#box time

In the light of the moon a week shy from full, his skin and hair appear luminous in every dappled beam. Aroen jogs through the trees surrounding the main house of the compound, shooting the occasional glance over his shoulder. He can see very little, his vision not the strongest regardless of the amount of light involved, but the glances are hardly for him.

A low bestial growl echoes from behind him, though from behind which tree is anyone's guess. She's getting closer. Even with ten minutes head start, she's barely run Aroen enough for him to work up a sweat.

Just enough for the scent of him to waft on the air to her sensitive nose. Neora sniffs at the air, the furred skin on her snout wrinkling with excitement at the scent of her impending quarry. He's maybe twenty feet off, the scent of his sweat heavily suffused with lust. Good.

Neora crouches low, her lupine slayer legs perfectly built for her to stalk him. Unlike wolves, her legs maintain their length, bringing her height north of seven feet. Claws replace her usually blunt fingernails, her fingers dusted with silvery fur that trails up her forearm just past the elbow. Where her father had taken on aspects of insect biology, she instead was all canine. An apex predator, just of a different kind.

The chuckle she lets out rumbles at a different pitch from her usual growls, twisted as it is by her shapeshifted vocal cords. She watches as Aroen twists, looking for the source of the noise. With a near silent footfall she darts forward, her prize in sight.

Aroen has no time to get started running by the time he hears the twig snap just to his left. With the moment he has, he braces for her impact.

She comes flying out of the trees with a canine leap, claws extended, lips drawn back in a sharp-toothed snarl. As she collides with her twin, he all but collapses beneath her, taking the two of them gracefully to the ground.

They land with him spread on his back, Aroen's legs framing his sister's, her hands framing his slight shoulders. She lets out a growl as he brushes one hand up her side, his fingers carding through the thin coating of silver-and-peach fur covering her midsection. With how she's held herself above her, he can see her cock poking out of the dense patch of fur around her groin, swollen already with need.

Aroen giggles as Neora lets out another growl as his hand changes direction, his nails grazing over the thin fur on her chest and abdomen. "Do you want something, puppy?" He asks, just avoiding her groin to slide his nails back to her hip. She lets out a huff in response as she leans in to lick the curve of his jaw. As she does, her cock jumps, a bead of precome leaking from the tip.

"Very well, then," he says primly as his hand leaves her hip to stray to the crotch of his panties. With practiced ease, he pulls the fabric to one side, baring his want-slick cunt for her. "Come, sweet pup," he murmurs, pressing his lips against her neck as he speaks, "breed my pretty cunt."

That's more invitation than Neora's ever needed and she sinks in to him with a quick aggressive thrust. She near shivers from the heat of his cunt wrapping around her sensitive prick, her hips bucking forward in a second quick thrust out of sheer feral need.

"Good puppy, that's my girl," Aroen sighs as Neora finds her rhythm, punishing though it is. The points of her teeth scrape over his shoulder, catching just barely at the shallow divot of scar carved into his skin. Between the teeth, the growls, and the desperate, feral pace, she's all animal right now, rutting into her mate. Her quarry.

Every thrust sends her closer to the edge, the telltale tug of her thickening knot a clear sign that she's near busting. The tightness is increased on purpose, Aroen squeezing his cunt to grasp every inch of her desperately, his own orgasm coming with ever-increasing speed.

Neora's growls turn to grunts interspersed with low keening as she loses her grip on the consistent rhythm, hammering into Aroen's cunt with desperate fervor. As she comes, she near howls, throwing her head back to stop herself from sinking her teeth into her precious doll's skin. The last couple of thrusts are sloppy, barely a movement at all as she fills his pussy with her seed, the knot of her cock swollen to stiffness keeping every drop of it inside of Aroen as the last of his orgasm courses through him. With every wave of his orgasm, it's as though he milks the come out of her, ensuring he's as filled with her as possible.

She nuzzles at the hollow behind his ear as the two of them lay in the afterglow of their orgasms, drawing another soft giggle out of Aroen. "You liked that, hm my sweet pup? Filled my cunt all up with you, bred me like your prize bitch didn't you?" He's babbling, pleasure-drunk and tired from the run, simply filling the air between them with thoughtless chatter while the two of them wait.