The Runt and the Lycan King

Worshipping the Runt

The morning air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and the lingering sting of tequila, but all I could feel was the heat radiating from Ethan’s body. When his lips met my neck, the world didn't just blur; it vibrated. A low gasp escaped me, my body humming with a frequency I had never felt before. I was frozen, my eyes fluttering shut as the "runt" inside me finally felt seen, felt claimed.

"Ethan," I whispered, the name a plea and a question all at once. I knew he had a girlfriend. I knew Lydia was waiting for him somewhere in the sunlight while we were drowning in the shadows of my living room.

He didn't answer with words. He cupped my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my chin as he tilted my head back, trailing searing kisses up my jawline until his mouth crashed against mine. It started slow, almost testing, before the hunger took over.

When he moved me to straddle him, panic flared in my chest.

"Ethan, you have a girlfriend," I managed to choke out, pulling back just an inch.

"It’s okay," he rasped, his eyes dark with a predatory heat that made my skin prickle. He didn't explain. He didn't justify. He just pulled me back into a kiss that tasted like a promise he had no intention of keeping.

I knew it was wrong. I knew I was playing with fire, but this was Ethan Kane. He was the sun, and I had spent my whole life shivering in the dark.

He reached for the hem of my hoodie, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. I wasn't wearing a bra, and as the cool air hit my skin, I felt a sharp spike of vulnerability—until Ethan let out a low, guttural growl. He looked at me like I was a feast.

"Your breasts are perfect," he muttered, his voice thick as he leaned forward, devouring one with a hunger that made me arch my back. I found my fingers tangling in his golden hair, pulling him closer.

"I know," I breathed. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like the runt. I felt like a goddess.

He didn't waste another second. He scooped me up, his strength effortless, and carried me into my bedroom. When my back hit the mattress, reality tried to claw its way back in. As he tugged my leggings down, I reached out, my voice trembling.

"Wait, Ethan... you should know. I'm a virgin."

His eyes lit up, a flash of something possessive and ancient crossing his face. "It’s okay, Rachel. I’ll go slow."

He moved down the bed, his hands spreading my knees wide. I felt the heat of his breath against my inner thighs before his tongue made contact, a slow, deliberate stroke that made my toes curl into the sheets. He was thorough, licking my p**sy with a focused intensity that made the room spin. The sensation was electric, a sharp contrast to the dull ache of my first shift. I had mast**b*ted before, late at night when the loneliness got too loud, but this was a revelation.

I was screaming his name within minutes, my body shattering as I c*me right on his face.

He looked up, satisfied and lethal, before reaching for his wallet and sliding on a condom. He moved over me, the mattress dipping under his weight as he guided himself to my entrance. I felt a sharp, stretching pressure as he pushed his c**k into my p**sy, filling the space that had been empty for eighteen years.

He paused there, buried deep inside me, his muscles corded and tense.

"You feel that?" he whispered against my ear, his voice dark and gravelly. "It’s like you were made for me."

The pleasure was a physical weight, pulling me under. Ethan picked up the pace, his movements rhythmic and demanding. I was coming again before I could even catch my breath, my heels digging into the small of his back.

"F**k," he groaned, finishing a few minutes later with a sharp nip to my ear. "I’ve never gone that fast before. You're so f**king tight."

I couldn't speak. I was just a mess of tangled limbs and gasping breaths.

He looked at me with a flicker of concern. "Are you okay? Was that too hard?"

"No," I panted, finding my voice. "That was amazing."

"Amazing, huh?" He smirked, leaning down to take my n**ple back into his mouth. I could feel him getting hard inside me again, the friction sending fresh sparks through my nervous system. I knew I should stop him, but my legs only spread wider.

The worshipping started then—kisses to my neck, hands tracing every curve of my body—until he suddenly gripped my hips. "Flip over."

Before I could even process the command, he flipped me onto my stomach, my a** thrust into the air. He delivered a sharp smack that made me yelp, the sting mixing with the heat between my legs.

"This may be more intense," he warned, his voice low. "Let me know if it’s too much."

"Okay," I choked out, looking back over my shoulder.

He pushed in deep, hitting a spot that made me see stars. He started slow, but as my moans turned into desperate cries, he quickened the pace. He reached forward, winding his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back hard. The combination of the pain and the sheer depth of him was too much; I came again, my body shaking with the force of it.

"You like it like this?" he growled, leaning over me.

"Yes!"

He shifted his grip, his hand moving from my hair to my throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to stop my breath, but he used the grip to arch my back, lifting me so the angle of his c**k went even deeper. I was seeing stars, my hands clawing at his as he pounded into me with a relentless, brutal rhythm.

When he finally let go, I fell forward onto the bed, my face buried in the sheets. He kept going, his hands locked onto my hips. As I felt the bed vibrate with my own screams, Ethan let out a dark laugh.

"Damn, babe. You like it rough, don't you?"

He wasn't finished. He grabbed my arm, pinning it behind my back as his other hand reached around to find my cl*t.

"C*m again with me," he commanded.

I lost it. I spiraled into a climax so loud I was sure the neighbors could hear me through the walls. He pulled out a moment later, smacking my a** one last time before collapsing beside me.

We lay there in the silence of my room, both of us panting, the air smelling of s*x and secrets.

"That," Ethan breathed, looking at the ceiling. "Was. F**king. Amazing."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the sound of our synchronized, ragged breathing. Ethan finally shifted, pulling me against his damp chest, his skin still radiating that addictive, golden heat. I let my head rest in the crook of his shoulder, the guilt I should have felt drowned out by the sheer intensity of being wanted.

"I have to go soon," he murmured, his fingers idly tracing the line of my spine, "but don't think this was a one-time thing, Rachel. I’ve wanted to taste you for a long time now."

I shivered, a fresh wave of heat blooming in my chest. He was talking like I belonged to him, like Lydia didn't exist, and in the haze of post-coital bliss, I was foolish enough to believe him. I didn't realize that for Ethan, this wasn't the start of a life together—it was just the first time he’d claimed a prize he had no intention of keeping once the sun went down.

I closed my eyes, breathing in his sandalwood scent, oblivious to the fact that I was falling in love with a man who was already preparing my execution.