Title: The Jaws of the Wolf

Author: Janine

Fandom: The Hollows

Pairing: Rachel/Ivy

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own them.


The metal loops are cold against my flesh and a shiver runs through me at the feel of their icy caress. Jagged silver teeth scratch the sensitive flesh of my wrists, and then the cold bands close around me, binding me. The clicking of the cuff as it tightens sounds unnaturally loud in my ears, but my senses are heightened and presently everything is more.

Rachel smiles; pleased with herself as the cuff binding me clangs loosely around the bed pole. I could break the cuff if I wanted. I could break the bed if I wanted. But I won't. It is Rachel who holds me in place, not the cheap handcuff around my wrist, and it is Rachel alone who will keep me.

"Other arm."

Her words are soft and slide over me like a caress. She's described my voice as gray silk before. If I am silk then she is wine; rich, smooth and intoxicating. I could drink her to death.

I lift my arm and extend it backwards, resting my wrist delicately against one of the poles that compose my headboard. Rachel leans over me deliberately, pale breasts with pink, hard peaks hovering before my mouth, just out of reach. I could tilt my head up and claim one of the tantalizing buds, but she would be displeased, and would draw my pleasure out even longer as punishment.

She makes me behave. I like that she has that much power over me. I love it. I need it, like air, blood, the sun and Rachel herself.

My other arm is secured and she sits back, straddling my waist as she surveys her kingdom like a haughty god. She is supremely smug at the moment, ginger eyebrow arched as her eyes rake over me, and I like it. She has earned her prize. I am hers, and she can claim me at her leisure.

Warm hands splay out over my stomach and I breathe in deeply, stomach muscles twitching under her palms. She runs her hands over my heated flesh, exploring slowly like a conqueror appraising newly gotten lands. All mine, her hands seem to whisper as they roam up my sides, what shall I do now?

"Ivy," she breathes out. "Ivy, Ivy, Ivy."

She looks thoughtful and mischievous. It is a heady combination in Rachel and I shift beneath her, making her smile.

"I'm thinking such bad thoughts."

She punctuates her statement by taking my nipple between her fingers and squeezing, hard. She knows I can take it. I like to take it, and she likes the way it makes me moan. She twists my nipple ruthlessly, again and again, watching my face the whole time, and with every stinging flick of her wrist, I love her more.

She leans forward and presses her lips to mine, kissing me softly as blunted fingernails bite into the skin at my hips, marking me. My morning the thin, angry red streaks will be gone, but she can see them now, and I can feel them and that's all that matters.


Hands and lips begin to move with more purpose. Thought leaves me. It is impossible to think with strong fingers sliding inside of me and curling. It is impossible to think with sharp, white teeth chewing at my neck and hard, pebbled nipples pressing into me.

Sweat streaks my body and I strain desperately underneath her.

She denies me again and again.

She is in control, she has the power, and I will feel it. I will know that between us, tonight, she is the Big Bad Wolf, and I am Red Riding Hood trapped in the jaws of the wolf, helpless and completely at her mercy.

"Say please."

I don't.

She smiles, and it goes on.

An eternity later I am a panting, quivering, mewling mess, and half-mad with need I whisper, "Please."

She is merciful.

Teeth clamp down on my neck, breaking the skin for the first time tonight. Her thumb presses hard against the slick, stiff bud between my legs …

… And I break.

Afterwards, I am a panting, quivering, smiling mess, and Rachel is soft and warm as she snuggles against my side.

The scent of redwood fills the air around me. The room is thick with the smell of Rachel, me, sex and a hint of blood. I shiver as the sweat on my skin rapidly cools, and Rachel wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly.

"You're purring," she whispers against my neck, kissing the mark she has left there.

She sounds happy.

"I am," I confirm, closing my eyes as she softly tongues the bruise.

I'm happy too.

The End