Archive of Our Own

The sky over his head was a funereal grey. Ice crusted the snow's top layer, making each step sound crisp and satisfying. Finding wolves was supposed to be the easy part of filming a documentary. It was only day one, and they were suffering setback after setback. Horrible weather was on the horizon. Dead batteries, the wolf pack moving faster than they could follow, and worst of all the damn weather. Megumi can’t even rub his hands together to return warmth to them. He needs to hold the camera steady, get the filler shots of the environment. Wind whistles through the trees, loud, mournful, and while most would find the sound eerie, he likes it. The whistling is like a long forgotten song, a few notes are missing, but the ghost of the melody was there under the surface.


Megumi walks away from the crew, listening as their voices fade into the wind. He pans the camera along the stream, capturing chunks of ice breaking off and floating down, crashing into frosty algae-covered rocks.  It’s not the footage he wants, but it could make great scenic filler. The pine forest feels like a wall, the trees tower, their branching full of scentful green needles. The deer seem to pass through the trunks like ghosts. He lies down, moving slowly, focused on his filming. Deer are drinking from the water, ears swiveling as they stay aware of their surroundings. He could have kept filming, but the weather was only getting worse.


Turning the camera off after the deer vanish back into the woods, he returns to the crew. The team lead is in the driver's seat. Megumi can see the motion of a key turn, but the Land Cruiser doesn’t so much as make a sound. “Fuck!” The lead (a woman named Emily) slams the door as she exits. Megumi knows jack shit about cars and packs his camera without investigating. He didn’t need to ask, it was easy to understand that another setback was crashing down on them. They were stuck in the wilderness. The middle of nowhere.


It’s times like these when he’s envious that Yuuji is somewhere warm. He can easily picture Yuuji in his mind. Sunkissed tan skin, the scent of sweat and sunscreen still clinging to his skin. In comparison, Megumi would look a sickly type of pale next to him. Sure, Yuuji usually comes back complaining about parasites, but that was his own fault. Sighing, Megumi rubs warmth back into his fingers. The crew lead flips the hood but comes up empty, lacking the knowledge and tools to get them out of this icy situation.


“There’s a ranger station, one of us could walk to get and get help,” Megumi says, and Emily nods. She grabs the rifle from the backseat and hands it over to Megumi. He stares back at the woman and blinks. It made sense that she wouldn’t go; she shouldn’t have even come on this shoot, given how pregnant she is. Even in a thick coat that makes the rest of them marshmallow-shaped, her round belly is impossible to hide. Emily, as if sensing his line of thought, pats her belly to bring further attention to it. He turns to the rest of the crew, and they all busy themselves with the cleanup.


Defeated, he turns back to Emily. “Come on, you can’t send me alone. I don’t have a license to carry this.” Megumi says, annoyed that he would have to remind her. He was the only one not from here. They should know better. She flew him out here for his wolf knowledge; being good with a camera was just a lucky bonus for the crew (as they were down one). It wasn’t fair to send him out alone, he’s a stranger and a guest. If not for his crime-connected father, he’d have no idea how to shoot a gun. The crew is more intentional in the way they avoid eye contact with him. There are polar bears, and these toeheaded assholes had the nerve to send him alone.


Emily sets her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it and rubbing her thumb into the fluffy down of his coat.  “It’s not far, take a radio, and follow the river. We need to get all of this packed up before the snow starts. You know the equipment can be caught in that weather.” She tells him. Frustratingly enough, he does understand where she’s coming from. They were burnt out from carrying the brunt of filming. He had the energy to spare to make the trek through the deep snow. Groaning, he pulls the rifle strap over his shoulder and takes the radio.


“If I get eaten by a bear, it’s your fault,” Megumi complains. Ice crunches underneath his boots, his binder digs at his ribs, and he regrets wearing it today. A sports bra would have been better. He stops to pull at it, if it wasn’t so damn cold he’d take it off here. Then he could have chucked the damn thing in their face. As much as he was looking forwards to getting his tits removed, freezing them off his body wasn’t the way to do it.


In the trees, the snow doesn’t come up that high. At the deepest in comes to the middle of his shin. However, most of his walking is done in open spaces, where at the deepest the snow is up to his nonexistent dick. Maybe he should have grabbed snowshoes before leaving. Turning back now would be a waste of time. He’d kill to never have to see snow again. Every breath is thick in the air, visible enough that it almost seems to solidify in the air. Megumi cuts through a patch of weird white trees. The pattern on the bark vaguely looks like eyes. Lichen grows in clusters, pale greyish green, and brighter, more vibrant yellowish green. The snow here is minimal, only up to his ankles, and it’s a nice break. Tracks from rabbits litter the ground, most leading down to the slow trickle of river water.


Night looms, a slow pulling veil, and he curses to himself as he pushes forward. Snow starts to fall in marble-sized clumps. The wind pelting the clusters into his wind-burned cheeks. Leaving the tree cluster, he finds the snow is frozen enough for him to walk on top of. The crunching of ice sounds more like the click of high heels on cement. There’s no telling how deep the snow is here; if he fell through, it was possible to end up buried. He aims for another patch of trees to get his feet back on solid ground.


The cold is killing his lungs; it hurts to breathe, and once he reached the trees, he pressed his gloved hands to his mouth. It warms the air a little, and it helps him not feel like cold death. Everything is being painted in blue shades as the cloud-covered sun lowers. Megumi adjusts the strap to the rifle and checks his surroundings. The river was visible from the trees, but only barely. All his muscles are aching. A part of him knows that he should be worried, but the ranger outpost couldn’t be much farther.


The ground here is super uneven. Tree roots are twisted, and some grow outside the earth. The hairs on the back of Megumi’s neck stand up, itching like quills in his skin. He stares between a pair of gnarly fir trees. The branches seem to point his eye to the center. A dark hole glares back at him, the roots jutting out to frame the spot like a crown. He knows what it is and that he shouldn’t move closer, but he ignores logic. The mouth of the den is clear of debris, it’s in use, and the area smells like earth. His fingers clutch the strap of the rifle. The last thing he wanted was to have to shoot at a wolf. Not that he would shoot to kill, he’d just scare it off, but he still doesn’t want that.


Backing away, he checks his surroundings. The shadows make him jump, the trees are so thick that he can’t tell what’s a branch moving in the wind, and what might be a possible threat. A whistle, the sort someone makes to get the attention of a dog. Megumi quickly whips his head in that direction. There’s a man. His blood runs cold.


The man looks to be in his late twenties, early thirties. His hair blows in the wind, the same white as the surrounding snow, and there’s something familiar about his face. This strange man smiles at him, teeth so perfect that they could only be achieved with money. The person could be a lost winter camper. He’s heard stories about people getting lost out here for months and managing to survive. Megumi opens his mouth to call out to him, but the words get stuck in his throat. There was something wrong with this sight. 


The man’s jacket isn’t made for winter, it’s a light jacket, better suited for late summer nights or early fall afternoons. Underneath, he’s in a stained baby blue shirt, and the rusty brown stains look like mud. Megumi knows better, he knows what old dried blood looks like. “You shouldn’t have come back.” The man stretches, his bones popping and cracking. All sound fades as the pounding of his heart beats in his ears. The man theatrically twists behind a tree. His head rolls back, and he winks at him. “I’ll give you a head start.” He says and slips out of sight.


Pulling the rifle off his back, Megumi holds it across his chest like a shield. His teeth ground together from the tension of his clenched jaw. The stubborn part of his brain wants to stand his ground. The smart part of him can feel the danger and makes his legs move on their own. Weaving between trees, disgust turns in his stomach. Never in his life has he run so fast. He can hear something large coming, the snapping of dried branches off trees, the beat against the earth as the stranger gives chase.


Megumi slides down a hill, losing his footing for a moment, crashing hard onto his knees. The snow softens the blow, but he doesn’t have time to properly recover. His legs shake as he jumps back up and runs. Whatever was chasing him didn’t sound human; it was too loud, and it sounded big. Against his better judgment, he glances over his shoulder. White fur is all he manages to see before he’s falling again.


River water quickly soaks into his snow pants. The icy water feels like knives cutting him down to the bone. He wasn’t going to get away like this. Pulling the rifle up, he turns sharply, jaw set tight to keep his teeth from chattering. Glaring down the barrel, he pulls the trigger at what he assumed was a polar bear. His eyes widen, and he jerks the rifle up at the last second. The size of the wolf was unreal, it shouldn’t be possible for one to be that big. He was fucking dead. Red stains the fur of the wolf, and it comes to a stop. Its muzzle is wrinkled, soul fire blue eyes glare at him, the growl makes Megumi aim again. The wolf stands, making the more humanoid body obvious.


Slowly, Megumi walks backwards, his body shivering, the cold trying to freeze the marrow in his bones. “I don’t want any trouble…” Megumi’s teeth start chattering after he speaks. It’s getting darker. This was a nightmare. The weather showed no signs of improvement, the cold was reaching his core, and he wouldn’t survive a blizzard. 


“What don’t you recognize me? That’s not very nice.”  The werewolf-like creature says, his voice the same as the man’s. Megumi continues backing away, and the wolf steps forward. “You killed my mate. My pups. My pack. You killed the human whose shape I took. So tell me…“Do you remember me now, Fushiguro Toji?”


“I’m not Toji!” Megumi stares down the barrel, hands shaking. “My name is Megumi…Toji was my dad.” Wind screams through the trees, nearly drowning him out. The snow was thicker as it blew in the wind, clinging to their hair and sticking in icy balls.


The wolf tilts his head just like a dog. A long pink tongue licked over the points of his teeth. The bullet only grazed his shoulder as the blood had stopped spreading. “ Was ?” The lips curl to expose white teeth. It seems to be the wolf’s attempt at a smile. Another step closer, his ears back, his tail straight out from his body. There are patches where no fur grows, and the skin is raised in old scars. “So he sent his pup to finish the job. You here to kill me, Megumi ?” His head tilts the other way.


Megumi’s finger hovers over the trigger. The wolf keeps at him, and he turns the rifle in time to block the bite aimed at his throat. He falls, trapped under the weight of his monster. His arms shake as he holds the rifle. The wolf’s jaws are clamped around it, the metal bending under the bite force. Saliva was dripping down onto his face. The weapon is ripped from his hands and thrown. It sinks into the snow, lost to him, gone. Teeth snap in front of his face, and he screams.


It feels like an act of revenge for shooting him. The wolf bites into his coat, somehow missing plunging into flesh. The teeth rip the fabric, the goose bursting out like a pillow in the movies. The wolf’s head shakes, thrashing Megumi’s body against the snow and ice as the coat rips further. More feathers spill out, and Megumi pounds his fist against the wolf’s muzzle. His legs kick as he tries to get away, not ready to die, or at least not without a fight. Megumi claws into the wound from the bullet. He digs his gloved fingers in, hot blood wetting and warming his fingers. In a hard, firm motion, he pulls the flesh.


Yelping, the wolf’s jaws release Megumi’s coat. Scrambling, he crawls out from under the wolf, darting for the spot where his gun was thrown.  The barrel is crushed beyond use, but he feels better having it back in his hands. The wolf moves for him, but Megumi presses the end of the barrel into the wolf’s chest, praying it doesn’t notice. “Stop! Stop…I don’t want to kill you! I love wolves! Don’t take your revenge out on me. Killing me won’t change anything. It won’t make you feel better!” Megumi snaps at him, trying to reason with him. The muzzle wrinkles and the teeth are exposed as the wolf snarls at him. 


“It’ll send a message.” The wolf says. “I can’t trust his pup not to kill more wolves…steal their skins like some sort of beast.”


“I’m part of a film crew. Our goal is to film this documentary…the money would be donated to breeding programs. Your species is…bordering on extinction. The last thing I want to do is kill wolves. I’m not my father…I want to help. I dedicated my life to undo what he’s done.” Megumi’s chest heaves, his heart pounding in his chest. He can barely catch his breath, his binder feels too tight on his ribcage. Fuck, the crew was still stranded. The snow is hammering down, the wind whipping the flakes into their faces. Megumi’s windburned cheeks feel like they might start to blister in this weather. “Listen, what’s your name….”


The wolf glares, but the wrinkles in his muzzle smooth out. His ears unpin from their folded-back position. “Satoru Gojo…that was what the human was called. Wolves don’t have names, so call me that.” Gojo tells him, and Megumi nods his head, agreeing. He keeps the barrel pressed to Gojo’s chest. He now knows why the man looked so familiar.. Satoru used his wealth and influence for conservation. He’s been missing for a few years. “I’m sorry, but unless you can bring my family back…I have to kill you. It’s the principal.”


Gulping, Megumi lowers the gun and lets it fall to the side. “I can’t bring it back. Killing me won't change anything, it won't send a message. Toji's dead,” He says, and the wolf nods as he listens. Huffing in frustration at the news of Toji's death. Shapeshifters might be real, but Megumi didn’t possess magic. He couldn’t bring back the dead. He was powerless; he couldn't give the wolf his revenge, and he couldn't bring his family back. His mouth goes dry as a plan unfolds inside his head. “Can shapeshifters reproduce with humans?”


“It's possible.”


“Then…would you be open to making a deal?” Megumi holds his hands up to show he’s unarmed. Gojo tilts his head and waits. “First condition, return to Japan with me. Gojo’s family is looking for him. Second condition, I’ll have a baby with you, if you use Gojo’s money to fund my transition.” Megumi hates that this is the best he can come up with. He wasn’t against kids or anything, but he always thought he would adopt or something. Never in his life did he think he would offer to birth one himself. 


“Six pups,” Gojo says, bargaining. 


“Fuck no! I’ll do two and we’ll raise them in Japan and bring them here on vacation. When their old enough, we’ll let them decide for themselves if they want to live like wolves or as humans…or both.” Megumi crosses his arms over his ruined coat. The stranded crew was far from his mind. His teeth chatter together, and his legs are screaming in pain as the water soaks through to his jeans. He risked frostbite if he didn’t get them off and warm up.


“Five….”


“Two!


Gojo’s ears go back for a split second as he thinks. Then he makes a huffing sound. “Make it three and we have a deal.” He holds out a hand, a paw(?). Honestly, it's a cross between both. The pads are black like Gojo’s nose, and the claws are also black and grow out from the fingertips. Megumi groans, but three was more doable than the original six the wolf requested. He takes the strange hand in his. It feels different when he takes it to shake, the fingers less flexible than his own, more like a paw in that sense. Gojo’s nose is cold as it presses to the spot behind his ear, sniffing into his hair.


A gasp escapes him as he’s scooped out of the snow and tossed over the wolf’s shoulder like a big bag of rice. The fur is thick, and while it’s not the softest, it’s not as coarse as he was expecting. He can’t stop himself from running his fingers through it, taking mental notes of the texture. He’s carried back to the cluster of fir trees. Megumi yelps as he’s dropped in front of the mouth of the den. Gojo drops to all fours, his tail swishing slowly, and he grabs the soaked snow pants and gives a firm tug.


“Woah! Hey!” The snow pants are down to his knees before he can grab them. Gojo’s head tilts, and he jerks downward, ripping the snow pants out of Megumi’s hands. His jeans are still on, but they’re also wet. Heat rises to his cheeks, and he gives a few feeble kicks to keep Gojo at bay. It's no use; that cold nose is against his ear, the button and zipper undone. “I’ll freeze….” Megumi reminds him as he has to kick off his boots, his jeans peeled off, exposing his skin to the harsh, icy wind.


The pads of Gojo’s hands are like sandpaper as they stroke the outer part of his thigh. Megumi pushes on the wolf’s chest, the muscles firm under the fur. The touching stops as Gojo nods towards the den. “It’s warm in there.” He says and nudges Megumi towards the entrance. Megumi doesn’t move, he looks at his snow pants, jeans, and boots, then back towards the den. Heat rises to his face, and he tucks his chin down towards his chest. His hands are tangled in fur. “Unless you changed your mind.”


“No!” Megumi snaps, glaring at him. “Don’t you think this is happening fast? Are you really going to fuck me in there?”


“You are ovulating, so why not?”


Blood rushes to his head, and he can feel time screech to a halt. He can hear his heart beating inside his ears. A long pink tongue licks up the side of his face, snapping him out of his shock. Slapping the muzzle away from his face, he scrambles backward across the ground. “What the fuck there’s no way you know that!”


“I’m a wolf, I can smell that sort of thing.” Gojo grabs him by the ankle and pulls him into the den with him. Fir needles and dirt scratch at his skin as Megumi is dragged. His final attempts at escape only embed dirt under his nails. They reach the end of the den, and it’s so dark he can’t see a thing. A lantern flicks on, the warm glow of the light is dim, but it provides enough light to see.  The floor is littered with stuff left over from campers. They’re deep enough underground to be insulated from the cold. It's far from warm, but it’s nowhere near as cold as it is outside. Gojo unzips one of the sleeping bags and lays it out for him.


Megumi sits there for a second before moving to the sleeping bag. It’s better than sitting on dried moss and shed fur. “So hypothetically, if I were to change my mind, would you let me go?” He questions as he unzips his ruined coat. More of the stuffing spills out as he tosses it into the collection of human trash. Gojo is quiet for a moment, his hands going to pull Megumi’s shirt over his head. 


“Did you change your mind?” The shirt is damp with sweat, and he can smell the residue of fear. He doesn’t do anything as he waits for an answer. Still, his tail has a mind of its own and continues to wag. Again, he presses his nose against Megumi’s ear before sliding into his hair. He smells a lot like Toji; if he didn’t want to make that man suffer, if he did the smart thing and ended this quickly, he would have snapped his neck in an instant. “I believe you, that you won’t harm wolves. If you don’t want this, say the word.”


He’s in his binder, boxer-briefs, and thick, soggy socks. There are clothes here he could steal to wear. Saying no would be the easier option; they could part ways peacefully, and all of this was a freak misunderstanding. He thinks about being pregnant; the idea of it is unpleasant, but he can’t help but think about the wolf population. If he could play a role in helping, then the right thing would be to do it. Gojo is warm, and it feels so inviting. The harder he tries to think of reasons to back out, the more he wants to go through with it.


“There must be something wrong with me.” He mumbles to himself. Tucking his fingers into the waistband, he inches his underwear down. Gojo moves for him, but he quickly shuts his legs and holds out a hand to stop him. “Hey! No! Wait a damn second! You can’t just go ramming it in. I still have my binder o,n and I’m not warmed up yet. It’s not like there’s lube down here.” He side eyes the trash heap. All he can see is camping shit.


Gojo huffs and sits in front of him, posture a little too dog-like for comfort. The tail thumps impatiently against the ground. Megumi rolls his eyes but starts to pull the binder off. His ribcage instantly feels lighter, and he massages the indents in his skin. It’s rare for him to be completely naked in front of someone. Usually, he tried to avoid having sex in the nude. Ignoring the wolf’s hungry stares, Megumi slides his hand down between his legs. He’s been on T for less than an year, he has some bottom growth, but it still looks very much like a clit. Grimacing, he stops himself from thinking too hard about his body. Being mistaken for his father (and nearly dying as a result) was euphoric. If he focused on that, he could move past his discomfort.


Circling his clit, his skin is damp with hot sweat, and he tries to ignore the intake of air from the beast. The air is tense, his no was a chain-link fence separating them, but fur is spilling between the spaces. Gojo wants to cross that line, invade that space, but he’s fighting his baser instincts. There’s no way he could tell anyone the truth about this. Yuuji and him were always sharing stories, locker room talk, but there’s no way he could talk about this. Getting fucked by a anthropomorphic wolf, it feels illegal, or at the very least questionable on a moral level. 


He’s struggling to focus, his hands are cold, and it doesn’t feel good. Gojo passes over the invisible threshold. The wolf’s cock was out from the sheath, he stares at it,  and quickly snaps his knees together, hands slapping over his cunt. It’s the same blood pink as the wolf’s tongue, not the red rocket he was expecting. The cock isn’t dog-like but it’s also not as human as he would have liked.  The head is more pointed than if it were human, and he can’t look away. Gojo’s hands hold his knees. Near the base the cock is more bulbus, leaving a thinner inch at the base. Knotting. He scoots back, but Gojo pulls him closer. Gojo’s tongue licks a wet stripe up the side of his neck, and a cold nose presses to his ear. Blunt claws gently scrape over the back of his hand.


“Can I touch you?” Gojo breathes, and it makes him shiver. Megumi looks at those claws and thinks of the rough feel of the pads that wait at the tip of each finger. He also thinks of the fur, the way it would clump into points with his fluids. Those dirty paws felt like he was asking for a UTI. That tongue licks his neck again, a bead of sweat cleaned from his skin, the tips of teeth graze his skin. “Please, please let me touch you.”


If it were any other man, he would have said no, but Megumi moves his hands out of the way. He sets them down, balling them into the sleeping bag, slowly opening his legs. His eyes meet Gojo’s, lost in the blinding blue, but soon they dip out of his field of vision. Fur tickles the inside of his thighs, the pointed ears flicking, as hands pull him up by his waist. Megumi grits his teeth as his body weight is against his shoulders. “What are you-”


He’s cut off as the jaws open around his cunt, that warm wet tongue sliding over his lips to his clit. Megumi whines and quickly covers his mouth to keep the sound muffled. He’s fucked before but he’s never been eaten out before. It feels different from how he thought it would. In his mind, it was just the wetter version of using his fingers. The pressure is less, and the texture is smooth. Shivering, teeth pressed against his skin, that tongue grinding against his lips, clit, and entrance. The blunt claws dig into him, bruising the skin at his waist.


Blood rushes to his head from being held like that. Megumi holds his forearm over his mouth, biting into his skin, to keep from moaning too loudly. He doesn’t want to hear himself, he doesn’t want to sound like a girl. It feels so good, indescribable, his nerves humming in pleasure. A moan sneaks out through the muffle of his forearm. That one little noise prompts Gojo to go further. The tip of the tongue presses at his entrance, sliding easily inside. It moves inside him, lacking the force a cock would have, thrusting and swirling. A rough pad grazes his clit, sending a electric jolt up his spine, and he bites down harder. His moans build in his chest, a pressure threatening to explode, his chest rising and lowering in dramatic huffs. Deeper and deeper, those jaws open wider to accommodate him. He can feel saliva run between his cheeks and down his back.


The two padded finger tips rub his clit in a circular motions. Even though Gojo is being gentle, the sandpapery texture doesn’t hurt, but it’s not comfortable. He groans into the meat of his arm, eyes squeezing shut, as his jaw loosens enough to let a whisper out. “ Chikushou…. ” Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. The rest sticks out in the usual mess of spikes, his head a mess of cowlicks. He wonders if pups could have cowlicks in their fur. The tongue slides out to join the fingers at the clit. Megumi’s arm falls away from his mouth to grab a fistful of fur. A loud, pitched moan escaped, and he’s pushing the furry head down. “ Tsudzukete! ” English is erased, and his pleading demands are so breathless that it barely sounds like Japanese.


Pleasure makes the last of his hesitations melt away. The tongue plunges back inside, swirling, pushing so deep he swears he can feel it lapping at his cervix. If anyone were around, they would be able to hear him climaxing. In his whole sexual life, he’s never been so vocal, and his face turns red in embarrassment. The tongue devours him, Megumi cries out, voice cracking, and he pulls at the fur. Gojo’s lips curl in that monstrous version of a smile. He stops his licking, his tongue hanging out as he pants for air. Lowering Megumi’s hips away from his mouth, he looks so smug as he grinds his cock against him.


Megumi’s arm is bruising where he bit himself. It throbs almost in time with the pulse beating in the cock. A drop of clear pre-cum beads at the tip, and it falls into the mound of black hair. Reaching down, Megumi holds it in his hand, trying to measure it. The thickness isn’t as intimidating as he originally thought. His fingers touch. Except for when he reaches the bulbous part at the base. Sucking in a breath he tries to make his fingers touch. Gojo growls softly in Megumi’s ear, and he loosens his hold.


Something tightens and wriggles in his chest when their eyes meet. The blue burns holes into him. The line of sight isn’t broken as Megumi spreads his lips as Gojo rubs the tip of his hole, smearing the slick pre-cum around the ring. Entering him isn’t as smooth as the tongue. There resistance from his body, reminding him of the dildo still in the packaging back home, reminding him its been a year since he’s been fucked. Gojo doesn’t rush it, but his tail is wagging with enough force to make his hips swing. The cock bumps at the edges of his hole.


“Isoide, yare…”

Gojo shakes his head before letting saliva drip down his tongue. He breaks eye contact, looking down to see where he’s pressing. The tip drums against him. Pat, pat, pat. Then it’s inside, inching in deeper, holding Megumi firmly by the hip. Gojo’s tongue curls around the underside of a breast. A blunt claw dragging down the pale tan nipple. “You’re still real tight, do you want me to use my tongue again?” He asks with that stupid tilt of his head, Megumi wants to punch his nose. He can’t stand how annoyingly cute the gesture is.


Wrapping his legs around him, he hooks his ankles together and pulls. “Just fuck me.” The stretch stings, his body protesting against his rush. The cock sinks to the bulging start of a knot, Megumi yelps when he tries to take it, but Gojo doesn’t push further. It hurts, but Megumi isn’t about to back down. Sucking in a deep breath, he tries to relax, but his body is tense. The thrusts are slow and shallow. Even though Gojo is trying to be gentle, each one punches the air out of his lungs, and that was without forcing his knot inside. Wrapping his arms around the fluffy neck, he claws his fingers in until he finds skin. Megumi presses his face into the fur, his moans are muffled and breathless.


The length hollows him out, rearranging his guts to make space. Too big! It’s too damn big! His mind screams. Gojo’s tongue slides past his lips and teeth. It licks the inside of his mouth, tangling with his tongue, the after taste of his pussy still lingering. Although it does little to distract from the abuse his pussy was facing. He gags as it slides down his throat, the teeth dragging over the wind burn on his cheeks. Megumi flinches, his body tensing, eyes watering at the corners. The knot ruts at his entrance, his body still not ready for it, but mentally, he wants nothing more. He must be repressed, or this was proof that the stupid wolf wasn’t lying about him ovulating. The idea of getting knocked up no longer feels as repulsive, but that’s sure to change when he pops positive.


Squirming, he uses the lock of his legs to pull Gojo closer, his hips grinding, ignoring the strain and pain. He could do this, he could take him, all of him. All this pain would be worth it. He would live, pop out a few kids, then he would be rewarded with the body owed to him. Goodbye tits and hello testosterone. The tongue pulls out of his throat too quickly, and he gags, his stomach lurching forward. Bile is sour on his tongue, and he glares at him. Slowly, he sinks down on the knot, the moans short and sharp, and his head rolls back as his body takes the girth. The first thing he was going to do when he had internet was order a knotted dildo, he wanted sex to go smoother in the future.  Gojo’s claws grip, holding him in place, preventing him from bouncing on it. Megumi rocks his hips, but the claws press in harder in warning.


“Be a good boy and keep me warm,” Gojo says, licking his chops. He bumps their heads together, his body is so warm, and the fur smells like cedarwood and dirt. Megumi scowls and tries to move, thinking only with his dick, he wants to come again, he wants to make this damn creature come with him. Screw the aching throbbing, he feels more motivated than ever. Any attempt to move is stopped by blunt claws or teeth as they hover around his throat. “So impatient, and to think I thought you would chicken out. Don’t worry pup, I’m going to fuck you like you deserve.” Gojo remains still, his cock throbbing, his tail twitching.


Megumi’s thighs shake, the inside of his thighs are wet and slick, his cunt pulsing. Gojo pushes Megumi’s hair off his forehead, erasing the resemblance to the man who robbed Gojo of everything. Licking Megumi’s face, the skin tastes salty, but also sweet. His nostrils flare at the scent of blood. Megumi is bleeding a little, just a few smeared drops.


“Move…move already. You tried to kill me, stop being so gentle!” He’s trying to sound brave, but if that cock was any bigger there was no way he could do this. If he walked away without bleeding like a virgin, it would be a miracle. Megumi doesn’t realize that he already is. He ignores the dig of claws and bites back the pained noise. There’s an audible pop as he’s pulled off the knot. Air rushes through his teeth, and everything blurs for a second as he’s flipped onto his belly.


“On your knees….” His teeth nip at the shell of his ear. Megumi can hear the smug little laugh in Gojo’s voice. Shit, when the wolf talks like that he sounds just like the real thing. Hands go to his waist, and he’s lifted onto his knees when he’s too slow to do so on his own. “Are you sure you want me to be rough with you? You’re shaking like a leaf.” Gojo’s teeth softly bite at Megumi’s shoulder and neck. Taking his cock in his hand he rubs it along Megumi’s pussy before dipping the tip inside. He pulls out and gives an inch, continuing to bully, loving the irritation that plagues each moan.


“ Orokana inu ….” Megumi grumbles, his hands bracing against the dirt wall. Gojo’s hips snap forward without warning. The knot is brutal, thick, and he clenches his jaw to keep from screaming. That doesn’t last long, the pace is slow, but each thrust is rough and deep. He hates the sound of his voice, but he can’t hold it back. Dirt comes loose as he drags his nails down the wall, catching on a thin root. Gojo holds his waist, pulling him down on his cock harder, and keeping him up as his legs go boneless. Those furry hand stroked up his sides, the sandpapery pads scraping his skin. One hand presses against his stomach firmly, pushing down to feel the movement inside him. The other squeezes a breast, and Gojo’s thumb rolls around the nipple.


Gojo’s hips grind against him, the tip rutting against Megumi’s bruised cervix. His tongue hangs from his mouth as he pants, saliva dripping down between Megumi’s shoulder blades. His fur is yanked from his skin as Megumi tangles his fingers at his wrist, pushing his hand down. Licking the wet spot from his shoulders, Gojo allows his fingers to be presses to the swollen clit.


Pleasure is burning, sweat drips off the tip of his nose to the dirt floor. He can’t even be embarrassed by the sound of his own voice anymore. It builds up like a crescendo, and there’s a wild desperation to reach that high. He’s nothing more than jello at this point, his face against the sleeping bag, his fingernails caked with dirt as he attempts to claw into the floor. His breasts clapping together with each thrust, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, the wet squelching echoing inside his ears. If he left out the werewolf part of this, it was still one hell of a story, he’d have to find a way to tell Yuuji about it. 


“I’m close,” Gojo growls, picking up speed, the slap of their bodies muffled by fur. His body blankets over Megumi, pressing him to the hard ground, fingers still firmly working against his throbbing clit. Megumi reaches blindly, grabbing until his fingers close around a fuzzy ear. He pulls, and the yip is pitched in pain, but he doesn’t care. He needs to hold onto something. The wolf’s body covers him like a cloak. “Are you going to come? Fuck, you’re getting so tight, good pup, come with me. That’s it, good boy, come. ”


“Hanasu no wa yamete kudasai!” Megumi gasps out between moans, his head spinning. He can’t think; he’s forgotten how he got here, the why, and the reason. As long as he could get fucked like this again, he doesn’t care, it’s never felt so good. Heat pools inside him, the knot tugging around his stretched entrance. So fast, it makes his head spin, he can barely catch his breath. Gojo’s head tucks into the nook of his neck, cock spilling deep inside. His growls and huffs are humid and hot against his skin. The swish of the tail is slow.


Megumi is crushed under the weight of this animal. His entire body thrums in time with the beating of his heart. Shivering after shocks of his orgasm thread through his nerves in a carinal tapestry. Gojo’s body shrinks, and the weight of his body becomes less suffocating. The pops, cracks, and wet ripping sounds make Megumi sick, and he closes his eyes to keep from witnessing the transformation. Flesh pressed to his back, and human lips pressed a kiss to his temple. The cock, smaller now, slips out of him, frothy cum following behind it. Human fingers slide against Megumi’s cunt, pushing the leakage back inside, making him squirm. He’s breathing hard, too tired to raise his head from the sleeping bag. Gojo’s less warm without the fur. 


Gojo lies beside him, looking proud of himself, pale face dusted pink across the bridge of his nose. “Do you have to be in your werewolf form for the baby to be a werewolf?” Megumi questions, not sure how this works. He reaches out and trails his fingers over the graze wound. It's scabbed over, but below it is an older scar, raised and bone white, not the fresh red-pink of a new scar. His thumb trails down to touch the scar, but he doesn’t ask about it.


“Werewolves are different; they don’t have tails, but other than that…our beastly forms look alike,” Gojo says, his eyes closing.


“Werewolves are real, fuck, are vampires real?”


Gojo nods. “Duh.” He mumbles, clearly starting to drift off. Megumi groans and presses closer to keep the cold at bay. “Also, it doesn’t matter what form I’m in. The pups will be shapeshifters because I’m a shapeshifter.”


Megumi is quiet for a second. His body protests, but he jerks upright, out of the warm embrace. He plants one firm whack to the top of Gojo’s head. If he had a newspaper, he would have rolled it up to smack this bastard on the nose. “Why didn’t you fuck me as a human then!? You’re too big as a wolf!” It’s only now that Megumi is aware of the bit of blood on his thigh. Groaning, he flops back down, right, he forgot about the film crew. Well, that was tomorrow’s problem; the best thing for him to do was get some sleep. “Human form only in the future,” Megumi growls as he curls into his chest.