AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This was my submission for the 2012 BILL-FICATHON EXCHANGE.

The receiver of this gift was: "MiHnn"

Here was the prompt I worked from: Bill/Gabrielle

To Unseenlibrarian & Ladysashi: Once more, I must thank you both for the beta and the encouragement on this piece. You were of great inspiration & are always good for my self-esteem. I lurf you!

Thank you to the Bill-Ficathon Mod – this was a wonderful fest to participate in!

DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: Post-Hogwarts, Epilogue compliant (2007).

MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Gabrielle Delacour, Bill Weasley

SUMMARY: On the night of the Full Rose Moon, Gabrielle Delacour comes to Shell Cottage. Her sensual, sexual Veela-half has awoken and it compels her to mate – with Bill Weasley. She is his ex-wife's younger sister, and his junior by nearly two decades, and he knows it is wrong to want this beautiful woman at his door... yet, both the man and the dominant wolf within burn for the lovely Rielle. With the full moon's sway heightening his emotions, Bill doesn't think he has it in him to resist her temptations anymore. But will it be just one night, where he can pretend he is well-loved by the woman of his dreams, or will he finally claim the life-mate of his heart?

RATING/WARNINGS: NC-17/MA - Explicit heterosexual sex (cunnilingus, intercourse in various positions), Explicit profanity, Voyeurism of a sex act, Masturbation while viewing a live sex act, Magical Being mate biting, Sexual Spanking, Pregnancy

French translation notes for the story: "Mon Chaton" = my kitten. "Chatte" = pussy. "Ma soeur" = my sister. "Mon loup" = my wolf. "Mon fils" = my son. "Mon père" = my father. "Bébé" = baby. "Mon mari et amoureaux" = my husband and lover.

**IMAGES for this fanfic can be found by going here (remove all spaces from the URL to make it load properly): http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / One%20Night%20To%20Be%20Well-Loved /

ONE NIGHT TO BE WELL-LOVED

by: RZZMG

Dressed in sapphire blue Parisian silk, black lace stockings, and black velvet high heels, Gabrielle Delacour arrived at Shell Cottage with a brave tilt to her head and a hungry spark in her eyes. There was no question as to what she wanted from the resident owner of the property... and no protest forthcoming from Bill Weasley's lips to prevent it from happening, either, despite the differences in their ages.

At twenty, his ex-wife's younger sister seemed just a baby compared to his thirty-seven, but stones, he wanted her nonetheless! She'd grown up into a remarkably beautiful woman, and he'd been watching her for far too long.

That Fleur had known of the forbidden, growing attraction between her husband and her sibling was part of the reason for her leaving him a year ago. Well, that and the fact that his wolfish tendencies – especially around the full moon – leaned towards the feral, in terms of sexual submission. After eight tempestuous years of marriage, his French Princess decided that she preferred a softer lover, and had packed her bags for Monaco to live out that dream with some prat bearing a noble title.

And now her little sister had come knocking on his door - tonight of all nights, a full moon – letting him know that the Veela heredity which had mostly by-passed her big sister had fully manifested in her... and the monster within had decided upon Bill for its annual mating partner.

Once a year after they reached the age of magical maturity, on the night of the Full Rose Moon, female Veela went into oestrus. The untamed minx within them would fixate upon a male of solid breeding potential, one whose pheromones were pleasing to them, and beginning at sun down, the couple would shag until the female was either impregnated or sun rise released them both from the mating frenzy the next morning. If the chosen male's sperm did not, at least once, ejaculate within her during that time, the female Veela would transform at sun rise into the Harpy part of her personality, wreaking death and destruction. At that point the Ministry would have no choice but to put her down, for the change was irrevocable.

In Gabrielle's case, she was being compelled to mate with him this year – or so she'd informed him this morning via Floo-call. She'd explained the details of her biologic compulsion to him and made it quite clear that when the sun set, she'd be at Shell Cottage for his decision as to her ultimate fate.

Bill had all day to think about the moral implications of sleeping with his ex-sister-in-law, weighing them against his desire to get inside her. He'd been dreaming of getting her on her back since her Beauxbatons graduation, when he'd accidentally stumbled across her enjoying a final congratulatory fuck with one of her male classmates. The memory of that day still haunted him, as it was the day he'd finally noticed that the little girl he'd known for years was a woman at long last – and a very sexy, desirable one at that.

Now, he realized that his time for internal debate was up. He had to make a decision.

Bill and Gabrielle exchanged no immediate greeting as she closed the front door to the cottage and locked it behind her back, her light summer cloak slipping off one bared shoulder, revealing the creamy perfection of her skin. Instead, there was only silence between them, interrupted by the rolling toss of ocean waves creeping up the shore with the rising tide.

He stood up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he'd been preparing to take the vial of Wolfsbane Potion that Hermione had kindly brought to him just yesterday. He might not transform into a full-on Lycan, but Greyback's attack had left him with wolfish cravings and drives, and they grew stronger this time every month. The draught was a precaution, laced as it was with just a tad of silver nitrate to prevent even the possibility of transformation. It usually calmed him, dulled his senses, and let him sleep through the moon's sway.

Now, he set it aside, his choice made. There would be no taming his animal side tonight. He intended on having Gabrielle just as he'd been fantasizing for the past two years. The wolf within him wanted to dominate the strong Veela within her.

"Take off your cloak."

Without hesitation, his witch reached up and unbuttoned the collar of her hooded cape. It slid to the floor at her feet. Bill's heightened senses picked up the slight increase in her breathing and in her heart's pumping as she stood before him, dressed for sex and ready to fuck. Her pupils dilated, and her pale cheeks pinked. Her red glossed lips parted with excitement, and her nipples became aroused points under the silk of her teddy slip dress. She wasn't wearing a bra.

Her reaction set his off. Her trepidation and anticipation of crossing this line with him coaxed the beast within his soul to come forward. His breathing and heart rate also sped up. In his slacks, he grew as hard as a steel rod.

"Slide your dress up and over your head," he instructed.

She flexed her fingers once in nervousness, then reached for the hem and drew the garment up, revealing her matching knickers.

"Slower, mon chaton," he bid, wanting every inch of her to be revealed at a teasing pace that would keep him hard and make him pant for her.

With deliberate, sultry grace, his former sister-in-law did as he requested, teasing the shimmery fabric up over her belly. When the bottoms of her breasts were revealed, Bill's heart rate skipped paces again. Her nipples came into view, and they were as beautiful as he'd fantasized – light beige areolas with a touch of a rose's blush to them. He couldn't wait to get his mouth around those.

When the dress was pulled over her head and tossed to the floor beside the cloak, he admired the view. Gabrielle was a lovely creature indeed – lovelier even than her sister, with high breasts and a long torso. Her hips showed the promise of widening with age, and although she was a bit too skinny now, he knew she would fill out as the years passed – especially when she was with child.

The thought made his loins ache. Would he impregnate her tonight? Did he want to?

He'd never been able to convince Fleur to give him the children he'd desperately wanted, as she'd worried that his "lycanthropic contamination" might breed through, despite the fact the Healers at St. Mungo's had repeatedly informed her that such a thing was almost too inconceivable to worry over. Still, conceiving a baby wasn't solely his decision; it was Gabrielle's, too.

"Are you on anything – contraceptive potion or spell?"

She shook her head.

Shite.

He inhaled, taking a deep, surveying breath. During the full moon all of his senses were heightened, and so on the gentle air currents, he smelled the salt from the sea, her spicy, exotic perfume, and the fact that she was very fertile at this particular moment. The scent of her in bloom – a feminine mix of summer heat and musk - nearly knocked him to his knees. His mouth filled with saliva.

"You'll get pregnant," he warned around a tongue that felt too thick.

With the seductive elegance bestowed by her heritage, Gabrielle practically glided across the floor towards him, her hips swaying, her long, blonde mane fanning behind her and curling at the ends. "Don't you want zat?" she asked with a playful purr, a sinful smile painting her lips.

Yes.

No.

He wasn't sure. She was currently giving off those bloody Veela pheromones, confusing him. All he knew was the animal he kept under careful control was mentally scratching at his restraint, begging to be set free. He wanted at her – now.

Her sharp, little fingernails were the first things to reach him, followed by the rest of her half-naked body as she melted against his form. Her arms sinuously entwined around his neck and she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "You want to mate with me, non?" Standing on tiptoes, she buzzed her wet lips over his. "You want to feel my wet chatte around you as you come, yes? Just like zat day you watched me, remember?"

That one sexy phrase, spoken from her mouth conjured up an explicit visual image of that one opportunity he'd had to play voyeur to her sexual exploits...

Shocked by his recognition of the female participant in the room beyond, Bill watched through the crack in the doorway as Gabrielle lifted the young man's cock in her hand, stroking over it once, twice with her nimble fingers, before placing it at her small entrance.

From his angle, he could see everything as she faced him in a reverse cowgirl position, her partner sitting in a classroom chair. Her robes were on the floor and she was naked from the waist down, a white satin, sleeveless shift blocking her perky breasts from his view. He watched as she sat upon the pale length of her partner, legs spread wide over his lap. The angle was perfect to watch her bare-lipped pussy being stretched open as she slid down the long, narrow length by slow inches. Her little, pink clit seemed to quiver, desperate to be sucked and licked. Her deep moan of pleasure as she brought them together had Bill's own dick twitching and throbbing.

As she fucked the boy, rising up and down over him, her rhythm fast and furious, he fixated on how her muscles bunched, how she ran two fingers in circles over her tiny nub of flesh between her legs to stimulate it, and how glistening her flesh became from her arousal. She was so wet that she created a small froth that coated her seam and her lover's length from tip to base. It made a juicy, squelching noise as they came together and pulled apart again and again.

The scent of her sex very quickly reached Bill's nose, and made him wish more than anything in that moment that it was him that she was riding that hard. His hand travelled to the bulge over his slacks and he rubbed. When that wasn't enough, he unbuttoned and gripped his cock in hand, jerking his fingers over the steely shaft at a pace to match Gabrielle's, conscious all the time that he stood out in an empty, but open hallway and could be caught.

She bounced, Bill stroked himself. She pinched her clit, he rolled his sac. She gasped, he clenched his teeth. And when she finally came with a cry, he did as well, although he muffled his breath against his forearm to keep from being heard.

As his heart struggled to slow in the aftermath, Bill weakly tucked his tired dick back in, and waved his wand with a silent charm to clean up his release. As he worked on straightening his clothing, he just happened to glance up to see what was happening in the room beyond and caught sight of Gabrielle moving. She slowly rose up off of her partner's spent member, and he couldn't help but look down between her legs. White, sticky semen coated her rosy nether lips, and dripped out of her.

A rush of dark, possessive jealousy rushed through him. It was so powerful an emotion that it gripped his heart in a tight squeeze and tore through his guts, making him physically ill. The feeling left him unnerved, questioning his sanity. Unbalanced, suddenly quite feverish and slightly dizzy, he leaned a hand against the door jamb, using its solid strength to hold him upright.

His gaze moved to her face...

The sweet girl he'd known for years – the one who'd become his Sex Kitten Dream Goddess in less than the span of an hour - was looking right at him. A naughty smile lit her expression. In that one look, she'd let him know that she'd known all along that he was there, watching her. She also let him know, by dropping her stare to the level of his crotch and then quickly back up, that she had been aware of what he'd done while he'd watched her getting banged about by some other wizard.

'Someday,' her eyes seemed to promise him.

It appeared that his 'someday' had finally come.

That memory was all it took for him to lose his bloody mind. Bill's control snapped in half. With it, his dominant wolfish side rose in all its glorious depravity to the forefront of his consciousness.

Picking Gabrielle up with an easy pull around her waist, he had her tossed down onto his dining table in a quick turn and drop. Opening his mouth wide, he engulfed one of her tits, biting down with enough pressure to imprint, but not break skin. She would carry his marks tonight, he silently vowed - all over this beautiful body. She'd never forget him and what he could do to her, even if she moved on to someone else after this, as her Veela genes would most likely compel her to do.

Her dainty fingers slid through the strands of his crimson hair and tugged. "Harder," she demanded, and he suckled her flesh with intense, bruising pressure, giving her what she wanted. "Oui, like that! Ohhhh, more, please!"

Gods, he was so fucking hard that each pulse of his blood pounded in his bollocks! It was sheer agony and pleasure twined up so tightly that he swore he was going to come in his pants.

Ripping at her knickers, tearing them from her hips, he threw the shredded pieces of silk and lace away, desperate to touch that sweet, damp core he smelled. She was so ripe, so ready for him! He thrust two fingers deep inside her and her back arched off the oak table. With an inarticulate cry, she pulled her legs up and dropped her thighs to the side, baring her centre to his full attentions. A snarl rumbled past his lips as he inserted a third finger up into her, stretching her out, opening her up.

He pulled his lips from her nipple and pressed them to her ear, panting hot air against her temple. "You want me?" he asked, needing to hear her yield and beg. He would have her submission tonight. "I think you do, Rielle." He called her by the special nickname that only he was allowed to use, taking pride in the fact that she had always refused anyone else using a moniker for her. "Say it, mon chaton. Say you want me."

"I want you," she whispered, pumping her hips and straining against his hand. "I want you so much, Bill! I 'ave for years. Fuck me. Please, fuck me!"

His mouth trailed down her jaw, over her chin, and hovered above her lips, the insistent plunging of his fingers continuing, his thumb rubbing circles around her tiny clit. "You don't want me to lick your cream up first, my kitten?" he teased, lapping over her soft mouth.

"Oui, anything you want, Bill!" she pleaded, pulling on his hair and at his shoulders. Her hips bucked to meet the surging of his hand. "Anything!" She started speaking in rapid French, as Fleur had been wont to do when she had been in the heat of passion.

He withdrew his fingers from her soaking quim and dropped to his knees between her legs. Swiping his tongue through the soft flesh of her labia, he sampled her honey for the first time. It was like drinking pure nectar – sugary, and too delicious to be of the earth. That boy she'd fucked that afternoon in the classroom had been a fool not to taste this before he and Gabrielle had gotten down to it.

He kissed her delicate folds, twirled his tongue around her sensitive clit, and lapped inside the gripping, heated depths of her cunt. All the while, uncontrollable, rumbling growls passed his hungry lips. Lust, hot and wild, held him captive as he delved deeper, wanting to taste the very heart of her.

Gabrielle squirmed against his mouth, her hands gripping the edge of the table and white-knuckling it to hold her body in place. Her breathy gasps and keening mewling grew in volume as she reached for her climax. With a final swipe up the centre of her seam, she came, her juices flowing over his chin as he hurriedly lapped to capture it all. Her cries were loud and unrestrained, and her thighs quivered against his hands.

Panting and boneless, his Veela lover went limp against the table as Bill continued to bask in her unique essence and ambrosial scent. Fuck all, she smelled so rich and delicious – primed for mating. She was more than ready for him to come into her.

Regaining his full height, Bill pulled her into his arms, intending on taking her to his bed, where he'd often fantasized having her. She wound her arms about his neck, and her legs around his waist as he carried her towards the stairs. They got to the bottom of them before he realized that her wet core was pressing right over the tip of his covered erection and was rubbing him in all the right ways. He was so close to orgasm that he could taste it.

Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he propped her against the wall and took a shuddering breath, working on his control.

She wiggled against him.

Ah, hell, he wasn't going to make it up the stairs.

With quick, shaking hands, he unbuttoned his slacks, shoving them down a bit, and took his cock into his hand. Lining their bodies up, he tucked his crown against her opening and grabbed her hips. With a forceful upward surge, he powered inside Gabrielle to the hilt.

He didn't give either of them time to think about contraceptive spells or the consequences of tonight's affair, as he began moving right away, thrusting hard and heavy, hitting his sweet kitten deep. His hips flexed, stroking firm through her tender, sensitive flesh. Sweat beaded his body from head to toe as the clenching fist of her pussy gripped him tight enough to make him shiver. His rhythm was set to relentless ferocity, and by the moans and encouraging sounds she made, his witch loved every minute of it.

"Fuck!" he shouted against her shoulder, fighting the urge to bite down and leave his mark there, too. "Fuck, Rielle! Take it... that's it, kitten. Take me!" He punctuated each demand with a hard upwards thrust.

Gabrielle's nails dug into his arms. "Bill, yes, yes! More! Come into me!"

The wildness of the night swept them both under its spell, and the sex was as rough and satisfying as he'd imagined it would be. She clawed at him, and he pounded her into the plaster, shaking a picture off the wall. It crashed to the floor and the glass broke, but neither of them cared. They were in the moment, and nothing else existed aside from reaching fulfilment together.

He finally gave in and bit down over the bend between her throat and her shoulder in the moment he exploded into her, his shout of pleasure muffled as he released hot streams of his seed deep into her vulnerable body. Gabrielle came at the same moment with a scream of his name.

Locked together in a tight, high arch, they simultaneously experienced the ultimate ecstasy, arms around each other as if they were holding onto the only solid anchor in the most turbulent of storms.

The rippling aftershocks of Gabrielle's rapture continued to pulse about him for several long moments after his own orgasm had wrung him dry. It was strange to keep feeling little electric tingles up his spine, but he rode it out, too exhausted to move just then.

It was in that moment that his little minx bit him back. She pierced his skin with her little, poisonous Veela teeth. As she had explained to him earlier that day, a female Veela's canines were coated with an aphrodisiac meant to inflame her partner during the mating frenzy. The chemical injected through the bite would instantaneously reignite his lust and let him go again and again – for hours. It was intended to guarantee conception would occur.

If the sex to come was even half as intense as what he'd just experienced, Bill thought it likely he'd die of a heart attack before morning came.

Despite his worries, his body began to respond. Still buried balls deep in Gabrielle, he was surprised to feel his cock already hardening in reaction to the chemical flowing through his blood stream. Within seconds, he was as stiff as an iron bar. "Bloody hell," he murmured, licking his lips and gearing up for round two. "You're killing me, mon chaton." Leaning his weight against her and the wall to keep his knees and feet under him, he struggled not to come again.

Gabrielle chuckled, and it was a wicked, throaty sound. She lifted her mouth from the wound to lick over it and he felt the tingle of her wandless, non-verbal magic resealing the skin.

"I'm getting too old for an all-night fuck-fest, but I'll try to accommodate your libido," he joked, taking her back into his arms and shuffling them towards the nearby couch. He was able to keep his trousers from falling and tripping him up, and to disconnect them just enough to drop her to her feet, turn her around, and bend her over the sofa before he reclaimed his position inside her once again.

Gabrielle let out a wailing cry in pleasure as he thrust shallowly and rotated his hips. Her fingernails elongated and punctured through the stuffing of the sofa.

"Bill!" she demanded, and it was clear that she expected him to service her as thoroughly as he had the first time.

Grabbing her hips, he slowed his rhythm, controlling her sexual delight with small surges that were intentionally meant to leave her unfulfilled and desperate. Tonight, she would know that he was in charge. After all, she had come to him for sex, not the other way around. She'd implored him to take her, so mate her he would. He would make sure she never forgot his touch.

"How bad do you want it, Rielle? Tell me."

She fired off a response in rapid French.

"English, kitten," he playfully reprimanded her, and brought his hand down on her backside in a firm slap.

She profaned up a storm in French, wiggling her backside in demand that he shag her already.

He spanked her again, then gripped her wrists and pulled them back until he held them captive at the sway of her hind. He stilled within her, feeling his need pounding up his cock, but holding it at bay by sheer force of will. With a brush of his fingertips, he pushed aside the curtain of her long, sleek hair and traced spiral patterns over her spine, caressing the dew of perspiration lightly coating her silken skin. "You're so beautiful, mon chaton. You make me wish I were ten years younger."

"Bill," she whispered, and he could hear her frustration in her tone. "Please! I need you." She pumped her hips over his length, moving him in a frantic rhythm. "Ma soeur had you for too many years, mon loup, but tonight, you are finally mine!"

He remained still, letting her impale herself on his tool over and over, until the pressure built and he knew they were both close to going over the edge. Needing to establish his dominance over her, the wolf within instinctively demanding it, he grabbed a hunk of hair close to her scalp and gently pulled her neck back. He bent over her body, pressing his mouth to her throat – to the mark he'd earlier imprinted upon her delicate flesh. Gabrielle gasped as he traced it with his tongue.

"No, Rielle, you're mine," he murmured in her ear, and bit down again, restating his earlier claim. He went right through the skin this time, and tasted the coppery-sweet-salt of her blood. She whimpered as he began moving his pelvis in hard, jerking surges. "Say it," he hissed as he pulled his mouth off, tugging her hair a bit harder and shoving into her with force, his bloodstained lips caressing her earlobe. "Shout it. No, scream it for me."

"I am yours," she cried out, her passion gripping her hard and releasing her inner-most fire. "I am yours, Bill!"

He regained his height, never releasing his hold on her hair or her hip, pounding into her as her back arched off the couch. She looked and sounded like a cat in heat as he fucked her good, and blood beaded at her throat from the imprint of his teeth. "That's right, mon chaton. Mine. You're all mine. I'm going to fuck you so good tonight that no one will ever compare. I'm going to make sure you'll never want another man after me."

He did as promised, riding his lover hard - taking her in one position after another, all across the house. To his regret, they never made it to his bed. Yet, with every ejaculation into her, the beast within him took greater control until finally this last time, he felt a queer knot swell in the centre of his cock, locking him into her in the way of mating wolves. Wedged tight against the opening of her womb, he shot his life-giving seed deep within her and howled in triumph to the moon.

When the swelling diminished and he could finally pull out, he bit her again, and this time, he felt the canines at the side of his mouth sink deep. My mate, he thought, nuzzling and licking over the wound as possessive, canine growls rumbled from his throat. MINE. Only mine.

They collapsed in a tangled, exhausted heap at sunrise on the fur rug before the fire.

When he awoke later that day, Rielle was gone.

X~~~~~X

For six weeks, Bill searched for Gabrielle. He sent out inquiries through the wizarding world, using every connection his family had to try to find the woman he'd bonded with during the Full Rose Moon, but it seemed that his little kitten had disappeared off the face of the earth after their one night together.

In desperation, he went to Beaune in France and begged her family to tell him where she was. To say that Marcelle and Apolline Delacour were shocked at his news of his having mated their daughter, and that he believed she had conceived his child, was an understatement. The patriarch of the family frowned at him in sharp disapproval. His former mother-in-law, however, merely gave him a sympathetic look.

"I am sorry, Bill," the elegant blonde gently apologized as her husband shot off a stream of French in an angry tone, "but we have not seen or spoken to Gabrielle in weeks, either. She eeze hiding, I think."

"From what?" he demanded, his frustrations barely contained. A growl rumbled through his chest, and he rubbed over it in circles to keep it contained. "I would never hurt her. God, Apolline, I'm in love with her! I thought that what I felt for Fleur was real love, but this... What I feel for Rielle is like... I'm not sleeping. I'm hardly eating. I can't breathe when I think of her never coming back. I'm cold all over, all the time. The moon's hold over me gets worse every month. I feel like a part of me is missing - like I'm losing myself and slowly going insane."

The woman's eyes widened with surprise. She spoke in rapid French to her husband. The man abruptly stopped speaking. His face went white, then red, and his frown deepened. Bill could only make out a few words here and there in their conversation, most prominent of all "mari" or "husband," and "amoreaux" or "lover".

Marcelle left the room, his stride swift and determined, and Apolline turned back to him. "Eet would seem, you 'ave not just mated our Gabrielle, but you 'ave made a life-mate of her. Did she bite you?"

He nodded, pulling the sleeve of his shirt back to show her the mark that had never fully healed. The puncture wounds had closed, but the scar tissue over it was still pink and it was warm to the touch. "She said it was normal for a Veela to do so."

Apolline shook her head. "Zee Veela bite is meant only for zee life-mate. No other may have it."

He blinked. Why would Rielle have lied to him about something like that?

A small, accepting smile crossed the woman's face. "She 'as always watched you. We all know, even Fleur, but we gave it no mind. Eet seemed only a childish fancy. You are quite handsome, non?" She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "But I think she knew, even back then, that you were 'er destined love. Your attraction to Fleur was... how you say? Misplaced. Eet was Gabrielle you were always meant for."

He stroked over the blemish on his neck and closed his eyes to the wave of sexual heat that rolled through him. Every time he touched the mark, it was the same.

Strangely, what Apolline said felt... right. He had known that Rielle was his that day he'd watched another man take her. He'd never known such desperate desire or jealousy before or since that day. The sensations had nearly brought him to his knees. In all the years since, he'd gone out of his way to try to put his feelings for her aside, guilty for thinking such things about the younger sister of the woman he'd taken as his wife. It had been a losing battle from the start. Yes, he'd loved Fleur, but the intensity of that love on its best day wasn't half as potent as what he felt for Gabrielle, even six weeks without seeing her.

He had to find her! He needed her!

Apolline patted his arm once, before dropping her hand away. "Do not worry, mon fils. Marcelle will find our wayward daughter and bring 'er home to you. If anyone can, eet eeze 'er father. He found me when I ran from him at first, too."

X~~~~~X

A week more passed, and there had been no word from the Delacours regarding Rielle's fate. They had told him to be patient, to remain at his cottage for the time being, and to leave the rest to them. The wait was killing him.

Throwing a rock with all his might into the rolling waves of the Atlantic, Bill shouted a curse into the air. Merlin be damned, she was his mate! He should be able to find her, to bring her home! Feeling helpless was never his style.

He was so fucking cold, all the way to the marrow of his bones. It was a pervasive chill that never ended, no matter how many layers of clothes he put on, or how close he stood to a fire, or how many Warming Charms he cast on himself. He seemed locked in perpetual winter, both physically and emotionally. He needed his mate's warmth, her light, her touch to banish the ice within his soul.

Hell, since he was making wishes... Damn, but he wanted to mark her throat again! He wanted to feel her little sharp teeth pierce his shoulder, while they were at it. He wanted to shag her sweet, hot pussy until she promised she'd never leave him again...

He shifted his "package" in his jeans, trying to find some relief for his erection. The ache in his cock and bollocks was never ending, too. And the arousal grew worse around the full moon... which was coming soon. He groaned as he shifted his hips, feeling the hard rasp of denim against his sensitive, rigid length.

Godric Almighty, he needed her! Where the fuck was she?

A crack of Apparition up the beach reached his ears.

He turned... and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

His witch stood between him and the cottage, not more than a good twenty feet or so away. She was dressed in a sexy sweater dress that hugged her curves and draped down one shoulder. A pair of tall, suede boots barely met her knee. Her long, silvery-blonde hair was let down and her face made up in an attempt to banish the tired, haggard expression that chased her features. There was no hiding the shadows under her eyes, though. It looked as if she'd been running for a long time on no sleep. A brisk ocean breeze caught her golden strands and blew them off her neck, tangling them up, disarranging the image of polished perfection she'd tried to present him.

He'd never seen a more charming sight.

Before his brain could catch up to what his body was doing, his legs and arms were pumping as fast as his heart, and he closed the distance between them in seconds. When he came upon her, there were no words: he simply grabbed her and pulled her up into his embrace. They slammed into the wall of the cottage a few steps beyond that. His mouth latched onto hers a beat later.

Shite, she tasted so good! He'd missed her flavour, her unique scent, the feel of her soft lips against his.

With rough hands, he shoved her dress up her bare thighs and tore at her knickers, uncaring that they were outside and that the wind was cold, that they hadn't even properly greeted each other, and that anyone coming upon the house might see what he was about to do to her. Nothing mattered but being inside her, filling her body with his, restating his claim upon her.

For her part, his lover was completely of one mind with his intentions. Her little hands gripped his hair, pulling hard. Her mouth was as ferociously hungry as his. She let him tear her panties off, whimpering in excitement and mewling with anticipation as his mouth latched onto the mark he'd left on her shoulder.

He fumbled with the snap and zip on his jeans, and on yanking them down his thighs, but when the crest of his cock tucked in and he surged upwards into her, his balance and confidence was restored. At that point, fucking her with long, hard strokes was as natural as breathing.

"Never again," he growled against her lips, plunging his tongue between the seam once in an attempt to sample more of her taste. "You're mine, mon chaton. MINE." He punctuated the claim by powering his hips upwards, filling every inch of her, pressing deep into her core. "Say it, damn you! Say you'll never leave me again!"

"No, never again! I love you, Bill. From zee first time we met. Oui, yes!" she gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, and her arms about his neck. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she held on and let him ride her hard. "I was scared after zat night that you wanted me only because eet was zee full moon, and zat you would hate me for forcing zee Veela mark on you, and that by taking no birth precautions, I would carry your bébé. I thought you would regret eet all. But mon père, he explained eet to me in zee note. We are life-mates, so no more running. I am yours, mon loup. Always, always!"

He paused, nuzzling her neck, buried inside her to the hilt. "You conceived that night, then?"

She nodded. "You are pleased, non?"

'Pleased' didn't cover it. The thought of his child growing within her right at that moment made emotions swell in Bill that he'd never believed possible. He'd desperately wanted children for so many years, and to learn that someone – Gabrielle, the mate of his heart - wanted them with him, too... Tears burned in his eyes. Love blazed through his soul. "I love you, Rielle," he murmured against her ear, panting and shaking with the need for completion. He rocked gently in and out of her, though, wanting to give her so much pleasure in exchange for the happiness she'd brought him. "Love you always, always, too, kitten."

Her mouth pressed to his ear and she nibbled on his lobe. "Zen fuck me, Bill. Make love to me forever. Claim me again, mon mari et amoureaux, and I will claim you."

He gave her exactly everything she demanded of him, and after their first coupling, they moved their session into the house... and upstairs to the bed, finally. They didn't surface again for the world's notice until their mate-bonding was reaffirmed and Bill's wolf was fully satisfied that this time around, it would be well-loved.

~FIN~

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This is my first time shipping this couple. What did you think? Please review!

The Full Rose Moon occurs usually within the month of June. It's also called the Strawberry Moon, Honey Money, Flower Moon, Hot Moon, and Planting Moon.