The Suppressed Lycan Queen

June's Perspective

I moan his name, "Fenris."

His face is buried between my thighs, his tongue feverishly darting between my nub and my folds. The heat radiating from his skin is overwhelming, his scent an intoxicating mix of pine and something distinctly feral that makes my head spin.

He smirks as he looks up, licking my juices off of his face. There is a seductive glint in his bright blue eyes. A whimper escapes my lips from missing his mouth, my body craving the heavy, burning friction he was providing. His eyes shine with mischief as he stands up to his full 6'6" height, grazing his fingers over my delicate bud, causing me to gasp.

Already shirtless, he runs his hand down the deep V of his chiseled abs, sliding it under his waistband. My eyes are helplessly drawn to a massive bulge straining against the fabric, threatening to rip his pants at the seams.

I lick my dry lips; he gives me a knowing look as he pulls off his pants and boxers. My eyes widen, and I let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He is huge, in length and girth, bigger than anything I have seen in any depiction.

"Looks like you're ready and waiting for me," he chuckles. His voice reverberates in my chest, a deep timbre that feels less like a sound and more like a physical force.

I nod my head as a soft whimper escapes my lips, the need for him to claim me growing into an undeniable ache in my core. At that moment, he grabs my hips and plunges his massive length deep inside me. This causes me to almost come undone in that single second, a deep, primal moan escaping my lips.

"Good girl," Fenris says with a rough growl. "Now look at me and let me hear your moans."

He picks up my hips, deepening our connection. He slowly and seductively starts to shift himself, each time somehow going deeper, an overwhelming pressure building like a coiled spring in my core. Just as I'm reaching the precipice—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A loud noise jolts me. I gasp for air, my lungs burning as if I'd actually been sprinting, and swat blindly at my alarm clock. I roll over and rub my eyes, staring at the ceiling of my dorm room, realizing it is all just a dream.

I sigh, a shaky breath leaving my lips. Of course it is a dream. In what world would the most popular guy in school, the star decathlete, be into me, June, the nerdy girl who hides behind oversized glasses?

Little do I know right now, how wrong I am.

I sit up, the cool morning air hitting my skin. The lingering dampness against my skin and the heavy, rapid thud of my heartbeat are cold reminders of the fantasy. I kick off the covers and force myself out of bed, my heart still racing as I begin to prepare for the day.

As I'm about to grab my backpack for my first class of the day, I remember my morning medicine. I chastise myself. My father drills the importance of these little chalky, bitter pills into my head, especially since hitting puberty. I have been taking them for as long as I can remember, once in the morning and before going to bed at night.

I pop the cap off and look inside. My blood runs cold. I mentally count them, tracing back to yesterday. It is then I realize that I didn't take my medicine the night before.

I only have small bits of memories of my mother from when I was maybe 3 or 4, she's sickly lying in bed, all color drained from her face. In those fragmented flashbacks, she is always burning with an unnatural fever, sweating and shivering under heavy blankets as her body seemingly wasted away from the inside out. I remember the hushed, frantic whispers of doctors who could never figure out what was wrong with her, and the absolute terror in my dad's eyes as he watched her wither.

My dad says this daily medicine is to protect me from her fate, to keep whatever dormant curse claimed her from waking up in my own blood. So, I take it without asking too many questions, terrified of becoming the same frail ghost she was.

Panic flares in my chest. Is that why I had that dream? I wonder to myself. I swallow the morning dose dry, wincing at the bitter taste. I am not entirely sure what the medicine is for, but I know it has to do with my mom's side of the family.

My mom died when I was very young, so young I don't really remember her. My dad says it is to protect me from my mother's fate. So, I take it without asking too many questions.

Shaking off the dread, I leave my dorm room. While passing by the full-length mirror in the hallway, I catch a glance of myself out of the corner of my eye. I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face the mirror.

Confused, my brow furrows. Since when do I have any sort of a figure? I turn to the side to check my profile and I am not seeing things. My chest, which was as flat as a board yesterday, now has a bit of a curve to it. It is nothing huge, but it seems overnight I went from not even needing any support to possibly being a B cup.

How weird, I think to myself, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over me. I guess I should run to the store to buy a bra during my lunch break today, if only to hide this impossible change.

I run out the door, grab a muffin at the breakfast bar, and head towards my first class of the day: Organic Chemistry. As I walk through the quad, the crisp morning air does little to cool my flushed cheeks. Up ahead, I spot Fenris and the rest of the star athletes laughing across the lawn. As a light breeze starts to blow, I freeze. I think I notice Fenris lift his head and tilt it to the side, looking at me. I immediately drop my gaze, blushing scarlet as I think about my dream. As I gather my composure and look back up, his intense gaze is gone. It is clearly on the gorgeous girl next to him, paying me no mind.

I let out a shaky breath. I must just be imagining it. But as I hurry to class, my skin still tingles, and the bitter taste of the morning pill lingers in the back of my throat.