One hundred forty-three rounds later, and you’ve finally won.

Every bulging, sweaty muscle strains as you laugh on top of Valko for the final lunge, pinning him by his throat and waist into the mats below.

“Haha, and that’s victory for me!”

He grumbles in response, pouting although you see the ghost of a smile curl against his lips. “Ya right. You tripped me, dirty little minx.”

You coo at his adorable sulking, “Big bad wolf can't handle a little bit of dirty play?” Pressing your forearm harder, you watch something dark flicker in Valko’s eyes as his breath stutters. “Don’t you know your enemies will be ready to exploit your every weakness?”

The room is filled with both of your ragged breathing, sweat dripping between your tanged bodies, undoubtedly soaking through your bra and shorts. The air sticks to you, hot and sticky.

Valko takes a deep inhale, chest rising under your palm, before going unnaturally still. The stillness of a predator ready to jump.

You tense, anticipating him to wrestle you off and begin the next match, and yet it never comes.

No. Instead, you’re met with the unmistakable feeling of something growing harder, larger, pushing up against your clothed ass.

The flush on your face is no longer just from exhaustion.

“Did you- are you—”

Valko’s whine cuts you off, his eyes screwed shut as if in horrible pain. “Don’t. Please.”

He’s trembling. Every hulking muscle under you straining as his enormous palms come up to cup your thighs, nails digging in.

“I just,” Valko lets out another whine, pitched and desperate, his amber eyes snapping open and begging up at you no better than a puppy would. “Ah shit, you’re so perfect. Fight perfect, smell perfect,” one broad hand goes to your ass, squeezing hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you, the sound shooting through him like another strike. “Feel perfect.”

Fuck.

Something about losing to you, about the ache blooming through his body where your blows had landed, the solid weight of you pinning him effortlessly into the worn training mats… perhaps it should have bruised his pride or made him fired up.

Instead, it leaves Valko fucking dizzy.

Your scent surrounds him, swallowed with every inhale Valko takes, intoxicating and cloying on his tongue as though he could taste you already. It’s sweet and a little spicy, like cardamom or amber, filling his brain with static as his every instinct narrows down on you and your body. To lay claim. To take.

He doesn't mean to keep nuzzling into your sweat-slicked body. One breath isn't enough, then another isn't either, every deeper pull filling his head with a pleasant, humming need that leaves less and less room for coherent thought.

Acceptance.

Need.

Mate.

Despite your full weight still pinning him to the floor, Valko's hips buck sharply up into yours, nearly throwing you off him. But his hand tightens against your ass, forcing you down into the movement at the exact same time he grinds his still-growing erection right up into your clothed pussy.

You both moan at the mere contact.

More. He needs more.

His hips don’t stop moving, pushing up into you with quick little rabbit thrusts, Valko’s head thrown back in a deep, unashamed moan as he chases the friction. His jaw opens, nearly drooling, about to manhandle you into a better position to grind against when you lean back down.

And slap him right across the face.

Immediately, he freezes, blinking and shaking away the shock and arousal from his face. His cock jumps from between your thighs, though, and that’s all the confirmation you need as Valko looks back up at you with wide eyes.

“Behave, puppy.”

You place your hand around his neck, grinding your hips backward as you watch Valko’s eyes roll back.

“I won,” you remind him. “That means you listen to me.”

He nods with so much enthusiasm you almost worry about his neck.

“Yeah, yes. Of course. I can take it, please.” Anything, anything for you to keep touching him.

Your hips are flush against his, grinding up and down just like you would be if you were riding him. The thought alone has Valko moaning louder, completely uncaring if anyone heard, voice hoarse as you squeeze his throat tighter.

It’s teasing both of you to insanity, so close and not nearly close enough. Friction hot and pressing right up against your clit, but doing nothing to ease the growing ache between your thighs. It doesn't help that the outline of his dick is enough to grind on, wide enough to part your lips and feel strain against your clothed pussy. Fuck, imagining all that power, that size stretching inside you…

You’re no better than animals in heat, gasping and panting as your hips never stop moving, spine arching as his tip catches your clit. “Ahhh, good job, baby, making me feel so good. Good boy.”

Valko keens at the praise. “Thank you, thank you. I’m your good boy, I’ll be such a good boy.”

He’s drooling as he writhes beneath you, nails clawing into the floor with the restraint it takes not to flip you over and rip your shorts off before fucking until both of you pass out. Bite and mark you as his. Fill you with his seed until he’s shooting blanks, watch you drip with his cum, push his knot inside you and cum again and again and again—

You laugh. Poor thing doesn’t even realize he’s moaning all of this out loud.

“Shhh, I’ll let you, puppy.” Leaning down, you kiss him just to shut him up, licking into his open mouth. “I’ll let you breed me.”

“Fuuuck yes.”

Valko’s tongue shoves into your mouth, hot, invasive, lapping into the kiss. You let him, kissing with teeth and tongue, spit spilling down the side of his mouth as he takes more and more. He bullies himself closer, greedy for every scrap of attention, chasing each inch you’re willing to give and always reaching for one more.

“I’m sorry, feels so good, too good.” Valko groans, every thrust becoming more sloppy, and you can tell from how sloppy his kisses are and the unevenness of his thrusts that he’s already close.

You click your tongue as though reprimanding a spoiled pet before breaking the kiss, hand tightening around his throat.

Valko breaks away instantly with a sharp gasp, chest heaving. His eyes snap to yours, dazed and teary, as though being stopped is its own reward. “Sorry, m’sorry. Please keep kissing me, please, I’m sorry.” Another whimper. “You said you’d help me, ya? P-please baby, let me cum.”

“And let you stain my favorite gym shorts with your cum? I don’t think so, puppy,” you scold, teasing your fingers up his rough undercut.

His breath catches so abruptly his whole body gives a tiny, involuntary jolt, shoulders loosening beneath your hand as a slow shiver rolls down his spine at the mere touch. If his ears were manifested, they would be pulled back, his body chasing the sensation before his mind could catch up, leaning instinctively into your palm like some half-domesticated thing desperate for another touch.

Every instinct urges him to reclaim your mouth, to grind back into your clothed pussy, but he forces himself still. Because that’s what you’ve taught him to do.

What a good boy.

Lifting your hips, Valko sobs at the loss of your heat. Your free hand reaches down instead, shucking down his sweat-drenched shorts and boxers in one tug, his cock bouncing out from its confines.

It springs against Valko’s abdomen with a wet slap, every bulging, veiny inch a sensitive pink, tip swollen and leaking all over his pretty red happy trail.

Valko whines, bucking into the air, “Please-ohhh-please let me in you. I’ll make you feel s’good, I’ll be so good. Ah fuck, come on.”

Something, anything to release this unbearable pressure swelling up at the base of his dick.

So you slap him again, and this time the second the crack echoes across the room so does his moan. A fresh spurt of pre-cum stains his abs, so much leaking and spilling down his stomach, you’re damn near concerned.

“Shh, don’t be too loud, someone might hear how desperate you are, baby.” You kiss his forehead and strip.

First you peel off the sports bra, then kick down your shorts and panties, smiling at Valko’s star-struck expression before dropping back down completely bare onto his muscular thighs.

“Come here, puppy.”

He obeys immediately, sitting up faster than humanly possible and ramming his lips onto yours, hands fighting to cup your breasts before he thinks better of it and curls them against his sides into trembling fists.

You hum into the kiss, guiding his hands up to your skin, “Go on, you can touch me.”

Two massive arms engulf you. Valko’s already nuzzling into your bare chest, mouthing at the lines of sweat collected from your sports bra, hot tongue dragging against every inch of skin. There’s no rhythm, no logic, just sloppy licking between your breasts before sucking at your nipples, around and up until he’s at your collarbone, every sensation so overwhelming that you feel yourself soaking his thigh.

“M’sorry, can’t stop. Taste so sweet…” Valko’s licking another long strip up your neck before finding a spot that makes you whine, nipping and teething at it while his hands come up to pinch and roll your swollen nipples. You moan at the feeling of it all, hips rolling against his quads as he purposefully tenses the ridges of muscle underneath you, letting you grind against him.

Once again, the two of you are humping each other like dogs, except this time there’s no more clothing to get in the way.

Your bare cunt envelopes his throbbing cock, every movement heightened by loud, wet sounds of the two sliding together, pseudo fucking in a way that drives both of you insane. The taste and smell of you is overwhelming, Valko dipping his head to suck at your nipple while bucking up into you, abs flexing, drenched with sweat and your combined slick as his cock drags past your clit, pressing desperately right up against your cunt before slipping to your ass and coming right back again.

His frustration is becoming obvious. Low growls muffled into your chest as grinding turns to proper thrusting, tip ramming at your entrance just too thick to push in and your thighs too slippery to find purchase.

“Shit! it’s not– not fitting. Please, let me in.” He’s begging, drooling against your chest. ”Please sweetheart, please doll.”

You want it just as badly. So you tug on his hair, pulling Valko on top of you as you lie down, and slowly turning yourself around until your chest is pressed into the training mats beneath you.

Valko’s frozen like a predator just narrowed in on a prey.

Except that prey is you. Your teasing smile lured him in, and your bare, dripping cunt presented to him like heaven mere inches from his drooling face.

Arching your back deeper, you smile as you finally give him what he’s been dying for. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, Valko, ya? Wanna knot me?”

He’s barely breathing, golden eyes glowing slightly as they lock with yours, unblinking. “Yes.”

Then, he pounces.

In a blink, his six-foot-something body slams into yours, shoving your face into the floor, one arm effortlessly forcing your ass higher to meet his hips and the other pinning your back into a deep arch to accommodate the weight of his chest now pressed against your spine.

Completely mounted, your muscles scream from the stretch and pressure his body gives, his heavy cock still leaking violently from between your spread thighs, thrusting between them, a puddle of his pre-cum splattering down between you.

You laugh into the mats, right where you want to be as you goad him into taking all that he wants and more. “Go on then, puppy. Claim me, take me, make me yours—!”

You can’t even finish your teasing before Valko bullies himself inside you with one violent thrust. Hands dig grooves into your thighs, pawing at your ass, stomach, chest, all while pulling you backward into every powerful thrust.

Valko’s head drops with another unashamed moan, tongue lolling out to lick at your nape and spine, drooling with every tight flutter your walls squeeze around him. God, you’re gushing. He’s glued to the mess where your bodies meet, your ass bouncing with each thrust, taking him so perfectly he’s losing his mind.

“Ohhh you feel so good.” Pressing deeper, his hand snakes around to press against your lower stomach, feeling the outline of his dick as you scream into the floor. Valko groans, babbling into your ear as his hips snap faster. “I know pretty thing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He’s repeating it against your neck between licks and nibbles, still not letting up any of his force. You feel something unmistakable swell against the curves of your ass, knocking against your cunt and thick enough to hit your clit too, each slap making you sob from pleasure-pain.

“Gonna f-fuck my little mate full of my cum, then eat you out, then fuck you again—oh fuck. Love you and this perfect pussy,” Valko’s slurring his words, talkative as ever and loud enough for the entire training facility to hear him moan.

His thrusts turn deeper, unable to part with your heat, his knot grinding furiously against your clit as you feel your body begin to tremble. “She’s takin me so well, so tight. Mhmm I’ll fill her well, give her everything she wants, fuck her full-full of my knot.”

God, he needs to shut up or you’re going to cum.

“Shh,” you hush him before breaking into a moan. “Too loud, Valko. Someone could—ahh fuck—hear you!”

Oh, but he can’t! He can’t, not when he finally feels your pussy begin to cream around him with your impending orgasm, almost wet enough to take all of him and his knot! This is what you want too don’t you see? This is what his pretty little mate needs.

Valko can’t even comprehend what he’s saying anymore, just growling and moaning into your neck as he drops his arms to properly rub at your clit and tug at your sensitive nipples, biting down into the junction of your shoulder and neck as you squirt all over his thighs with a pitched scream.

“Good pup, good mate, keep cumming for me.” Valko licks at the pin-pricks of blood blooming from his bite, going right back to babbling into your ears as his thrusts turn rougher. “Ready to take me, have my knot, my cum, oooh youfeelsogood.”

In a last attempt to muffle your boyfriend's horny sobs, you squirm beneath him to grab your gym shorts and stuff Valko’s mouth with them, gagging him with the sweat-stained spandex. And he simply takes it, open mouth drooling all over your clothes as he gets drunk off the scent of your sweat and arousal stained into them.

You both gasp at the feeling of his knot finally pressing into your entrance, the swollen, heavy weight of it forcing you several more inches open before slipping back out. Again, and again.

Instinctively, you run away, like a bunny cornered by a wolf, writhing underneath him as Valko snarls, hands engulfing your hips entirely as he drags you back onto his cock, forcing you still with so little effort it's laughable. Nothing stops him from pressing in deeper and deeper, your poor cunt finally yielding to his knot, the burn making you drool into the floor as Valko moans into your makeshift gag.

It’s forever and only seconds, your orgasm-sensitive pussy drooling enough to help him slide in fully, greedily sucking up every extra inch he gives you until you both feel the pop! of his knot finally catching inside you. It presses every damn inch inside you so perfectly you cum again, wailing and trembling as your thighs begin to go limp.

No matter, Valko just holds you up anyway. It’s not like he could pull out of you now, even if he wanted to. Not until he filled you with his cum, at least.

You’re still shaking from the prolonged orgasm, and Valko lets the rest of your body fall to the floor, following you down until his body is smushed atop yours, pressing you both into a mean prone bone.

It just makes him feel bigger. Your head is spinning with all the sudden pressure, his fat tip kissing your cervix as he rocks back and forth, his knot still grinding into that squishy spot against your walls, the heat and weight of his chest pressing into your back, and of course, his muffled moans and rambles still going strong even through your panties.

“Cum, Valko.” You’re barely thinking straight either, already right at the edge again as Valko’s thrusts turn sloppy, his body shaking. “Fill me up, b-breed me. Become mine.”

He’s cumming.

Valko whimpers into your neck as his hips snap one last time into yours, grinding as you feel the warm gush of his release spurt violently inside you, filling and filling and filling you up. So much, too much. Too much that cum squirts out from even the tight plug of his knot, dripping down both of your thighs even as Valko whines at the waste.

He doesn’t seem to fully realize he’s done, still rolling his hips into yours, each one powerful enough to drag your bodies tangled along the floor.

“Nooo, Valko,” you whine, trapped under his weight and still inflated with his knot. “Valko, stop, sensitive! Too sensitive.”

Your hands helplessly shove and push backward at the enormous man lying on top of you, not even budging him as he continues to nuzzle himself into your sweat-slicked back.

Finally, you manage to yank your clothes out from his mouth, releasing him from the gag as he simply sighs in pleasure, licking and nipping at your ear before dragging his tongue in a long, messy line down your neck.

“You’re so heavy. Get. Off!” Each word is a shove, but Valko only laughs at the effort. He does take mercy on your poor abused body though, and grabbing your waist with one hand, rolls the two of you over. You now rest on his plush chest instead, both of you heaving as you lie still pumped full of his knot and cum.

“M’sorry, guest instinct just took over there, y’know? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“...You rabid dog.”

You felt it before your sex stupid brain could process it- this thick, swelling pressure at your already stuffed hole. Stretching you wider. Wider. Too wide-

His knot.

It shoved inside with a wet POP and you shrieked, back bowing clean off the mattress, nails carving bleeding trenches down his spine. The sudden fullness -that fat bulge locking him in, plugging you up, pressing against every sensitive nerve- had your vision whiting out again. Your cunt spasmed around him, another orgasm cresting before the last one even finished, milking his knot in desperate fluttering clenches.

“Huh? What happened?” Total confusion. His ears shot up, head tilting, “You alright babe? Did I do something?”

“Your- your fucking knot- fuckfuckfuck-“ you choked out.

“What?” He blinked down at you, all golden puppy eyes while his monster sized knot split you in half, “What's wrong with it?”

“Ser -seriously? Sh’too- It's s’too big-“

“It is?” As he smirks he shifts his weight and you damn near passed out, “seems fine to me?”

You laughed -or sobbed, hard to tell- and it broke into a moan when he rolled his hips experimentally. You grabbed his hand and shoved it down between your bodies, pressing it against the bulge in your lower belly. Obscene. Fucking obscene.

“Valko.”

He looked down. Blinked. His tail started wagging. Actually wagging!

“Oh wow.” Like he'd found something mildly interesting, “That's pretty crazy.”

“YEAH.”

“Does it actually hurt?” He pressed against the bulge with genuine curiosity and your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull. Tail still going.

“Do you- hahh- do you seriously not know- how huge-“

“Dunno, never measured?” He dropped a casual kiss on your forehead, sweet as anything, while his fat fucking knot throbbed like it was trying to reshape your insides. “Always been like this. Annnnd those noises don’t really convince me you’re in pain.”

You were gonna fucking murder him. Right after you finished losing your mind on his cock.

He ground down into you and you came so hard you forgot your own name, pussy clenching around him like a goddamn vice.

“Oh- shit- shit-“ Finally cracking, his voice going high and whiney, “Squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna make me-“

He buried his face in your neck and came with a broken whine, and you felt it- pulse after pulse of hot cum pumping into you, filling you up til your belly rounded out even more. His arms caged you in, tail thumping against the mattress as he bred you full.

“S'good,” he slurred against your throat…

“Valko,” you whimpered, brain leaking out your ears., “M'so full-“

“Mm?” He sounded so pleased with himself.

Still absolutely clueless.

Way later -who even knows how long- he was still on top of you, weight braced on his elbows so he didn't crush you. His knot pulsed lazy and another warm gush filled you up.

“Hey,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Mm.”

“So...” His fingers walked playfully up your side, making you squirm- which only made you clench around his knot and whimper, “You think my knot's big, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Nah but like-“ He propped himself up to look at you, smirking, tail swishing, “You were really loud about it. Pretty sure the neighbors know now.”

“I hate you.”

“Mmhm.” He rolled his hips just slightly -enough to make you gasp- and his grin widened. “That why you're still milking my cock right now?”

Your face burned, “I- I can't- it's involuntary-“

“Sure it is.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling, “S'okay baby. I think it's cute how much you love my huge knot.”

“I never said-“

“‘S'so fucking big Valko,'”he mimicked in a breathy voice, and you smacked his chest while he snickered. “'Your knot Valko, oh my god-“

“I do NOT sound like that.”

“You kinda do.” Another lazy grind. Another gush of cum. His eyes glittered. “Wanna hear what else you said? Got real creative toward the end there.”

You shoved at his shoulder uselessly. He didn't budge, just laughed and buried his face in your neck, pressing smiling kisses to your skin.

“M'just teasing, babe” His tail curled around your thigh, “youre cute when you're embarrassed.” He nuzzled the tippy top of your head.

“I'm gonna kill you when your knot finally goes down.”

“Mm, that's fair.” He snuggled closer, entirely unbothered, “Gives me like twenty more minutes to annoy you though.”

His hips shifted again, lazy and deliberate, and the noise you made was mortifying.

With near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces, you couldn't tell them apart.

They were closing in on you, a little at a time. You tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. But they were dust bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. It wasn't even a struggle.

The tallest one slammed you down on the kitchen table, his fingers digging into your shoulders and his belt buckle grinding against your ass.

Your mama's good milk jug tumbled off and shattered on the floor. That was what you focused on as they tied your hands behind your back and gagged you. The shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk.

Not their hands running over your hips, not their laughter. Just the milk and your ma's favourite jug all in pieces.

You could still hear your mother screaming for you when they pulled you outside. That was what hurt the most about that entire awful day. Your mama, pleading and begging and panicking and unable to save you.

Their horses were waiting, another outlaw standing guard with his rifle out.

"Boss, let her ride with me."

"With you? Ain't no way in hell my girl is riding with you."

"Your girl? She ain't yours. Boss, tell 'em she ain't his."

"Runnin' to the boss again? Yellow belly."

It was the tall one who settled the argument. His voice wasn't as rough as the others, but that didn't put you at ease in the slightest.

"She's riding with me."

He still had one hand curled around your upper arm and he pulled you towards his mustang. You dug your heels in as hard as you could, pulled back with all your weight. It just made him sigh.

"Ain't even started yet, and she's already being difficult?"

The outlaw that spoke was already on his stallion. All you could see of his face above the bandana was a pair of blue eyes, lined at the corners. The boss maybe?

"Just some...growing pains. She'll settle down soon enough."

The tall one leaned down and hoisted you over his shoulder. You squirmed and tried to kick your way free, but he kept one arm tight around your knees.

You thought all your panicking would frighten the horses, but no such luck. He tossed you across his saddle and climbed up behind you. The saddle horn dug into your belly until he pulled you into a proper seat, one arm curling around your waist. You could feel his chest against your back, every inch of it firm, hard earned muscle.

He dropped his head and spoke directly into your ear.

"No trying to jump off the horse. No trying to run away. I'm in charge of you until we get back and I won't have you hurt on my watch."

Your only response was to try and smash your head back into his nose. He straightened up just in time and all you managed to do was hurt your own neck.

He sighed again, and spurred his horse forward.

"Well, I suppose it this was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as fun."

The outlaws formed a loose ring around you as you rode. You tried to twist and look back, but your captor was holding you too tight. You didn't even get to see your home shrink into the horizon. Didn't even get that one small goodbye.

They rode for at least two hours, the sun climbing down from its zenith as they took you across rivers and down secret little paths. You knew your ranch and the area around it like the back of your hand, but even you were well and truly lost when you finally arrived.

It was a ranch, but there weren't any cows in the fields or corn growing in neat rows. The house was a big, whitewashed thing. Pretty once, but fallen into disrepair. Just a hideout. Not a place they stayed at for more than a few months.

The blue eyed one pulled you off the horse without breaking a sweat.

You could feel their eyes on you again. God, how many were there? Five? Six?

"You goin' first boss?"

The man looked down at you. He had a hand around your upper arm, but his grip was more firm than rough.

"I reckon I should. Can't trust you lot to be gentle or slow enough."

That made some of them jeer and complain.

"I'll be real sweet, boss. I promise!"

"We can be nice too. Really."

The man snorted. "Nice? I ain't never seen you dogs be nice 'bout nothing. I'll break our filly in. You lot just be patient and don't bother us none."

What were they talking about? You didn't have time to puzzle it out before the boss started pulling you toward the house. Seeing that building looming closer made you start fighting all over again, biting down on your gag and pulling back as much as you could. Like a mustang digging it's feet in.

It didn't last long. The boss leveled a look at you, met your eyes straight on.

"You really gonna be difficult with me, girl?"

Oh, what frightening eyes he had. Bright and clever, a blue so striking you could feel it right through your soul. A mountain lion would have eyes softer than his.

You stopped resisting him. Let him pull you along besides him. What else could you do? He had a gun on his back and a knife in his boot and years of experience wrangling stubborn animals. And you were just a girl out of her depth and far from home.

You didn't see it, but the outlaws looked at each other, impressed. Only the boss could tame a filly with a single look.

The house was much cooler than outside, but the boss didn't give you any time to examine it. Just guided you up the stairs and into a large bedroom. White curtains stirred in the breeze, the bedding neat and clean.

He locked the door behind you. A quiet click that made your heart race.

You jumped when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You could hear the other outlaws outside, the clink of harnesses and buckles as they let the horses out to pasture.

His hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, squeezed.

"Do you know why we took you?"

You shook your head. Ransom, maybe? But your pa was just a run of the mill rancher. Surely there were better targets for quick cash than you.

The outlaw laughed quietly, just a soft breath of amusement.

"Not the faintest clue, huh?"

He let go of you and you heard the soft rustle of material as he shrugged out of his duster.

He turned you around and you finally got to see his face. He'd taken off his Stetson and bandana too, and the man looking back at you was a hardened outlaw in every way. He was a lot older than you, with thick blonde hair going to grey at the edges. Handsome, with a strong jaw covered in light stubble. Grizzled, but muscular and lean for his age.

There was a small, amused smile on his lips.

He kept his hands on your arms and guided you backwards, until your back hit the wall.

"You wanna take a guess? Why'd we ride all the way out to town to steal you?"

Whatever you said was muffled by your gag. He clicked his tongue.

"You're gonna have to use your worlds, darlin'."

He ran his thumb across your cheek, across the gag. "Or maybe not. I like you just like this too."

He was close. Closer than any man had ever been. It was terrifying. Tears spilled down your cheeks, running across your gag and soaking in.

He sighed, caught one on his thumb.

"None of that now girl. I ain't gonna be rough with you. And in time, I reckon you'll come to like it."

Your dress was buttoned at the front, all the way to your neck. He grabbed both sides of your collar and ripped.

You tried to jerk away from him, but he was too close and the only way out was blocked by the wall. Buttons scattered across the room with little plinks.

The only thing keeping your dress on was the fact that your hands were tied behind your back. But the outlaw didn't let that stop him for long.

He leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot.

"Don't squirm 'round and I won't cut you, alright?"

Sound advice, but not something you were about to listen to. You thrashed in his grip, twisting as much as you could. You didn't want that thing anywhere near you.

He grabbed your hair, and yanked your head backwards. You screamed into your gag, your whole scalp aching.

You might have continued fighting, but that's when you felt the cool metal of his knife at your throat. Not the sharp edge, but still enough of a reminder to keep you still.

"Good. Not so hard, is it?"

The knife moved away from your neck and to your sleeve. He slipped the blade between your skin and the fabric and yanked upwards.

Your sleeve tore with an ugly ripping sound, all the way down to the wrist. You whined into your gag, but he ignored you and repeated it on the other side.

He was breathing heavier now, even though the work of keeping you still couldn't have been much of a challenge for a man as strong as him. He put the handle of his knife in his mouth and used both hands to pull your dress off you. It pooled at your ankles, ruined.

You still had your chemise, but the thin white fabric was almost as bad as being naked. Your nipples poked through and he narrowed in on them, one hand coming up to cup your breast. His teeth were biting into the handle of his knife, hard enough to leave indents in the wood. Like a man struggling to control himself. He breathed out slowly, just feeling the weight of your tits in his palms.

You were crying so hard you almost couldn't see his face. A mixture of pity and want.

He kneeled down to put his knife away and stayed on his knees, hands coming to your hips. He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with something you didn't yet know how to recognise. Lust. Want.

His thumbs stroked circles into your skin, your chemise the only barrier between you and him.

"If I was a better man, I'd almost be sorry about this."

He grabbed your leg and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. You almost stumbled, forced to keep your back against the wall if you didn't want to loose your balance.

His fingers gathered your chemise from the hem up, pinning it at your waist with his palms. You were wearing stockings, simple white ones that reached your mid thigh, and plain lace garters.

All in all, it was a damn nice framing for your bare cunt.

God, he could practically feel his mouth watering.

He didn't give you any warning. Just slipped his tongue between your lips. Hot, wet, like nothing you'd ever felt. You tried to squirm away, practically tried to climb up the wall to get away from him. But he had you trapped, one massive palm on your hip and the other on your thigh.

He found your hole real easy. Slipped his tongue all the way in, the bridge of his nose grinding into your clit. You whined at him to stop it, to please just let you go, but with the gag, all he heard was a pretty little sound that made him keep going.

He sucked on your clit, his jawline standing out in sharp relief. His stubble scraped your thighs. So masculine, so unbearably, overwhelmingly manly.

With the way he held you still, you couldn't do anything except take it. Feel even inch of his tongue, feel his hot breath on your skin, feel his nails scraping your thigh. You wanted to hate it. You wanted to be disgusted by it.

But oh, it felt good.

Sometimes, when the neighbour's handsome son came over, you'd feel a little throbbing ache between your legs. This was exactly like that, cranked up to a thousand.

You whined again, and he must have been the Devil's own son, because he just doubled down. Swirled the flat of his tongue across your whole clit and then ran it down all the way to you ass.

You thighs were shaking, and the pit of your stomach felt tight with something your couldn't explain.

"That's my girl." He sounded pleased, smug. Practically cooing at you in his rough baritone. "Feels real good, don't it?"

If he didn't break soon, you felt like your whole body would. Something inside you was building, getting closer to the edge. And you were terrified of it. You breath was coming hard and fast.

Mercifully, he pulled away. Kissed the triangle of your pussy and then your inner thigh. You could feel his teeth against your skin when he smiled.

"Not yet. I ain't nearly close to done with you."

He stood and you weren't sure whether to be thankful or upset. You felt woozy, hot. Like heat stroke, or like getting drunk.

His mouth and chin glistened. He rubbed it dry on his palm, smirking all the while.

"I bet you feel real empty inside, huh sweetheart?"

You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. You did feel empty. There was a hot, throbbing itch in your stomach that you had no idea how to scratch.

"Aww, poor thing. I can take care of that for you."

His hands moved to his belt, blue eyes pinning you to the wall. When he smiled, there were lines around his eyes. They should have been comforting, a mark of someone who laughed often and laughed easy. They weren't.

You shook your head, pleading with your eyes. The tears were starting to come again, thick and fast. For a second or two, with his tongue deep in your core, you'd forgotten that he'd want something in exchange.

His eyes hardened, his smile not moving an inch.

"I will take care of it, girl. You can cry if you want, but we've come too far to stop now."

He grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up, forced you back against the wall. Your whole cunt was wet and glistening with his spit.

Something hot and hard rubbed between your pussy lips. You shuddered, tried to move away. His other arm came around your waist and he pulled you against his chest. The smell of him was overwhelming - gunpowder and leather and whiskey. He smelled like a man. He smelled like your ruin.

Your forehead fell against his collarbone, and his chin came to rest on the crown of your head. The same way a father might hold his daughter after a nightmare.

But there was nothing fatherly about the cock nudging at your entrance.

"Shhh, you're okay. It ain't gonna hurt."

Liar. Terrible, heartless liar.

He pushed in and it felt like your whole body was splitting apart. It burned.

You sobbed into his chest, not entirely sure what was happening to you. This was the sort of thing that was only whispered about. The sort of thing that was kept vague for good, obedient girls until their wedding nights. The only thing you knew for a fact was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

He groaned, pressed a kiss against your hair.

"Sweet little thing, ain't ya? Gonna be good 'fer me? Gonna take it nice and deep?"

You couldn't answer. There was only the stretch of his cock inside you and the oppressive tightness of his arms.

He set a slow, drawn out pace. Cock pulling all the way out to the tip and then sliding right back in. You could feel every inch.

Not gentle, but not needlessly mean either. You were shivering in his arms, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around him.

No one but him knew how fucking difficult it was to keep so slow. Tight, tiny little thing bleeding and crying all over him. Any red blooded man would want to rut into you like a stallion. See just how many tears he could wring out of you.

It was only experience and determination that held him back. If he was a younger man...

It was the right decision to have you first. Not even his second in command - that tall bastard with all the self control in the world - could have managed this.

He huffed out a laugh.

"You're little too young for me, doll. Reckon I could be your father."

He slid back inside you, grinding against your clit in a way that made you whimper.

"Shitty fucking father though. To be doing this to my little girl."

He let go of waist and cupped your jaw in his palm. Tilted your head back, his nose and lips skimming up your neck. You smelled so fucking good. Nothing in this world was as sweet as a needy, crying girl.

"You gonna call me daddy, little girl? Gonna beg me to be nice and let you go?"

You whimpered, a pathetic little sound through the gag. It only made him smile against your neck.

"Thaaat's it. Just take it. Let me break you in. Gonna be all stretched out and sweet when I'm done with you, yeah?"

He sucked at your neck, at the delicate spot where your shoulder started to slope away. A little immature maybe, to want to mark you up like an animal, but wasn't he being plenty mature already? Wasn't he being just saintly in his patience?

"Fuck, you're getting close, ain'tcha? Can feel you gettin' all tight."

He pulled back to look into your eyes, overflowing with tears and just so damn scared.

"You ain't got no idea what's 'bout to happen, do ya?"

He pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in, hard. Your tits jumped and your eyes fluttered shut.

"Just relax and let it happen. It's gonna feel reeaal good."

You tilted your head back and he followed you, lips right back at your throat.

He picked up the pace, trying not to be too rough and slowly failing. The closer he got to his own end, the less important kindness seemed. It wasn't long 'fore he was slamming into you so hard he could feel your tits bouncing. His breath was coming fast, each exhale almost a growl.

"Take it, just like that. C'mon doll, just let me fuck you. Just let me make you mine."

You bit down on your gag and came. Your whole body shook, your nails digging into your palms. You didn't now what he'd done to you, but you couldn't stop it. Your pussy was a clenching, sensitive mess. You felt light headed enough to faint. And the only sound and thought in your head was his voice, right in your ear and rough with barely held back want.

"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."

A good man might have slowed down then. Might have realised just how sensitive you were. He didn't. He kept pistoning his cock into you, fucked you through your orgasm.

You writhed on his dick, in pain and overwhelmed and more scared than you'd ever been. And all of it just served to make him harder, to bring him closer. Even he had to admit he was a bastard for enjoying it so much. He didn't deserve something so sweet. All he deserved in life was a short dance with a noose. But who gave a fuck about that? He'd taken you, he'd stolen you, and like any good thief, he was going to enjoy you.

You felt it when he came. His cock pulsed and twitched inside you, and something hot dripped down your thigh.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hands so tight on you that you felt bruised.

He came down slowly. Kept you plugged up with his cock while he softened. The only sound in the room was his harsh breathing. You couldn't even cry anymore. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep and make the pain disappear.

He pulled back and tilted your chin up.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes, tears still caught in your lashes.

"There she is. Ain't so bad, is it?"

All you could do was sniffle and hope he was bored of you.

He let you down carefully. You weren't steady on your feet at all.

"I've had a lot of blood on my cock over the years, darlin', but I reckon yours is the finest."

He kissed you. You were still gagged, so it was less a kiss and more so his lips pressing against yours.

When he finally stepped away from you, you almost wanted him back. You sank down to your knees, too dizzy to stand.

"Poor thing. Too much to handle, doll?"

He ran his fingers through your hair.

"You did so good, princess. Now just stay so sweet, and the rest of this day will go a hell of a lot easier for you."

You were too out of it to figure out what he meant. You closed your eyes and heard his spurs jingling as he walked away. The door creaked open and then he was gone.

You might have tried to run for it, but you ached so bad that even the thought of it was painful. Your hands were still tied as tight as they were before.

You didn't notice the footsteps or the voices until they were right outside the door.

"So much for bein' nice. Boss left her a right mess."

"Better than you woulda done. Least she's still in one piece."

They came to stand in front of you, two men with their bandanas pulled down around their throats.

You recognised their voices. These two were the most quarrelsome of the bunch. They still had their gun belts on, both of them carrying revolvers. Gunslingers then. Every gang had them.

"Look at her already on her knees 'fer us."

"Why you cryin' pretty girl? Was the boss too mean with ya?"

You looked up slowly. Boots first - silver spurs, well worn leather. Then their belts. And finally, their faces.

One was dark skinned, a crescent scar on his cheek and his hair cropped short. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at you, a half smile showing pearly white teeth.

"Oh, would ya look at those eyes? A man could drown in 'em."

The other was tanned golden with the sun, his eyes a pale green. He was still wearing his Stetson, and his dark hair was long enough to brush his shoulders.

"Boss must be getting old. He left some of her clothes on."

That made the dark one laugh. "Nah, I reckon it's meant to be a treat just 'fer us. Like unwrapping a present on Christmas mornin'."

The green eyed one squated down in front on you and grabbed your jaw. His hands were rough from labour, and his callouses scraped your skin. Whatever he saw in your eyes made him smile, but it didn't have a lick of kindness in it.

"Look at that...Boss really did break you in, didn't he filly?"

He stood and pulled you up with him, hand still clutching your jaw.

"I reckon she's gonna be real sweet to us. Gonna be all nice and obedient."

The other one came to stand behind you, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved your hair out of the way.

"That right, filly? You gonna be all sweet?"

The green eyed one nodded your head for you. His eyes had a certain cruelty to them that made you want to step away. He seemed the type to use spurs and whips both, and to use them often.

He let go of your jaw and focused on the rest of you. And oh, what a lovely sight you were. All tied up and crying, your tits just visible through your chemise. A little virgin about to loose the rest of your innocence to his teeth. A fucking vision, a fucking dream.

He pinched one of your nipples and rolled it between his fingers. Your thin chemise wasn't any protection at all.

"Sensitive, ain'tcha?"

You whined. Not sure whether to pull away or step closer.

The gunslinger behind you wasn't in the mood to be left out. As his partner tugged and played with your nipples, his hands came to rest on your waist. And what huge hands they were. You could feel the heat of him even through your clothes.

He dropped his head to the nape of your neck and inhaled, his nose buried in your hair.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.

"What do you want?"

The green eyed one looked you up and down, weighing his options. Finally, he smiled.

"I'll take her mouth."

Your whole body went cold. He couldn't mean...

"Hmm. That's fine with me." His hands dropped from your waist to your ass, squeezing. "I want to have her from the back anyway."

They must have been in perfect sync with each other. The one in front of you stood aside and the one behind you pushed you towards the bed. You stumbled, landed on the duvet chin first, your teeth slamming together despite the gag.

You didn't have time to push yourself up before they were tearing your chemise off. The thin straps ripped and your last bit of modesty floated to the floor in a tattered white heap. You were left in just your stockings.

The dark one pulled you up by your hips, one hand grabbing the rope around your wrists to keep you steady.

Smack.

Your whole body jerked forward, your ass cheek stinging.

One of them laughed, mocking. "Bet that'll leave a mark."

The dark one ran his palm over the welt, smiling though you couldn't see it.

"We promised the boss we would be nice, remember?"

The green eyed one circled the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your naked skin, your stockings, the tears soaking your gag.

His hands were on his belt. Not undoing it yet, just watching you.

"Y'know, I give that tall bastard a lot of shit, but even I gotta say he was right this time. She's a real cute thing."

The man behind you was still stroking your ass, squeezing and watching your flesh give under his fingers. So soft, so fucking pliable.

He hummed quietly, more concerned with you than with his partner. He slipped his thumb down between your cheeks, catching on your asshole for a second. That sent a jolt of panic through you. They wouldn't...

He must have felt you moving, because he sighed and let his fingers continue downwards. Smearing cum and blood across your pussy lips.

"Not today," he said, soft enough for just you to hear. "Boss wouldn't like that."

That wasn't reassuring to hear. It meant that he still wanted it. Wanted to fuck your virgin ass without any care for the pain, for the hurt. The thing stopping him wasn't empathy, but obedience.

He rubbed tight, harsh circles into your clit. You were still sensitive and you pleaded into your gag, asking him to be just a bit more gentle. Either he couldn't understand you or didn't bother to even hear you, because he carried on, fingerpads rough as sandpaper.

The green eyed one noticed though. He seemed to notice just about everything.

"Want me to take that gag off sweetheart?"

You nodded your head frantically. The sides of your lips felt raw and you couldn't stand the taste of it.

He kneeled with one leg on the bed and undid the material. When he pulled it away, thin lines of spit followed.

You sucked in a lungful of air, coughing. He gathered your hair out of your face, held it all in a loose fist at the back of your head.

"All better?"

Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"...yes." You swallowed, your voice still hoarse. "Thank you."

He tilted his head, smirking.

"So polite. Boss really did a number on ya, huh? Or are ya just a well bred little lady?"

You didn't get a chance to answer, because the other gunslinger ground his palm against your cunt. You yelped and jerked forward on instinct.

The green eyed one tightened his hold on your hair.

"None of that. You can take it."

"I can't! It hurts."

His free hand tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the belt loops. You blanched. What the hell did he need that for?

"Ain't even been a minute and you're already whining? C'mon pretty, there's better things to do with your mouth than that."

He let go of your hair long enough to loop the belt around your neck, the leather wrapped around his fist. He tugged and it tightened, metal buckle pressing icy cold against your skin.

He pulled upwards, forced you to look at him. His cat eyes were mean, amused at seeing you leashed.

"You even think 'bout usin' your teeth and I'll pull this so tight you won't even be able to think 'bout breathing. Got it?"

What was he talking about? Your teeth?

Your answer came soon enough. With his belt off, it was real easy for him to take his cock out. He sighed, relieved to have it free.

The only thing keeping you in place was the belt around your neck. Even still, you pulled backwards until you couldn't go any further.

It was huge.

Thick, with veins running all the way to the tip. That was supposed to fit inside of you? You'd never seen a man's cock before. Even when the boss fucked you, you'd only felt it. No fucking wonder it hurt so bad, if they were all this size.

It was horrifying, and still you couldn't look away.

"Ain't it a sight?"

He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked your head down with the belt, until the tip brushed your lips.

"Come have a closer look."

Maybe if your hands were free, you'd be able to pull away. But as it was, you were staying balanced only because of his grip on the belt and his partner's grip on your arms.

He rubbed the tip across your lips, leaving behind a sticky coating of precum.

"Don't be shy," he purred, "Give it a little kiss."

The belt tightened until you listened. You pecked the side of it, where it wasn't so gross and sticky.

"Atta girl. Now open wide."

You desperately didn't want to. He tasted of salt, and his cock was so hard that you couldn't even imagine how it would fit.

You didn't want to, but what choice did you have?

You opened your mouth and he pushed himself past your lips with a groan. The tip scraped against your tongue, soft as velvet and tasting like the sea.

He let go of his dick and tangled his hand in your hair, pushing your head lower. Until the tip brushed the back of your throat. You gagged, shivering all around him.

"God, your mouth is fucking heaven sent."

He pulled out slowly, until it was just the tip sitting in your mouth.

"Are you gonna join me or what?"

The other gunslinger snorted.

"Fucking impatient. You gotta treat a lady gentle on her first time."

You heard the rustle of clothing behind you, and the hand that was playing with your cunt came to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the flesh for a good grip.

Your cunt felt cold without his touch, but his fingers were quickly replaced with his cock. The head nudged at your entrance, hot enough that you could practically feel it radiating. The leaking pre mixed with the sticky come already on your lips, thin strands of white pulling and breaking as he settled himself against you.

You wanted to say something, anything, to make them stop, but the gunslinger still had his dick in your mouth.

"Hmmm. Nice and warm and I ain't even pushed inside yet."

"Ain't she? Like she was made for us."

His hand slid from your hair to you jaw, thumb tracing your cheek. He could see the bulge of his cock against your cheek - it made you look a little chipmunk getting all cozy and ready for winter. Your tears were caught on your lashes, silver dew drops like you just took a swim.

"You heard me, baby? You're made for us. Made to fuck us and keep us happy. Our little lady."

They both pushed into you at the same time.

Thick cock bullying into you, trapping you between them with nowhere to go. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't. You couldn't even think. Couldn't even breathe.

The green eyed cowboy pulled on your leash and forced you to tilt your head back, bare your throat to him. He pushed deeper into you, until his dick was down your throat and your nose was brushing the hard muscles of his stomach.

He held you there, cock down your throat and tears collecting in your eyes, while his partner started thrusting.

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't pull away, couldn't fight him. You could just look up at him, eyes all wide and scared. Your panic was thick in your blood and he drank it in.

Smirking, keeping you at his mercy. He knew you couldn't breathe, and he still held you on his cock.

Your heart was racing and you felt light headed before he finally pulled out. You gasped, thick strings of spit connecting you. He only gave you enough time to catch a few deep breaths before he was back in your mouth, thrusting. Going just as deep but thankfully pulling out.

You gagged and choked and felt like you were drowning on his cock. And all the while, his partner yanked you back and slammed balls deep into you.

It was too much. You couldn't focus on anything. You were limp in their hands, letting them fuck you and just trying to survive it.

You weren't sure how long it took. Your whole world was narrowed down to just them - their hands on you, getting tighter and meaner the closer they got to coming.

The one fucking you from the back let go of your hip and curled his whole arm around your waist, leaning over you until his lips were on your neck. Fucking you hunched over like a dog in heat.

He bit your shoulder, sunk his teeth in with a snarl.

They didn't talk much anymore. There weren't any words left. Just the need to fuck and claim and come.

The sounds were the worst. The slick squelching of a cock in your cunt, the slap of skin on skin, the heavy snarls for you to take it like a good girl. And their raspy breathing, like stallions after a gallop.

The gunslinger pulled harder on your leash, keeping you still while he fucked your face. He's teeth were gritted tight, his eyes narrowed and focused entirely on you.

The dark one must have hit something deep inside you, because you made a whining, moaning sort of noise that vibrated all through his cock.

That was what did it. He forced his cock all the way down your throat, held you in place while he came.

When he pulled out, you were coughing so hard your whole chest ached.

That's when you felt it - hot spunk splattering all over your asshole. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling.

The man behind you kissed your back between your shoulder blades and slowly moved down. When he came to your ass cheeks, he sunk his teeth in with a playful growl.

He flipped you onto your back, and you sunk bonelessly down onto the covers. Your nipples were tender and your neck was a patchwork of marks.

The dark skinned one flopped down next to you and threw a possessive arm around your waist. He hummed, pleased as a bear before winter.

"Best fuck I've had in ages."

His partner was silent, his fingers toying with the belt still around your neck. You tilted your head back to look at him.

He was smiling, not soft exactly but about as close as a cruel bastard like him could get. He was so handsome, when he wasn't trying to choke you.

He sighed and let his fingers drift up your cheeks.

"I wish we could stay, pretty. But the day ain't done just yet."

The other one grumbled. "Can't we just lay here for a bit? I've got my girl all nice and snug. Why should I let her go?"

"Boss's orders, that's why. We gotta play nice and share."

"Why? Those bastards don't deserve her."

"And we do?"

He didn't bother to answer, just pushed himself to his elbows and looked down at you. His eyes were a deep brown. Sweet, almost.

"No," he said quietly, "We don't."

He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Soft, like a husband would. He stood and only looked back at you when he was at the door. Hard man, killer and gunslinger that he was, you thought you saw just a little guilt in his eyes.

When he was gone, the green eyed gunslinger ran his hands through your hair.

"He's right, y'know. We don't deserve a girl like you."

There wasn't any guilt in his voice, just a deep sense of satisfaction.

"But we've got you anyway. If the world gave folk what they deserved, you'd never have been so unlucky to catch our eye in the first place."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your other cheek, and then nipped at your jaw. A coyote savouring a bone.

"You'll learn to take it, sweetheart. And when I'm done, you'll learn to like it."

He left his belt around your neck and let the door slam shut behind him.

You could hear when they joined the others out in the yard. Their laughter drifted up to you, sharp as a wild dog's bark.

You closed your eyes. On your back in nothing but your stockings and a leash. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd ever imagined as a possibility. Hell, a lot of today was filled with things you'd never even thought about.

You hurt in just about every place. But parts of you throbbed with a pain that wasn't entirely unwanted.

Traitorous body, traitorous mind.

You couldn't possibly like this. You were being used by criminals, killers. Your virginity was just another prize for them to steal. You were a good girl, raised in a good home with upright, moral parents. You weren't some lady of the night, some harlot, to enjoy their roughness.

Right?

When the door sighed open, you didn't even bother to open your eyes.

"These young ones don't know any gentleness, eh beauty?"

His voice was calm. The sort of soft tone you'd use with a filly still nervous 'bout the bit.

You could hear his footsteps. Heavy boots but no spurs.

You flinched when he touched the belt around your neck, but he didn't do much more than run his fingers across the leather.

"Let's get this off you. Idiots. You don't harness a creature so fine."

He pulled it off your neck carefully and then touched the bruises it left behind.

"Open your eyes for me, beauty. Let me see you."

You almost didn't. What more was there to see? Another man with too tight hands and a hunger that wouldn't end?

It was his voice that did it. So kind. No growl behind the words, no clenched teeth snarl.

The first thing you saw were his eyes. A dark hazel, like an eagle's.

"Ah, just as pretty as I thought. Do you want to sit up for me? Those ropes must be hurting something awful by now."

He was older than you, but not by too much. Older than the gunslingers, but not nearly as old as the boss. His hair was tied in braid that fell almost all the way down his back. Lakota, if you had to guess, or maybe Crow.

There was a pair of workman's gloves shoved in the pocket of his jeans, but he didn't carry a pistol. The wrangler most likely.

You sat up slowly, wary. He didn't seem awfully worked up about a naked woman sprawled on the bed in front of him. Maybe he wasn't so bad...

He untied your hands without letting his own wander.

You flexed your fingers and carefully brought your hands to your lap. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long.

"Will you let me go?"

"Oh, beauty." He touched his knuckles to your cheek. "That's what you want, isn't it? To go back home?"

"Yes." Your throat felt tight with tears. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes.

"It hurts to see you cry, beauty. It hurts to see these marks on you. But even if I was the only one holding you back, even if it was entirely up to me... I wouldn't."

"Are you going to do the same thing as the rest of them?"

He held your face in his palms, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. He smiled, but it was awfully sad.

"It's been real long time since I've had a woman, beauty. And never one so fine. I'm still just a man."

You were crying again, though you didn't realise it. Tears washing hot over his fingers.

"Shhh." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you."

He undid his belt slowly, eyes on you the entire time. You were on your knees again, your stockings making you look oh so innocent and oh so filthy all at once.

He grabbed your hand before he took his cock out. You pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Not rough, not hurting you. Just too firm to escape.

He brought you hand to his crotch, pressed your palm against his cock. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, you could feel how hard it was.

"All your doing, beauty. That's all your fault."

He undid the last button and his dick pushed it's way free. Big and no less intimidating for being the second one today. His fingers were knotted between yours and he dragged your hand up his shaft. He sighed, a man finally getting release.

"Here, this will go faster if you use your mouth."

His other hand came to rest on the nape of your neck. Not forcing you down exactly, but heavy, inexorable. Trying to refuse him was like fighting the pull of the moon.

He didn't force himself into you like the gunslinger did. Just kept using your hand - still dry - to stroke himself.

"Come now beauty. Just a little lick and it will all be over. You want that, don't you?"

You did. You wanted this day to end.

You cautiously licked the head of his cock, your tongue almost blistering hot. He groaned and for just a second, the hand on your nape tightened. Like he really did just want to pull you onto him and have his own way.

"There you go. Not so terrible, is it?"

It wasn't. He tasted salty, but not in an unpleasant way. And hearing him groan like that made some part of your gut flutter.

You felt just a little braver. When he pulled you closer, you let him. He rubbed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them.

You didn't want his cock down your throat. Didn't want to feel like you were choking. But everything he'd done to you so far had been miles different to the gunslingers. Maybe he'd be different in this too.

Slowly, you opened your mouth. You expected him to shove himself inside you, betray the tiny bit of trust he'd built.

He didn't. Instead, he stood perfectly still. He even stopped using your hand, though he kept it wrapped around the base. Just letting you get comfortable. Letting you explore.

It was what your daddy did when he was working to tame a colt. He'd let them get used to him a little at a time, until they didn't mind his touch at all.

You were too nervous to take him in much deeper than the tip. But he didn't complain at all, just watched you with those golden eyes.

You sucked on him. Just the tip, but you wrapped your lips around him and treated it like it was candy. You flicked your tongue across the underside of his head, eyes locked on his to see if he liked it.

And from the way his breathing was picking up, you reckoned he liked it plenty.

Hadn't the gunslinger wanted you to kiss his? Maybe that's what men wanted. You pulled off his cock with a wet little pop and turned your attention to his shaft. You kissed him - small, shy little pecks all the way down to his hand and then back up again.

He was smiling, head tilted. He almost seemed amused.

"So that's how you like it, huh?"

You hummed, not sure how to respond. Both the gunslingers and the boss kept getting faster the closer they were to finishing. Maybe if you used your hand...

He seemed surprised when you moved your palm, but it didn't last long. When he was sure of what you were doing, he let go of your hand and let you do it all by yourself.

There was a lot of friction and you couldn't go as fast as you wanted without yanking on him. You needed some kind of lube, something to make him all slick...

Oh.

Of course.

You licked him, all the way from balls to tip, trying to drool on his cock as much as possible. He shivered, voice getting just a bit tighter.

"Careful girl. You're playing with fire."

You didn't know what he meant. All you wanted was to finish this. Be able to rest and dream sweet dreams, dreams without men's hands on your body.

His cock was wet with your spit and when you started using your hand, it squelched lewdly.

He groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and his thumb tracing your lips.

"Open your mouth for me, beauty."

You did. You couldn't look away from his eyes. That burnished gold like dead man's treasure.

He pressed his thumb against your tongue, ran it over your teeth. He seemed just as captivated by you as you were by him. The men outside were laughing again, voices raised and vulgar. But he didn't for a second look away from you.

He smiled and said something to you in a language you didn't understand.

Your hand was moving a lot faster now that you'd found your stride, your thumb brushing over his slit on every third stroke. The only sign that he was getting closer was his breathing.

At the last second, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his tip against your lips.

Hot spunk shot at you, some of it dribbling down your chin and some of it coating your tongue. He groaned, jaw clenched tight. He was panting like a dog on a hot day, still looking at you like you were the finest thing he'd ever seen.

He pulled his cock away and replaced it with his thumb, smearing his load between your lips and across your teeth. He spoke in his language again, words just a little more forceful than before.

You thought he was done with you. Thought he'd be satisfied with leaving.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed you. One hand was still on your nape and you had no room to pull away.

It was your first proper kiss. He was hungry, his tongue scraping across your teeth. One hand came to rest behind you on the bed, and he slowly forced you down, still caught between his lips and his hand.

He ended up between your legs, still not letting you go even though you were both almost out of breath.

"Beauty," he muttered, lips pressing against on yours.

When he finally broke away, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You were sharing the same air, in that tight little space. And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else the outlaws had done to you.

He was practically lying on top of you, the hand that held your neck now tangled in your hair, and his other at your waist. He held you like a lover would.

A lover. Would you ever have one, if they let you go? Who would want you after your virgin's blood was spilled?

He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering.

"Oh beauty, how can I be so lucky?"

He didn't let you go. Just held you underneath him and laid his head on the side of your neck.

You were tense, muscles all coiled and ready to be hurt. But in his arms, you relaxed a little at a time without even realising it. This man wouldn't hurt you, whatever his reasons were.

His dark hair had come loose from it's braid and you absentmindedly brushed it off his brow. That made him smile just a little.

It had grown quiet outside and the only sound was of the breeze rustling the curtains and his soft breathing.

"How did such a kind man become an outlaw?"

You didn't really mean to ask that. And kind couldn't be applied to him without qualifiers. But in the face of everything that had happened to you, his softness was saintly.

He hummed against your neck.

"Bad luck. Bad people. Having nowhere to go back to. It changes you."

You swallowed, sad though you weren't sure why.

"I'm sorry."

He pushed himself up and looked into your eyes.

"Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation."

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again. "I've waited my whole life for you."

You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you?

The door opened with a bang.

"Are ya really still busy? That ain't fuckin' fair."

The gunslingers were standing in the door, both of them looking irritated. Your whole body tensed. They couldn't be back so soon, could they?

The wrangler pushed himself to his knees. The way he was sitting, your hips ended up on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He put a hand on your thigh absent-mindedly.

When he looked back at them, any softness in him drained away. He was just another outlaw with hard eyes.

"Is it the boy? Boss is really letting you go through with it?"

"It's 'bout time he became a man. And you're the one who was goin' on 'bout playing nice."

The wrangler sighed and looked back at you. When he spoke, it was just for you to hear. 

"I don't want to leave you, beauty. But boss's orders."

He leaned down and kissed you, ignoring the gunslingers' cat calls.

When he stood up, you had half a mind to ask him to stay. You almost reached for him. But the gunslingers were watching you and something in you whispered that showing him favour was a terrible idea. You kept your hands knotted in the sheets. For both your sakes.

When he was gone, you sat up and pushed yourself all the way back to the headboard. Hugged your knees to your chest. You hadn't noticed him earlier, but the gunslingers had a boy with them.

They were half dragging him into the room, one with his hand on the boy's nape and the other with a fist in his shirt.

He was young, barely past eighteen. Slightly built, with pale eyes and bronze curls. He wasn't looking at you. Or more accurately, he was doing everything possible to avoid looking at you.

The gunslingers gave him a rough shove and he landed on the bed, bouncing a little before he pushed himself up.

"Gonna get your first taste of a woman boy, and she's a real fine one."

The green eyed gunslinger leaned over and grabbed your ankle. With one brutal yank, he dragged you away from the headboard and all the way to the foot of the bed.

"Missed me, sweetheart? 'Cause I sure missed you."

He caught one of your wrists and tutted.

"Just like him to let you loose. Fuckin' hell, don't he realise how much easier you are when you're all tied up?"

He knelt with one boot on the mattress and pulled you up, twisting your arm behind your back so you ended up with your head tucked under his chin.

"We was feelin' real bad 'bout hurting you, pretty. So we thought we'd make it up to you. Brought you somethin' you'll really enjoy."

You were skeptical of anything he did. He wasn't the charitable kind.

The boy finally looked at you. His eyes were round, nervous.

"Do... do you want this?"

The gunslinger slapped a palm over your mouth before you could answer him, dragging you closer to him at the same time.

" 'Course she wants it. She'd be fighting a whole lot harder if she didn't. Ain't that right?"

"Would be clawing our eyes out if she really didn't want it," the other gunslinger agreed.

The boy looked rightly skeptical. You were crying an awful lot for someone who "wanted it."

"But..."

The dark skinned gunslinger sighed and grabbed the boy's neck.

"Look at her. You're tellin' me you ain't getting just a little hard seeing her like that?"

"Yes but -"

"But what? You want her. And she's right there for the taking. It ain't complicated."

The man holding you was obviously getting impatient.

"You wanna be a man? Wanna come on jobs with us? Than fucking earn it."

That seemed to decide him. He crawled towards you, just as scared to touch you as you were to be touched.

"What do I do?"

"Open her legs and start eating."

He touched your knee. He gulped, focused entirely on the feel of you. He slowly let his hands drift up your thighs.

When he reached your mid thighs, he tried to pull them apart just a little. You kept your legs as tightly closed as you could. Whatever you tried to say was muffled by the gunslinger's hand, but it was enough to make the boy look up at your face.

You could see it in his eyes. The desire to have you and the horror at knowing this was all forced. In the end, guilt won.

"I can't."

He pulled away from you, his fingers shaking.

"She doesn't want this. How can you hold her down and make her take it?"

The dark skinned gunslinger clicked his teeth in annoyance.

"God, could you be any more pathetic? It don't matter what she wants. All that matters is that you're strong enough to take what you want."

The boy was almost off the bed when the gunslinger grabbed his hair and yanked him back.

"It's a lesson you gotta learn boy. Or you ain't gonna live long in this business."

The boy yelped, hands coming up to try and pull himself loose. You could have told him it was useless - you couldn't escape their hold no matter how hard you fought.

He dragged the boy across the bed and back to you.

The gunslinger holding you could see where this was going and he laughed, mean and mocking.

"Gonna be the hard way, eh?"

His hand dropped from your mouth and curled around your throat. He squeezed, just hard enough to remind you of his strength.

"Be a good little pet and open your legs."

You didn't. Hadn't they done enough already? They'd ruined you. Why not just leave the boy alone?

The gunslinger growled. "Ain't listening so well without my belt around your throat, is that it?"

He twisted your arm further up your back, until your whole shoulder was throbbing. You squirmed, arching against him to get the pressure off. 

"Do I gotta teach you a whole new lesson in obedience? I promise I'm a much harder master than the boss."

He let go of you throat and grabbed your thigh, his fingers digging into the meat. His partner was quick to do the same on your other leg. It wasn't any good fighting them. They weren't scared of hurting you and they didn't care if they left bruises.

They wrenched your thighs apart and the gunslinger shoved the boys head between your legs.

"You ain't scared of a lil' blood, are ya? Clean her up nice and good."

The boy looked up at you with tears brimming in his waterline.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't have the boss's skill. His tongue was soft, hesitant. Probing, but totally unsure what to do.

You shivered at the feeling of his lips on your clit, his warm breath tickling your thighs.

The gunslinger growled and pushed him further down, until his nose was grinding into your folds.

"She ain't gonna get away. Use your whole tongue, suck on her, bite. Fuck's sake, do we gotta do everything for you?"

The one at your back laughed and nipped your cheek.

"She wants it though. Just look at those pretty tears."

The boy whimpered but did as he was told, dragging his tongue all the way up. His hands came to rest on your thighs, skin so much softer than the other men's.

His teeth brushed your clit and you gasped. The boy froze.

And then, he did it again.

You shuddered, thighs shaking just a little. He didn't seem to notice it, but his grip on your legs was getting tighter. He focused on the sensitive spot he'd found, raking his tongue across it.

You made another small, involuntary sound.

The man at your back purred. "There. Ain't that sweet to hear?"

The boy started to suck on your clit, tongue hot and wet. He pushed himself deeper, his nose and chin both buried in your cunt. He didn't even notice when the gunslinger let go of his hair.

He curled his arm around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, almost lifting you off the bed. The wet sounds of his sucking filled the room.

The gunslinger let go of you thigh, satisfied that the boy had a good grip on you. He kissed the corner of your lips, his hand coming up to play with your tits.

"Y'know, we never did get to make you come. Can't help wonderin' what you sound like."

You kept your jaw clenched tight. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction.

He must have read your mind, because he chuckled. Pinched your nipple hard enough that you bucked in his grip.

"Oh, you're going to come for us. Ain't that right boy?"

The boy muttered something and went right back to eating you out. You could feel the same heat in your belly as when the boss had you. Like a band about to snap. Every little move was too much, every flick of his tongue on your clit was somehow more intense.

You squirmed, trying everything you could to get him off. The boy ignored you. Just held on a little tighter and pinned you thigh to the bed.

"Please," you whined. "It's too much."

The gunslingers snickered at that.

"Poor darlin'. Does it hurt real good?"

"Don't fight it. Just let it happen. No one will know except us."

"And we're real good at keeping secrets."

The extra mean gunslinger pressed his cheek against yours and looked down at the boy between your legs.

"Don't tell me you're shy. We're real well acquainted by now, ain't we?"

You hated when he spoke to you like that. All sweetly condescending.

The boy wasn't letting up. Just kept sucking your clit and dipping his flexed tongue into your hole, switching from one to the other like he couldn't get enough. Like you were water in the desert and he'd drop dead without you in his mouth.

You fisted the duvet in your free hand, trying to distract yourself. No good. Your body had wants and needs of its own.

You could feel it building and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.

You threw your head back and bit your lip, but it still wasn't enough. Small whines and gasps slipped through.

Your cunt was clenching, your whole belly a warm knot finally coming undone. It felt better than good.

It felt fucking incredible.

The boy didn't seem to notice. He just kept at it, even though your clit was swollen and aching and bright with blood.

The gunslinger noticed though. You could feel him smiling against your neck.

He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and then kissed all the way down to your shoulder.

"Maybe we ought to be nicer, if that's what you sound like."

"Like a fox in a trap. Whinin' so nice 'fer us."

Your whole body felt like you touched lightening. And the boy's tongue was the worst if it.

"Please, enough. I...can't..."

The dark skinned gunslinger leaned closer to you, smiling in a way that wasn't nice at all.

"You're so sweet when you beg, filly. Ask politely and I'll get him off you."

You swallowed your pride. What was left of it after today anyway? They'd seen far too much of you for you to hold onto false modesty.

"Please. It's too much. Just make it stop."

Maybe it was your voice or maybe it was your tears or maybe he was just feeling merciful after emptying his balls inside you. He grabbed the boy's hair and hauled him up.

The kid's lips were red and swollen, his whole jaw slick with spit and spunk. He looked dazed, eyes still on the spot between your thighs.

"I'm not done yet. Can't I just..."

"Ain't complaining now, are ya? You see why we went through all that trouble for her?"

He was still holding onto you and he made a half hearted tug to get you closer to him.

"Five more minutes. Please."

The gunslinger scoffed. "You think just 'cause you had a taste you can make demands?"

He pulled the boy's hair and dragged him off the bed. His jeans were bulging at the crotch and his eyes never left you.

"But you said -"

"We said that you'd get a taste. Nothin' more."

The gunslinger holding you spoke up, his lips still pressed against your shoulder.

"You gotta earn it boy. Our girl ain't gonna be wasted on some greenhorn."

"Gonna have to make do with your fist, like the rest of us had to."

When the boy was off the bed, the gunslinger let go of your arm and shoved you forward. You landed on your forearms, your body sprawled in front of him.

He planted a hard smack on your ass and leaned over you, lips brushing your hair.

"You'd better dream about me sweetheart. Better feel me in your mouth when you close your eyes."

His fingers swiped across your cunt, rough and probing. You winced at the feel of him.

"Or else I'll just have to fuck you so hard the memory is burned into your mind."

You looked over your shoulder, eyes catching his for just a second. Long enough to realise he meant every word of his threat. He smirked, satisfied.

He stood and grabbed the boy by his upper arm. Together with his partner, they bundled him out the door. Business all finished, eh?

You sagged into the bed and watched them leave, your cunt still pulsing when you moved. You were exhausted and you looked it, too tired to push yourself up.

A hand caught the door before it closed.

Another one? How much more were you supposed to take?

The newcomer nudged the door back open and stood there for a minute, watching you. He had a bowl of water in his hand, a wash rag thrown over the side.

You hadn't seen his face before, but you recognised him. The tall, well spoken one who made you ride on his horse.

He was dressed better than most of the others. A black, silk waist coat and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver cross dangled on a chain around his neck.

It made you want to laugh. What God could he worship, when he was a sinner so black?

"Hello dove."

You didn't answer. Just watched him with your cunt fluttering and your lips bruised. 

He was the palest out of them all, skin more like a scholar's than a cowboy's. He had black hair, as long as the gunslinger's, but tied back. He was probably Chinese, but born on this side of the Pacific. His accent was almost the same as yours.

He walked towards you slowly. Not nervous, but more like he was worried about spooking you.

He put the bowl of water down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, half facing you.

"It must hurt."

You stayed quiet. What did he know of hurt? He wasn't the one being held down and fucked.

He nodded at the bowl. You hadn't noticed it, but the water was a milky white.

"That's to clean you up. I reckon they left a few more cuts and scrapes than they intended."

You found your voice. Smaller, meeker than you remembered.

"Why do you care?"

"You think we don't care?"

You blinked. Of course you thought that. What else was there to think? They were outlaws who took you to satisfy themselves for an afternoon or two. What more could there be?

He laughed, but it was a bitter thing.

"Oh, qīn’ài de. If we didn't care, you'd still be a free woman."

You didn't understand what he was getting at. He sighed and reached for your ankle.

You jerked away. You didn't want to be touched ever again. Not by a man, not by anyone.

He sighed again.

"Don't be difficult. I want to help you."

"Why?"

He was quiet. Just watching you with his dark eyes. There was something familiar about him, though you couldn't tell what.

Finally, "You don't remember me."

You were in no frame of mind to care about his feelings.

"No."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his knuckles. Like a man at prayer. He turned his head a little to speak to you.

"It's been a long time, but you saved my life once."

You frowned, totally blank.

"You were still just a girl. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. I'd just turned twenty, part of a gang for the first time and too damn cocky."

He rubbed the skin just above his thumb. There was an ugly scar there, the skin still raised and puckered after all these years.

"Our heist went wrong. Sherrif and his deputies were waiting for us. I got shot. Not so bad that it would kill me, but bad enough that I couldn't make it home."

You couldn't see where this was going.

"Ended up in a barn, bleeding everywhere. I heard footsteps and I thought for sure I was done for. That the rancher was going to blow my brains all over the wall. But it wasn't him that found me."

You sat up slowly and ended up on your knees, your back to him. You thought you understood now, but you let him keep speaking.

"Wasn't him, but his daughter. Dropped the milk when she saw me but she didn't scream. Just came over and asked how she could help me. Me. A wanted man who'd just killed six deputies."

You didn't know that part of the story. All you remembered was the hot summer sun slanting through the cracks in the barn, and the young man bleeding out in the hay. You remembered him digging the bullet out and asking you to stitch him up, his face going all pale.

You closed you eyes and it was like you were right back there, hiding him in the hayloft and telling your pa the blood on your dress was from killing a chicken.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Because you looked scared. And because I was a little in love with you."

That probably wasn't the answer he was expecting. You pulled in a shuddering breath.

"You were older than me, but still so young. The most handsome man I'd ever met. You told me you got shot by mistake, and not to tell anyone because it would get your little brother in trouble."

You could hear a smile in his voice.

"And you believed me?"

"Yes. Why would you lie to me? Outlaws were just a thing from stories. And I suppose I wanted to believe you. You told me I was going to be really pretty someday, that you'd have to come back and marry me. No one had ever said anything like that to me."

He hummed. "You really thought I was handsome?"

"Yes."

He still was, but he had none of the sweet, boyish softness you remembered. He was handsome in a hard, dangerous way. Diamond rough. You could cut your skin on the sharpness of him.

"But what does that have to do with anything? Why...why do this to me, if you owe me your life?"

He sighed and reached for you. He hooked his arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap.

"I kept checking in on you over the years, do you know that? Every time I was near your ranch I'd ride out and look for you. Always watching."

"Why?"

"I felt like I owed you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. And when you got older...well, I just liked looking at you."

You shivered. There was something in his voice, a longing far deeper than anyone of the other cowboys'.

"Will you let me go when you're done?"

He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe that would be the merciful option. But we aren't merciful men."

He pulled your head onto his shoulder when you started crying.

"You're going to stay with us, qīn’ài de. For a very, very long time."

"Why now? Why..."

His hand was soft in your hair, his voice even softer.

"You're young, lovely, a rancher's only child. How much longer 'til your pa started to consider marriage? And who would come knocking on his door? No, I couldn't loose you to them."

"You're the one..." you tried pulling away but he kept you still, head against his shoulder.

"Me," he agreed, "I'm the one to blame for this. And even knowing that, I wouldn't take it back."

"The others..."

"Brutes, aren't they? But they're my brothers. And once they saw you, they wanted you too."

He said he couldn't loose you to another man, but that didn't make any sense.

"If that's true, why did you let the others..." You swallowed, not sure how to go on.

"Why did I let the others have you first?"

You nodded. He played with the cross on his necklace. Finally, he spoke.

"Because I want the most time with you."

He pulled away to look at you and you realised how wrong you were. It wasn't that he didn't feel any lust for you, it was just that he hid it far better than the rest of them.

But now... oh, his was the worst you'd seen. Boiling hot, on the end of its tether. This was a man who wanted you. Who'd spent years wanting you.

He laid a palm on your thigh.

Half the time, his flirting crashed and burned so spectacularly that it somehow looped back around into being…Weirdly endearing. He was a complete dork. An absolute doofus. Brilliant enough to run a company and solve problems that would make your head spin, yet somehow capable of saying the dumbest thing imaginable seconds later with complete sincerity.

You often wondered if he had more muscle than common sense. A walking, talking, six-foot-two beef bag of ADHD with a confidence far bigger than his self-awareness. He made you want to smack him upside the head almost as often as he made you laugh, and somehow, against your better judgment, against your own common sense, against every standard you’d ever claimed to have, you’d let the idiot grow on you. Worse yet, you’d grown so attached in such a ridiculously short amount of time that you sometimes wanted to smack yourself just as hard for letting it happen in the first place.

There was, however, something about him that made it impossible to completely write him off. Buried beneath every eye roll he earned and every moment that had you internally cringing at yourself for finding him even remotely attractive was a man who was so painfully genuine that it was almost disarming.

Valko wore his heart on his sleeve without a shred of shame. He was sincere to a fault, brave in ways that had nothing to do with physical strength, effortlessly funny without always meaning to be, and so unbelievably affectionate that it sometimes left you wondering if he had any concept of personal restraint. He was warm in every sense of the word, always reaching for your hand, your waist, your shoulder; always finding some excuse to be close. He wasn’t embarrassed by the way he looked at you, either. If anything, he seemed determined to make sure everyone around him knew exactly how hopelessly smitten he was. He didn’t hide his feelings behind pride or carefully maintained indifference like so many people did. He flaunted them. Loudly. Shamelessly. Almost ferally. He simped over you with such shameless enthusiasm that it should’ve been embarrassing to witness.

Maybe that’s why you’d tested him so relentlessly. You’d teased him. Picked on him. Deliberately brushed him off whenever he got too close, watching carefully to see if the mask would crack or if the sweetness would disappear the moment you stopped making things easy for him. Part of you wanted proof that it wasn’t just love bombing; that he wasn’t putting on some impossibly charming performance until he got what he wanted. Another part simply wanted to protect yourself. You wanted things to move at your pace, not his. You wanted to decide how much of yourself you gave away and when, to keep enough distance that you could still retreat if things became too overwhelming.

The strange thing was…He never pushed. No matter how much you huffed at him, rolled your eyes, or lightly bullied him for acting like an overgrown puppy desperate for attention, Valko somehow always respected the boundaries you set without ever making you feel guilty for having them. He’d grin, laugh it off, throw another ridiculous joke your way, and wait. Patiently. Like he already knew you’d come back to him when you were ready.

Somehow, despite all your efforts to keep him at arm’s length, he’d managed to slip past every wall you’d tried so carefully to build. He always called it fate. Or biology. According to him, whatever existed between the two of you was something neither of you had any real control over, something instinctive and inevitable that had been pulling you together since the day you met. The first time he’d said it, you’d laughed right in his stupid, punch-bruised face, convinced he was just being his usual dramatic, overconfident self. Now, though…Now you weren’t so sure he was wrong. Maybe he was right about the whole primordial soup theory.

You had just finished the last sip of your wine when a familiar clink echoed from outside, followed by the unmistakable scrape of something bumping against your balcony railing. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, already knowing exactly who it was before you even looked. Oh, for God’s sake. Couldn’t he just use the front door like a normal person?

The man had an actual key, now. He knew how locks worked. Yet, for reasons known only to the giant idiot himself, he seemed to treat your third-story balcony like it was the designated entrance every single time he came over. It was ridiculous. Completely unnecessary. The kind of thing that made you instinctively facepalm before you even laid eyes on him.

…Not that you hadn’t been waiting for him. His late-night Target run had taken longer than expected, and although you’d spent the last hour pretending you weren’t paying attention to the clock, you’d caught yourself glancing at it far more times than you’d ever admit aloud.

Shaking the thought away, you quickly rinsed your wine glass and set it upside down in the drying rack before tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin with a muted clatter. Then you made your way toward the balcony, pulling your lounging robe a little tighter around yourself as the cool night air seeped through the cracks of the sliding glass door. The chill brushed against your bare legs the moment you slid it open, carrying with it the crisp scent of the evening.

And there he was. The giant loser trapped inside an unfairly attractive body. Valko landed on your balcony with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible for a man his size, straightening up with that impossibly pleased grin already stretched across his face. Moonlight spilled over his broad shoulders, catching the gold in his eyes and the sharp points of his teeth as he beamed at you like he’d just returned from some grand expedition instead of a Target run. A plastic shopping bag swung triumphantly from one hand before he held it out toward you like a prize.

“Got the essentials,” he announced proudly, “another bottle of cab, your chocolate pretzels, popcorn, dish soap—”

“—Dish soap??” Your brows knitted together as you crossed your arms, looking up at him with open confusion.

“You were running out,” he replied matter-of-factly, pointing past you through the open glass door toward your kitchen sink before continuing down his mental checklist.

Your attention barely stayed on the words. Instead, your eyes lingered on the way his pointed canines caught the moonlight every time he smiled; that stupid, lopsided smirk somehow managing to look both mischievous and impossibly genuine at the same time.

“I took a little longer than I thought I would cause I realized I needed to grab myself some Swiffer pads,” he continued with a sheepish shrug, “can’t do a Target trip without it turning into a whole mission. Y’know how that goes.”

Before he could stride over and inevitably bend down to nuzzle the top of your head for what had to be the millionth time that night, you planted your palm squarely against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. The contact was almost comical. His chest was ridiculously firm beneath your hand, like trying to hold back a brick wall wrapped in an expensive tank top, yet he froze instantly the moment he realized you were serious.

“My birth control?” You asked, your gaze dropping pointedly to the white Target bag dangling from his hand.

His golden eyes widened. His jaw slowly went slack. For one horrifying, painfully familiar second, he stared off into the distance as though his soul had just left his body to retrace every step he’d taken through the store. Oh, God damn it. You knew that look.

“…Uhhh,” he answered after a beat, still frozen in place as his eyes drifted down toward the bag, “right. Yeah, I got that…I think…”

A slow, weary sigh slipped through your nose.

“I hope so,” you deadpanned, “considering that’s the entire reason you went to Target for me.”

“Don’t worry, I swear I got it,” he flashed you a smile that was far less convincing than he clearly intended before immediately shoving his hand into the bag and beginning to rummage through it with increasing urgency.

Plastic crinkled loudly as bags of snacks, cleaning supplies, and whatever else he’d impulse-bought shifted around.

“Damn it, I swear it’s in here…Hold on,” his movements became faster, more frantic, “would you quit staring at me like that? It’s making me nervous!”

“You should be nervous!” You huffed, folding your arms tighter across your chest as disbelief began replacing your patience, “ugh, don’t tell me you forgot, Valko…”

“I didn’t!” His head snapped up so quickly you almost believed him. Almost, “I—…”

His confidence evaporated just as fast.

“…Oh my God.”

He stopped digging through the bag altogether, horror washing across his face as the realization finally hit him.

“I left it on the pharmacy counter…” He admitted, sounding as though he’d just confessed to a felony, “I was rushing to get back here.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, your entire body sagging with defeated disbelief as you tipped your head back to stare helplessly at the moon hanging overhead. The cool night air brushed across your damp hair and bare legs, but it did nothing to soothe the mounting frustration bubbling inside you. Both hands dragged down over your face until your palms covered your eyes completely.

“Ughhh…Why are you like this?!”

“I told ya,” he defended himself, lifting one shoulder in an apologetic shrug, “I was rushing!”

“Why the rush?!”

The frantic rustling of plastic suddenly stopped. Silence settled between you for a beat before you lowered your hands just enough to peek at him. Valko was staring down at you with an expression that hovered somewhere between confusion and genuine disbelief. He blinked once. Then again. His brows slowly knitted together as though the answer should’ve been painfully obvious.

“…You’re really asking me that,” he said, his voice flat with incredulity, “when you’re standing there in a fucking silk robe of all things…”

His golden eyes drifted over you, lingering for only a second before meeting yours again with maddening confidence.

“And you don’t even have underwear on under it?” He added.

Your breath caught. You actually gasped. How the hell did he know that? For one mortifying second, you instinctively glanced down at yourself as though expecting the robe to have somehow betrayed you. It was tied securely. Nothing was showing. There was absolutely no reason he should’ve been able to tell.

When your gaze snapped back up, he was already looking at you with the single most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen grace his stupidly handsome face. A long sigh escaped him as his broad shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving his body all at once. He straightened to his full height, towering over you beneath the silver wash of moonlight, and looked at you like you were the one asking ridiculous questions.

“C’mon,” he huffed out a short laugh through his nose. One dark brow arched, “seriously? You think I’m stupid or something?”

Your eyes widened. Heat flooded your face so quickly it felt like your cheeks had caught fire, and you immediately folded your arms tighter across your chest as though that might somehow make the situation less embarrassing.

“I-I didn’t think about it,” you stammered, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second, “I just got out of the shower and put on whatever—”

He cut you off with a loud, hearty laugh that echoed across the quiet balcony. His head tipped back, completely unrestrained, while one hand disappeared into his tousled hair, raking through the auburn strands as his shoulders shook. It was almost obnoxious how entertained he looked, his grin stretching so wide that the sharp points of his canines caught the moonlight with every laugh.

“Ohhh, right. Right,” he nodded along dramatically, still chuckling to himself, “and I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I swear!” You insisted, your voice climbing an octave as the accusation landed far closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. You could feel yourself growing flustered by the second, annoyance mixing with embarrassment until your face burned even hotter. The worst part wasn’t that he’d called you out.

It was that he’d read you so effortlessly. Again. He threw both hands into the air in mock surrender, his face contorting into the most exaggerated expression of innocence you had ever seen. Then, as if embarrassing himself came as naturally as breathing, he pitched his voice up into an absurd little imitation of yours. To complete the performance, he even bent one knee and kicked his heavy boot back behind him with theatrical flair.

“I swear! I totally didn’t just drink to calm my nerves right now while you were gone, Valko—”

“—Shut your bitch ass up!” You groaned, launching your palm squarely into his chest with a solid thump.

It accomplished absolutely nothing. His body barely budged beneath the shove, his chest feeling less like a person and more like a brick wall hidden beneath a fitted tank. You hit him again out of pure spite, only for him to laugh harder, the deep, unrestrained sound rumbling in his chest as he casually batted your arm away.

“Oh, c’mon—”

“—No!” You swatted at him again, growing more indignant with every infuriating grin he flashed your way, “don’t think you can distract me from the fact that you forgot my damn birth control!”

“Oh, darn,” he rolled his eyes with enough dramatic flair to deserve an award before hooking the shopping bag over the crook of his elbow. The moment both of his hands were free, they found your wrists with practiced ease.

His grip was enormous. Warm. Firm enough that you couldn’t immediately pull away, yet impossibly gentle all the same, as though he was instinctively careful not to squeeze any harder than necessary. That stupid wolfish grin spread slowly across his face, stretching wider as his golden eyes narrowed with unmistakable amusement.

“Looks like…” He mused, deliberately taking one slow step forward.

You instinctively took one back.

“…I’ll just have to spend tomorrow here with you too…” Another step.

You retreated again, the cool floor beneath your feet giving way toward the warmth spilling from your apartment.

“…If ya want me to pick it up that bad—”

“—I’ll do it myself!” You huffed, finally twisting your wrists just enough to slip free from his hands. The instant you escaped, you spun dramatically on your heel and marched back inside, your robe fluttering around your legs as the warmer air enveloped you.

“Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no.”

You’d barely made it two steps. Behind you came the hurried shuffle of boots, followed by the quick scrape of the balcony door sliding shut. You didn’t even need to turn around. You could picture the entire sequence perfectly: Valko setting the Target bag on the floor in a rush before jogging after you with all the grace of an overexcited golden retriever trapped inside the body of a six-foot-two werewolf.

A heartbeat later, his hands settled on your shoulders. Before you could protest, he dipped his head, burying his face against the top of your hair with a long, contented nuzzle. Warm breath stirred the still-damp strands from your shower, and you felt him inhale softly, lingering there for a second as though simply breathing you in was enough to calm him. His broad chest settled against you while those ridiculously muscular arms slid around you, wrapping you up so completely that it felt less like being restrained and more like being swallowed by the world’s warmest weighted blanket. His embrace was impossibly secure without ever being forceful, effortlessly bringing your little storm of indignation to a halt.

“It’s like…” He mumbled into your hair, his voice vibrating softly against the back of your head, “nine o’something. Relax.”

One of his hands gave your side a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll grab it in the morning for ya. It’s not like you’re missing any days,” a mischievous chuckle slipped past his lips, “y’know…I was totally joking when I made that comment about breeding ya—”

“—Ew!”

You immediately began squirming in his arms, swatting at whatever part of him you could reach while desperately trying, and spectacularly failing, to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. The memory resurfaced far more fondly than you wanted to admit, making your cheeks warm all over again.

“God, don’t remind me, you weirdo…”

You finally managed to twist just enough to point accusingly toward the floor.

“Hey!” Your finger jabbed toward his feet, “boots off. Now.”

He immediately raised both hands in surrender, the picture of exaggerated defeat, “alright, alright.”

With an overly dramatic sigh, he caught himself before taking another step inside. He leaned against the wall to unzip his heavy boots, tugging them off one at a time before neatly lining them up beside the entryway without another word. You couldn’t help noticing how absurdly obedient he became over the smallest things whenever you called him out. For all his bravado, he’d listen the moment you genuinely asked him to do something.

“Weirdo?” He echoed, lifting a skeptical brow as the corner of his mouth curled back into that infuriating grin.

You barely had time to react before he was closing the distance again. Just like a puppy. An oversized, overly affectionate, six-foot-two puppy that apparently had no concept of personal space. Before you could slip away, one powerful arm hooked effortlessly around you. The floor disappeared beneath your feet as he scooped you up as though you weighed next to nothing, bouncing you once into a secure bridal carry that made you instinctively grab onto him for balance. His arm beneath your knees barely flexed under your weight, while the other settled comfortably behind your back, holding you snug against his broad chest.

“There we go,” he murmured with obvious satisfaction.

Without missing a beat, he turned back toward the abandoned Target bag, carrying you with the same ease someone might carry an extra pillow. His stride never faltered, and neither did his eyes. They stayed fixed on you the entire time, molten gold glinting beneath the kitchen lights with that unmistakable spark of mischief dancing inside them.

He lowered his voice, “you were the one begging for me to cum inside of—”

A mortified whine escaped you before your hand shot over his mouth, smothering the rest of the sentence against your palm, “oh my God, no I wasn’t, shut up!”

His smug smile only widened beneath your hand. Of course it did. For one blissful second, you thought you’d successfully silenced him. Then you felt it. A slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue across the center of your palm.

“Eugh!” You recoiled on instinct, yanking your hand away with an expression of pure disgust as you stared down at the sheen of saliva now glistening across your skin.

“Mmm,” he smacked his lips with theatrical appreciation, looking altogether too pleased with himself, “salty...”

“You are unbelievable,” you groaned, immediately wiping your hand across the front of the skintight black tank top he always seemed to wear. The soft fabric stretched over his chest as you smeared your revenge across it, earning yourself another amused chuckle instead of the annoyance you’d been hoping for.

He simply laughed under his breath and kept walking, carrying you deeper into the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you muttered, giving a half-hearted squirm despite making no real effort to escape, “I have legs.”

“I know you do,” his response came so matter-of-factly that you almost missed the absentminded squeeze he gave your thighs where his arm supported them.

It wasn’t suggestive so much as instinctive, his large hand adjusting its grip to keep you comfortably settled against him as he reached the kitchen counter.

“I like carrying ya,” his grin softened into something warmer, his voice losing some of its teasing edge, “what…Am I being too clingy again?”

He tilted his head just slightly, studying your face with an almost playful curiosity. Maybe he was. You were quickly learning that everything about Valko existed at an intensity you weren’t used to. His affection was intense. His attraction was intense. Even the way he simply occupied a room felt larger than life. And yet, somehow, none of it felt calculated. None of it felt performative. If any other man had come on this strongly so early into knowing you, you would’ve written him off immediately. You would’ve called it love bombing without a second thought and started looking for the nearest exit.

With Valko…You couldn’t. There was something strangely uncomplicated about him that made all of it feel…Real. The longer you spent with him, the more you started wondering if this was simply what being a werewolf meant for someone like him. Whether all of that relentless affection, the constant need for closeness, the endless touching, cuddling, nuzzling, and shameless adoration were less of a conscious decision and more of an instinct he never tried to suppress. It reminded you, almost embarrassingly, of a puppy. Loyal to a fault. Endlessly loving. Excitable over the smallest things. Playful. Eager for attention, but just as eager to give it back tenfold. There was something so hopelessly sincere about the way he loved that it became difficult to make fun of him for it…Even though you still absolutely did.

“…I just don’t know you that well yet,” you admitted quietly.

His expression softened immediately. Without complaint, he loosened his hold and carefully lowered you back onto the kitchen floor. Your bare feet met the cool tile with a quiet tap, the lingering warmth from his arms disappearing almost instantly. You hadn’t realized how comfortable you’d been in his embrace until it was gone, and the absence left behind a faint, unexpected sense of loss that you stubbornly refused to dwell on.

The moment you were standing again, the difference in your height returned in full force. He towered over you. It wasn’t just that he was tall; although six-foot-two certainly didn’t help. It was everything else. His shoulders seemed broad enough to block out half the kitchen light whenever he stood too close, his frame filling your tiny apartment in a way that almost looked comical. He always seemed slightly too big for your space, like someone had dropped a grizzly bear into a one-bedroom apartment and expected it to fit comfortably.

And yet…It was beginning to feel normal. His boots by the front door. His leather jacket draped over the back of a chair. His laughter bouncing off your walls. His scent lingering faintly on your blankets long after he’d gone home. Little by little, he was becoming part of your apartment just as much as he was becoming part of your routine. You were growing used to his presence, to the way he naturally commanded every room he entered without even trying. Everything about him felt oversized; his body, his personality, his emotions, his laugh, even the space he occupied simply by existing.

“Fair enough,” there wasn’t even a hint of disappointment in his voice.

He simply smiled with that same understanding warmth that always seemed to catch you off guard before one enormous hand drifted slowly down your arm, his calloused fingertips brushing lightly against your skin in a touch so absentmindedly affectionate it almost seemed unconscious. The simple gesture lingered for only a moment before he stepped aside, giving you room as you turned toward the Target bag resting on the counter. You began unpacking everything one item at a time, setting each purchase in its place while plastic rustled beneath your hands.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower while you do that,” he said casually, “you okay with waiting for me?”

Your eyes drifted toward the fresh bottle of wine sitting on the counter, its dark glass catching the warm kitchen light. Then they found him again. A small, almost helpless smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Your gaze dropped, briefly, but deliberately, to his crotch before lifting back to meet those molten golden eyes.

“…Can you hurry up?” You pouted a bit.

A quiet puff of amusement escaped through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching upward before he reached over to affectionately ruffle your still slightly damp hair. His fingers lingered for just a second longer than necessary, leaving the strands adorably disheveled.

“Oh?” He teased, his grin growing wider, “someone’s impatient for me tonight…”

The smug satisfaction in his voice made heat creep into your cheeks.

“Fine,” he chuckled, taking a reluctant step backward toward the hallway, “I’ll be fast.”

One finger pointed squarely at you in mock warning.

“Don’t you dare touch that shit without me,” he warned playfully.

Your eyes slowly slid back toward the unopened bottle. Then, just as slowly, they returned to him.

“Oh…” You replied innocently, though the mischievous glint in your eyes ruined the act immediately.

Your fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle while your other hand settled over the cap.

“You mean…” You began twisting it with exaggerated slowness, never once breaking eye contact, “this shit right here?”

His smile faltered. Not completely. Just enough. You watched the muscles along his jaw tighten as his eyes followed the deliberate movement of your hands. The teasing tilt of your head and the arch of your eyebrow only made it worse. For the briefest moment, he simply stared at you, looking like he was actively reconsidering whether he actually needed that shower after all.

You couldn’t help smiling a little wider, “you have ten minutes, Valko.”

The cap gave way with a crisp, satisfying pop.

You held the opened bottle up ever so slightly between the two of you, “so hurry the fuck up already before I—”

“—Ooh, yes, ma’am!” He straightened so quickly it was almost comical, snapping into an exaggerated salute with all the seriousness of an overgrown kid playing soldier. That enormous grin spread across his face again, though the look in his eyes had shifted into something hungrier, more intent, lingering on you in a way that made your stomach flutter despite yourself.

He started backing out of the kitchen, forcing himself to keep moving toward the hallway even as his gaze refused to leave you.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he groaned dramatically over his shoulder, “no need to rile me up like that before I wash up. Now that’s just plain cruel…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he disappeared down the hall, “I wasn’t even trying!”

“That’s why you’re so sexy!” He called back from somewhere beyond the corner, his voice echoing through the apartment.

You rolled your eyes with an amused snort, the smile he always seemed to leave behind lingering on your lips as you turned toward the cupboards. Reaching up, you pulled down two wine glasses, setting them gently on the counter beside the newly opened bottle with a pair of soft clinks.

God damn it. That idiot. That absolute moron. That…Fucking handsome wolf of a man. The thought alone made you scoff under your breath. If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you’d be standing in your own kitchen pouring wine for the chairman of EonCore Tech, you probably would’ve laughed yourself sick. If they’d told you that you were sleeping with him? You would’ve called them delusional.

Actually…Were you even just sleeping with him anymore? Dating? Seeing each other? Whatever the hell this was? You honestly had no idea. Neither of you had ever bothered putting a label on it. The conversation had never happened. Somewhere between nearly killing each other and sharing takeout on your couch, the connection had simply…Become whatever it was now. Which was absurd.

The first time you’d ever met Valko, you’d introduced yourself with your fist. Right into his stupidly handsome face. You’d shot at him. Fought him. Fully prepared to treat him like the enemy he’d appeared to be. And somehow, against every ounce of common sense you possessed, you’d ended up in his bed instead.

Or, more accurately…He kept ending up in yours. Somewhere along the way, “just this once” had quietly turned into accepting his invitations for late-night chocolate milkshakes, movie nights that usually ended with the film being ignored halfway through, dinners that lasted far longer than either of you intended because the two of you couldn’t stop talking; or bantering. You’d started letting him into your apartment without a second thought, watching him make himself comfortable like he’d always belonged there. More than once, he’d fallen asleep in your bed, dead to the world, looking so impossibly peaceful that you never quite had the heart to wake him.

You had, however, absolutely screamed at him the first, and thankfully only, time he’d propped those filthy boots up on your couch. He’d learned that lesson remarkably fast. Then there were the pajamas. God. The pajamas. He’d insisted on leaving a spare set at your apartment after “accidentally forgetting” to take them home. You’d seen right through the excuse immediately. There was nothing accidental about it. The idiot had practically engineered an excuse to leave a piece of himself behind. You’d complained. You’d rolled your eyes. You’d called him clingy…And then you’d folded them after washing them instead of tossing them into a bag for him to take home.

Deep down, you hadn’t really minded. Some cruel twist of fate had decided that the man who was supposed to be your enemy would also be the one who treated you with the most gentleness you’d ever known. Beneath all the cocky grins, terrible jokes, and endless teasing was someone endlessly patient with you. Someone playful enough to coax laughter out of you even when you tried to stay irritated. Someone attentive enough to notice when your favorite snacks were running low or your dish soap needed replacing. Someone whose warmth seemed to seep into every room he entered until the apartment felt strangely emptier whenever he wasn’t there.

He was infuriating. Ridiculously intelligent. Hopelessly annoying. And somehow, despite your best efforts, he’d rooted himself somewhere inside your heart before you’d even realized you’d left the door open. You couldn’t seem to get rid of him anymore. Not from your apartment. Not from your routine. And certainly not from your mind. Even his scent seemed to linger long after he’d stepped away; that clean, woodsy warmth that clung to your blankets, your clothes, and even your own skin, refusing to let you forget him no matter how hard you pretended you wanted to.

After pouring two generous glasses of wine, you began unpacking the rest of the Target bag while you waited for Valko to finish showering. One by one, you set everything on the counter; the popcorn, your chocolate pretzels, the dish soap he’d somehow remembered before the one thing you’d actually sent him there for. Then your hand paused. Nestled near the bottom of the bag was a wide black leather collar. A matching leash rested beneath it.

You frowned, “…Huh.”

You picked the collar up for a moment, turning it over in your hands. The leather was soft, well-made, surprisingly expensive by the feel of it. You hadn’t known Valko had any pets. Every time you’d been to his place, you hadn’t seen so much as a food bowl or a stray tuft of fur that wasn’t from his tail. No barking. No scratching at doors. Nothing. Maybe he’d gotten one recently. Or maybe there was something about his life you simply hadn’t learned yet. You shrugged to yourself, setting it back into the bag without giving it much more thought.

With both wine glasses balanced carefully in your hands, you wandered into the living room. You placed one on the coffee table before settling onto the couch with the other, lazily swirling the dark red wine around the bowl of the glass as you searched for something to watch. After picking a movie, you dimmed the lights from your phone until the apartment melted into a warm, amber glow, the television becoming the brightest thing in the room.

The first sip burned pleasantly on its way down. You unconsciously caught yourself smelling your own wrist, then the collar of your silk robe, making sure the fresh scent of your shampoo and body wash still lingered after your shower. Beneath it, you could already feel the alcohol beginning to settle comfortably into your system; not enough to make you drunk, just enough to smooth away the last edges of your nerves. Perfect.

Just as you let yourself sink back against the couch, you heard it. His footsteps. Your attention snapped toward the hallway before you even realized you’d moved. Valko stepped into the dim living room, and your brain immediately forgot whatever movie you’d just put on.

…Oh, he had to be kidding you. That absolute whore. That giant, six-foot-two whore. Fresh from the shower, he hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt. His broad shoulders were still faintly damp, tiny droplets of water catching the glow from the television as they disappeared over defined muscles and down the length of his chest. His dark red hair had been hastily pushed back with his fingers, still messy from the towel, leaving a few stubborn strands falling forward again as they slowly dried. His tail looked like he didn’t bother with more than just a towel dry. He looked comfortable in his own skin, carrying himself with the effortless confidence of someone who had absolutely no idea, or perhaps every idea, what he looked like.

The sweatpants weren’t doing you any favors, either. They hung low on his chiseled hips, untied and dangerously relaxed, clinging just enough to outline the powerful lines of his thighs every time he moved. The fabric left very little to the imagination. Even completely soft, you could make out the unmistakable weight and outline of his cock resting naturally against one thick thigh beneath the thin material, shifting subtly with each step he took. Your eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer than they should have before you forced yourself to look away, your face growing warmer by the second. God…Was he even wearing any underwear?

You silently cursed yourself the moment he wandered over and dropped onto the couch beside you. The entire piece of furniture groaned beneath his weight, the cushion dipping so deeply that your body instinctively slid toward him before you even had a chance to brace yourself. It wasn’t enough for him, apparently. The clingy bastard scooted even closer, his thigh bumping yours as the cushion compressed further beneath his massive frame, leaving gravity itself to betray you. You rolled right into his side exactly the way he knew you would. Exactly the way he wanted.

His arm was already waiting. The instant your shoulder bumped into the solid wall of his chest, his arm slipped behind you with practiced familiarity, draping across the back of your shoulders before his broad hand settled comfortably against your upper arm. With one easy squeeze, he pulled you flush against him until every inch of your side was pressed against the lingering warmth of his freshly showered skin. You felt his chest rise beneath your cheek before a slow breath escaped him, almost like relief, as though this simple closeness had been something he’d been craving the entire time he was gone.

“…No shirt?” You challenged, forcing your attention toward the television instead of the man beside you. You lifted your wineglass for another sip, pretending to be deeply invested in whatever opening scene was playing. Looking at the screen felt infinitely safer than looking at him.

A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest. You didn’t just hear it. You felt it. The vibration traveled straight through the side of your face where it rested against him, warm enough to make your heart stutter.

“No panties?” He countered without missing a beat.

Your grip tightened slightly around the stem of your wineglass. Before you could think of a comeback, you felt that enormous hand begin a lazy journey down your side, his palm gliding over the smooth silk of your robe with an almost absentminded confidence. His fingertips traced your waist before slipping lower, until his hand settled squarely over your hip. And then lower still, straight to the round of your ass. Your breath caught. His hand effortlessly spanned over one cheek, giving it an unapologetic squeeze through the thin silk. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric almost instantly, his grip confident without being rough, followed by a contented little sigh that sounded so genuinely indulgent it made your entire body burn.

God. Good God. The casual boldness of it; the way he acted like touching you came as naturally as breathing, sent a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach before you could stop it. Without realizing it, your free hand had found his thigh. Your nails pressed into the thick muscle beneath the soft gray fabric, digging in just enough to make your embarrassment known while you stubbornly refused to look at him. Whether it was retaliation or an unconscious attempt to ground yourself, you couldn’t have said. Valko only laughed softly. The squeeze eased into a gentle pat before his hand lingered exactly where it was, rubbing slow, affectionate circles through the silk as if soothing both of you at once.

You stubbornly kept your eyes on the television. Unfortunately, that didn’t help much. From the corner of your vision, you couldn’t help noticing the way the flickering light from the screen danced across his bare torso before casting shifting shadows over his lap. As he slouched deeper into the couch, spreading his legs comfortably beneath him, the soft fabric of his sweatpants stretched just enough to reveal the steadily growing outline beneath them. A tent. A fucking tent. You immediately took another sip of wine. You were going to need it.

“Aren’t you gonna drink your wine?” You asked, nodding toward the untouched glass sitting on the coffee table.

He blinked, straightening slightly as though you’d just reminded him it existed.

“Oh—yeah,” he let out a sheepish little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “thanks for that.”

Typical. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself. For someone capable of running an entire corporation, the man could forget the most painfully obvious things. You shifted upright just enough to let him lean forward, his broad frame momentarily eclipsing the television as he reached for his glass. The muscles along his back flexed beneath his damp skin before he settled comfortably against the couch again.

His eyes found yours immediately. They always did. A warm smile spread across his face as he lifted his glass toward you, “cheers.”

“Cheers,” you met it with your own.

Crystal clicked softly against crystal before the two of you took a drink together, the rich wine washing pleasantly over your tongue. The second glass was already making you feel looser, the warmth settling comfortably in your chest and lending your curiosity just enough courage to finally ask the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind.

“So…” You began, drawing your legs beneath you as you turned to face him fully.

The movement only seemed to encourage him. Without hesitation, his arm found its familiar place around your waist again, his palm settling against your side as naturally as if it belonged there.

“…What’s with the collar and leash?” A teasing smile tugged at your lips, “are those for you or something?”

The reaction was immediate. The tips of his ears flushed a brilliant shade of red. A moment later, the color spread across his chiseled cheeks as well.

“Oh, shit…” He laughed, ducking his head with an almost bashful smile that looked strangely adorable on someone his size. One hand rubbed absentmindedly along the back of his neck, “well…”

He glanced away for a second before looking back at you.

“I was looking at stuff…And then I got distracted.”

“Uh-huhhh?” You hummed, drawing the word out as you leaned in ever so slightly, your curiosity only growing, “distracted how?”

He shrugged, looking almost sheepish.

“…Thought they looked kinda cool,” he confessed. His fingers absentmindedly traced the stem of his wineglass, “the leather and all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unconvinced, “okay…What are you planning to do with them?”

Your mind immediately supplied the worst possible answer. You prayed he didn’t buy them planning to use them on you. Somehow, that felt infinitely more embarrassing than anything else he’d suggested tonight. Instead, a slow smirk spread across his face.

“…I was thinking…” He began, his golden eyes meeting yours with a mixture of confidence and unmistakable amusement, “…You could put them on me tonight.”

Your eyes widened. His hand, still resting comfortably against your waist, slid lower until it settled over your thigh, giving it a slow, reassuring squeeze through the silk of your robe.

“It’d be pretty hot, don’t ya think?” He murmured, his voice dropping just enough to send a pleasant shiver crawling up your spine. His thumb idly brushed along the edge of your robe where the silky fabric met warm skin, never rushing the touch, simply lingering there.

You stared at him. Then toward the kitchen. Then back at him again. Your brows knit together as you searched his face for even the slightest hint that he was joking.

“…Wait,” you blinked, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment in his answer now. Only quiet sincerity.

He took another leisurely sip of his wine before lowering the glass again, his smile softening into something almost impossibly genuine.

“I think you’d be good at it,” his shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. A quiet laugh escaped him, “you know…Yank me around. Boss me around.”

His grin grew just a little wider.

“You already do that,” he tilted his head, amusement dancing in those golden eyes, “but do it with a leash on.”

Oh, God. He was completely serious. You searched his face for the punchline, waiting for that familiar grin to crack into laughter or for him to admit he was messing with you. It never came. Instead, he simply looked back at you with calm, unwavering sincerity, as though he’d just confessed to liking a particular movie instead of telling you he wanted you to put a collar on him. You could only stare. Your expression must have been priceless because, after a few seconds, he finally broke, a warm laugh escaping him as his shoulders bounced.

“What?” He chuckled, “don’t yuck my yum.”

His hand landed lightly against your ass again with an affectionate smack before lingering there, rubbing you through the silk of your robe.

“Everyone’s got their fantasies,” he said with an easy shrug, “this is just one of mine.”

You watched him in stunned silence as he lifted his wineglass again. He took a longer drink this time, humming softly in appreciation as he swallowed before turning his attention back toward the television as if the conversation he’d just started wasn’t completely derailing your brain.

“…You really want me to collar you like a dog?” You asked after a moment, still trying to process the image in your head.

“Yep,” the answer came so simply. So matter-of-factly. Not an ounce of hesitation. Not a trace of embarrassment. Just complete, unshakable honesty.

You blinked at him. Well…You supposed there wasn’t any harm in playing along. Right?

“…Okay,” you said cautiously, your eyes flicking toward the kitchen where the shopping bag still sat before returning to him, “well…In that case…”

A tiny, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“…Go fetch.”

The reaction was instantaneous. His golden eyes widened so fast it was almost comical. For a split second, every bit of the confident businessman vanished, replaced by something so openly eager that it genuinely reminded you of an excited puppy who’d just been told he was going to the park. The look on his face was so earnest, so shamelessly delighted, that a laugh nearly escaped you.

Your stomach fluttered. There was something strangely endearing about the way he looked at you in that moment, like you’d just handed him the greatest gift imaginable. His grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing every sharp canine as his entire face lit up with barely contained excitement.

“Yes, ma’am…” He answered, the words leaving him with so much obvious satisfaction that it almost caught you off guard.

Still smiling from ear to ear, he rose from the couch in one fluid motion, tossing back the rest of his wine in a single swig before setting the empty glass onto the coffee table with a quiet clink.

“Now…” He said, already turning toward the kitchen, a laugh bubbling in his voice, “that’s what I’m talking about.”

You snorted, covering your face with one hand as a helpless laugh escaped you. God. He was actually doing it. The second you’d given the command, he’d practically sprung off the couch, making quick work of crossing the apartment to the kitchen. You watched him disappear around the corner before returning only moments later with the leather collar dangling from one finger, the matching leash looped casually in his other hand. He twirled the collar absentmindedly as he walked, wearing the biggest, most unabashed grin you’d seen all night.

Your stomach twisted. Not with regret. With the overwhelming realization that he looked entirely too fucking good like this. He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t hesitant. If anything, he looked delighted. The way those golden eyes stayed fixed on you as he approached, bright with anticipation and shameless excitement, made something tighten pleasantly low in your stomach. It was impossible to mistake the eagerness written across his face. God, he was way too excited about this.

He flopped back onto the couch beside you, the cushions dipping dramatically beneath his weight as he held both the collar and leash out for you to take. The instant they left his hands, he leaned his elbow onto the back of the couch and rested his head lazily against his palm, looking at you with quiet expectation. He didn’t rush you. Didn’t speak. He simply waited. Smiling. Watching you like you held all the answers. It was unfair. Utterly unfair. Someone had absolutely no business being that ridiculously handsome while looking at you like that.

You cleared your throat, buying yourself a second to gather your composure before your mouth managed to outrun your brain, “…Aren’t you gonna get on the ground for me?”

“Oh,” his brows lifted with genuine, almost delighted surprise.

He straightened immediately, lifting his head from his hand as though he’d just realized he’d skipped an important step.

“Where the hell are my manners tonight?” Hey laughed at himself, “jeez…”

Without another word, he rose from the couch. He came to stand directly in front of you, towering over where you sat. The warm light from the television flickered across the hard planes of his bare chest and shoulders, his damp hair still slightly tousled from the shower. Even standing there so casually, he seemed impossibly large inside your little living room.

“So…” He asked, smiling down at you with complete sincerity, “…Where do you want me?”

You shifted on the couch, crossing one leg over the other in an effort to appear far more composed than you actually felt. The leather collar rested heavily in your hands as you lifted one foot, pointing your toes toward the floor directly in front of you.

“Here,” your voice came out steadier than expected, “right in front of me. On your knees.”

The words seemed to strike something deep inside him. His expression softened into something almost reverent.nWithout the slightest hesitation or trace of self-consciousness, Valko obeyed. His enormous frame lowered smoothly until both knees settled onto the floor between your legs. His hands came to rest neatly atop his thighs with the gear, his back straight, his shoulders relaxed, his head tilted upward so those warm golden eyes could stay on yours. He looked…Happy. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be. Waiting patiently for whatever you decided came next.

Your breath caught. Then your gaze drifted lower. Between the broad spread of his massive thighs, the gray sweatpants left very little to the imagination. Oh. Oh, God. He was completely hard. The thin fabric did absolutely nothing to hide it. Instead, his massive cock clung just enough to reveal the heavy outline resting against one powerful thigh, unmistakably pronounced beneath the loose material. Judging by the way everything shifted beneath the sweats, he clearly hadn’t bothered putting on any underwear after his shower.

Your pulse skipped. Seeing it like this somehow made the memory rush back all at once; just how big he’d been the first time, how overwhelming it had felt, how impossible it had seemed that someone his size fit together with the gentle patience he’d shown you. The sight was almost intimidating. The stupid gray sweatpants only made it worse, outlining him in the most infuriating way possible while he knelt there looking up at you with complete trust, as though he hadn’t just given you one more reason to completely lose your train of thought.

You slowly rose from the couch as you stepped in front of him. Valko’s eyes followed your every movement without hesitation, lifting higher and higher until he was looking up at you from where he knelt between your legs. The look on his face alone nearly made your knees weak. Then his wolf ears appeared. They slipped free from the tousled mess of his still-damp auburn hair with an almost involuntary twitch, both ears perking upright before flicking toward you, completely focused. A heartbeat later, the enormous auburn tail behind him began wagging with absolutely no restraint whatsoever. It swept enthusiastically across your hardwood floor with rhythmic thump, thump, thumps, the fluffy thing practically knocking against your coffee table as though he had forgotten it existed. He wasn’t embarrassed. Not even a little. If anything, he looked positively thrilled.

The sight stole the breath from your lungs. This massive, intimidating werewolf, broad enough to fill your entire field of vision, strong enough to snap you in half without effort, was kneeling obediently in the middle of your living room because you had told him to. Worse yet, he was visibly excited about it, his ears twitching with anticipation while his tail refused to stop wagging.

God…That shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. Yet the warmth already humming through your veins from the wine seemed to spread lower, settling heavily in your stomach as your pulse quickened. Seeing someone so overwhelmingly powerful choose to become so openly, enthusiastically submissive for you awakened something instinctive inside you that you hadn’t known was there.

You extended your hand toward him. Without being asked twice, he immediately placed both the collar and leash into your open palm. His fingers lingered for only the briefest second before withdrawing, and as soon as the leather left his hands, he instinctively lifted his chin, exposing the thick column of his neck without the slightest trace of hesitation. Ready. Waiting. Trusting you completely.

“…Good boy,” you tested quietly.

The effect was immediate. His tail wagged even harder, beating happily against the floor with enough force that you wondered if your downstairs neighbors could hear it. A soft, utterly content little hum vibrated in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered halfway closed, his expression melting into pure satisfaction. Oh. He really liked that.

Your fingers slipped beneath the leather strap, wrapping it carefully around the thick muscles of his neck. His skin was still warm from the shower, and the faint scent of soap mingled with the clean, woodsy smell that was uniquely his. As you fastened the buckle, he leaned into your touch without thinking, his face brushing gently against your forearm.

Then he nuzzled you. Slowly. Instinctively. The bridge of his nose dragged softly against your skin while his warm breath fanned across your wrist and the inside of your arm, sending goosebumps racing up to your shoulder. You felt him inhale deeply, drawing in your scent with an indulgent sigh so content it almost sounded blissful before you clipped the leash securely onto the metal ring. God…He really was like a wolf. This enormous, ridiculously handsome, hopelessly pathetic man. The biggest loser you’d ever met. And somehow one of the hottest people you’d ever laid eyes on.

The wine had dissolved whatever reservations you’d still been clinging to. There was something intoxicating about standing over him like this. Something about looking down at a man built like solid concrete; a man who could so easily overpower you if he ever wanted to, only to find him waiting patiently for your next instruction instead. The power imbalance made your heartbeat pound against your ribs.

Before you could overthink it, your body acted on pure instinct. You lifted your bare foot from the floor and planted it firmly against the center of his broad chest. At the very same moment, you wrapped the leash once around your knuckles and gave it a deliberate tug. The leather pulled taut. He instinctively leaned forward with it, only for your foot to stop him, pressing firmly against the hard wall of muscle beneath his skin. The pressure forced him to straighten instead, shoulders rolling back as he settled obediently against the restraint.

A quiet sound escaped him. Not quite a gasp. Not quite a whine. Just the smallest, breathless noise of surprise as he swallowed hard. His golden eyes widened, fixed entirely on you, while his lips slowly parted. You could feel the solid resistance of his chest beneath the ball of your foot, every breath expanding against your skin as the leash remained snug between your fingers.

Leaning down until your face hovered just above his, you held his gaze while keeping the collar taut, your voice lowering almost instinctively, “who’s big puppy are you?”

“I’m your big puppy…” He answered without a hint of embarrassment, smiling up at you with such open, earnest delight that it almost stole the breath from your lungs. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice. If anything, the words seemed to make him happier, his tail giving another eager series of heavy thumps against your floor while those golden eyes shone with unmistakable excitement.

Oh, God. How were you the one getting shy? Here was the fucking chairman of EonCore Tech, one of the most powerful men you’d ever met, kneeling at your feet in the middle of your living room with a leather collar around his neck, happily calling himself your big puppy like it was the most natural thing in the world. This had to be some elaborate joke. Some bizarre prank. Or maybe he was simply out of his goddamn mind. Then again…Maybe you were.

Because if anyone had told you a month ago that this was where you’d end up, you would’ve laughed until your sides hurt. You would’ve called them delusional. You would’ve sworn there wasn’t a universe where you’d find yourself standing over a gorgeous, towering werewolf with a leash wrapped around your knuckles, feeling…Whatever this was. Except you were. And the worst part? You couldn’t honestly pretend you weren’t enjoying it anymore.

This had long since stopped feeling like harmless teasing or entertaining his ridiculous little fantasy out of curiosity. Somewhere between calling him your puppy and watching his ears perk with excitement, something inside you had shifted. The thrill blooming in your chest wasn’t fake. The confidence coursing through your veins wasn’t an act. Every racing heartbeat, every flutter low in your stomach, every pulse of adrenaline humming beneath your skin felt achingly real. You felt…Alive. More alive than you had in a long time.

Your heart hammered so loudly against your ribs that you were painfully aware of it. And he could hear it. Of course he could. With those heightened senses of his, there was no hiding the quickened rhythm pounding inside your chest. No disguising the subtle hitch in your breathing or the warmth creeping into your face. If he could smell your shampoo from across the room, there was no chance he was missing the fact that you were just as excited as he was.

A soft chuckle rumbled up from deep in his chest, low and warm, as though he’d caught onto your thoughts without you saying a single word. His eyes glimmered knowingly as one large hand lifted from his thigh and curled gently around your bare foot where it rested against his chest. His touch was impossibly careful despite the size of his hand, his thumb brushing absentmindedly across your toes while he looked up at you with that same hopelessly eager smile.

“Am I a good boy?”

You nearly laughed. Of course he was fishing for praise. The shameless little attention whore. You could practically see the anticipation written across his face, the hopeful twitch of his ears, the lazy sweep of his tail across the floor betraying just how badly he wanted to hear it. Ordinarily, you would’ve teased him. Made him work for it. But…You were having entirely too much fun. Far too much fun to deny him. And far too much fun to keep pretending that you weren’t enjoying every ridiculous second of this strange little game the two of you had somehow stumbled into together. Whatever this was…It was weird. It was completely unexpected. And, against every ounce of common sense you possessed…It was wonderful.

“You’re my good boy,” you murmured, the words leaving your lips almost experimentally as you dared to reach down and scratch beneath his chin.

The reaction was immediate. His entire body seemed to melt beneath your touch. You watched his pupils bloom until they nearly swallowed the gold of his irises, his heavy eyelids drifting halfway shut as a deep, contented hum vibrated in his throat. His wolf ears twitched eagerly against his damp hair, and his tail resumed its relentless thumping against the floor with enough enthusiasm that it almost became distracting. The sight was so unexpectedly adorable that a helpless giggle escaped you before you could stop it, your stomach fluttering with nervous excitement. At the very same time, however, an entirely different kind of warmth spread between your thighs, growing hotter by the second until your pulse seemed to settle there. The steady hum of arousal made your clit buzz. Christ…This was so much more exhilarating than you ever could have anticipated.

“So, do I get a treat?” He asked, his voice noticeably rougher now, lower and thicker than before.

As he spoke, his gaze slowly drifted downward. That’s when it clicked. Your robe. The position you were standing in. Your bare foot braced against his chest. Oh, God. He had an unobstructed view. Every ounce of confidence you’d borrowed from the wine threatened to evaporate as you realized he’d been able to see beneath your robe this entire time. Judging by the way his expression subtly shifted, he had only just put the pieces together himself. His breathing deepened almost imperceptibly before the large hand resting around your ankle began moving with deliberate slowness, guiding your foot upward over the hard planes of his bare chest. His palm slid carefully beneath your calf until your foot came to rest against the broad curve of his shoulder instead.

The shameless bastard. He’d spread your leg just enough to improve the view. His sharp canines peeked from behind an unmistakably pleased smile as those molten golden eyes lingered without even pretending otherwise, drinking in the sight of you with an intensity that made heat rush through your entire body. Fine. If he was going to be that bold…Then you were going to remind him exactly who was wearing the collar.

With a quick flick of your leg, you pulled your foot free from his shoulder before planting it squarely against the growing hardness beneath his gray sweatpants. The reaction was instantaneous. Both of his hands flew to your calf on pure instinct, wrapping around it protectively with a firm squeeze as surprise flashed across his face. The moment he was distracted, you slipped your free hand beneath the silk robe, your fingertips gliding between your thighs.

Your breath caught. God, your pussy was soaked for him. Your fingers came away glistening, slick with your own arousal, and the realization alone sent another pulse of heat through your body. Using the solid pressure of your foot against his crotch for balance, you leaned closer until you were hovering just above him. Then, without warning, you pressed your slick fingertip against his lips.

“Aw, is this what you wanted?” You teased sweetly.

His eyes widened for only a heartbeat before the surprise dissolved into unmistakable bliss. A low, appreciative moan escaped him as his lips parted without hesitation, drawing your finger into his mouth all the way to the knuckle. His sculpted cheeks hollowed around it as he sucked greedily, those glowing golden eyes never leaving yours, their hungry, devoted gaze making it painfully obvious just how much he was enjoying every second of it.

You couldn’t help giggling as the warmth of his tongue glided over your fingertip, the slick, shameless enthusiasm of it making your stomach flutter all over again. He looked far too content, far too pleased with himself, and judging by the way those massive hands suddenly tightened around your calf, he had every intention of ending your little game right then and there by dragging you down into his lap.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you scoffed.

Before he could pull you in, you slipped your leg free from his grasp with a quick twist, earning yourself an unmistakably annoyed look. His brows knit together as those golden eyes flashed up at you, the frustration on his face almost comically puppy-like. Rather than letting you escape entirely, one of his hands immediately shot upward and caught your wrist instead.

His grip was warm. Secure. Careful. Without a word, he guided your hand back toward himself until your palm was cradling the side of his face. His eyes fluttered closed for a brief second as though he were savoring the contact before his lips found your finger again. This time, he drew it deeper into his mouth with an indulgent hum, his tongue lazily sweeping over every trace of your slickness with such unabashed appreciation that your pulse skipped. The way he looked up at you while tasting you, completely devoted, completely unashamed, made your face burn hotter than the wine ever could.

“Well…” You slowly slid your finger free with a quiet pop, watching the obvious disappointment cross his features before a grin spread across your own face, “…Come and get it, then, boy.”

You lifted your foot away from where it had been pressing against the bulge beneath his sweatpants before giving the leash a playful tug, encouraging him back onto his feet. He rose immediately, towering over you once again, and you could practically see the intent settling into his expression. His shoulders rolled forward ever so slightly, his hands already beginning to reach for your waist.

Oh, absolutely not. Before he could scoop you up into those ridiculously strong arms and march you straight to the bedroom, you darted backward with a laugh, tightening your grip on the leash as you spun on your heel and took off. The leather pulled taut. He followed without hesitation. Your laughter echoed through the apartment as you hurried down the hallway, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste while the leash bounced lightly between you. Behind you came the heavy, unmistakable sound of his footsteps, quick enough to tell you he was letting you run rather than struggling to keep up. You barely made it into the bedroom. The moment you turned, he was already there.

You barely had time to think before those enormous hands found your hips. You squealed. One effortless motion was all it took. He lifted you clean off the floor as though gravity simply didn’t apply to you, tossing you lightly upward with a confidence that would’ve terrified you if you didn’t trust him so completely. For a fleeting second, you were weightless before your back met the mattress with a soft bounce that sent the bed springs protesting beneath you.

You barely had time to laugh. He was already moving. With an eager grin that exposed every sharp canine, Valko practically pounced after you, following you onto the bed with all the restrained enthusiasm of an oversized wolf who’d finally been invited to play, “there’s my prized meal…”

The mattress dipped dramatically beneath his sheer size, forcing another startled bounce from you as the frame let out a loud, complaining creak under the sudden addition of well over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. The entire bed seemed to groan beneath him.bYou found yourself trapped in an instant. The mattress behind you. His broad body above you.

For all the obedience he’d shown moments ago, there was no mistaking the shift that had come over him now. The playful restraint remained, but beneath it you could feel something instinctive waking up, something impossible to ignore as he loomed over you, filling your entire field of vision with that enormous frame and those bright golden eyes that never once looked away.

You barely had time to suck in a breath before you gasped, “hey! Don’t break the—”

He stole the rest of the sentence straight from your mouth. His lips crashed against yours with all the pent-up eagerness he’d been restraining since the moment you’d collared him, silencing your protest beneath a kiss that was warm, demanding, and impossibly hungry. The force of his body settling over yours made the mattress dip even deeper, the bed creaking beneath his sheer size as he caged you in completely. There was nowhere for you to go. His broad chest blanketed your own, his powerful frame fitting over you so completely that your thighs instinctively parted around his hips simply to accommodate him. He felt impossibly solid, like a wall of living muscle pressing you into the mattress, yet every ounce of that overwhelming weight was carefully controlled, supported by the strength in his arms as he held himself just enough above you to avoid crushing you.

God…You’d missed this. The realization struck with almost embarrassing force. You’d been craving him far more desperately than you’d allowed yourself to admit over the past week. You’d missed the heat radiating from his body, the reassuring weight of him draped over you, and the way his touch never seemed hesitant. His enormous hands wandered over you with shameless familiarity, slowly mapping every curve of your waist, your hips, your sides, your breasts, as though reacquainting themselves with a place they’d longed to return to. There was something almost possessive in the way he touched you, not demanding ownership, but expressing unmistakable adoration, his palms lingering wherever they landed as though simply feeling your skin beneath them brought him comfort.

A slow, satisfied sigh escaped him into the kiss, the warm breath brushing across your cheek before he deepened it again, “God, more…”

His mouth moved against yours with eager enthusiasm, his tongue coaxing yours into a rhythm that quickly left your thoughts scattered. Every so often, the sharp edges of his canines caught your lower lip just enough to send a pleasant shiver racing through you, never enough to hurt, only enough to remind you exactly what he was. The sensation made your pulse flutter wildly beneath your skin.

A helpless little moan escaped you before you could swallow it back. The sound only seemed to encourage him. His broad chest shifted against your bosom as he adjusted his weight, the solid muscles beneath his skin gliding heavily over your breasts before settling lower. Between your parted thighs, you could already feel the unmistakable evidence of his excitement pressing insistently against you through the remaining fabric, and your stomach tightened in anticipation at the familiar sensation.

Patience had clearly abandoned Valko. Without breaking the kiss, his hands found the knot securing your silk robe. His fingers fumbled with it for only a moment before giving up entirely, tugging impatiently until the sash came loose. The silky fabric immediately relaxed beneath his hands, and with one firm pull he opened the robe, exposing you to the warm glow spilling in from the living room.

Only then did he finally break the kiss. Not to pause. Simply to help you out of it faster. His lips brushed your jaw and cheek in fleeting, absentminded kisses while he guided the robe from your shoulders, easing it down your arms before letting it slip away entirely. The leather leash clipped to the collar around his neck swayed between the two of you with every movement, occasionally brushing your skin as it hung forgotten against his chest.

For the first time since tumbling into the bedroom, the frantic rush slowed just enough for the two of you to really look at one another. His golden eyes traveled over you with open admiration, taking you in without the slightest attempt to hide how beautiful he thought you were.

“Shit, you’re perfect…” He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

You found yourself doing exactly the same, your gaze tracing the broad planes of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen, the water still clinging to the faint dusting of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. There was an urgency between you now, but it wasn’t frantic; it was the impatient excitement of two people who’d spent the entire evening building toward this moment.

Your discarded robe landed somewhere beside the bed. At nearly the same moment, Valko shoved his sweatpants down with little regard for where they ended up, too focused on you to care where they fell. Your heart lurched the instant your eyes dropped between his powerful thighs. God. You remembered he was big. You had not remembered just how big. The sight of him stole the air from your lungs all over again. His erection rested heavily against his thigh, impossible to ignore and even harder to look away from. Every instinct told you not to stare, yet your gaze betrayed you anyway, lingering just long enough for him to catch it.

Of course he caught it. The smug bastard. That familiar smirk slowly spread across his face, lazy and self-satisfied, his golden eyes glittering with unmistakable amusement as he watched your expression give you away. You knew that look. You could’ve smacked that grin clean off his face like you’d threatened to the first time you’d seen him naked, and the infuriating part was that he’d probably enjoy every second of it. He’d only laugh, call you a feisty little woman, and grin even wider while you scolded him, somehow managing to look even more turned on by your irritation than your admiration. He was impossible. Absolutely impossible.

“See something you like there? Well, don’t even think about it,” he murmured, giving a slow shake of his head as he looked down at you.

His own breathing had already deepened. Each steady inhale broadened his chest before slowly escaping again, and despite his teasing, his eyes wandered freely over your body with an openness that made heat bloom beneath your skin. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in the way he admired you. His gaze lingered over every curve as though he were trying to commit you to memory all over again.

Then he leaned closer. Close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear. You felt the corner of his mouth curl into another grin against your skin before he drew in a slow, deliberate breath, inhaling your scent so deeply that it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Warm breath ghosted over the sensitive shell of your ear, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated pleasantly through you, raising goosebumps from your shoulders all the way down your arms.

“You can have your bone after I eat a full meal,” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation, “I’m fucking starving for ya…”

Your breath hitched. God. That fucking bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how unfairly seductive that voice became when it dropped into that low, gravelly register. He knew how shamelessly he weaponized every heightened sense he possessed, and judging by the satisfied glint in his eyes, he also knew exactly what it was doing to you. There was no hiding it from someone like him. He could hear your pulse hammering wildly in your chest. He could smell the rush of adrenaline blooming across your skin, the nervous excitement, the growing arousal that your body betrayed long before your pride ever would.

And the asshole was enjoying every second of it. Fine. If he wanted to play that game… So could you. Your hands planted firmly against his broad chest, and with a determined shove you forced him backward. It wasn’t enough to truly overpower someone his size, but it was enough to make your point. At the same time, you tightened the leather leash around your knuckles and gave it a sharp tug. The collar pulled taut. His body followed the motion. He could’ve resisted without the slightest effort. Instead…He let you. A pleased laugh escaped him as he surrendered to the pull, allowing himself to rock backward onto the mattress. There wasn’t a trace of reluctance in him. If anything, the eager brightness in his golden gaze only intensified, his ears flicking forward and the corners of his mouth lifting into an almost boyishly delighted smile.

You climbed over him before he had the chance to recover, settling yourself astride his hips while keeping the leash snug in your hand. The leather remained taut between your fingers as you looked down at him, and the sight that greeted you made your stomach flutter all over again. He looked…Happy. Not merely entertained. Not humoring you. Genuinely, wholeheartedly happy to be exactly where he was; beneath you, looking up at you with complete trust, his expression glowing with the unmistakable excitement of someone whose fantasy was unfolding exactly as he’d imagined it. Somehow, seeing that look on his face thrilled you almost as much as having him there beneath you.

“That’s all you ever think about, huh?” You teased, though the words came out far more breathless than you’d intended.

You shifted your weight, trying to steady yourself atop him, but it wasn’t exactly easy when Valko’s body was so broad beneath you. His chest alone seemed wide enough to support your entire torso, and straddling him left your knees spread farther apart than you were accustomed to. It should have made you feel awkward. It probably did. Yet the warmth radiating from his body, the unwavering way he looked up at you, and the wine still humming pleasantly through your veins left very little room for self-consciousness.

He answered with an amused grin, “how’d you know?”

You couldn’t help noticing, once again, just how enormous he was. Even lying flat on his back, he dominated the bed with his size, his shoulders stretching across the mattress while his hips pressed insistently against the insides of your thighs as you climbed higher. Every movement required you to brace yourself against solid muscle, and despite how ridiculous the logistics of it all should have felt, neither of you seemed to care. If anything, Valko looked utterly captivated, his golden eyes tracking your every movement with eager anticipation, his breathing growing deeper the closer you came.

Looking down at him, there was really only one thing on your mind. He’d spent the entire evening hinting about how starved he was, shamelessly telling you exactly what he wanted, and if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to give it to him just as badly. The realization emboldened you. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the strange confidence that had settled over you ever since you’d fastened that collar around his neck. Whatever it was, it drowned out the timid part of your mind that normally would’ve second-guessed every move.

This time…You were the bolder one. Without another word, you continued climbing higher until your body was positioned directly over his face. Your robe had long since been discarded, leaving nothing between the two of you, and as you settled yourself there, your soaked pussy hovered only inches above his chiseled features. The change in his expression was instantaneous. His eyes widened with unmistakable surprise, the confident grin faltering as realization finally caught up with him. For perhaps the first time all night, you’d genuinely caught him off guard, and the sight of it sent a thrill racing through your chest.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across your own face, “just something about the way you look at my pussy…”

You couldn’t look away. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, his lips parting ever so slightly while his gaze remained hopelessly fixed on you. For all his teasing bravado, he suddenly looked almost weak with hunger, every instinct written plainly across his face. His nostrils flared with a slow inhale, and before he even realized he was doing it, another followed, deeper than the first. His entire focus had narrowed to the warmth and scent hovering just above him. A faint sheen of saliva gathered behind the points of his fangs as he stared shamelessly upward, looking so openly greedy that it made your stomach tighten with excitement.

“I can’t help myself…” He whispered, licking his lips, “it’s so pretty…Just wanna eat this thing.”

The poor, shameless ball of greed. His enormous hands rose almost reverently to your hips, spreading wide enough to engulf them as his thumbs stroked unconsciously over your skin. He didn’t try to force you down. He simply held you there, breathing you in with an expression that bordered on worship, as though he was trying to savor every second before he was allowed to taste you.

“In that case…” You reached down with your free hand, threading your fingers deep into the roots of his damp auburn hair. Your grip tightened deliberately, earning a soft sound from the back of his throat as you gently but firmly guided his attention upward whenever his eyes threatened to drift back between your thighs, “…Eat up, pup.”

Still holding him firmly by the roots of his damp auburn hair, you lowered yourself the final few inches with agonizing slowness, watching every flicker of anticipation ripple across his face. His warm breath washed over your soaked pussy first, the slow exhale sending a delicious shiver up your spine before his lips finally met you. The instant they did, they parted eagerly, welcoming you with a reverence that bordered on worship.

The moan that escaped him wasn’t something you merely heard. You felt it. It vibrated hotly against your folds, muffled beneath you as though he couldn’t contain himself. His brows knotted high across his forehead in immediate bliss, golden eyes fluttering shut while his fingers buried themselves into the soft flesh of your hips, gripping you with enough firmness to anchor you without ever trying to restrain you.

“Mmph…” He groaned shamelessly into you, the words smothered against your slick heat, “ruin me…”

The plea barely had time to register before his mouth truly went to work. He drew a deep, greedy suck from your pussy, his lips sealing around you with unabashed hunger as he pulled your swollen clit past them. A heartbeat later, his thick tongue rose to meet it, flattening beneath you before giving it a slow, indulgent slap that made your entire body jolt. The sensation ripped a helpless gasp from your throat. Every deliberate stroke that followed was hot, wet, and impossibly eager, his tongue lapping at you with the enthusiasm of a starving man finally being allowed his first meal.

Your jaw dropped. Heat exploded low in your belly, racing through your body so intensely your thighs trembled around his head. You couldn’t stop watching him. The expression on his face was almost more intoxicating than what he was doing to you. His features had softened into pure ecstasy, every satisfied hum vibrating directly into your cunt as though your pleasure and his had become hopelessly tangled together. He looked utterly consumed by it; worshipping, devouring, indulging with such shameless greed that your pulse hammered louder with every passing second.

“O-oh…Fuck…” You sighed breathlessly.

Your free hand, still looped through the leather leash, instinctively found the large hand resting on your hip, your fingers curling around his for balance as your knees threatened to weaken. Your other hand remained fisted in his hair, guiding him almost instinctively, though he hardly needed the direction.

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. With a needy little whimper, you smothered yourself more fully onto his waiting mouth, your hips beginning to move of their own accord. Your clit rolled helplessly across the broad heat of his tongue as you ground yourself against him in slow, desperate circles, chasing every delicious stroke he offered. His answering groan vibrated straight through you, his mouth never relenting, only encouraging you further as he eagerly met every movement with devoted enthusiasm.

“Just like that…” You breathed, your voice already breaking into uneven little sighs, “just…Like that…Val…”

Your fingers tightened gently in his hair, holding him exactly where you wanted him as another wave of pleasure rolled through you.

“Mmm,” you moaned, melting into a smile, “yeah, Valko…”

The instant his own name left your lips, he answered with a hungry, eager pull that made you yelp. Your entire body buckled. Instinctively, your hips tried to lift away from the overwhelming rush of sensation, but his hands clamped firmly around your hips, the sheer size of them engulfing your waist as his fingers dug into the softness of your flesh. There was no forcefulness in the grip; only determination. He simply refused to let you escape.

“Mmph…” The pleased sound vibrated straight through your soaked pussy.

He shook his head slowly between your thighs, his mouth never leaving you for even a second. The movement dragged your slickness shamelessly across his lips, his cheeks, and the sharp line of his jaw until your arousal glistened openly against his skin. His face was becoming an absolute mess beneath you, and judging by the blissful expression he wore, he couldn’t have cared less.

Another helpless shudder raced through you when the faint roughness of his jaw brushed against the insides of your thighs. He’d shaved this morning. Already, the first hint of stubble had begun to return, and every tiny scrape against your sensitive skin sent another wave of delicious heat rolling through your belly. It prickled just enough to make you gasp, your thighs twitching around his head as goosebumps erupted over your arms.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your hips rolled forward in search of him, desperately chasing the broad, wet heat of his tongue as though your body had forgotten how to do anything else. That’s when he looked up at you. Shit. Oh…Shit. His golden eyes rose beneath the furrow of his heavy brows without his mouth ever stopping. The look he gave you from between your thighs was so devastatingly hungry, so openly devoted, that it stole every coherent thought from your head. His pupils had widened until the gold around them burned brighter than before, every ounce of restraint gone as he stared up at you like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

The sight hit you like a physical blow. Goosebumps raced across your skin. Your nipples tightened instantly. Your fingers buried themselves deeper into his damp auburn hair before you even realized you’d moved. A broken moan spilled from your lips just as his mouth closed around you again, taking another deep, greedy suck that ended in an obscenely wet smack against your folds. The sound echoed shamelessly through the room, loud enough to make your face burn, yet all it accomplished was sending another violent shiver straight through your body.

Christ…You almost hated how good it felt. How unbelievably hot it was. How every filthy, messy second of it made your pulse race harder. How much you’d missed this. How desperately you’d been craving the broad slap of his tongue against your pussy, the hot breaths that became trapped beneath the press of his nose against your sex before spilling back over your slick skin, the relentless squeeze of those enormous hands anchoring you against him as though he wanted every ounce of your weight bearing down on his face. As though drowning beneath you was exactly where he wanted to be.

It was driving you insane. Your skin had begun to glisten with sweat. Your breathing came in uneven little gasps. The room seemed to blur pleasantly around the edges until all that existed was the heat between your thighs and the starving man beneath you. Acting on nothing but instinct, you tightened your fist in his hair and gave a firmer tug, guiding his head from side to side as your hips followed the movement in slow, needy circles. A soft, sultry giggle escaped you before you could stop it, carried on another shaky breath as you watched his eyes roll blissfully back for a heartbeat, his expression melting into pure pleasure as eagerly as your own. God. The shameless idiot actually liked it when you played rough with him.

“Good boy,” you praised softly, smiling down at him as his blissed-out eyes struggled to stay focused on yours. His lips glistened, his cheeks were slick with the mess he’d so enthusiastically made of himself, and somehow he still managed to look shamelessly pleased, “eat this little pussy like you mean it…”

The praise alone seemed to undo him. A pleased, muffled groan vibrated through your folds before one of his enormous hands slid away from your hip. The other remained firmly hooked around your waist, pulling you down against him with unmistakable need. His broad palm spread possessively across your stomach while his thumb slipped lower, finding just the right place to draw your body open even farther for him. The movement exposed your clit completely to his warm mouth, and he responded immediately, burying himself against you with renewed enthusiasm.

God. The absolute state of him. His mouth had become delightfully filthy, glistening with your arousal as he kissed, licked, sucked, and slurped with such greedy abandon that it almost made you laugh. Every eager sound he made seemed to vibrate directly through you, every satisfied hum melting into another hungry kiss as though no amount of tasting you could ever possibly be enough. He was insatiable. Utterly, hopelessly insatiable.

Then something else caught your attention. Beneath you, his body gave the faintest tremor. At first you thought it was another shiver of pleasure, but then you felt it again; a subtle, rhythmic movement traveling through his torso. One of his shoulders shifted differently than before, and somewhere behind your hips, his free arm was moving. Back. And forth. Your curiosity got the better of you. Twisting just enough to glance over your shoulder, your breath caught in your throat. Oh…God. Ohhh, God. The shameless bastard was jacking himself off.

His fist was wrapped firmly around the thick base of his impossibly hard cock, stroking himself with obvious desperation while he refused to stop eating you for even a second. Every slow pump of his hand looked driven by pure instinct, as though he simply couldn’t bear not to touch himself while he had you sitting on his face. The flushed head gleamed beneath the dim bedroom light, swollen and angry with arousal, a bead of precum gathering at the tip before slowly trailing downward along the smooth skin.

The sight stole every coherent thought from your mind. Your lips parted. A tiny gasp escaped you before you could stop it. God…That fucking pervert. That deliciously shameless, wolfish pervert. The realization sent another rush of heat straight through your body. Unable to stop yourself, you turned back toward him with an amused grin spreading helplessly across your face. A breathless laugh bubbled from your chest as your eyes met his again, silently telling him you’d caught him. He didn’t even look guilty. If anything, his eyes softened with embarrassed delight, the corners of them crinkling as he looked up at you through heavy lashes, still devotedly buried between your thighs. The idiot.

You rewarded him by settling more of your weight onto his waiting mouth, pressing down just firmly enough to earn another blissful groan against your slick folds. His eyelids fluttered closed for a heartbeat before rolling open again, every ounce of euphoria written plainly across his face. The hand that had been spread across your stomach abandoned it entirely, sliding instead to grip your thigh with eager urgency. His fingers flexed against your skin, encouraging every slow roll of your hips as you ground yourself against his mouth, his own movements matching yours with relentless enthusiasm while a pleased smile stretched beneath the wet, messy press of your folds against his lips.

He let out a husky groan, “crush me.”

“You love it that much, huh?” You teased, unable to hide the grin tugging at your lips.

He nodded without an ounce of shame. Slowly, deliberately, you lifted your hips just enough to deny him what he’d been greedily chasing. The loss drew an immediate reaction. He inhaled deeply, almost desperately, drawing your scent into his lungs with an indulgent breath that made his chest rise beneath you. His mouth parted instinctively, chasing after you before you could pull completely away. You bit back a smile. The moment his face was exposed again, your palm came down with playful slap against his damp cheek.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” you slapped him again, making sure you were clear, “you hear me, Valko?”

A needy sound escaped him before he even answered. His hand immediately tightened around you, already trying to pull you back down, his enormous palm guiding your hip toward his waiting mouth as though the separation physically pained him. Despite the command you’d just given him, his face was beautifully ruined; flushed a deep crimson, lips swollen and glistening, your slick shining shamelessly across his mouth, his jaw, and the bridge of his large nose. The sight alone made your pulse flutter.

“Yeah, yeah, I got ya,” he laughed breathlessly, tugging at your hips again with impatient enthusiasm, “now come he—”

“-I mean it,” your voice dropped into something firmer.

The leather leash looped around your knuckles once more before you gave it a sharp, deliberate pull. The collar tightened. His neck followed obediently, the movement drawing his chin upward until those glowing golden eyes met yours again. They widened just a fraction, not with fear, but with unmistakable delight. You could practically see the excitement flash across his face as the leash grew taut between your hand and the thick leather circling his neck.

Leaning down, you held his gaze without wavering, “I’ll kill you.”

The threat only made him laugh. Not nervously. Not cautiously. He laughed like you’d just whispered the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. His eyes gleamed beneath the dim light, bright with playful mischief as one corner of his mouth curled into an infuriating smirk. The hand resting on your thigh slowly wandered higher, sliding around to the small of your back with lazy confidence.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” he muffled between your slick folds.

Before you could think of a comeback, his hand suddenly pressed firmly against your lower back. The shove caught you completely off guard. A startled gasp escaped you as your balance disappeared beneath you, your body pitching forward until you landed squarely back onto his waiting mouth. Your hands flew out on instinct, scrambling desperately for the leather headboard before your face could follow, your fingers wrapping tightly around the wood as your back arched from the sudden movement.

The new position changed everything. Your spine curved naturally, lifting your hips higher without you meaning to. Your ass was presented directly to him. As though he’d been waiting for exactly that. The hand that had been wrapped around his own cock abandoned it without hesitation, joining the other so both of those enormous hands could spread greedily across your ass. They engulfed you completely, each palm spanning your cheeks before squeezing with open appreciation.

You gasped. His fingers dug into the soft flesh just hard enough to make your breath catch, the pressure toeing the delicious line between rough and careful. Every fingertip pressed into you with unmistakable hunger, kneading you as though he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch first, while another muffled groan vibrated hotly against your slick folds, making your entire body shiver in response.

SMACK!

The sharp crack rang through the bedroom, loud enough to bounce off the walls of your tiny apartment. His palm landed squarely across your ass from beneath you, the sting blooming instantly into delicious warmth as the impact rippled through the soft flesh of your hips. The force of it sent a shiver racing up your spine, your entire backside jiggling helplessly beneath his enormous hand. Even your breasts bounced where they hung above him, your body responding to the strike before your mind had the chance to catch up.

A startled gasp tore from your throat. Beneath you, you felt his chest rumble with a deeply satisfied chuckle. The sound melted into another shameless kiss. A loud, wet smack echoed obscenely through the room as his lips found your clit again with unabashed enthusiasm, the heat of his mouth wrapping around you before his tongue swept over you in a slow, indulgent stroke that made your entire core twitch. Every eager sound he made seemed amplified by how close you were to him; the greedy slurps, the satisfied hums, the wet smacks of his mouth against your soaked cunt, all of it vibrating straight through your body until your thighs quivered around his head.

God…He was making an absolute mess of you. His hands spread across your ass again, engulfing both cheeks so completely that you almost laughed at how easily he held you. His fingers disappeared into the softness of your flesh as he squeezed with open appreciation, kneading you firmly enough to make your breath hitch. The pressure spread you apart beneath his hands, exposing you even more to the relentless attention of his mouth.

The greedy bastard. He wasn’t merely holding you anymore. He was guiding you. Every squeeze of his hands encouraged your hips to move, and before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself rolling against him with slow, helpless need. Your body instinctively chased the broad heat of his tongue as it slapped eagerly against your swollen clit, each upward stroke coaxing another broken breath from your lips.

You were riding his face now. Completely. Hopelessly. The rhythm had stopped belonging to either of you individually somewhere along the way. Every time your hips rolled forward, he eagerly met you, his mouth opening wider to welcome you while his tongue continued its relentless work. It felt less like he was following you and more like the two of you had fallen into the same desperate, instinctive rhythm without ever needing to think about it.

A moan climbed your throat. You tried to swallow it. You really did. But it only escaped louder, trembling from your lips despite your best efforts to keep quiet inside your tiny apartment. Your head fell back. Your eyes rolled shut. Your fingers clung desperately to the headboard, nails digging into the wood until your knuckles turned shaky as your back arched even higher. Every wet pull of his lips, every greedy suck that lingered just a little too long, every shamelessly loud kiss he pressed against your pussy sent another violent tremor through your body. The sounds should have embarrassed you.

They almost did. Almost. Because every filthy, messy noise he made only drove you higher, sending wave after wave of pleasure surging up your arched spine before crashing back down through your trembling thighs. His hot breaths became trapped beneath the press of his nose against your front, warming you between every eager inhale, while the steady strength of his hands kept you anchored exactly where he wanted you. As though he’d never let you leave if he had the choice.

You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.

As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose. 

“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.

“Hurts,” he grunts. 

Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?” 

“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.” 

If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now. 

Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.

“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.” 

The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory. 

“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”

Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?

“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.” 

His response is simple: “I trust you.” 

Cute. But not what you need right now.

Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain. 

“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.” 

His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today. 

“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.” 

“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”

“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final. 

His ears droop atop his head. 

Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot. 

In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances. 

The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.” 

“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support. 

Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!

Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.” 

“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.” 

──────

Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.” 

Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.” 

The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”

“Really.” 

You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter. 

“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back. 

Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock. 

Is that…? 

No way. 

“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.” 

When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”

“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.” 

You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?” 

The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.” 

Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick. 

Day 1

Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you. 

Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.

“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?” 

Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things. 

“Okay, what about—”

“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that. 

“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”

“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”

“Make me.”

Oh, really? That’s how it is?

Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone. 

“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment. 

As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”

As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.

“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”

Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet. 

Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.” 

He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height. 

“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure. 

He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.” 

Day 3

Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems. 

In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.

Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear. 

You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress. 

He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation. 

Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)

A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning. 

Clearly, he had a lot on his mind. 

Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. 

Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”

As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.

His mortal enemy lies in wait within.

“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”

“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”

Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”

“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”

Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.

“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him. 

Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.

“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.

Day 5

Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.

It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights. 

One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation. 

It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.

His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t. 

His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve. 

Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump. 

You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.

There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.

He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”

“Valk—”

“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”

You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.” 

Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.

“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”

As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?

When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.

“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.

“Use it?”

“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”

Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts. 

Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room. 

“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.” 

He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together. 

You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”

His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.” 

Day 7

At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”

There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.

Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?

It doesn’t take long to find out.

In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window. 

He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone. 

The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles. 

Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.” 

“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you. 

After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.

You get the sense that you’re in trouble. 

“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”

“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”

Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”

“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out. 

“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”

“Three.”

“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”

“Two.” 

“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”

He doesn’t let you get to “one.”

When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run. 

You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”

“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.

While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.

He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat. 

“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.

“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal. 

“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.” 

He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff. 

Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”

“…What?”

“My face. Sit on it.”

“…What?” 

“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”

“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”

He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”

You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.” 

In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.

“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way. 

“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?

“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation. 

For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”

You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.

Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears. 

A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.

When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight. 

And he won’t have it. 

Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue. 

“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”

Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”

Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.

Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough. 

His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel. 

“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?

A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.

All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?

A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop. 

Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth. 

Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”

Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath. 

“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”

Valko has other plans.

Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease. 

Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin. 

All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.

In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you. 

As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily. 

All you can do is whine.

You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time. 

──────

“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed. 

“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.

It’s dawn. 

“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”

“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”

Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?” 

“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”

“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.” 

“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”

As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.

Should you switch vets? 

you’re sitting on his lap, his thick cock pressed against your belly leaking pre and staining your thin slip. he’d long since ripped off your pajamas, the fabric somewhere shredded on the ground.

your hand pumps him slowly, torturing him with the pace. he knew better than to do that- how many times had you gotten onto him about ruining your outfits?! you weren't made of money, and your parents were starting to catch on to your clothes all having strange stitching holding them together!

“did i tell you to stop?” you chastise him, your free hand reaching up to grab his fluffy ear, pulling his head back.

valko whines and looks up at you with golden eyes, eyebrows pulling together. “it feels too good, i got distracted-”

“hm.” you drop the hand that was pumping him. “fine. since you can’t handle two things at once, you’ll lose your privileges."

“no, please.” he begs, head going back to where you wanted it in the crook of your neck.

his rough tongue licked up and down the column of your neck, lapping at it.

you hum happily, hand instinctively going back to stroking him, faster than before. “good boyy, see, you know how to listen after all.”

he nods and whimpers, tongue kitten licking the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. the exact spot you’d been begging him to bite for weeks.

maybe if you play your cards right this time, he would finally do it?

“such a sweet puppy, aren't you?” you ask, voice low in the way he likes it. you tighten your fingers at his tip, watching as he leaks out and stains your fingers.

though you didn’t have much experience with human men, you knew enough to know that werewolves had much larger cocks. you hadn’t even let him fuck you yet due to the sheer size of him- you were sure it would break you.

valko’s fluffy tail wags at your praise. “uh huhh, i’ve been so good. waited for you, haven’t touched myself in a week- mmh!” he shudders when you slide a finger over his slit.

you nod in approval, scratching behind one of his ears. he leans into the scratching, an eye closing in pleasure.

“i’ve almost got you trained then, haven’t i? such a strong creature tamed by a human.” you huff out a laugh, hand moving faster as you try to get him close. “how pathetic. what if the rest of your pack saw you like this?”

valko growled, the sound low and barely there. he knew better than to truly defy you, keeping his annoyance to a minimum. his tongue continued to lick, the roughness scratching at your skin like sandpaper.

you took his silence as an answer, and his panting as a sign that he was close. close enough for you to try once again.

“wanna cum?”

valko nodded and tried to look up at you from his position at your neck, golden eyes glowing slightly and pleading with yours. “please?”

you shivered at his voice. despite his physical submission to you, his voice always reminded you that he was a dangerous predator. it was deep, not at all like the airy and whiny voices of submissive human men you’d encountered.

maybe that’s why you were so fond of him- knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could kill you. but he won’t, because you’ve got him trained like he’s no more than a stray.

you halt your hand on his cock once more, making him whine and arch his back. “mark me and i’ll let you cum.” you purr into his fuzzy ear, biting down on the peak of it.

valko rears back, his face contorting from the blissed out state it was just in to the tense scowl he normally wears when he’s not with you.

“you know i can’t mark you, it wouldn’t be safe.”

he tries to back up, but you keep an iron grip on the base of his cock, holding him still. “marking me is the only way to keep me safe- how stupid are you? your packmates are going to find out about this eventually, do you think they’ll let me live?”

valko doesn’t look convinced. he scoffs and shakes his head. “marking you brings attention to you, right now no one knows you exist. they won’t be happy that i chose a human as my mate, either.”

you raise an eyebrow at his defiance. “hm. fine.” you stand and brush your slip off. “if you can’t have a human as your mate, you shouldn’t have one as your fuck buddy then either, should y- hey!”

you yelp as valko grabs your wrists and yanks you back down onto his lap. he puts your hand back on his cock, wrapping your fingers around it as he strokes himself over you.

his voice comes out gravely and rough against your skin. “fine. if i mark you, you understand that i have to knot you also?”

you swallow hard and think about it. if you thought his dick would be too big for you, how hard would the knot be to take..?

you clench around nothing at the idea, wetness already seeping through your thin panties. the answer was a no-brainer.

“deal.”

no sooner than the word left your mouth did valko bite down on the juncture between neck and shoulder. the pain was excruciating, causing you to scream and writhe on his lap.

snarls and howls sounded in the background, no doubt in response to your screaming. normally, you’d be terrified, because having a whole pack hunting you would lead to your death, but you weren’t worried.

they couldn’t hurt you, not with valko’s mark on you. the bite left your head fuzzy and your body tingling.

valko was licking your wound over with care, a sound like purring emanating from him. after he deemed it properly cared for, he looked your face over to make sure you were okay.

“don’t pass out on me, puppy.” he teases, hand cradling the back of your head as he smiles.

he’s still moving your hand in time with his on his cock, albeit slower than before.

your eyes zero in on his teeth- more specifically his fangs that are coated in your blood from the bond mark.

without even thinking, you lean forward and lick his fangs, tasting your own metallic blood.

a strangled moan left valko when you did this, unintentionally sending him over the edge. his hips bucked up into the hands you both had around him, cum spurting out in thick streams, landing on both of your chests.

how were you supposed to know that werewolves had sensitive fangs?

once his high wore down, you heard loud footsteps approaching and panicked. “should we go? what if-”

valko hummed and nuzzled his nose into the mark he left on you. “no, no no, i still have to knot you, remember? now who’s the one that doesn’t listen.” he teases.

you glare at him. if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy, you’d put him back in his place. maaaybe you could let him be in charge for once…

“you’re not gonna take me somewhere nicer to fuck me?”

valko looks around in confusion. “what’s wrong with this?”

you raise an eyebrow at him and tap your hand on the hard dirt you. “uh, maybe that it’s hard and, i don’t know, the forest floor?”

valko shrugged and maneuvered you onto your back, crawling over you and pushing one sode of your slip up. “it won’t hurt.” he kisses between your breasts.

“what about when your pack shows up? you’re going to let them see me naked?”

valko rubs his thick tip against your soaked panties, tilting his head. “let them watch. it’s customary for packmates to watch each other mate.” his golden eyes meet yours and he smirks slightly. “you’ll get the full experience.”

a/n: THIS IS MY MAN THIS IS MY MAIN IDCCCC also im prepared for him to be crazy ooc when his content drops lolz. ive never written anything like this before so if i missed tagging smth PLS let me know so i can add it!!

thick moon divider from @uzmacchiato , thin moon divider from @cyberangel-graphics

"I'm here, I'm here-could you have been any louder?" Rafayel hissed, your eyes latching onto a steaming mug of tea in his hand. The calming aroma of the tea made you shift slightly, the two men freezing at the movement.

Caleb slowly approached you, gently caressing the exposed side of your face before murmuring something to Rafayel. The purple haired man padded to your side, kneeling on the carpet as you heard him blowing your tea.

"Pips, are you awake?" Caleb whispered, delicately combing a hand through your hair. You slowly lifted up your arm, blinking away the bleariness and adjusting to the lamp's light. His face instantly broke into a smile, his eyes shining with relief and joy to see you.

Rafayel caught your attention by setting down the mug and putting his hands behind your back to readjust you into a sitting position. You yawned, patting his shoulder to acknowledge him.

"Hey guys," You said, smiling at them.

"How are you feeling, cutie?" Rafayel murmured, bringing one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. You glanced between the two of them, an overwhelming sense of gratefulness washing over you. Your boyfriends were so attentive to your cycle-always so caring and understanding and kind-it was the kind of care that made you feel loved and appreciated.

"I'm okay, just a little sore," You confessed sheepishly, gesturing to your chest and neck. "They...uh, hurt." You looked away shyly when their gazes fell to the swell of your breasts.

They've offered to massage you before, but you were too shy-though the offer sounded heavenly right now.

"Aw, were you hurting like this since this mornin'?" Caleb questioned, his hand starting to gently massage the back of your neck. You nodded, remembering waking up and feeling like you had just ran five miles. The annoying cramping you felt in your lower abdomen was also a sign.

"Yeah," You admitted, avoiding his gaze. At your confession, Rafayel brought the cup of tea to your lips.

"Here, drink some," He cooed. You nodded, taking a sip, the warmth of the liquid feeling nice despite how sweaty you felt. Rafayel wiped the edge of your mouth with a napkin before Caleb continued to speak.

"Y'know...we want to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible...so whatever you need, tell us, okay?"

"Okay," You muttered, glancing down to your chest. A beat of silence passed before you spoke up again. "You...you guys offered to do it before-but..."

"You want us to massage you?" Rafayel suggested, tilting his head at you. You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

"Yes please," Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I feel horrible right now."

Caleb's frown mirrored Rafayel's, the two giving each other a nod before Rafayel climbed onto the bed with you. He made you scoot forward so that you were snug in his lap, his arms wrapping around you like a warm cocoon. He pressed his hands to your exposed tummy, the fire evol-powered palms of his hands warming you up.

You sighed with relaxation, leaning against Rafayel's back as you muttered 'thank you's underneath your breath.

It didn't take long for Caleb to suggest you take off your shirt to which you complied. He pulled off your undershirt with no hassle and neatly folded it before he kneeled in front of you.

You felt a little embarrassed being on display like this, the shame obviously showing on your face with how you avoided Caleb's eyes and squirmed uncomfortably in Rafayel's embrace. The vulnerability of it made you feel exposed and soft-but Caleb was quick to remind you that this was a safe place.

"Hey, hey, it's just me and Raf...you're safe here. Gonna make you feel better, okay?" Caleb said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. You hesitated, almost looking away when Caleb smiled at you. It instantly made you feel at home-at peace-and a sliver of that embarrassment faded away.

"Is this okay?" You heard Rafayel whisper, his locks tickling your ear. You looked down to see one of his large hands cup one of your breasts, the sight making your face heat up as he began to gently massage them. You winced from the soreness, panic flickering through Caleb's eyes before you nodded.

"Yeah...that's fine. It's good." You breathed, Caleb letting out a sigh of relief alongside you.

"Mm, alright, just tell me if I'm doing it too hard, yeah?" Rafayel murmured.

"Okay," Your breath hitched when you noticed how close Caleb was now to your chest, his nose practically between them. He looked up at you with those wide, purple eyes-eyes that were asking for permission.

"Pips," He said, his breath tickling your skin. "Is it okay..?"

You swallowed thickly, nodding your head before you felt the warmth of Caleb's mouth envelope one of your nipples, the contact making your toes curl. You swore you heard Rafayel chuckle, but you were too focused on the feeling of Caleb's hot tongue swirling around your tit.

"Caleb..." You struggled not to let out a moan-and it didn't help that Rafayel was basically teasing you with the way he was kneading your other breast. Had you walked right into their trap? No matter where you looked, it was one or the other-Raf behind and Caleb in the front-not that you minded at all with how the soreness you felt earlier was completely overshadowed by the immense pleasure they made you feel. "R-Raf..."

"Hm? What was that cutie?" Rafayel purred, letting one of his fingers circle your hardened nipple eliciting a whimper from you. Your back arched at the touch making Caleb groan into you, his tongue working even faster.

"Ugh, your so unfair and evil and-" Your words were cut off when Rafayel's free hand snaked it's way to your panties, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. You gasped, back arching off Rafayel's chest as you tried to squirm away from him.

"Shhh," Rafayel whispered, a low chuckle vibrating in your ears. You moaned, unable what to do, your brain a jumbled mess.

You felt Caleb's hands hold you in place while he continued to suck your nipple, the brown haired man truly lost in his pleasure as he continued to greedily lap at you.

"F-fuck-" You whined, cut off as Rafayel caught your lips with his, his mouth moving roughly against yours as he continued to bully your clit and aching chest.

This wasn't the deal! Ugh, these two are so sneaky!

Your boyfriends continued to pleasure you until you were begging for them to stop, Caleb being the first to let your tits go with a lewd little pop! and Rafayel slowing his assault on your poor pussy before just laying you lie there on his chest, a panting, moaning little mess.

"Feel better?" Rafayel teased, pinching your cheek with his finger. You rolled your eyes, still trying to catch your breath. You were about to answer when Caleb plopped himself on your tummy, resting on you like a pillow. He wrapped his hands around your waist and anchored you to the bed, his brown strands brushing against your skin.

"Y-yeah. Thanks." You breathed, still catching your breath. Rafayel hummed with approval while Caleb sighed against you.

The three of you lay there together in a bundle of warmth, exhaustion and shared pleasure, your earlier doomed thoughts of despair and dread completely washed away with whatever these two did to you.

Seriously, did they plan this or something?

You took a deep breath, making yourself comfortable while you started to make conversation with them, considering that you didn't know what they were up to while you were curled up at home.

Eventually the conversation fizzled out to a peaceful silence, Rafayel being the first to peacefully doze off while Caleb followed, a big yawn leaving his lips before he was passed out on your tummy.

You lay there with a smile, your hand stroking Caleb's hair while your other hand was laced with Rafayel's, your heart swelling with how much you were loved and taken care of by your two favorite people in the world.

a/n: the amazing digital footprint JKJKJK man i need these two right now its not even funny anymore im gonna cry...if only men were real...ANYWAYS LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <33 And also drop your thoughts in the comments or whatever, I like interacting with yall! Ok cya!