The full moon filtered through the branches and Rice pushed his back against the old oak tree. The filtered light showed his chest rapidly rising and falling, his muzzle tilted into the air as his tongue rolled out to the side. When he had hunted werewolves, he never thought about the impacts of their mating cycles. Now that he was one, it was fucking hard to ignore, especially while the red head of his cock poked from its sheath, leaking with precum. The large werewolf needed release, and he was willing to mount the first thing he saw in these woods to get that even if it was a god damn raccoon.