He moved, lingering briefly between John's legs before meeting his eyes again. He didn't speak, but his eyes gleamed with defiance. He tilted his head slightly, exposing his neck.
It was him!
He growled and pounced on John, pinning him to the bed with his strong arms, raising his hands above his head. They stared at each other, their breaths mingling. He could smell John's wolfish scent; his body clamored to possess, to plunder, to claim dominance.
"Yes," he saw John's lips curl into a smile. "God, yes!"
They kissed fiercely, a struggle for dominance, more like a tearing attack than a kiss. John tasted as good as he smelled. He pinned him down, biting his lips, giving him no chance to retaliate. Their legs intertwined, their bodies intimately connected. He could feel John rubbing his thighs excitedly. His scent grew stronger, damnably irresistible, utterly irresistible.
He released John's lips, slid down, and buried his head in John's shoulder, breathing deeply the scent of his neck.
"We need to talk." He struggled to suppress his desire, opening his mouth to bite John's skin, leaving deep teeth marks.
John screamed, arching his back and trembling suddenly.
"You owe me a drink... and a new T-shirt." John struggled to free his hands from his grip: "And if you keep doing this... you'll have to give me back a new neck."
He still held him tightly, nuzzling his neck, planting kisses on the reddened skin.
"Something..." His voice was low and hoarse, breathing heavily, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan of unbearable urge as John tried to shift his hips.
Get him, possess him, he wants you! Mating with him, making him yours!
He closed his eyes, lowered his head, breathing heavily, each breath deep and heavy, as if he couldn't breathe.
"If what you're talking about isn't relevant to this, then I don't really want to know," John said, his condition no better.
Mark him.
"I play the violin." He made a final effort, though he knew he had reached his limit. "Sometimes I don't speak for days…and werewolves only have one mate for life."
John's breathing was erratic, like a broken puppet making its last struggle.
"So you've never…been with anyone before."
"I have…some experience…but only wolves can choose their mates. He's never been interested in anyone, he thinks they…are insignificant."
He nibbled at John's neck, teasing his bobbing Adam's apple, leaving the unspoken words forever deep inside.
This moment was magnified infinitely, as if it would never end.
"I like tea." Finally, he heard John's reply. "Sometimes I get angry, and I always inexplicably find myself in danger without realizing it, which ruined all my relationships."
"Nothing is more dangerous than mating with a werewolf." His teeth lingered on John's skin, biting and nibbling.
"God, yes."
"We are strong, agile, and possessive. I don't like anyone touching my things. If you deceive me, I will know, and then I will kill you."
John swallowed, his back arching from the stimulation. "Will I regret it?"
"Very likely."
"If I don't regret it, do you think I will regret it later?"
He licked the tip of his ear. "Of course not."
"You want me, right?"
Mating! The wolf howled.
The wolf was trying to destroy his last line of defense, wild and restless, eager to try. He had to breathe deeply, his body trembling with suppressed desire. He almost couldn't resist rubbing, licking, and biting the body beneath him, asserting his dominance. John was so close, his alluring musky scent eroding his will, awakening his desire. His warm body temperature, his heartbeat, his breath—all of this was an irresistible temptation for him. He had always resisted his instincts, but when it was presented to him in this form, the feeling was more wonderful than ever before. He couldn't even believe that he could still stop talking at this moment.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
He didn't care about those tiny humans hiding behind the cameras. All he wanted to do now was to make this man he'd only known for a day and a night his partner, to make a vow with him, and to stay together for life. He had once thought he would never have such a day in his life. He had cursed and sworn that he would never do such a stupid thing, that he had deleted it from the hard drive of his brain. But John appeared, here, like a miracle.
He lowered himself, rubbing his swollen penis against John's equally engorged area. John opened his mouth, breathing softly, swallowing occasionally, his warm breath brushing against his chest and neck. A part of his body—the most rational part—wanted to explore John's past, to ask him if he had ever experienced this, if he had ever lay down and made love with another man, if he knew all the steps that followed. But another part—his instincts—was indifferent. The answer didn't matter; he didn't want to provoke himself over it. John was his now, he gnawed at his shoulder, all his! No one else could touch him.
He licked down the marked path, bit by bit, just as the wolf had done hours before, but this time there was no need for restraint; his movements became wilder. He traced the contours of every muscle in John, licked every scar, etched them into his mind. John responded to his every move, writhing, groaning, giggling with pleasure, he ran his fingers through his curly hair, gripping them.
John's penis was swollen and hard, his skin a deep red from excitement—he could hear the surging blood beneath. He himself was painfully hard, his gaze lingering on John's body like a wild beast examining its prey, considering where to begin its attack. He stared at John's penis, watching the small drops of clear fluid seep from its tip, imagining its taste in his mouth. He reached down, first licking the tip with the tip of his tongue, then taking it all into his mouth. He tried sucking, and John panted like a fish out of water. When he curled his tongue and gently slapped the thing in his mouth, John immediately let out a pleasurable groan.
"God... God... fuck..."
he murmured, indistinct but with a hint of triumph, seemingly extremely satisfied with John's reaction. He slid his lips down, noting John's erogenous zones and the places he liked to be touched, sparing no effort to please him, to make him more comfortable, to make him happier. He heard John writhing and moaning beneath him, which was exactly what he wanted. He even felt that if John kept moaning, he could probably listen to it for a lifetime.
Possess him, make him yours. -
He moved his mouth away, squeezed between John's legs, lifted his hips slightly, then lowered his head, his cheek rubbing against the hairy testicles, his tongue tracing back and forth between them, his nostrils filled with the primal masculine scent of humanity.
Mating, he is mine.
He heard John mutter to himself, uttering incoherent words. He could hardly understand what he was saying, nor did he need to, for John's body was more honest, more frank, utterly transparent. Every friction, every tremor, every groan, every gasp revealed the message he desired.
Now. He is yours. Now! Now! Now!
He flipped him over, pulling his elbows and knees, spreading his legs, positioning him in the position he wanted. He trembled, desire rising, his breath quickening.
He parted his buttocks, pressed his lips against his, caressing every inch of skin with his tongue, circling it until it was covered in his saliva, the red vulva beginning to loosen, trembling with his movements.
"Please...please hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry..." he heard John's breathless urging, but he didn't want to speed things up; he wanted to save the reward for last.
He licked the vulva a few more times, then pressed down on John, his fingers lightly stroking his skin.
"Mmm, mmm, mmm." He bit the soft skin beneath John's ear, whispering, "It's so good to have you." His hand lingered on the other side, caressing him. "You won't regret it. I'm going to make you mine, I'll make you happy."
He licked his fingertips, slipping them between John's buttocks, gently circling the entrance. John arched his body, burying his face in his arms, trying to stifle the moans that were about to escape.
"That's it," he soothed him. "Relax, open up to me."
His fingers slipped inside, the passage tight and hot, making him involuntarily groan. It felt so good, so right, he swallowed, almost unable to resist rushing in immediately. But there was no lubricant except his saliva, so he had to suppress his desire and slow down.
He kissed the back of John's neck, slowing the pace, his fingers lingering inside, feeling John's pulse. He paused, exhaled, then bit the skin he had been kissing, bending his fingers to begin opening John's body. He waited a while, letting John adjust, then firmly yet cautiously touched his prostate