?

  The beast entered the bar with a purpose already set in his chest. The place was small, worn thin by time and indifference, a sports bar in the loosest sense of the word. One flickering television mounted too high, showing a game no one seemed invested in. The smell of old grease and cleaner clung stubbornly to the air. It was quiet in the way places became when nothing new ever happened inside them.

  He ducked his head as he stepped through the door, shoulders brushing the frame. His weight settled naturally onto digitigrade legs, claws clicking against the floor before he adjusted his step. Dark grey fur covered him entirely, dense and heavy, catching the low light in muted bands. His muzzle was long, ears high and mobile, tail hanging low behind him with a slow, idle sway. The collar at his throat stood out immediately. Leather. Wide. Intentional. The metal ring at its front rested against his fur, dull and well used. The only form of clothing he ever wore.

  The bar noticed. A couple of heads turned. One of the regulars paused mid sip. The bartender looked up, assessed him, and gave a brief nod. Wolf was not new here. He was an oddity around humans. Tolerated, spoken about more than believed. For many, he remained a convincing myth that stubbornly refused to stay theoretical.

  Wolf inhaled slowly again. The city carried countless scents, most of them useless. Tonight, one cut cleanly through the noise. Tension, and frustration, not in anger but something more. Want, and need. It drew him forward with the familiar pull of a hunt he had perfected over centuries.

  He went to the bar first. The bartender did not ask questions. A glass was filled. Wolf signalled for another and held both in hand, the glasses looking small between his fingers, and turned. The source he smelt sat alone at a table in the back corner.

  The man was young, mid to late twenties, shoulders drawn in as if expecting impact. His posture was defensive, eyes fixed on the tabletop, jaw tight. His own drink sat untouched. A look of someone who had learned the hard way that attention came with cost.

  Wolf crossed the room without hesitation. He stopped beside the table and set the drink down gently, already within reach.

  “Evening,” he said.

  The man looked up. His gaze swept Wolf from collar to muzzle in a single sharp motion, then hardened.

  “No,” he said immediately. Louder than necessary. “Not interested.”

  Wolf did not bristle. He did not smile. He simply inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the refusal.

  “Fair,” he replied.

  He stepped back, turning away as though the exchange were finished.

  “Hey.”

  The word snapped out, edged with irritation. The man shifted in his chair, clearly annoyed at himself.

  Wolf paused and looked back.

  “Yes.”

  The man’s eyes flicked to the drink, then returned to Wolf’s face. There was resistance there, but curiosity threaded through it now, unwilling and exposed.

  “Maybe,” he said, “you could sit. Since you’re already here.”

  Wolf studied him for a beat longer, turned back slowly subconsciously showing off his form, only then pulled out the chair opposite and sat. The wood creaked faintly under his weight. His knees brushed the underside of the table. Heat of his own needs rolled off him in quiet waves, changing the stale bar air to his own.

  Conversation followed. It began shallow, cautious. The man answered questions without offering much in return. Wolf let him, keeping eye contact the whole time. He listened, redirected, matched pace. Glasses emptied and were replaced. The bartender kept them coming. Hands became looser, brushing against each other. Fur against skin, visible goosebumps on the man’s arms each time.

  As the alcohol softened the man’s edges, his voice rose. Opinions sharpened. Food choices turned into ethics, ethics into accusations. His hands moved as he spoke, cutting the air.

  “It’s selfish,” he said, voice carrying now. “People act like eating meat doesn’t matter, but it does. It all does.”

  Wolf’s ears angled back.

  “Lower your voice,” he said quietly.

  “What,” the man snapped, louder still. “Can’t handle someone disagreeing with you?”

  Wolf leaned forward. The movement was small but decisive. His head dipped, shoulders rolling, teeth briefly visible as his lips pulled back just enough. His voice dropped, controlled and edged.

  “Stop yelling,” he said. “I have sensitive hearing.”

  The table went silent.

  The bartender froze mid wipe. One of the regulars glanced over and then looked away, suddenly more invested in his drink.

  The man swallowed. His pulse jumped visibly at his throat. He broke eye contact first.

  “Alright,” he muttered. “Fine.”

  Wolf eased back, posture relaxing as if nothing had happened. The rest of the conversation stayed quieter. Closer. The man found himself more often brushing his leg against the furred one under the table.

  When they stood to leave, there was no question left between them. Outside, the city breathed around them. They walked side by side, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. The dark stretch of Central Park opened ahead, trees massed together like something alive and watching.

  “My place is nearby,” Wolf said. “If you’re willing to trust me.”

  The man hesitated, only briefly, then nodded once.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Wolf turned toward the rising tower of glass and stone, the park spread out beyond it like a private wilderness. He did not look back as they started forward, his tail swaying low behind him, the quiet certainty of a successful hunt settling comfortably into his stride.

  ?

  The lift opened onto warmth. Not the artificial heat of climate control, but the layered warmth of stone, flame, and living growth. The air held damp soil and crushed green beneath a ribbon of smoke. It settled on the tongue. It lingered in the lungs. Wolf stepped out first. He did not hesitate. The man followed, slowing almost immediately as the space unfolded around him.

  The penthouse did not resemble the building it crowned. Stone ran underfoot, uneven enough to feel deliberate. Growth rose from recessed beds cut into the floor and along the walls. Ferns spilled low across pathways. Broad leaves reached at hip height. Slender trees lifted their branches toward the glass ceiling far above.

  It was not a greenhouse. It was curated wilderness. The plants did not overwhelm the room, but neither were they decorative. They shaped it. Paths curved subtly. Leaves brushed against fur and bare skin as they walked. Once, a frond dragged lightly across the man’s wrist and he glanced down at it, startled by the contact. Wolf moved through the space without adjusting his stride. Branches yielded to him, then settled back into place once he passed.

  Firelight pulsed from the center of the room. A low stone pit burned steady and controlled, and above it a grand glass ceiling opened to the night sky. The city’s glow shimmered faintly overhead, but beyond the artificial light, true darkness stretched above. A scatter of stars cut through the haze.

  And beyond the far wall, framed in deliberate absence of foliage, glass doors opened onto a wide balcony. Central Park lay below like a vast black sea, broken by scattered constellations of streetlamps. From this height the city felt distant, reduced to motion and light. The park’s treeline formed a dark mass, quiet and waiting.

  The man stepped closer to the glass without realizing he had drifted. “You can see the whole park from here.”

  “Yes.”

  “You chose this for that view?”

  “And for the elevation.”

  The answer settled differently.

  Along the inner curve of the penthouse, art hung mounted directly onto stone. Woodcuts, stark and deliberate. Ships in heavy seas. Lines of men advancing with shields locked. Fields carved by battle.

  One piece held the man’s attention.

  An open stretch of ground, littered with fallen weapons. Figures locked in violence in the foreground. But at the far edge, barely suggested by carved shadow, a taller shape stood apart from the fighting. Watching. Unmoving. Almost lost in the background.

  A few trailing vines had been trained near the frame, their shadows falling across the carved battlefield when the fire shifted.

  The man leaned closer. “You collect these?”

  Wolf stepped beside him. Close enough for warmth to transfer through layers of fabric and fur. “They remind me.”

  “Of what?”

  “Memory.”

  The man glanced at him then, really looked. The fur. The height. The shape of his jaw beneath it. The quiet control in the way he held himself.

  “You live like this?” he asked.

  Wolf turned his head, just enough for one thoughtful eye to catch the light filtering through leaves and flame. “I live in memory, past and present.”

  The words were not poetic. They were factual.

  The man absorbed that. His gaze lingered longer this time. The earlier bravado from the bar had softened into something more deliberate. Appraisal. Curiosity. Heat, no longer sharpened by alcohol but by proximity.

  They moved toward the fire. Here the foliage thinned slightly, opening the space without surrendering it. Plants ringed the seating area but did not crowd it. Through the glass ceiling, the night sky remained visible, framed by upward-reaching branches. The balcony doors stood to one side, as the park stretched below like a dark canvas.

  The man lowered himself onto one of the low stone benches near the fire. Wolf remained standing for a moment before easing down opposite him. The flames cast shifting light across fur and skin, tracing the angles of Wolf’s shoulders, catching along the line of his throat.

  The scent between them deepened in the warmth. Earth. Smoke. And beneath it, something animal and clean.

  The man inhaled without hiding it.

  “You bring people here often?” he asked.

  Wolf’s gaze did not flicker. “Yes.”

  There was no shame in it. No secrecy. Just truth.

  “For this?” The man’s voice lowered slightly.

  “For appetite.”

  A beat of silence. Not uncomfortable. Charged.

  The man studied him openly now. The dominance that had quieted a room with a single word. The patience. The absence of neediness. He had expected danger in coming here. He had not expected to find something… composed.

  Wolf added another log to the fire. The flames responded immediately, brightening, heat blooming outward. He straightened and glanced back at his guest.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll be a moment.”

  He disappeared through a side door.

  Left alone, the man shifted restlessly. He ran his hands along the stone at his sides, fingertips brushing over cool rock and patches of soft moss. He was as lost in thought when he was snapped out of it by movement behind him.

  Wolf returned, the sound of his steps muted against the stone. The man’s gaze dropped briefly to his throat, catching on a change at the beast’s neck. He had changed collars. The leather was darker now, thicker. Nothing else about him had altered, yet the effect was immediate. A subtle sheen where it curved around fur. Metal hardware sat flush against it, functional rather than decorative.

  The man leaned forward slightly. “That’s new.”

  Wolf’s fingers lifted, brushing once against the collar. Casual. “It is.”

  “It suits you.”

  There was no mockery in it. Only recognition.

  The man’s gaze shifted as he looked at Wolf differently now. Not just imposing. Not just predatory. Handsome. Controlled. Powerful in a way that did not beg to be seen. A flicker of decision moved behind his eyes. Even if it was only for a night.

  “You look at me like you’re deciding something,” Wolf said quietly.

  “I am.”

  “And?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The man met his gaze fully. “I’m trusting you. Staying.”

  Wolf tilted his head slightly.

  “You trusting me,” he said. “That matters.”

  The man swallowed. “You said you had a surprise.”

  Wolf’s mouth curved, just barely, fang tips glistening just under his lip.

  “I do.”

  He gestured back toward the lift.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” he said. “Our night’s not done yet.”

  ?

  It was after midnight when Wolf led him back out onto the street. The air felt cooler now after the warmth of stone and fire. Traffic had thinned. The park loomed dark across the avenue, trees massed together in quiet contrast to glass and steel. They walked without speaking, shoulders grazing. The man edged his hand closer, palm turning upward. Wolf glanced down at it, a faint curl at the corner of his mouth.

  Wolf turned down a side street, then another, until the glow of the main road thinned behind them. The alley ahead looked unremarkable. Brick walls, overflowing dumpsters, a single flickering bulb over a metal door. But beneath the sights, the air hummed low and constant, the pulse of bass. The closer they moved, the more it pressed into bone. A rhythm felt more than heard.

  The man glanced at Wolf. “Here?”

  Wolf did not answer aloud. Instead he just nodded as he pushed the door open.

  Sound swallowed them.

  A narrow stairwell descended into colored haze. Light strobed upward in fractured bursts. The air thickened with sweat, smoke, and synthetic sweetness. The bass grew heavier with each step down, until it vibrated through the railing under their hands.

  At the bottom, a bouncer stood broad and unmoved, arms crossed. His gaze lifted, took in Wolf’s height, fur, collar. A pause. Then he stepped aside.

  The door swung open into a basement of light and bodies. Neon cut through smoke in violent flashes. Purple. Blue. Acid green. The crowd moved as a single organism, pressed shoulder to shoulder, hips rolling to a relentless tempo. Paint streaked skin everywhere, glowing under blacklight in sharp lines and jagged patterns.

  Wolf stepped forward into it without hesitation. Under the ultraviolet spill, his fur transformed.

  Invisible paint flared to life across his body. Stripes slashed over his shoulders and down his flanks, sharp and irregular. Not tiger. Not wolf.

  Hyena.

  They curved with muscle, bending and tightening as he moved. The blacklight caught in the darker grey of his coat, turning it into shadow and contrast. The stripes glowed electric against it, predatory and feral.

  The man stopped for half a second, breath caught.

  “You planned this,” he said, barely audible.

  Wolf turned his head slightly, one ear angling toward him. A flash of teeth cut through the strobe light.

  “I told you,” he said. “The night wasn’t done.”

  He stepped into the crowd and reached back once, catching the man’s wrist and pulling him forward into the press of bodies.

  Contact was immediate.

  Heat surrounded them. Music swallowed conversation. The bass dictated movement, heavy and unrelenting. Wolf positioned him first, hands settling at his hips, firm and unambiguous. He guided him into the rhythm, setting tempo, grounding him in it.

  Then Wolf stilled. Not completely, just enough. The invitation was clear.

  The man stepped closer.

  Chest to fur. Hands sliding upward, then down, testing. The stripes under his palms glowed brighter as he traced them, fingers following their sharp angles across muscle. The texture difference startled him at first, paint tacky over dense coat, but he did not pull away.

  If anything, he pressed closer.

  Wolf lowered his head, bringing his muzzle near the man’s ear. The bass rolled through them both, vibrating in ribcages and throats. His breath was warm even through the noise.

  The man’s hands grew bolder.

  They moved high over Wolf’s shoulders, down his sides, following the curve of glowing stripes toward his hips. Each touch deliberate now. Not accidental brush, not crowded necessity, but choice.

  Wolf’s tail shifted behind him for balance as the man closed the remaining distance between them. The difference in height forced an adjustment. The man leaned in, grinding upward into the line of Wolf’s body, testing pressure, watching for reaction.

  Wolf gave him one.

  A tightening under his hands. A subtle shift of stance. A low sound of a growl in his chest, almost lost beneath the music but felt more than heard.

  Encouraged, the man did it again.

  The blacklight fractured across fur and paint, stripes bending with every roll of muscle. The crowd moved around them, anonymous and close, but the space between them felt singular. Focused.

  Wolf did not reclaim control.

  Hands slid down again, slower this time. No hesitation now. No testing. His palms traced the glowing lines over muscle and followed them lower, fingers sinking into thick fur as if committing the shape to memory. The bass pounded through them, heavy enough to blur thought, leaving only sensation.

  Wolf did not stop him.

  Heat gathered beneath the man’s touch. A tightening as he travelled lower. A subtle flex under his hand that had not been there before. The difference was immediate and unmistakable.

  The man felt it.

  His breath caught.

  There.

  Not imagined.

  Not hopeful.

  Real.

  He pressed his palm more firmly against the length of Wolf’s body, exploring through fur, through paint, through the living strength beneath it. The reaction came this time without restraint. Wolf’s chest expanded sharply. A low vibration rolled through him, deeper than before, no longer swallowed by the music.

  The sound was not warning.

  It was approval.

  Encouraged, the man shifted closer, grinding upward with deliberate pressure, testing the response he now knew he could draw out. His fingers tightened, no longer tracing stripes but gripping, claiming space that had been offered.

  Wolf lowered his head, muzzle nearly brushing his temple. His breath was hotter now, uneven. Another rumble moved through his chest, and this one lingered.

  Around them, bodies collided and swayed. Light fractured across fur and fluorescent paint, stripes bending and warping with every roll of muscle. The world had not disappeared.

  But it no longer mattered.

  The man’s hand moved again, slower, surer. He felt the change beneath his palm, the unmistakable swell of arousal answering him. Not passive. Not accidental.

  He had caused it.

  That realisation altered him.

  His earlier caution burned away completely. He leaned in, chest to chest, hips pressing with open intent now. His other hand slid upward into the thick fur at Wolf’s shoulder, holding on as if the movement might carry him off balance.

  Wolf let him.

  Did not reclaim control.

  Did not reposition him.

  Instead he shifted just enough to grant better access, a silent concession that felt more intimate than any word. His eyes dropped to the man’s mouth, then back to his eyes, pupils blown wide in the violent wash of neon.

  Another slow nod.

  Permission.

  The man answered by tightening his grip and rolling his hips again, harder this time, unambiguous. The response beneath his palm was immediate, undeniable.

  Predator and willing prey, no longer circling.

  They were in it now.

  ?

  It was hours later when they eventually left. Outside, the sky had begun its slow surrender to dawn, a faint wash of grey-blue replacing the deep black over the park. The city felt hollowed out at this hour. Quieter and more honest.

  They walked with arms wrapped around each other’s waists, steps uneven with fatigue and lingering adrenaline. Sweat cooled on skin, wet streaks from each other’s excitement drying in the cool air on fur and clothing alike. Wolf’s paint had also smeared in places, the glowing stripes faded as soon as they left the rave, yet the shapes remained burned into the man’s memory.

  The man leaned into him fully now, no pretense left. “You still have sensitive hearing?” he muttered, voice loud and rough from shouting over music.

  Wolf’s ear flicked once.

  “No.”

  The answer was simple.

  The man huffed a tired laugh. “So that was what, just to shut me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “So we could leave sooner.”

  “Yes.”

  A beat.

  “And be alone.”

  Wolf glanced down at him, eyes heavy-lidded but intent. “Yes.”

  That was enough. They did not speak again.

  The lift ride passed in charged silence. The man’s hands remained buried in Wolf’s fur, no longer exploratory, just holding. Grounding himself in what he already knew he would have. The doors opened onto warmth and dying embers. This time neither of them slowed. Wolf led the way, crossed the stone and foliage without detour, heading deeper into the penthouse. Past the fire, the art, toward a darker corridor partially concealed by hanging growth. The man followed without being asked.

  The wilderness of the main room gave way gradually. Stone softened underfoot, transitioning into wide wooden planks. The air shifted from smoke and earth to something warmer, lived in. The bedroom opened ahead, expansive but dim, lit only by the faint blue of early morning filtering through tall glass.

  The bed dominated the space. Low, broad, layered in dark fabric and heavy textures. Not decorative. Built for weight.

  Wolf stopped at the edge of the room.

  He turned.

  One hand settled at the man’s hip again, firmer now. He drew him in without asking.

  Their mouths met hard. Not tentative. Not exploratory. The restraint of the night fractured in a single breath. Wolf’s growl vibrated low between them as he deepened the kiss, muzzle pressing, teeth grazing just enough to remind.

  The man answered immediately, fingers knotting into fur, pulling himself closer as if afraid the moment might slip away.

  Wolf’s hands moved from hip to waist, then lower, deliberate rather than rushed. He broke the kiss only long enough to drag fabric upward, impatient but controlled. Cloth hit the floor in pieces. Wolf pressed him back until the edge of the bed met the backs of his thighs. Their mouths moved slowly at first, then deeper, heat building between them. Skin slides against fur, as breath thickens, becoming heavier.

  The difference in their size is impossible to ignore. Wolf surrounded him without effort.

  The man’s eyes drifted down Wolf’s body, studying him openly now, curiosity and hunger written across his face. He took in the sheer length and weight of him, the unfamiliar shape, the clear signs of arousal. It was different. Larger than anything he had handled before. Alien, and undeniably tempting. The glistening pink shaft, veins crisscrossed the length of it, and that bulb of flesh at the base.

  He leaned in, beginning to lower himself, wanting to feel the heat of him, to test the weight and texture with his mouth.

  Wolf stopped him with a firm hand at his jaw.

  “Not yet.”

  He guided him down to sit on the mattress instead, keeping himself upright. The shift only sharpened the imbalance of their size. The man seated, Wolf standing between his knees. The man had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes.

  Wolf’s hand settled into his hair.

  He guided him forward this time, toward his throbbing dick, pre dripping freely from the tip and onto the floorboards beneath before the man took him into his mouth eagerly. First licking at the tip, before opening his lips and trying to take such a thick piece of meat into his mouth. The stretch was immediate, forcing him to adjust his breathing as he worked to accommodate the thickness.

  The first contact of the man’s lips drew a low growl from Wolf’s throat. His fingers tightened slightly in hair as he set the rhythm with a subtle rocking of his hips. Despite the unfamiliar shape he adjusted quickly, hands braced against Wolf’s thighs for balance.

  Wolf deepened the pace gradually. The man accepted more, breathing through it, forced to open wider as he accommodated the thickness. A strained sound escaped him, caught somewhere between a moan and a groan.

  Wolf eased his length out, now bouncing in the air with each heartbeat. The shaft slick with saliva and even more pre, barely a quarter of his whole hardness, before he nudged the man gently. The sudden absence made the man inhale sharply. Wolf stood over him, arousal heavy and unmistakable, the evidence of the man’s own hard dick glistening in the low light. He studied him for half a second before nudging him gently.

  “Lie down.”

  The command was quiet but firm.

  The man obeyed immediately, shifting onto his back and sliding until his head hung just off the edge of the bed. The position left him exposed, throat open, body vulnerable. Wolf stepped forward again, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of the man’s hips, and using a hand guided himself back toward the man’s waiting mouth.

  Wolf guided his aching hardness back into the man’s mouth, slower this time, feeding him more deliberately. The angle allows depth, and Wolf tests it carefully, his hips rocking back and forth and he slides even more in. The man tried to take it, determined, but the stretch pushes him to his limit. His breathing hitched as the depth increased, throat working to accommodate more than it comfortably could.

  A gagged cough.

  A quick tap at Wolf’s thigh.

  Wolf withdrew immediately, stepping back to allow the man to sit up and breathe freely again. His thumb pad brushed along the man’s cheek in concern.

  “Too much?” Wolf asked quietly.

  The man nodded once, catching his breath. Wolf studied him for a moment, assessing rather than reacting. Then he helped him lie back properly on the bed before climbing up as well, kneeling over him. The kiss resumed, slower but heavier now, no rush in it. The man’s hands slid over Wolf’s shoulders, down his back and sides, feeling the strength beneath the fur as muscles worked beneath. Wolf pressed him into the mattress with controlled weight, not crushing, just enough to remind him who was above.

  Growls and broken breaths filled the space between them.

  Wolf broke the kiss and began to move downward. He took his time. Lips and tongue traced along the man’s throat, chest, stomach. The man arched under the attention, fingers tightening in the sheets.

  When Wolf finally lowered further, he did not rush. He paused briefly, inhaling, taking in the man’s musky scent and heat. After a deep sniff and a few licks to clean up the man’s leaking pre, he opened his maw and took the man’s own throbbing length inside fully. His tongue curled around the shaft as he slid all the way down to the root, drawing a sharp intake of breath from the man as Wolf settled into a deliberate rhythm.

  Time blurred as Wolf maintained his attention, unhurried and deliberate. The man’s hands tangled in fur, fingers catching briefly at Wolf’s ears as his hips moved in restless response to the steady muzzle working him. Wolf kept the rhythm, his pace deliberately controlled as his throat worked to swallow all the man’s leakage. When Wolf’s head rose one final time to let the man’s pulsing dick bounce freely in the air.

  The man lay flushed now, breathing unevenly, eyes unfocused for a moment as sensation caught up with him.

  His gaze drifted downward, following the line between them, and stalled there. He stared openly at Wolf’s prominent dick, expression caught somewhere between awe and apprehension.

  “You’re… bigger than I thought you’d be,” he said. His voice lacked steadiness.

  Wolf showed no surprise.

  “I adjusted to you,” he replied evenly. “I will be careful. Especially with what comes next.”

  He shifted smoothly, hooking his hands beneath the man’s legs and lifting them with ease, settling them over his shoulders. The motion reinforced the imbalance again. The man’s back pressed into the mattress, posture opened without effort, cool air brushing skin where he was left exposed.

  Wolf lowered his head, following instinct and scent. His touch remained deliberate, methodical. He ran his cool nose and warm tongue down over the man’s balls and taint, following the smell and heat toward the man’s hole. With gentle licks, he prepared the man carefully. His tongue wetting the outside before he started using more force, the tip of his tongue working its way inside the hot tunnel. Each movement was slow, intentional, designed to prepare rather than overwhelm.

  He watched the man closely from that position, tracking breath, listening for hesitation. When the man finally relaxed into the contact, Wolf continued without hurry, maintaining steady pressure and rhythm, as more of Wolf’s tongue slid deeper. He moved his tongue in and out, stretching the man’s hole wider and slicking all the surfaces with copious saliva, ensuring readiness before proceeding any further.

  The man’s hands tighten into fistfuls of fur, as he moaned aloud at the already full feeling of Wolf’s tongue alone.

  “You tell me if it’s too much,” Wolf said.

  “I will,” the man answered, his voice trembling.

  When Wolf finally aligned himself, he paused as his tip pressed against the man’s twitching wet hole. Instead of just pushing in, he leant down instead. Panting breaths felt on the man’s sweaty face, their foreheads nearly touching.

  “Look at me.”

  The man meets Wolf’s eyes, shining bright with both lustful need and a hint of concern.

  Wolf presses forward, slowly sinking in.

  The first stretch draws a sharp inhale from the man, the beast was much bigger than his tongue was, the heat his dick made it feel like his guts were being roasted. Wolf stilled immediately, holding himself still, to let the man adjust to the new fullness. Wolf lowered his hand to caress the side of the man’s head, the other rested firmly on his hip.

  “Breathe,” Wolf murmurs.

  He took a deep, shaky breath.

  Wolf advanced again, gradual and controlled as he slid deeper, taking his time until the shaft was fully inserted and the bulbous knot pressed against the man’s buttocks. At first, he did not move. He remained there, deep and heavy within the man, letting him feel the weight and presence of him as Wolf’s length throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

  The man’s hands slid up to grip Wolf’s arms.

  “I’m here,” Wolf says quietly.

  Only when the man nodded did Wolf begin to move again, staying slow and deliberate as he started to withdraw, only to start pushing back in again.

  ?

  Wolf began to move again, his pumps controlled and no longer tentative. The pace built gradually, each pullback followed by a deeper return, until the man was breathing heavily in broken sounds, overwhelmed by the sheer fullness of him. Each thrust left him feeling more filled than the last, as if his body had forgotten what empty ever felt like. His fingers clawed into the sheets, swearing under his breath that Wolf was getting bigger, that it was impossible for him not to be.

  Wolf’s dick was not growing. The size of him was simply becoming impossible to ignore.

  The growing knot at the base of Wolf’s long length began to nudge more insistently, slowly stretching him open with each knock. The man’s body loosened around him despite himself, responding to the rhythm, to the weight, to the heat.

  The sound of Wolf’s body striking against his with each thrust grew louder as the pace increased, the room echoing with it. Wolf’s breathing deepened, grunting low, rumbling through his chest as his movements became more forceful, more demanding.

  The man suddenly cried out, body tightening with pleasure tearing through him without warning. He’d cum without ever touching himself, his mind blank as the sensation rolled through him in waves.

  Wolf noticed immediately. He felt the tightening around his dick resist his relentless pounding, the smell of cum thick in the air.

  A sound of approval left him, similar to a huffing chuckle. He leaned down just enough to speak, voice thick and steady.

  “Already,” he murmured. “You must have been more eager than you thought.”

  The man was still trembling when Wolf slowed, keeping his pace slow and steady as the aftershocks passed through him. He did not withdraw. Instead, he shifted his grip, grounding them both before moving again.

  “Hold on,” Wolf said quietly as he came to a halt.

  He kept himself buried in the man as he changed their position with deliberate care, guiding them both down the bed until Wolf’s feet were planted firmly on the floor. The man slid lower beneath him, breath catching as his legs were lifted and hooked securely behind Wolf’s arms, bent at the knees. The new angle changed everything.

  Wolf paused just long enough to let the man adjust, watching his face, tracking breath and tension. Then he began to move again.

  The thrusts resumed, slower at first, then building, the change in leverage making each movement land harder than before. The man cried out, the sound torn from him, hands scrabbling for purchase against the bedding as his body was rocked by the force of the slamming thrusts, sliding deep into his stretched hole, deeper than before. A wet slapping accompanied each entry as Wolf’s copious pre leaked out of the man’s ass, already full from Wolf’s throbbing meat alone.

  Wolf’s control remained absolute. He held the man in place with ease, arms braced, posture steady as the pace increased. The bed rocked beneath them with each hard drive forward, the rhythm relentless.

  Then Wolf’s breathing changed. His body became more tense, thrusts became more forceful, ground his knot harder and more insistently, demanding entry into the small body below him.

  A low, rumbling sound left his chest as he leaned forward more, hunched over the man with a tightened grip, claw tips denting skin.

  “I’m close,” he said.

  His movements became erratic for a few final moments, the rhythm turning sharp and insistent. The large knot pressing further in, seeking entry. Then he shifted his weight forward and leant right over the man and pressed in, grinding his hips as the last resistance gave way. The man’s ass finally relented and a tight, painful squeeze the knot slid in, locking them together, the man’s ring snapped shut once the massive intruder slid in.

  The pressure behind the knot was what Wolf needed to be pushed over the edge. The man felt it immediately. Not just the heat, but the pulse, the subtle swelling with each release, a sensation that made him gasp and cry out again.

  He felt every surge travel the length of Wolf’s dick before spurting deep inside him. He’d never felt this full before. The throbbing knot mashed his prostate and triggered another helpless climax that left him trembling more than the first time.

  Wolf leaned down over him as it happened, mouth finding his again. Their bodies pressed together, both loads of the man’s cum smeared into Wolf’s fur and across skin. His kisses were slower now. He slid a hand between them, holding the man’s dick and milking out the last few drops of his cum.

  “You’re doing so well,” Wolf murmured between soft kisses, his own breath heavy as his own orgasm continued.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “Breathe. I’m here.”

  The words continued quietly as Wolf stayed tied, in him, unmoving except for the slight hip rocks in time with each spurt, and the steadying rise and fall of his breathing. He did not rush the moment. He stayed until the tension eased, until the man’s shaking softened into exhausted warmth.

  Only when he felt his knot start to diminish did Wolf withdraw carefully with an audible pop, copious cum running down and out onto the floor as he eased himself free. As he lowered the man’s legs down from his shoulders he placed his snout against the gaping hole and started lapping, cleaning up overflow and soothing the ring. Once cleaned up, he guided him flat onto the bed, making sure he was settled before straightening.

  Wolf stood for a moment, catching his breath, his dick still softening and dripping as he turned away and headed toward the door, leaving the man staring at the ceiling, stunned and spent.

  Halfway across the room, Wolf stopped.

  He looked back over his shoulder, tail swaying slowly.

  “I’m going to clean up,” he said evenly. “You joining?”

  ?