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For a man who spent many years of his life in what could be considered Hell on Earth, Hans was a surprisingly creative and passionate rascal. It had started slowly, with him intentionally working out in front of you, sneaking glances at you to make sure that, regardless of what you were trying to do, your eyes were fixated on him. Then it had evolved so that you were involved, helping prepare the at-home equipment you could and stealing kisses and lingering touches between reps and sets.
And now you were on the couch with your lover’s fluffy white head of hair clamped between your thighs as he prepared you for the set of leather straps he’d presented to you that morning in the promise of fun afternoon activities. All you could do at the moment was bite down on your hand and take a fist full of his hair, whimpering as his tongue diligently worked your hole.
As he shifts further towards the wolfish side of things, his maw starts to press further into you, hot breath fans out over your core in lustful pants, and tongue gradually reaches further into you. His ears crop up on either side of your hand and his silky white fur starts to sprout down his back, spreading out to meet his tail as it grows, unable to help the small, excited wag.
He finally manages to stroke just the right spot, sending a shock of pleasure through you from your center out to the tips of your toes and the crown of your head and you whimper his name, rewarded with more of his excited lapping. And yet just as your thighs start to quiver and you near your peak, he slips away from you, pulling back and sliding his hands from your ass to your knees and he looks up at you, lustful, challenging twinkle in his stunning red eyes.
Huffing at his denial, you release your hands and grab his loose, fluffy cheeks to meet his stare with a cute pout. “Aren’t you going to finish what you started?” you nag him, already naked and craving the heat spreading from his furry, clawed hands and long, curious tongue. He just winks and pulls away further, slipping out of your grip with a quiet breath of air and over to the cardboard box with the tangle of leather.
Your eyes drop down to catch a glimpse of his thick red shaft standing at attention between his legs and your mouth waters at the thought of all the things he could be doing with it and those bizarre leather straps. Sitting with your legs spread on the couch and desperate thoughts clouding your head, you watch as he picks up the contraption and starts to untangle it. He’d been smart enough to hide the instruction manual from you, if it had come with one, before you could spoil his surprise for yourself.
Taking a deep breath, you watch as your wolfman lover slides his arms and legs through loops, tightening buckles and testing looser straps before turning his head back to you, wolfish grin spreading wide over his thin lips. All you can manage is a gulp when you meet his gaze before your eyes drop down to his hard length, temptation building to leap from the couch and settle onto your hands and knees to beg to be bred like a good submissive mate.
Instead, he offers a hand and pulls you to stand when you take it, looking your naked form up and down before licking his lips and sparing one gentle bump of nose to nose. You return the nuzzle for a moment before his hands drop onto your hips, one sliding slowly down to the back of your thigh, urging you to lift your leg like you would if he were to press you against the wall. Following his instruction, he helps you slip a leg into a loop with a stabilizing hand sliding further towards your rear.
The strap comes to rest right under your cheek and you realize what he’s going for. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you let him guide your other leg into the other loop, spreading you open around his body and leaving his deliciously hot shaft pressed into your belly. Now fully hanging from him—like he couldn’t hold you and fuck you freestanding any time he wanted for as long as he wanted—you wriggle against him.
“All this effort and you’re not even in me?” you tease, dripping wet from his ministrations and ready to be filled to the brim. He just grunts, as if scolding you to have patience, and adjusts the straps to sit comfortably around your thighs and against your ass. Once he’s done he catches you by surprise and bounces you up, out of the straps, with a powerful trust of his hips, cocky smile spreading over his face with his hands on your hips, before he guides you back down onto his waiting cock in one fluid movement.
“Hans!” you cry, arms tightening around his neck as his girth stretched you out, stopping just at the top of his knot and just barely out of the straps. He gives you a moment to adjust, probably savoring the way the tension melts from your shoulders and the thoughts clear from your head, broadcast by the dazed look on your face.
“Please fuck me,” you finally beg, trying to work your hips down onto him, fighting uselessly against his solid grip on you until he acquiesces, snapping up into you. His knot pops in and locks you to him, leaving your toes curling and arms tight around his neck, desperate for him to start bucking into you. But he denies you again, manhandling your arms through loops by his neck and securing you against the silky hair covering his broad chest. “You’re taking too long!” You complain to him, only for him to reach behind his back and use yet another strap to bind your wrists together.
Feeling your freedom gradually diminishing, you finally settle against him as he does up the last of the straps, securing two around your torso and one to bind your ankles together behind his back. He adjusts them carefully, neither too loose nor too tight, and gives you a test bounce on his hips. You groan quietly for him, finding that he only rocks a little deeper inside of you and his luxurious fur caresses your skin as you slide against him.
He works up into a light pace, rocking you up and down on his knot until you’re panting again, head resting on his chest and wrapped in his dominating musk. “Breed me already,” you whine to him, only to be met with the same even thrust instead of his usual enthusiastic rutting. Regardless, you start to shake against him as his warm cock and throbbing knot rock barely in and out of you and his body between your legs stimulates where you are most sensitive, finally bringing you to a light, almost dainty orgasm as you clench down on him, whimpering his name and curling your toes, struggling against the immovable bonds holding you to him.
And then he keeps going, shifting his hips until he finds his own release in you, leaving your mate mark in your shoulder aching with the need for his teeth as his knot swells and his seed spills into you. Only then does he stop, giving you a moment to gather your bearings before he starts to walk, shifting inside of you.
“What are you doing?” you pant to him as he takes you to the front door, stepping outside on your porch overlooking the isolated green woods around your shared home. He shrugs against you, pulling your arms up with him, before bounding down the steps, bouncing you against his knot. You mewl and try to stretch out against him, trying to arch your back closer even firmly secured to your mate.
He just chuckles at you for a moment before dropping down onto his hands and feet, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his legs, holding you barely above the ground before you realize that he has yet to take you on a jog.
And he fucking loved to go jogging through the woods.
Sucking in a breath, you almost lose it a moment later when he takes off without warning, tearing through the trees on all fours, rocking into and out of you at a brutal pace usually reserved for when he was just trying to finish in you after you had begged and pleaded enough for him to fill you with his seed. All you can do is writhe against the leather as you squeak and whine, coming undone again in record time being fucked silly underneath him.
He keeps his pace until he approaches his climax again, grinding to a halt taking back to two legs, pushing your back into the rough bark of a nearby tree for more leverage as he ruts into you before his swollen knot throbs and he releases in you again. Flooded by more of his warm seed, you just pant as he claws at the bark around your head, thoroughly marking his territory like he was on an average jog and not like he was going to take the whole afternoon to fuck you within an inch of your life.
Leaving you next to no respite, he takes off again in a flash, bounding through the trees with powerful strides. He switches between running on all fours and upright on two legs, using your hole to get off in whatever way suited his fancy. Occasionally he’d stop at a tree; push you up against the bark again and rut into you while he clawed out a warning that the land and you were his.
He wore you down to incoherency, pleading whines and moans soft and exhausted as he filled you with his seed to the point of bursting, body almost swelling with the volume as he thoroughly bred you on a longer than normal run. And just as you think you can’t take it anymore, sorely overstimulated and body slick with sweat, his soaked fur plastered to your belly, you see a break in the trees overhead and realize you’re almost home.
The last places he takes you is on your steps, ass at the edge of one wooden step and back pressed into the ledges above it, finally given rest from the straps that had worked furiously into your skin, leaving you with a different set of marks than you were used to. He still has the energy to rut into you ferociously, chasing the way you tighten around him every time he pushes you through another delirious peak until, finally, he finishes in you one last time, ducking his head to sink his teeth into your aching mate mark, seed flooding you to the point you would swear you were distended had you been coherent.
You just groan softly for him, twitching as you hit one last orgasm yourself, eyes slipping closed. The next thing you know he’s loosening and undoing those damned leather straps, releasing you from your bonds and slipping the wet, irritating leather away from your worn skin. He rests with you against the step, chest heaving into yours and tail wagging, brushing against your feet.
Unable to speak, you make a quiet noise of inquiry in the back of your throat and he replies by working his teeth from your shoulder and resting his nose against yours again, reassuring you that it was over. As soon as he shrinks down enough, he pulls out of you, releasing the rest of the leather straps and leaving you against the stairs for a moment as he untangles himself. A flood of his come drips down and out from between your legs, lingering warmth settled on your skin in the afterglow of a merciless ride.
He frees himself and tosses the leather carelessly onto the porch, scooping you into his arms to carry you inside for a well-deserved bath and rest. You just rest your head against his shoulder, breathing him in, and relax. He’ll take care of everything from there, just like he always did.