𝔫𝔢𝔲𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔱

By sundown he's shirtless, absentmindedly picking at his skin, unable to find relief. You approach him, balms and poultices in hand. Xavier does seem genuinely in distress, skin angry and dry and hot, and he manages a polite "thank you" at your help, even though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere than in your presence. It's a good thing you have ulterior motives right now, his mood be damned.

You pay little heed to his tempest moods, swallowing nervously as you rub the herbal balm into his back with sweeping circles. The pungent earthy smell of oakmoss prickles at your nose but it's far from your thoughts. Instead, you selfishly take this time to admire him as he sits with his back towards you, long silky hair pulled forward so you have an uninterrupted view as you get to work.

And it is quite the view. This close, you can feel his lungs expand and contract as your hands glide over the expanse of his back. If you press in just a little, you can almost feel his pulse, low and steady. It's a shame you can't just press your ear up to his chest to listen whenever you wanted. His scarred muscles ripple and shift under your hands, alive, thrumming with energy. You're energetic too, albeit for different reasons.

Just before you reach the waistband of his pants, you stop, abruptly standing up.

"All done!" you pat his head, awkwardly brushing imaginary dust off your skirts as he looks back at you with confusion.

"Oh—" he starts, before closing his mouth, thinking better of it. "Thank you."

He hasn't met your eyes, not once before he walks away, ears crimson.

Xavier's also been prickly and irritable, stalking the castle halls in a shadowy mass of sharp edges and heat. A group of Revenants call out as you both return to the castle, their religious fervor reaching a fever pitch with each praise sung.

By the time you make your short walk between the castle gates and your quarters, it's quiet.

Xavier's leveled them all in a stony fit.

You question him about it over dinner.

"The Dead are too noisy," he says flatly.

Now that you two are no longer in town, he's back to wearing little. Your eyes linger and you forget what you were asking to begin with.

This little dance continues for about a week. Xavier stomps around Sindersfell half-naked, clawing at his skin, you stare for a little too long, committing to memory the line of his waist, the way his arms flex, showing off the corded muscle usually hidden—

And trying to help him.

Of course.

Which is why you're shocked to turn the corner and see Xavier leave through the gates.

—

Old habits die hard, and Xavier leaves without a word, fleeing into the night. His rut is his problem, and his problem alone to deal with.

But he couldn't get very far.

He didn't want to get very far.

Not with the full moon sapping his faculties, not with the way his transformation took him by surprise after it had been dormant for so many years. Centuries in fact. The last time he had a rut he was barely a Knight on Philos. You never had to hear about it because the royal family kept that secret under even tighter wraps.

He spares a glance at the setting sun and presses Shadowbind onward. He can't help that his senses all sharpen as the full moon draws closer. It's bad enough when you're in your (his) room touching yourself, full of lush moans and soft whines as you please yourself on his bed. His body, ever traitorous, seeking its mate, responds instantly, knot swelling at the base of his cock so quickly it makes his head rush. His willpower crumbled as soon as his name left your lips— hand flying to fist his cock in time with your pace, imagining you crying for his knot, your body all soft and warm around him.

The woman he loves, crying around him, taking him, taking him like that. Even in his loneliest days he never allowed himself the fantasy of indulgence. Either you would run away screaming or he would hurt you somehow.

It's worse in the day because he can't avoid you, even if he really wanted to. You greet him every morning for breakfast, and he has the unscrupulous task of trying to focus and act normal even as his senses tunnel, seeing evidence of your arousal everywhere. Your eyes dilate every time you look at him, you squeeze your soft thighs together under the table, shifting quietly in your seat, and you smell amazing. Your scent tickles his nose, warm with a slight undertone of something maybe floral, maybe gourmand. Gourmand seems right, Xavier thinks, because you smell delectable, appetizing even, like the fruit you so enjoy stealing by the riverbank. He wants to take his time with you— he has to be a gentleman, treat you right, treat you kind—

Then you reach over and pat his hand, interrupting his thoughts, and he goes lightheaded because it's the same hand you used to touch yourself last night and suddenly all he wants is to rut you into the floor. Why bother with the niceties, his brain roars, seething, it'll end up like this regardless.

You smile at him from across the table, so soft and so beautiful, and shamefully all he can think about is mounting you and marking you. Maybe tie you to the bed so no one can ever have you or look at you or be near you or share your air ever again. How did it get so bad? It wasn't like this last time.

Time had worn away his defenses, he reasoned. Sanded them down until they were just a pithy little net, sized perfectly for you to get past it. Or maybe he had just missed you more than he could ever know.

He's had so much time to think about how your first time together would go but not once did he imagine it might take place during his rut. For your protection, and his, the only reasonable thing to do was to leave. Or at least not be in the general vicinity of Sindersfell.

As soon as he hears your chamber doors close for the night, he bolts. He reaches the edge of the forest in a few hours, pushing Shadowbind to it's limit. It doesn't seem to mind, although it pointedly looks at him before disappearing with a slight huff.

The last ray of light disappears over the horizon and he continues, on foot. The underground facility is still functioning, barely. Xavier had restored it in secret after returning to Philos.

"Your Highness. Is this necessary? You're…you're…no longer mated."

"Was I ever?" is what he wants to say. Jeremiah was right. There was no danger of a rut without a mate.

At this point you had been gone for over a hundred years.

There's no time to feel relief about his foresight. Inky black and gold clothing pool on the floor with each step as Xavier yanks his finery off, itchy and uncomfortable as he stumbles down the hall. The containment facility was cold, bereft of your warmth, bereft of any creature comforts. But at least he's alone, and far enough away that he couldn't just bolt back to the castle and smash your door open, ruining all of his plans, ruining you.

The realization is cold comfort.

Feverish, he attaches the manacles to his arms, dripping sweat making him clumsy as he struggles with the rusty iron.

The shift hurts. His skeleton is starting to transform, bones lengthening with solid snaps, muscles growing even taller and stronger. With each step his skin looks like it's alive, meat and bone bubbling underneath to accommodate the new form. A high pitched noise fills his eardrums as Xavier doubles over, grunting in pain, sweating as his body warps, biting down on his glove to minimize noise, giving his hearing a chance to adjust. Hands, already large, elongate, ending in sharp black claws. Eons of training had left him a more prepared shifter than most, but even then this was painful.

Above all, he hates giving into his baser self. The emotions he had spent lifetimes carefully compartmentalizing, carefully dealing with, all compromised by the accident of his birth.

The shift always happens first, and then the worst part. The rut itself. The all-consuming want makes a mockery out of Xavier, as if he hasn't spent his entire lifetime wanting. Wanting to escape. Wanting to leave. Wanting you. The desire that ripples through him is so heady it's almost nauseating as his brain makes desperate attempts to stay vaguely human.

But those thought are so, so enticing to explore.

Would you enjoy being claimed violently? He had never gone through a rut with you, but he imagines it'd be violent. The image of you, flushed when he refused to return your hand after kissing it the second time you met…you had liked that, he remembered.

You had liked that a lot.

No, no, no. Holding your hand for just a smidge longer than proper was nowhere in the same realm as wanting you underneath him, begging for his marks, begging for him, wanting him. Would you look at him in disgust and run? Or would you think differently?

The long-suffering romantic in him dares to hope. The practical realist knows better. The werewolf in him however, wants you come hell or high water. Wants to kiss your stomach, touch every curve, memorize every sound, feel every part of you on its tongue, see you impaled on his knot, claimed.

It, and he, knows that you'll be perfect, like coming home. With a sigh, he palms himself, hoping the relief of his hand will suffice.

It won't.

—

"Leave."

You hear him before you see him, a deep sonorous sound echoing through the halls. It's distorted, like he's speaking underwater, and disembodied, coming at you from all directions. The facility Xavier fled to was well-hidden in the trees, just at the edge of the forest. It seems both ancient and modern, the relic of a bygone era of Philos. There's only one small foyer, and a set of stairs that only go down.

With only the dim emergency lights as your company, you descend.

The basement door is ajar.

"Xavier, are you there?" you call out into the darkness. A cool, damp, earthy scent fills your nose, and the clink of metal gets louder as you gingerly make your way through.

"I said leave."

His voice, low, distressed, biting, is coming from deeper underground. You turn a corner, and that's when you see it.

A hulking, growling creature looms over you, wrists enclosed in heavy manacles attached to the wall. It's covered from head to toe in long shaggy silvery fur, so light that it reflects in the darkness, bathing it in an eerie glow. It's easily twice your size, ambling about the dark room on strange bipedal lupine legs. Every bit of it screams danger: hands big enough to palm your head ending in sharp black nails, glistening fangs covered in spit, muscled legs tight with tension. This wolf creature is on edge, sniffing, looming over you as it scents the air.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as your body wills you to move, run, anything. But shock and fear and anxiety keep you rooted to the ground as you gaze up at the monstrous creature chained to the wall.

Even in the low light, you know it's Xavier. You would know him anywhere, in any form.

"I told you to leave," the creature growls, lips curling back, showing teeth, "Not die."

Up close, his voice sounds even more distorted, as if he were trying to pluck at vocal cords not suited for such sounds. Cold, flat blue eyes bore into you, eerily reflective even in the dim light. He's emitting so much heat he's steaming— the air around him is shimmering in the darkness around his fur.

"I'm not leaving," you step forward.

He growls, shaking his head before lunging at you.

The chains go taut, just long enough at full length that Xavier's teeth are just centimeters from your face.

You reach forward, calling his bluff, and he backs away, skittish, tail between his legs. Scared of your touch? Of you?

"Xavier…"

He groans, retreating into the dark corner.

"Don't….I don't want to hurt you," is all he says.

You step forward again, this time slowly.

"You would never." Famous last words perhaps, from a person walking into certain doom.

The chains rattle as Xavier slams his fist into the wall, startling you. Dust falls as the walls rumble in protest.

"You can't know that—-" he growls, seething, "It wouldn't be just the regular kind of pain."

Regular kind of pain? From his teeth? From his nails?

Your eyes float down, and you see it. His need is obvious, hanging heavy between his legs, aching, glistening. Even shadowed, it's prominent against his belly.

Slowly you put two and two together. Xavier's behaviors up til today, this wolf creature, the way he cuffed himself to the wall, his comment about "regular pain"…

"Will this—" you make a vague gesture with your hands towards his crotch, warm in the face, "— go away if I help you?"

"I don't want your help," is the immediate clipped response, almost incandescent with barely suppressed rage.

Liar. You saw his cock twitch. He's been sneaking glances at your body, pale fathomless eyes darting to and fro, unable to hold your gaze. The cloak on the floor is damp with a suspiciously milky fluid. His hand was obviously not enough.

You cup his cheeks, digging into the soft fur. He's trembling, nails digging into his palms, unable to look away this time, eyes wild.

"Starlight," he whimpers, "You can't be serious—" he groans, panting, trembling into your touch.

"I am," you hear the words before you process them. "I'm not leaving. We're doing this." You take a step forward, stepping over your gown. "Or we'll spend the rest of our days thinking about it and wishing we did."

You place a gentle kiss at the tip of his nose.

"I don't want to live with that kind of regret, Xavier," you murmur, "Please don't let me live with that kind of regret."

—

Just like how he followed you across the stars, of course you followed him into the night. You're wide-eyed, alert, as you take in his form. Shivering slightly, although that seems to have more to do with being deep underground than fear. You don't smell like you're afraid— in fact, you're probably too stubborn and too insolent to even consider being afraid of him.

"Defiant as always," he grits his teeth, tasting iron from the way he's been chewing the inside of his cheek for the last fifteen minutes. Your palm on his chest is barely enough and he's so hard he's almost embarrassed, whining.

"Xavier..." you smile, full of secrets of your own, "Don't you like me better this way?"

You look up at him, and he knows its over. No matter what else you say, what else you do, it's over. He's reached the end of his rope.

He's sorry your first time together is going to be like this—

And then you slide the strap off your dress, then the next, letting your gown pool at your feet. For a singular moment he sees you and the invitation you're giving him.

If he had been any more human he would luxuriate in the image of you, naked save for your smalls and the jewelry he had gifted you, glinting off of your throat. But his eyesight is magnitudes better and even in the dim light he can see your nipples are peaked and the want in your eyes.

He breaks free before it even registers in what's left of his mind.

Dimly, he registers that he's ripping the crown jewels of Philos off your neck as he pulls you close, diamonds clattering onto the ground, catching in the dim light like little stars. Priceless, his grandmother had mentioned once. Nothing is more precious than what's in his arms right now.

His his his.

He's so crazed that for a moment he just holds you, panting in your ear, relishing the feeling of you in his arms, a relief he didn't know was possible at your acceptance of him. But he can't take you right away. For all your bravery, he still needs, no, wants to prepare you before you can take him in this form.

The cloak he had stripped off finds its way under you as he maneuvers you onto your back. You titter, shouting in surprise as he presses his nose directly between your thighs, taking deep huffs. His tongue laps at the entirety of your crotch, hot and slick against your vulva, swirling at your clit. Your scent is so strong here that Xavier's head swims, tail wagging as he eats you out with intensity that he reserves for little else. Each pass of his tongue gets you higher as you start to moan, anchoring your hands in his fur. He opens his mouth wider, breath hot against your clit before his tongue dives inside your pussy, grunting as he fucks you with it. Your walls squeeze him as he swirls the muscle inside you, making a mental map of the places that make you sing out. He's so far gone that he's starting to hump the floor as he eats you.

"Xavier— Xavier!!"

That's the only warning he gets before you cum, back bowing as you arch. With a satisfied grunt he pulls down by the waist, holding you down on his tongue, lapping at the hot fluid as you shudder, sighing as you come down. You reach down and massage his ears, still loose languid from your orgasm. He whines in satisfaction, finally prying his mouth of of you, muzzle glistening in the low light.

Suddenly, you push away, chest heaving, gesturing for him to lay back with a steely look in your eye.

He whimpers, ears flat, suddenly uneasy as you move to straddle him, holding out his palm to assist you. For a second you just giggle as you sit astride his hips, running your hands over the silver and white fur of his belly, digging your hands in deep, much to Xavier's obvious embarrassment.

And then you raise your hips on top of his length.

"W-wait. Not—not like—" there's something perversely amazing at the sight in front of him: you, poised and determined, regal and beautiful and maybe a little insane for even just the thought of what you're about to do. Him, falling apart, torn between the demands of his form and his fraying self-control, hands now balled into fists, too afraid to touch you further.

"You need me," is all you say. He's always needed you. What else is new?

All he can feel, all he can see right now is the is the tip of his cock, red and aching, so close to your entrance he can feel it's warmth. You're so wet now you're shining. If your need smelled good before, it is in full bloom now, a potent calling card and an eternal reminder that he needs you. And somehow, despite or in-spite it all…

"I need you too Xavier," you breathe, just as you lower yourself onto him. Sweat beads on your brow as you breathe in and out, slowly rocking onto his cock. The air is still, save for your gasps as you will your channel to accept him.

"Let me," he pleads, licking the beading sweat from your brow. This shouldn't be your task, this shouldn't be your responsibility.

"No. This won't work unless you let go."

You give him a pointed look.

"Will you let go? Will you take what you need?"

Xavier stands on the precipice of the unknown.

He sobs, Yes.

He's so consumed with need that for moments he just fucks your thighs, one broad hand easily holding the entirety of your waist, licking and nipping at whatever he can reach, lightheaded as he watches the reddened tip of his thick length disappear in and out of you. It's different from his human one, more tapered, with little ridges to latch onto, leaking and hot against your thighs. He can feel you keen under him when your folds glide over his knot. Made for him, he marvels, as you get impossibly wetter with each pass between your lovely thighs. A little gasp escapes you as your clit catches on the ridges, and Xavier's head swirls with the possibility of hearing more, buoyed with proof that you're just as eager, just as wanting despite it all.

Xavier growls, his arms a cage around your head, hands encircling your skull, thumbs under your chin, holding you in place as he ruts you into the ground. The ache that had been present before has dulled now but he's still inhumanly big, stretching you out with each push and pull. It feels right somehow, this fullness, this pain. But there's little room for thought, only the feeling of his coarse fur on top of you, the claws gripping your skull, your moans mixed with his snarls, the inescapable fullness within, all swirling in a potent miasma.

And it is thrilling.

You relax into his hold, and he howls with delight, accepting your body's surrender, licking at your neck with a broad, flat tongue before sucking your breast into his mouth, rolling your nipple between his teeth, thumbing over the other. He's using you like a toy to get off, unable stop himself from humping you into the ground, one hand gripping your entire body and driving you down onto his length as he pants in your ear. Every snap of his hips sends your nerves flying, adding to the tense coil within.

His knot protrudes from between your legs, swollen at the base of his cock, bigger than your fist.

"I can take it Xavier," you moan, arching your hips up. Will it fit? You're not sure. But you don't care. The two of you will always figure it out, together.

Suddenly, you feel his hands underneath your hips, yelping as Xavier maneuvers you into a standing position, cock still deep within you as he supports your body with a big hand around your waist and another underneath your shoulders. With a feral, flat look in his eye, Xavier starts to lower you onto his knot, drool dripping from his jaws as he pushes, urging your body to open even wider.

It's a slow process, every centimeter a victory as he alternates between fucking you, keeping you elevated and needy, and working your hole open to accept him.

You're a rag doll, completely at Xavier's mercy. The only thing keeping you off the ground right now are a werewolf's grip around your body and his cock. The object of your desires, using you. You can barely register the words coming out of your mouth, some halfway intelligent sounds, broken moans punched out of your lungs with each heavy snap.

He finally gets it halfway down, licking and laving at your face in an attempt to soothe the pain, whining before pulling you off again, raising you to his maw to lap at empty, stretched out hole. You're dazed, every nerve alight as he lines your pussy up with his cock again. His claws tighten around you, almost imperceptibly, and that's the only warning you get before he snarls, ramming your body down onto his knot, stretching you to your absolute limit. It slips in with a loud squelch and a ragged scream— pain overriding pleasure, making your eyes water. You're so full you swear he's in your ribs.

You're not sure if it's the high from pleasure or pain but it feels right. It always does with him somehow.

He doesn't move right away. Instead, Xavier's eyes are glued to the center of where your bodies meet. Carefully, gingerly, he picks up your wrist, placing your hand at your distended lower belly.

Can you feel it? He wants to know if you can feel it.

"Yes," you moan, "you're right there—you're right—"

He grins wolfishly, punctuating your every word with a hard thrust.

"Wait—Xavier—" instantly, he stills, concern flickering through his eyes.

"C-can we get back on the floor? I—"

He tilts his head, confused.

"I want to feel you on top of me."

No longer held back by the possibility of you tearing, Xavier lowers you back onto his cloak, nuzzling your neck, patting your hair, giving you a short reprieve. You seem to have other ideas in mind though, because you're once again lifting your hips, urging him onward.

The press of your lips against him is his undoing.

His release finds him not in the throes of passion or from the way you're still impossibly tight and wet around him. It finds him as you gaze up at him with a dazed smile before reaching your arms around his neck, pulling him down by the fur into a facsimile of a kiss.

Xavier's entire body seizes up as his hips stutter, once, twice, knot ballooning as it finally locks inside you, arms trembling as his cock continues to pulse. You sigh, eyes rolling back once more at he grinds onto your clit, the coarse hair providing just enough simulation to your spent body for one final release. Carefully, he picks you up one more time, leaning back against the wall gently so as not to disturb the tie. You nuzzle onto his chest and he dimly hears the sound of wedding bells.

"It'll be a while before it goes down." he rasps.

"Oh good," you mumble, "I can enjoy this for a little longer."

"You can enjoy this forever," Xavier mutters, half-delirious, half-giddy as the enormity of what just transpired settles in. He touches his forehead to yours, wrapping his arms around you.

"I plan to…you're not getting away from me that easily…not like before."

Xavier starts. What did you just say?

But you're already fast asleep.

notes: posting this before I lose my nerve because it's been languishing in my drafts for forever (hence the chopped ending)! tysm for reading <3 always appreciate comments and reblogs <3

please scream about xavier to me. please.