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“And you’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“Sure as a man can be.” A grins spreads over Dorian’s face as he slips the thin strap of Tryx’s bra from her shoulder. She pulls her arm out of it and pouts at her boyfriend over her shoulder, but the expression quickly melts into one of gentle rapture when he drags his teeth along her neck.
“You know that’s not what I – mean,” she says, her words giving way to a soft gasp as Dorian sinks his teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “I know you can control it, but with the full moon and all, will you be able to…”
“‘Course.” Dorian pulls back, pressing a kiss to the blunt indents his teeth have left in her skin, still every bit as human as the rest of him. “Full moon or not, I can keep myself under control.”
“Hm.” Tryx turns in his hold and wraps her arms around his neck. Dorian can feel the way her bra hangs off her, unsupported by the straps that now droop around her arms. The lace of it presses against his chest, scratchy and sublime. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
She kisses him, an insolent little peck on the cheek. It’s meant to be teasing, just a taste of what he’s going to get – but Dorian has never been patient, and so he turns his head to capture her lips before she can get away. He coaxes them open with a little nip and slips tongue into her mouth to taste the liquor still lingering in it. They’ve both only had a little, just enough to loosen them up – not nearly enough to get drunk on; but oh, Dorian thinks he could get drunk on this taste, this feeling alone.
He reaches behind her and snaps open the clasp on her bra with practiced fingers. It slides off and down to the floor between them, and the moment it hits the ground Dorian steps over it, pushing Tryx toward the bed. He lays her down upon it, crawling over her and leaning down with a knee between her spread legs and an arm at the side of her head.
She bites his lip, and Dorian pulls away, relishing in the tug of it between her teeth. It’d be quite a sight too, he’s sure, if he’d had the wherewithal to watch.
“You ready, firefly?” he asks, flashing her a smirk. Tryx shoots it right back, every bit as insolent and indulgent as always.
She really is beautiful.
“Like you have to ask,” she says, and that’s all the permission Dorian needs.
He slips down her body, trailing kisses along her as he goes; he reaches her hips, hooks a finger under the waistband of her panties and mouths her through the fabric. Teasing, teasing, teasing, almost giving her what she wants but never quite bridging the gap entirely – and so he figures he deserves the kick he gets to the back of his head and her heel digging in deep between his shoulder blades.
“Alright, alright, I get it!” He says around a laugh. “Sheesh, yer impatient…”
He tugs her panties down and off and casts them aside, uncaring of where they might end up. Tryx is not the only one who’s impatient; Dorian can hardly blame his girlfriend for wanting to hurry things along, since he himself can’t wait to touch her, to taste her, to bury himself inside her and press their bodies together…
But no. There’s an order to these things, and he knows he’s got to treat her right.
She deserves nothing less.
So he ducks between her thighs, tongue flicking out to slip between her folds. Tryx sighs, her fingers flexing against. Whether it’s because it really feels that good, or just to egg him on, Dorian doesn’t know. He doesn’t care, either – all he wants is to make her feel good, to drag more of those sounds from her.
He reaches under her legs and spreads them wide, closing his eyes as he dives in for more. Dorian licks at Tryx’s cunt like a man starved, lapping up every drop of slick he can and stroking lavishly over her clit. She twitches in his hold, her moans melting into laughter as her back arches off the bed.
“Hahh… Dorian…” She bites her lip; Dorian opens his eyes just long enough to see it. “So good…”
He wants to say something, to pull away and gloat – of course he’s good; what did she expect? – but in this case, he decides that actions speak louder than words, and he lowers his head to dip his tongue past her entrance and fuck her with it.
“Ah! Ah…!” Tryx’s voice rises as she writhes beneath him. Her thighs tense under Dorian’s hands – close already, apparently – and he tightens his grip, digging his nails into her thigh just to give her that little bit of edge to ground herself with. Or to make her come faster, as the case may be – he isn’t picky either way.
It does indeed end up being the latter. Tryx’s mouth falls open on a cry as she comes, hips rocking against Dorian’s mouth. He keeps going, keeps thrusting his tongue in and out of her, eager and messy and desperate for more. It’s oddly easy, tonight, to slip inside and fuck her nice and deep. Easier than normal, but Dorian dismisses the thought as soon as it occurs to him. Love can make a man accomplish anything, or so he’s been told.
He stays there until the last few waves of Tryx’s orgasm ebb and die away, and then he lingers even longer, licking one last line between her folds and sucking at her clit. Tryx half-laughs, half-groans as she sits up and gazes back down at him, stars in her eyes and his world in her hands.
“Fuck, Dor…” This time, it’s a real laugh as she runs a hand through her hair and pushes it out of her face. “I don’t think you’ve ever gone that deep with just your tongue before.”
He pulls out from between her legs, a smirk tugging at his lips as he kneels above her. “What can I say? Yer just irresistible.”
Dorian licks his lips. His tongue flicks up first and catches on the point of a tooth – longer and sharper than it should have been – but he pays it no mind. Instead he leans over Tryx, bracing himself on an elbow while the other threads through the hair behind her ear.
“Mhm. I sure am,” Tryx says belatedly, the words temporarily halted as she breathes a sigh of pleasure. She returns Dorian’s smirk, and the next thing he knows, he’s being dragged into a full, deep, open-mouthed kiss. He groans into it, certain she can taste herself on him, and his fingers clench in her hair and in the sheets. It draws a moan from her, quiet and raspy, and that just makes Dorian want more.
He pulls away with one last bite to her bottom lip, and with a wide, toothy grin, says, “Is that so? Then I’d better prove yer point an’ show you just how irresistible y’are.”
He grabs her by the knees, nails digging in deep and spreading them apart. Tryx yelps and stiffens, only to relax a second later as she watches Dorian back up. He keeps one hand on her while the other tugs his shirt off, collar over the head and fabric crumpling on the floor. He doesn’t particularly care where it lands – he’s far too hellbent on having Tryx right where he wants her, her skin pressed up and sliding against his as he buries himself deep, deep inside her.
To that end, he unfastens his pants and pulls them down, just far enough to expose himself and pull his cock free. Tryx’s eyes roll down to it; a hazy smile curls over her lips as she lifts her hips and spreads herself for him.
And God, but who could resist an invitation like that? Dorian grins and presses forward, rubbing the tip of his cock between Tryx’s labia. She shivers, still sensitive, and leans back, a perfect smile across her perfect face. “C’mon, Dor,” she croons. “Hurry it up.”
And hurry it up he does. Wet with precum and Tryx’s own ejaculate, Dorian lines himself up, head of his cock thick and insistent at her entrance. He leans forward and breaches her in one smooth motion, groaning as he sinks into that familiar warmth.
His head falls forward to hang between his shoulders. In front of him, Tryx laughs. It makes Dorian want to laugh too, and to meet her smile with one of his own – but just as he lifts his head to look up at her, Tryx locks her legs around his waist and pulls herself further onto him.
“Oh – fuck – Tryx!” Dorian grits his teeth, cutting off the breathy gasp that tumbles out of him. He hitches his hips up, sheathing himself even deeper inside of her, and she laughs again, amused and adorable and everything Dorian loves.
“Mm, you like that?” she teases. Dorian catches her wink at him and he smirks, lips pulling back to reveal sharp, pointed teeth.
“Fuck yeah I do,” he growls. And that’s all the warning he gives her before he shows her just how much.
They’ve done this enough times now that Dorian knows just how Tryx likes to be fucked. He knows just the right angles, all the right places to grab her, all the right things to say.
Normally, he’d put all that knowledge to good use and make her come undone with it, over and over and over again. Tonight, however, all that knowledge flees him, overtaken by heady desire and the desperate need to take, take, take.
He thrusts sharply. Tryx’s mouth falls open on a moan and Dorian leans forward to capture it, hungrily shoving his tongue past her lips and swallowing every little sound she makes. Her arms curl around his neck, drawing him ever closer, and he thrusts in deeper, harder, faster. She feels so good around him, hot and wet and perfect, and Dorian wants more, more—
He slams into her. Tryx cries out, her entire body going tense. She gushes around Dorian, her slick pussy clenching impossibly tight, and still he keeps going, growling and snarling uncontrollably as he furiously chases his pleasure. He’s mindless with want, with need – so much so that he doesn’t realize that the heat coiling in his gut has spread to his entire body, setting his skin aflame and overwhelming him with sensation.
His fingers clench in the sheets. Distantly, he hears something tear, and Dorian opens his eyes to see that his nails have changed and elongated. Thick, sharp, dangerous black claws have replaced them, and the light dusting of hair on the back of his hand has thickened and spread to cover it completely.
He’s changing.
The realization hits Dorian with an explosion of pain. His skin prickles as if a hundred thousand needles are trying to stab their way through it, to tear him open and expose muscle and bone to the open air. He feels simultaneously too big for his skin and too small for his body, his skeleton growing and contorting too fast for his flesh to keep up. But that, too, changes in time – Dorian thinks about trying to hold it back, to keep the transformation at bay; but the pain is too great, the pleasure of sex too distracting. He tries to warn Tryx, to push her away, say her name, anything – but his jaw cracks and shifts, stealing the words before he can form them.
“Dorian!”
Her voice drags his gaze up to her. He must look a right mess, stuck halfway between man and wolf and growing more beastly with every passing second. He growls and grunts, trying to communicate like that, trying to tell her to get away from him – he couldn’t pull out if he tried, she feels too good, too tight – but Tryx, stubborn and defiant and perfect, stays right where she is.
She grabs his shoulders and digs her fingers in, a strained smile on her face. “Let go,” she tells him. “It’s okay, I – ah! Oh, fuck, Dor, you’re so…”
Tryx bites her lip and clenches down around Dorian’s swollen cock, her slender frame (so small, so small like this, while she’s human and he is not) trembling beneath him.
“I can ha-handle it,” she insists. “I’ve taken you like this before. I can t-take you now, too.”
Dorian pauses, looking at her with wide, golden eyes. And then he grins, lips peeling back over too-sharp canines. He leans forward to nuzzle at her neck, and Tryx turns to meet him, her tongue flicking against his teeth to beg for entry.
And Dorian grants it. He opens his mouth to meet her, jaws opening wide and tongue sliding against her palette. He’s filled out in the face now, fur broken out over his skin and his nose and chin elongated. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed – or fucked – while he’s been in wolf form, but every time, he’s struck by just how small she is compared to him, how easy it would be to open his mouth and just swallow her whole.
He resists the urge, swallowing it down alongside a groan of pleasure. Beneath him, Tryx shifts. She sighs heavily, pulling away from Dorian’s mouth to lean back against the headboard – but the movement sends a shock of pleasure all through Dorian, and he snaps his hips forward to bury himself deeper inside her.
“Oh! Oh, fuck, Dor, please—” Tryx cries, but it’s no use; he can hardly hear her over the overwhelming urge to take her, fill her up, stretch her open and make her his. He leans over her, lifting her legs with one powerful, fully-transformed claw, and bends her in half so her hips are suspended high above the bed. She opens her legs and rests her calves on his shoulders for support, to keep herself upright and hike herself up further so she can take him as deep as he can possibly go.
If Dorian could speak right now, he’d be singing Tryx’s praises. He’d tell her how beautiful she is like this, how perfect she feels, tight and hot and wet all around him, surrounding him and driving him crazy with need. But his words are still lost, stolen by his changed body, and so he must settle for communicating all that he feels for her in a low, deep growl.
Tryx doesn’t seem to mind his lack of speech; she can hardly respond herself in the wake of such overwhelming pleasure. All she can do is moan and gasp and buck against him as she tries to drag him over the edge with her.
Dorian wants nothing more.
He bites her neck and starts to move again, faster and harder than before. The angle is perfect; every thrust has Tryx screaming in pleasure, has her eyes rolling back in her head and her hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets, on Dorian’s arms, on her own chest – anything she can get her hands on. She’s practically gushing around him, her slick aiding his every movement, and Dorian wonders if she’s actually coming on every thrust or if it’s just wishful thinking.
Regardless, it drives him crazy. His thrusts grow erratic and his vision begins to blur around the edges. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls back, letting his tongue loll out and breathing hot, heavy puffs of air over Tryx’s skin. She whimpers and leans up, trying to get his tongue on her chest, to get Dorian to lick and nip at her breasts and lave her nipples with it – and he obliges, albeit messily, hardly able to tell what he’s doing for how close he is to the edge.
He’s going to come. He can feel his cock swell at the base as his knot begins to form. It’s too much for him, and he starts thrusting more shallowly, the tapered head of his cock slipping in and out of her as he prepared to pull out and stop before he breaks her—
But Tryx grabs him round the neck, fingers digging into his scruff and pulling his fur. Dorian opens his eyes to look at her, and when he does, she’s smirking, all heat and teeth and sly, seductive mischief.
“Don’t you dare,” she hisses at him. “I want everything you can give me.”
And that’s it.
Dorian comes hard, burying himself to the hilt in Tryx and somehow managing to push even further into her. He fills her with his knot and throws his head back, howling as his orgasm crashes over him. Dorian’s muscles clench and his cock pulses inside Tryx, his spend gushing around him. Distantly, he hears another tear, and he realizes that his pants are in complete tatters – but that’s fine; he could use a new pair anyway and this is as good an excuse as any. It’s a small price to pay for how good he feels, tight and hot inside her.
When he finally finishes, Tryx laughs and lets him go. She falls back against the bed and shudders through one last orgasm of her own. Her entire body quakes with it, and Dorian holds her, cradling her tiny body to his as he, too, comes to rest against the bed.
He lays his head on her chest and nuzzles at her skin, nose bumping at the divot of her collarbones. Her eyes are closed; his follow suit as a wave of contentment washes over him.
It’s some time before either of them move, both content to just lie there and bask for a moment. Tryx’s chest rises and falls; Dorian’s head bobs with it. The motion is soothing, even for how quickly and shallowly Tryx breathes. It nearly lulls Dorian to sleep, but he blinks awake after a moment – or longer, perhaps – when Tryx’s hand worms its way under his head to scratch at his chin like he’s some kind of puppy.
Dorian makes an indignant noise, somewhere between a whine and a grunt, and Tryx just laughs at him. “Oh, hush,” she says. “You know you love it.”
Dorian can’t deny it. If he could speak, he might have tried, but rather than attempt to fight it now, he simply stretches his neck and lifts his chin to give Tryx better access. It’s worth it alone for the delighted smile that crawls across her face. The way it feels, satisfying something deep within him, is just a bonus.
It takes another moment or so for her to completely catch her breath, but when she does, Tryx stops scratching Dorian and shifts uncomfortably beneath him. He leans back to let her move, but doesn’t pull out – mostly because he can’t. His knot is still full and swollen inside her, and it will be some time yet before it settles down.
Tryx groans and settles, her back bumping against the headboard. “Ugh. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow, you ass.”
Dorian huffs. It’s the closest sound to laughter he can make while he’s like this. Tryx seems to understand just fine, though. She smiles fondly and reaches up to car a hand through the thick fur around his neck.
“It’s okay. You’ll just have to make it up to me,” she says, voice almost sing-song. “I’m thinking… Hm. Breakfast in bed, then a back massage, and then… Oh, another orgasm or two would be nice.”
Dorian nuzzles her. Insatiable, he wants to say, but he’s certain the meaning comes across when he hears Tryx giggle anyway. Or maybe she’s just taking that as an agreement.
Either way, Dorian has words for her for when he changes back.
For now, though, he’s content to cuddle with her and let her scratch him behind the ears. It’ll be a while yet before his knot deflates and he can properly pull out, but that’s okay.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.