moans out of you. Your hands rake through his hair and you're suddenly terribly wet all over again. The flick of his tongue against your still aching pussy from last night sends a wave of something like warm, unstoppable electricity through your quickly awakening body and you find you need him right now.
"Come...here..." you manage between moans, hands pulling gently at him. He obliges, running his tongue up your ribs, slowing right down at your nipple, as he comes up to you.
Your hands reach up to him, your tender impatience growing too intense as you feel his own hands on your thighs, carefully, hurriedly spreading your legs open a little more as you pull him down and he enters you, strong, easily with how wet you are. There is no waiting, both of you wanting it too much now. You wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts hard and breathless into you. You can't help it, bite your lip a little too hard, throwing your head back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, into your scent, muffling his groans as your own moans grow and grow, arms wrapped around him as he brings you and himself closer and closer to that tantalizing, aching orgasm.
"Ah!...Garou!" you grind your hips against his. "Mmm...! Ah! Like that...! Yes! Garou!"
God, he always knows what he's doing. You feel your own blissful smile as you tense up softly. How much did you miss him this week... A little more tension...
Fuck...how much did he miss you? It surprises even himself. To miss someone this much... To be so glad to see them again, be with them, be close to them...
"Garou! Oh! Mm-!" your back arches as he continues to enter you hard and fast and you quickly cum for him, wrapping yourself tighter around him. That beautiful subtle shake running through your body against him. "It's so good..." your breathy whimper, making him speed up, wanting to experience your pleasure with his own.
"Fuck..." that familiar, exhilarated groan at your ear as you feel him almost there. "Fuck..." louder, a growl against your neck, his fist, his grip closing around the sheet by your head and you feel that powerful thrust, a little pleasurably painful inside you, your body still tender from last night, and you feel him cum, his weight suddenly on you, almost crushing you. A content grin replaces those hungry growls as he nuzzles into your neck again. You are here. Tangible and warm and naked and wet just for him. You are here.
You sense his contentment and sink into it, just lying there, him happy and collapsed on top of you as you stroke his hair, making up for lost time.
You still have no idea what possessed him last night but are too comfortable, too content right now to delve into it.
Your hands travel from his hair to his shoulders, caressing softly, absentmindedly when something catches your eye. You become a little more alert.
What are these marks? These little light red crescent moons on his skin. You trace your finger over his muscled shoulder, following the mysterious trail. These marks, they're curiously just about the size of your nails...Hmmm...your nails.
Oh my God. Your nails! You suddenly remember it all and gently push him off you.
He looks at you, somewhat confused, wary. Are you hurt? Did he do something?
You crawl around on your bed behind him and stare in the muted morning light.
Sure, he heals so fast but it's still all there, fainter yet still painting a very clear picture of your burning desire.
Your hand flies up to your mouth before you can stop it.
He turns around quickly, your silence making him apprehensive.
"What's wrong?" he says, alarmed by your shocked expression.
"I..." now it's your turn to be speechless, to be sorry. "I'm sorry!" you exclaim. What possessed him? What about you? What in the hell possessed you?
The feverish marks down his back, over and over...How deep did you...?
Oh, that. His face breaks out into a relieved and then teasing grin.
"I'm really sorry," you say again, your eyes terribly guilty.
"I really hope you're not," he says, mirroring your words, mischievous as ever.
What? How can he not mind this? And now you notice the deep hickeys you left all over his neck and chest...
"It was something fuckin' else," he says as he watches you look over him. "You're wild."
You find yourself blushing just a little. He's right though...even you're a bit surprised with yourself.
"I-" you start.
"You're wild," he repeats, fangs glinting. "And I fuckin' love it," he says, pulling you towards himself, remembering how everything felt together...a tumultous mix of pain and pleasure. An unexpected savage yet beautiful experience.