CircusAnimalCookie

the first time he does, pete opens the basement door to a massive wolf and has a minor heart attack. his maw is bigger than pete's head and it's minorly terrifying.

it's also really hot.

patrick must be able to smell it because he lunges, pulling pete down the stairs with his massive paws wrapping around pete's biceps. his claws would probably be drawing blood if pete had any in him.

hey, tricky. pete's voice shakes a little, blinking up at patrick owlishly.

patrick growls at him a little, jaw falling open enough to expose his oversharp teeth. pete winces back. maybe doing this wasn't as good of an idea as he thought. patrick always said there was a chance that the mate bond wouldn't register properly, with the whole vampire thing.

baby, pete says, voice cracking a bit. patrick?

patrick growls and pete nearly pisses himself—if he could piss himself, he certainly would've. he whimpers, tilting his head away all nervously. he forgets that he's an immortal being, though patrick tearing into him would definitely hurt.

patrick, you— patrick. his voice raises in its frantic energy, and he hisses a little. let me down. put me down. now.

patrick sets him down on the mattress encircled in odds and ends—mostly clothes and blankets and pillows—and nudges up the bottom hem of his t-shirt. his massive tongue lathes over the skin of pete's stomach, nibbling on the skin without really using his teeth.

pete lets out a small, relieved breath that dissolves into a laugh. he pets over patrick's head gently. patrick bucks up into the contact, huffing out a pleased little rumble, huffing out against his neck.

you're just a big puppy, huh?

he barks a little, teeth sinking into his shoulder a little, warning. pete smacks his fuzzy shoulder gently. he's really just so fucking relieved that his boyfriend isn't trying to kill him.

then he realizes his boyfriend is trying to do the very opposite of kill him. patrick's big head ducks down to tug at pete's jeans, tearing at the denim with his teeth. pete's too frozen in shock to do anything about it.

don't even need the venom, huh? he manages to say when his jeans have been thoroughly obliterated.

he takes off his shirt himself and tosses it off into the corner of the bed-nest thingie. he wants to keep that one, if he can. patrick huffs a little nose ducking down to sniff over his dick and paw his legs apart. he catches pete's thigh wrong with his claw and flays open the skin a little, crystal clear venom dripping down his unnaturally ashy thigh.

got a goal in mind, huh? pete smiles wolfishly and drops a hand against the top of his snout. i'd try t' bite you, but i don't think i could get through all the fur.

patrick growls a little, menacing.

no biting. got it. he thinks he vaguely remembers patrick saying something about feeding off him being a bad idea—too close to a display of dominance. he's truly only fifty percent man like this.

patrick nudges him with his nose at his side, loosely trying at flopping him onto his stomach. pete inevitably has to do most of the work himself, lest he find himself being gripped by the hooks of patrick's claws again.

patrick wastes absolutely no time shoving his way inside pete carelessly. pete's fucking glad he prepped at home, because the stretch is almost too much, and his body is already unnaturally elastic from the whole vampire thing.

he only manages to get about halfway for the first little while. pete's not sure he could take any more. but then patrick forces himself further and pete's body shifts to accomodate and pete can feel patrick's fur and something more solid brushing up against the backs of his thighs with each stroke.

fuuuck. he arches his back a little, even though it doesn't do much.

he'd surely be growling mate mate mate into pete's ear like he usually does like this. pete can practically hear it in the way patrick snarls. instead of words, he bites one of his hugemassive marks into pete's left shoulder, opposite his mark. his claws dig into pete's sides a little more.

'f i were still a human, you'd've killed me by now, he says, wheezily.

patrick whimpers a little, though he doesn't ease up on the rough treatment. pete guesses he gets it. instincts are hard to ignore, and patrick's teeming with them right now. if pete were a regular vampire, all violent and homicidal when he's hungry, he's sure he'd do the exact same thing.

he feels so fucking full. for once, he's fucking glad that stupid posh fuckhead turned him. if he hadn't, patrick would've never let him do this.

tricky— wolfie— the endearment which he usually uses to condescend to patrick slips out too easily.

he expects to be nipped for it, as a gentle warning. instead patrick just rumbles low against his back and pushes him down flat against the bed. his bites increase in frequency, going all the way down the open expanse of pete's neck and arms and back. he'll be healed by morning, he's sure, but for now, they sting.

pete comes unceremoniously, with patrick panting above his head. pete isn't quite sure what's happening when he feels something large press against his rim, but then patrick's pushing it into him and it's swelling hugehugehuge and spilling hot into him.

oh, jesus christ. pete squeezes his eyes shut, everything going white and a little ringing noise playing loud in his head.

it takes a couple seconds for the sense to come back to him. when it does, patrick's mostly normal, aside from the massive werewolf part. he's all shy and concerned, and the nervous energy is familiarly grating.

patrick whines, licking at pete's wounds like they might be hurting him. pete leans back into it, whining back in a way that might sound mocking, now that he thinks about it more.

sorry, wolfie. you're not gonna do much with that. can't heal the undead. 'preciate the effort, though.

patrick whines again, bumping pete's shoulder with his unnervingly wet nose. pete winces a little, nudging at his muzzle. they're still stuck together with patrick's knot, and when patrick shifts away a little, pete feels the knot move inside of him.

fuck, wolfie. you—

patrick growls lowly and, for a second, pete freezes up like he's done something wrong. patrick licks at his back again. over the mark on pete's shoulder. it makes something in pete buzz pleasantly.

how long is this gonna take to go down? pete asks, even though patrick can't exactly respond. bark once for less than ten minutes, twice for more.

instead of answering, patrick opens his jaw and and encloses on pete's neck. pete yelps a little, shifting himself forward. his hands enclose on the sheets.

fine, i'll stop asking. he huffs and goes prone against the mattress, waiting for anything to happen. patrick relaxes on top of him too, huffing up against his ear in pleased little snuffles.

it takes over twenty minutes, but the knot starts to go down, and pete's relieved. he'd love to stay like this, but he's exhausted, and he can't exactly sleep with a massive fucking knot all up in him.

patrick pulls out after a bit and pete whimpers with the loss. cum pours out of him and it feels humiliating. patrick does that scary pleased growl again and kneads at pete's lower back with his massive paws before bumping the top of his snout against pete's thighs to nudge them apart.

thanks for the massage, wolfie. should be a professional.

patrick licks a stripe up pete's spine again. the closest they can get to a kiss like this.

cleaning up is kind of a disaster, but pete manages. he doesn't have any clothes to put on, so he has to flop down into patrick's little wolfsnest and cuddle up in the middle of the sea of fur. patrick curls around him the second he's settled, tucking his head over pete's head and burying him in fur and limbs.