CW: blood, loss of consciousness,
People sometimes ask why I love them so much. Guests see them locked in their crate. Teeth bared. Staring daggers at anyone he doesn't know. Looking more like a wolf really, but even more wild, almost looking not of this world. I tell those who ask, I love them because they love me. My friends don't understand, seeing only the rage my puppy shows when I carefully leash my pup up before letting them out of their crate. And even with a firm grip on the lead, I'm unable to prevent my puppy from jumping on me. My friends only see the scratches. The blood. They don't see how much my puppy loves me...
I wave goodbye to my friends as they drive away. I walk back into my house then pause, unsure of where my pup went. I call for them but they don't come. I go to the kitchen. Not there. Bathroom? No. I walk into the bedroom and immediately turn back as I hear a noise, only to be tackled, the both of us falling onto the floor, them on top of me. I don't know how they even got behind me, I thought I'd checked everywhere. Fangs thrust towards me, they bite clean through my leather belt and tear my pants off in one fell swoop. As much trust as I have in them, their strength scares me some times. I tell them to stop and try to push them off, but they only respond by pinning my arm down, claws digging into my skin hard enough that my forearm begins to weep tears of red. Fear courses through me, giving me the strength to throw them off.
They scramble onto the bed, fury in their eyes. I leap for the leash that trails from their collar, managing to grab it, but they take the opportunity to bite my shoulder deep, latching on to me. I wince, the pain immobilizing me, though I barely manage to keep hold of their leash, clinging to it as my last hope. They think I'm done, they think they've won. They release me and lick at the blood dripping down my chest. I will not deny, their tongue on my breasts feels good. They know this, too, which means they want something. Something I'm more than happy to give them. Surprise is the only tool I have left. Moving with as much speed as I can muster in my state, I roll out from under them, use the leash to position myself behind them, grab their collar to force their head down while I pull their hips back into me, thrusting my cock inside them. We stay this way for a few moments before reality catches up to my worn down torn up body. They escape my grasp, bolting for the door. But as they reach it their desire overwhelms them and they walk back to me. They lick my cock once. They bite my thigh. Hard. By no means are they gentle, they do not hold back because I am wounded. I have something they want and they take it, simple as that. They are rough. Agonizingly, painfully rough. They'll go until I pass out from pain, exhaustion, and blood loss. We've played this game before. Every time we do, I worry they might have gone too far this time. I pass out...
I wake up. Confused. Hurt. Unsure of reality for a minute. But when I open my eyes, my wounds are cared for, bandages covering most of my body. A meal next to our bed. And they're right beside me. Cuddled up, keeping me warm. They see my eyes open and lick my cheek. All is fair in love and war. They won this game. Time will tell who wins the next. I love my puppy and they love me.
