lilah ⚘

You had been obsessed with it since you first saw your favorite actor on the silver screen, and he played a recurring role in your hypnagogic fantasies. Missionary, cowgirl, doggy, all the numbers to infinity and every letter in the alphabet. 

It had to be. 

And then it wasn’t. 

The first time was mediocre. But then again, isn’t it for everyone? Perhaps you couldn’t judge the very thing that has kept humans on this earth for six million years based on ten awkward seconds on an air mattress in someone’s dad’s basement with who knows what species of rat sneaking behind the moldy walls.

The second time was alright. You were just getting used to the feeling of someone being inside you, and the fact that it happened in a hot tub, jets blowing bubbles up your ass cheeks while a man’s unlubricated fingers poked and prodded at you, didn’t help. 

The third time was terrible. A balcony on a hot, summer night beneath an endless southern sun. Why did you keep choosing the worst places on earth to fuck? That one was on you. Mosquito wings in places no insect should ever be. And an ant bite on your ankle. No thanks. 

Fourth, fifth, sixth. One man. A different man. The same man who couldn’t get it up the first time but he begged for a second chance. An older man. A younger man. Two men? Hotel, bar, living room, car. Your sexual past was beginning to sound like Dr. Seuss slam poetry. 

Scratch. Veto. Eehhh. 

“It’s not you,” you promise sweetly, looking up at Leon. His wide, puppy-dog eyes hold blown pupils and oceanic irises that could stop a blind man in his tracks. You were completely starstruck when you saw him for the first time, shaggy blonde hair and lines carved by Michaelangelo himself. 

“Don’t give me the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing, alright? If you’re not interested, just put me out of my misery.” He sighs, gaze faulting to the floor between his feet, shoulders falling in defeat. 

You place a hand on his back, pivoting your hips on the sofa cushion to turn toward him. 

“Leon, no,” you croon, garnering his attention once more. He glances up and to the side, meeting your eyeline. “I am so interested. Like really, really interested.” 

The hottest man you’ve ever seen grace the planet was sitting in your living room, not even a foot away. And you were touching him!

Of course you were interested. 

“Really?” He asks, lifting his dark brows, as though he can’t believe that a woman would be interested in pursuing something deeper with him. 

‘Really.” Releasing your bottom lip from its prison between your teeth, you cut the bullshit, and ignore the ferocious flush rising to your cheeks. “It’s just that, I’ve had some really unsavory experiences in the past, and what you and I have now is so perfect. I don’t want to…I don’t know? Mess it up?” 

He blinks hard, and you could hit yourself for doing the very thing you were afraid of. 

“Gosh, that sounded bad. I don’t know how to explain it any better. I’m sorry if I offended you, I just…geez.” 

The two of you chuckle at your idiotic rambling, and you take another jab at trying to explain yourself. “Sex just hasn’t been great for me, no matter who I do it with or what we do. It’s just…bad. And every time I’ve made that leap with partners in the past, it ends up souring things between us. I really like you, Leon, and I don’t want to risk that. Not yet.” 

He raises a hand to cup your cheek, steadying your trembling chin. “Hey,” he coos. “Look at me.” How could you pass up an opportunity like that? The look in his eyes is tender and sweet, and the corner of his lips perks up into a half-smile. “I like you too. A lot. And as much as I’d love to take the next step with you, I understand.” He flexes his jaw and tears his gaze away from you for a moment before letting it return. “Although I’d really like to show you how good sex can be…with the right person.” 

You scoff, incredulous, though you wish you could stuff the sound back in your mouth and swallow it. To rectify the gesture, you arch a brow and smile. “Are you the right person, Leon?” 

He huffs a breathy sound through a big, pearly smile. “I like to think so. Will you let me? Show you?” 

Will you? Let him? Are you ready to be disappointed once again? To let your hopes fly high like a kite, only to be shot down once more? 

With Leon, yes. 

“Yes,” you say, the word more like a sigh on your tongue. 

“Lead the way.” 

Your bedroom is shrouded in shadows, only illuminated by the orange gleam of the street below as the rain-mottled window lets in the light from passing cars and the streetlamps that line the avenue. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, cupping your face, as if that isn’t exactly what the two of you had been doing all evening. You nod anyway, and his lips return to yours, meeting in a marriage of plump skin and tooth. He tastes like the bourbon he had at dinner, the mint he popped in his mouth after. Cinnamon and spice. 

He’s an amazing kisser, knowing exactly when to invite his tongue, where to swirl it around, when to bite and nibble, and how to touch your body as he does it. 

His hands find your waist, fingers splayed across your ribs like digits on the keys of a piano. Just the touch is enough to send electric eels coursing through your veins, shocks radiating from limb to limb. 

You can already feel a gush of arousal pool on the crotch of your panties, and your stomach feels hot with anticipation. 

“Still okay?” He asks, pulling away to tug at the hem of your shirt. 

“Still okay,” you repeat, helping him peel off each article of clothing keeping your body from him. Once you’re completely bare and reclined on the mattress, he remains standing above you, starting with his shirt. 

You watch intently as he gingerly unlatches the buttons, slowly revealing more and more skin, beautiful in its pale translucence. Taut muscles tense and release beneath it as he pulls the sleeves off his arms. Although you had already gotten a sneak peek at his biceps when he wore a short-sleeve tee, it’s as though you’re seeing them for the first time. Bulging balls of muscle. Virile veins. You salivate like a dog sitting for a bone, and your teeth ache, longing to bite. 

Next, his belt. The metal of the buckle clinks in the near-silence of the room, followed by the sound of zipper teeth being pulled apart. You swallow hard as he hooks his fingers under the band of his briefs, shoving them, along with his dress pants, down his thighs, fully revealing himself to you. 

You bite your lip to keep your jaw from dropping at the sight of his cock. The prettiest one you’ve ever seen. A perfect ratio of length to girth, a head already weeping with lubrication. A thick vein trailing up the shaft. 

He climbs onto bed with you, kissing the curve of your neck, trailing wet lips down to your breasts. His fingers play with one of your nipples while his teeth nibble gingerly at the other. You hiss, back arching off the mattress as a wave of pleasure rolls from your chest to your core. An itching sensation follows, and if you weren’t planning on letting him take his time, you’d beg the man to enter you right now. 

The point of his tongue flicks across the hardening bud of one breast as his hand palms the fat of the other, kneading the flesh. Mouth still latched onto your nipple, he moans, and the vibration elicits an embarrassing sound from your throat. It seems to goad him on even more, and he treks down your abdomen, planting chaste kisses down the line of your stomach, on the bones of your hips. 

Then, he presses your legs apart, hands wrapped around your waist as he dives into your pussy. Without any warning, he begins to devour you as though you’re the manna welcoming him after forty years in the desert. His tongue alternates between heavy, flat laps from seam to clit, and pointed licks that draw long lines up and down your inner lips, hitting either side of your throbbing bud. 

You mewl and yelp and whine. Fingers find his hair and tug. The muscles in your abdomen contract uncontrollably, and the sensation you have only ever felt when you are resigned to your room, alone except for the company of a battery-operated device, begins to grow inside you. 

He adds two fingers, stretching your hole, crooking them until you whimper and he knows he has found your sweet spot. 

It doesn’t take long for your climax to wash over you–no, this one hits you like a truck and backs up over your limb body for good measure. He doesn’t stop eating, even after you finish all over his face. Not until you physically push him off of you, too sensitive and sore to manage another touch. 

A grin appears on his face, and this is the most smug you’ve ever seen him look. You weren’t even sure you’d seen him so happy before. 

He wipes your juices off his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, rising to his knees before he comes onto his fists and crawls up your body to plant a wet kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You sure?”

As if he didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life. Did he think you’d want to stop there?

“I’m sure, Leon,” you say in a gasping breath.

Still between your legs, kneeling, Leon nods, the gesture punctuated by a slight chuckle as he takes himself into his palm, pumping his cock to its full stiffness. 

His forearms bracket your head, one leaving for just a moment, maneuvering between your bodies to help glide the head of his cock into your dripping pussy. The stretch is delicious, and leaves you craving more. 

“‘S this okay?” 

Like it’s your first time. Maybe it is. 

“Very.” 

And he slides the rest of his length into you, his face contorting, head falling into the crook of your neck. A long, heaving growl leaves his chest, and for a moment, you’re not sure who is experiencing the most ecstasy. You or the man who is whimpering like a puppy above you. 

“Move, please,” you plea, hands coming to either of his cheeks as if to manually thrust his hips into you. He begins on his own, however, and you drink up the strangled noises he sings into your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, holy shit.” His voice is weak, breath hitched. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“Harder,” you cry out, wanting more of him. You’re not sure exactly what you need, you just need more of his cock inside you, his hands all over your body, his groans loud, and his breath hot at your neck. 

Faster. Harder. More, more, more. 

“Harder?” He asks in confirmation, the heads of his brows cinched. “I don’t know if I can–fuck–last if I go harder.” 

“I don’t care,” you sigh, holding his sweaty face in your hands. 

“Okay, shit, hold on.” He adjusts your body on the mattress, removing your legs from his waist, pressing your knees into your chest. As he pounds into you, his shaft rubbing against your front wall, and the new angle has you crying out for every name in your contacts. 

“I’m gonna come,” he groans, palms still digging into the backs of your thighs. “Fuck, fuck. I’m coming. Shit.”

After a few more seconds, a second orgasm shatters your body into a million shooting stars, and you clench around him in a staccato rhythm, practically milking him dry as he finishes inside. Aftershocks flicker like live wires through your body, starting in your toes, traveling up and down your legs, your arms. 

Leon collapses onto the bed beside you, his chest coated in a sweet film of sweat that catches the light with each labored breath he takes. 

When you trust that your voice won’t crack like a split log when you speak, words you never thought you’d say in a situation like this leave your lips. 

“Can we do that again?”

 ⠀⠀ Valko cuts himself off with another whine as your hips begin to pick up movement again, the heat between your legs grinding deliberately against his hardening cock. His aborted thrusts try to meet you, instinctive and increasingly desperate as he tries to chase the friction. It's enough to make you grin.

 ⠀⠀ "Just let go, baby. " Your lips meet his in a kiss. He deepens it in an instant, tongue licking your lips as he whines into your mouth. The sound grows as you grind him with more force, gasping into the kiss yourself.

 ⠀⠀ Big, warm hands find your hips— neither guiding nor pulling, but holding on. His trembling grip only makes you more eager to please.

 ⠀⠀ It's not long before you bring your attention back to Valko's neck, planting a myriad of kisses and dark marks there. The kisses are stark against his skin, darkening into marks that you know will climb above the collar of his tailored suit tomorrow. The thought of it— this tall, imposing man walking into the building of his company sporting your marks and your scent makes heat pool in your belly.

 ⠀⠀ Is this what goes through his head when he scents you? Maybe he’s rubbed off on you more than you thought.

 ⠀⠀ "You're so cute." it just slips out of you— a murmur dripping with adoration.

 ⠀⠀ Valko whines even louder when a hand goes to the crown of his head, scratching at the base of those soft fluffy wolf ears. The wag of his tail grows strong enough that it's practically whipping up a storm. His hips are grinding right back against you, the stain of his precum growing on the front of his sweat— his cock is achingly hard under the fabric, twitching each time you rub yourself against him.

 ⠀⠀ He's so damn warm underneath you, desperate and whining as he chases the pleasure of the friction, driven by his baser instincts. But he's being so good too— his hands hadn't once tugged or pulled you, letting you set the pace as you'd like.

 ⠀⠀ What a good puppy.

 ⠀⠀ The poor wolf's eyes are practically molten gold when you meet his gaze— swimming with desire and drunk on the pleasure of your scent, the pleasure of your body pressed up against his.

 ⠀⠀ "What a good boy," you coo, delighting in the way he gasps your name. "D'you wanna cum, baby?"

 ⠀⠀ "Please," he whines, and you can feel his cock twitch even through the ruined fabric. It must be so hard now— blushing red at the head, thick and heavy, practically dripping with precum. Pert of you wishes you could see it, could taste it. He's always tasted so good.

 ⠀⠀ "Go on then, puppy," you purr. “You can cum.”

 ⠀⠀ With the hand still in his hair, you guide Valko's face to bury in your neck— he needs little encouragement, all but shoving his nose against your pulse in a hearbeat, drinking in your scent like a man starved. Immediately, the pace of his thrusts pick up and his hands tighten on you as his restraint finally begins to crack in the face of his looming orgasm. The sound of fabric brushing against fabric is loud— but still drowned out by his breathless pants.

 ⠀⠀ You can't fight back the grin as he laps at your neck, sweet even as he coaxes your scent forward. Cute, cute, cute.

 ⠀⠀ Emboldened, he begins to guide your hips with his hands, using his strength to pull you back into each desperate grind of his hips. Each movement makes him whine into your neck, makes him twitch underneath you, his fingers tightening and then loosening.

 ⠀⠀ It doesn't take long before he's tensing beneath you, teeth finding the curve of your shoulder on instinct as a low, rough groan leaves him, his hips giving small jerks as he rides out his high. Valko's tail tenses for a moment before going right back to wagging— a bit slower now, tired, but delighted nonetheless.

 ⠀⠀ He's whining a little into your skin, licking where he had bitten as if in apology. Valko's grip keeps you seated on his lap and the wetness of his cum staining his sweats— unapologetic and warm.

 ⠀⠀ Even after all that, you can feel that his cock is still half-hard, still eager for anything else you wanted to give him. Still twitching with each deep breath he takes of your scent.

 ⠀⠀ "Good boy, Valko," you murmur into his soft hair, and the sound that escapes him just makes you want to ruin him again.

His cheeks grew even hotter at the pet name. "You're a tease."

"You like it," you replied, smiling when his jeans hit the floor with a quiet fwump, leaving him in just his boxers.

You palmed him through the fabric, feeling the way he was practically leaking through. "All this from just smelling me?"

You didn't know what came over you. You were at his family home for fuck sake, but something about Valko made you stupid and vice versa.

"Yeah. Just… just be quick."

"Mhmm."

You took him out of his boxers. There was a bead of moisture welling at the tip, his length twitching with a desperate need for release.

You started careful, trying to catch the right rhythm. When you found it, he let out a half whine, half groan into your shoulder. "Yeah, just like that."

He gripped your hand, forcing you to squeeze him tighter. "Faster. Please."

You obliged, keeping your gaze on his. He squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders tensing at the stimulation.

"Feels good?" you cooed.

He bit back a small whimper. "Yeah—feels really good. Don't stop—" His tilted his hips, chasing the friction of your hand.

Your palm was growing slick with his mess, his stomach dipping every time your fingers grazed over that sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. "Right there, right there—Fuckk," he gasped, his voice strained.

The rhythmic thump thump thump of his tail filled the quiet room. His ears twitched, the sensation of you fisting his cock making his vision blur for a second.

You felt as his free hand shot out to grip the nape of your neck and pulled you in for a messy kiss. He groaned into your mouth, his dick twitching in your grip.

He'd been sitting in the living room for several minutes, trying to will his boner away. Every time he shifted, his jeans rubbed against his dick in a way that made heat twist in his gut. Now that you were touching him, it felt too good. You drove him to the edge embarrassingly fast.

"You're right there, aren't you, puppy?"

Valko gave a needy nod. "Yeah, I am. Hnngh… Make me cum. Please make me cum." He shoved his face in your neck, inhaling shakily, his hips stuttering into your fist.

He was desperate, his breath uneven. You felt the base of bit cock starting to swell. You probably should've stopped at the point, but you didn't.

Valko gave a few more frantic thrusts into your hand before he was coming with a whine. Your fist was covered in hot, pearly strings of his release.

He stayed in your neck for a minute before pulling back to look between your bodies. "Fuck…" he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut with an irritated sound.

You followed his gaze downward and— "Oh, shit." The thing about werewolves—quickies usually didn't solve their problems. If anything, it only made the problem… bigger. His knot had swelled, pulsing in rhythm with his ragged breath, even more unsatisfied than before. "I'm so sorry, I totally forgot—"

Valko groaned, his ears pinned back against his head as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the top of your head. "It's fine." But his tail flicked behind him, more wired than before. "Now, instead of uncomfortably sitting in the living room, I can uncomfortably sit in the bathroom."

You blinked up at him, your lips pursed in a frown. "Val, I totally forgot your dick does… you know, that."

He let out a strained laugh. "Yeah. I did too for a second."

"…Want me to stay..?"

"Please don't. Just looking at you is making me lose my mind. Just wash your hands and go back."

"Val—"

"Seriously," he huffed, his voice caught between a grunt and a whine. "You're gonna make me hard again."

"Okay, okay!"

"And be cool."

"Okay."

You followed him, a fond smile tugging your lips. You unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. Valko stood in the hallway, looking effortlessly handsome in a dark jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders. He held a plastic bag filled with your favorite snacks, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He took one step over the threshold. 

“YAP! YAP! YAP!”

Valko froze mid-stride, his boot hovering an inch above the doormat. Planted firmly between you and the “intruder” was four pounds of fury. The chihuahua’s paws practically left the floor with every explosive bark.

You used your foot to nudge him backward, waving Valko in so you could shut the door. He walked in slowly, raising his bag of snacks like a shield. His golden eyes darted from the noisy thing at his feet to you, his lovely girlfriend, with a look of profound bewilderment. “Why does he hate me so much?”

You shrugged. “He’s just protective. Not all that much different than what you did to that guy who asked for my number last week,” you said, picking up the frantic dog and tucking it into your arms like an angry football, the barking quieting down to a low growl.

“That was different,” Valko protested, following you into the living room. 

“Is it?” you teased. You plopped down onto the couch, patting the space next to you. Valko set the bag of snacks on the coffee table, warily eyeing the sentinel staring him down from the comfort of your lap. 

He lowered himself onto the cushion next to you as slowly as he could to not invoke the anger of the furry beast. The couch dipped significantly under his weight. The chihuahua growled, but remained in your lap, his chocolate-colored body shaking as he watched your boyfriend’s every move.

Valko sighed with relief when he managed to sit without any yapping. “He’s so small,” Valko muttered, watching the dog warily. “But so, so angry.”

“He’s the man of the house when you're not here,” you teased again, leaning back into the plush couch cushions. Seeing an opportunity, Valko tried to casually slide his arm along the back of the couch to drape it across your shoulders.

“YAP! YAP!”

The little dog lunged, propping his front paws on your chest to snap at Valko’s arm. Valko flinched his arm back, tucking his hands safely against his chest. “Okay,” Valko exclaimed breathily, staring down at the tiny defender. “No touching. Got it.”

Halfway through the movie, the relentless barking finally caught up to your little protector. His heavy, watery eyes blinked slowly against the glow of the television screen. With a dramatic sigh, he circled three times on your lap, tucked his nose under his tail, and collapsed into a brown puddle of fur. 

Carefully, so as not to disturb the fragile peace, you pulled the throw blanket over him. Within seconds, a faint snore rumbled from under the fabric.

Valko’s golden eyes cut sideways, tracking the rise and fall of the blanket. He waited. One minute, then two. Slowly, with the careful precision of a predator stalking its prey, Valko began to lift his arm from his knee. He didn't make a sound. His broad shoulders shifted by a fraction of an inch as he hovered his arm over the back of the sofa, gradually sliding it down until it rested behind your shoulders.

He didn't pull you close just yet, holding his breath, his eyes glued to the lump on your lap. He stayed there, stiff as a board, until he was sure the chihuahua was still sound asleep. You had to press a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, your shoulders shaking against his side.

“Stop laughing,” Valko whispered, concerned with the way the lump was now resituating itself. “You’ll wake him up.” When the blanket settled again, Valko finally let a slow, relieved exhale. He gently curled his fingers around your upper arm, pulling you just a tiny bit closer into his warmth. 

Emboldened by his success, Valko looked down at you, the soft light from the TV reflecting in his eyes and illuminating his handsome features. He leaned in slowly, his gaze dropping to your lips.

“Grrrr…”

A muffled growl emanated from the blanket. The lump didn't even move, but the canine’s internal radar was clearly operational. Valko paused, his lips just inches from yours, a look of utter frustration crossing his face.

“He’s psychic,” Valko accused, his eyes narrowing at the blanket. “There's no other explanation.”

You couldn't help but chuckle. Deciding you had had enough of the four-pound dictator, you reached up, cupping Valko’s jaw with both hands, and pulled him down into a firm, loving kiss. You deepened the kiss just long enough to hear him groan into it.

“Finally,” Valko whispered against your lips when you pulled away, a warm smile lighting up his face.

— — —

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through your bedroom curtains. You blinked your eyes open, feeling the slow rise and fall of Valko’s chest beneath your cheek. Some time in the middle of the night, you had fallen asleep on the couch, and Valko—braving a barrage of barks— had carefully carried you to bed.

You were currently tucked securely against his side, your head propped comfortably on his shoulder while his heavy arm wrapped around you, holding you close. You shifted slightly, intending to look up at his face, but stopped when you noticed that Valko was wide awake, staring directly at the ceiling. 

“Valko?” you grumbled, your voice still thick with sleep. “Are you okay?”

“Don't move,” he answered, his deep morning voice a rumble in his chest. “This is a hostage situation.”

Curious, you lifted your head just enough to look down the length of his body. You immediately had to bury your face in his neck to smother your laughter.

Stretched out flat on his back, the expanse of Valko’s firm abdomen had beeb claimed. Perched directly in the center of his stomach was your little chihuahua, the dog curled up in a tight ball. The giant wolf-hybrid had been utterly defeated, rendered nothing more than your dog’s personal mattress.

“He followed us from the living room,” Valko explained softly, not daring to breathe too deeply. “He spent an hour just glaring at me from the foot of the bed. This is where he was when I woke up.”

You smiled, sliding your hand up to Valko’s cheek. “What are you complaining for? Seems like he’s finally accepting you.”