☆Cyd☆

Inspired by @user-thirt3en 's post.

(But what if you're topping him?)

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His back arches violently beneath you as the transformation rips through him mid-thrust. You feel it happen inside him first, his hole clamping down on your cock like a vice, the rhythmic pulse of his changing body milking you without mercy. His claws rake down your forearms, tearing through skin and drawing hot ribbons of crimson that drip onto his heaving chest. You grip his hips harder, forcing him to take every inch as his lycan form bulks and shifts beneath you.

His spine pops. His jaw elongates, fangs glistening with saliva as he snarls up at you, eyes blown to dark slits of pure animal hunger. You feel his insides rearrange around your shaft, tighter now, hotter, the friction building to something almost unbearable as his new form demands to be filled deeper, harder, ruined.

He claws at your shoulders, drawing you down, those beast eyes burning with Formless desperation of finding something that gives him a challenge. "Don't fucking stop," he rasps, voice guttural and broken. You feel his cock spilling precome untouched across his transforming abs, his body betraying how thoroughly he's submitting to your cock even as his claws draw fresh wounds across your back.

The pain is white-hot. You crave it. Every sting of his nails, every throb of his tightening lycan hole around your base, every desperate growl vibrating through his chest as you pound into his changing flesh. He could shred you open right now. The thought makes your balls tighten, your thrusts savage and uncontrolled.