Willing prey
12. You’re ovulating so you tease and trigger Valko’s rut on purpose
Horny thoughts list here
CW: explicit sexual content, knotting, breeding kink, hyperspermia, loss of control, rough sex, rut.
The change happened three days ago.
You knew what it was. You'd read about it. He'd explained it to you once, carefully, his rut cycle, what it did to him, how he managed it. He always went home. Always spent it alone. Had been doing it that way for years before you, and saw no reason to change it now.
"I don't want to hurt you," he'd said, when you'd asked about it once. Not defensively. "It's not something I can fully control. I'd rather not find out what I'm capable of when I'm like that."
You'd let it go then. You hadn't pushed.
That was before you understood what it looked like from the outside. Before you'd spent three days watching your sweet, careful, endlessly patient boyfriend slowly come apart at the seams trying to hold himself together around you.
He'd been planning to leave tomorrow morning.
He'd told himself one more day. One more day was fine. The rut wasn't fully on him yet — he could feel it building at the base of his skull like pressure behind his eyes, the restlessness under his skin that no amount of walking off had helped, the way smells had sharpened over the last forty eight hours until the whole apartment felt saturated with you. Your shampoo. Your skin. The warmth of the spaces you'd recently occupied.
He could manage it for one more day.
He'd go home tomorrow. Lock the door. Ride it out the way he always did. You'd never have to see it. You'd never have to know what it looked like when the careful measured version of him turned to something else.
He was sitting on the couch with his phone in his hand when you walked past him in his shirt.
He tracked you across the room, his hindbrain making the calculation before his frontal lobe had any input. The hem of the shirt sat just below where he needed it to sit and you bent down to pick something up.
The thin fabric of your underwear pulled tight against you, the outline of your pussy clear through the cotton. You were warm there. He could tell from across the room. Could see the way the fabric clung slightly, a darker patch that his eyes found immediately and couldn't leave.
You straightened up and the shirt fell back down.
He realized his phone had a new crack in the case from where his hand had tightened without him noticing.
One more day he told himself.
He didn't believe it as firmly as he had an hour ago.
---
What you were doing should not have been working as well as it was.
He knew what you were doing. He wasn't oblivious. He could smell you — had been smelling you for three days, the cycle you were in, the scent of it hanging in the air of the apartment like it was designed specifically to dismantle him — and he'd been managing it with what he felt was impressive discipline.
The fucking discipline was running out.
Every time you got close he felt it spike — a surge of heat up his spine, his vision sharpening at the edges, the wolf that lived underneath everything going very still and very focused, like it had identified something it wanted and was just waiting for permission to get it. He'd been breathing through it. Removing himself from rooms. Finding reasons to be somewhere you weren't.
But it wasn't working anymore.
When you climbed into his lap his whole body went rigid. He felt the shift happen, something tilting, some balance he'd been carefully maintaining starting to go. Your scent was overwhelming up close, different now, and when you rolled your hips and put your mouth at his ear he felt the last measured rational part of him start to recede like a tide going out.
One more day he thought, for the last time.
"I want your knot," you whispered. "I've been thinking about it for days. I want you to knot me."
He didn't decide to stand. He just was standing. He didn't decide to back away from you. His body was just moving, putting distance between you, his hands shaking slightly as he set his phone down.
"Don't." his voice came out wrong. Too rough. Not his voice, not the version of it you were used to."You don't understand what you're asking for. Once it starts I can't stop" he wasn't looking at you "I don't want to hurt you."
He meant it. That was the part he needed you to understand. The thing building behind his eyes right now, the heat spreading down his spine and into his hands, the way his whole body had oriented toward you like you were the only point of reference in the room — that wasn't him. Or it was him, the feral part of him, the part that didn't have patience or restraint or any of the careful measured qualities you'd spent months falling for.
That part didn't know how to be gentle.
You followed him anyway.
Pressed yourself against him and rolled your hips and you felt him shudder.
"I know what I'm asking for, I want it. I want you to knot me"
He looked at you then. Couldn't help it.
What looked back at you from his eyes wasn't your boyfriend. Your boyfriend was still in there somewhere, you could tell, but he'd stepped back from the controls. What had replaced him looked at you for approximately two seconds before his hands grabbed your waist.
The sound that came out of him you'd never heard before. His hands weren't careful. His grip wasn't measured. He lifted you like the weight of you was irrelevant and the next thing you knew your ass hit the kitchen counter and his hands found the hem of the shirt and shoved it up.
Three seconds of complete stillness. His eyes dropped between your thighs.
Nothing underneath. No underwear. Just you, already slick and swollen.
He pulled himself free with one hand, already hard, and didn't bother with anything else, just dragged the thick head of his cock through your slit in one stroke.
"You're soaked," he said, grinding the tip against your clit, smearing your slickness across himself. "You've been like this all day and you didn't say anything." another slow drag, base to tip "You think you can just walk around. In my shirt. With nothing underneath." his hips pressed forward, just the tip catching at your entrance without pushing in. "Asking for my knot?"
"Uh-huh"
He pushed in and he didn't slow down for it, didn't check in, didn't do any of the careful considerate things your boyfriend usually did. He bottomed out and you felt every inch of him — the stretch of it, the heat of it, the fullness that made your brain go completely white.
"Three days of you walking around smelling like you need to be bred. Sitting in my lap. Pushing and pushing." his hips pulled back and drove forward and you cried out but he didn't stop talking. "You wanted this? You wanted the wolf?" Another thrust, deeper. "Now you've got him."
"Yes, I wanted him."
"Stupid," he chuckled against your mouth, not cruel exactly, but stating a fact. "Sweet little thing thinking she can tease a wolf into his rut and walk away unharmed"
He wasn’t gentle with your breasts, he was rougher. Just grabbing. Kneading. Pulling. Right up to the edge of too much and staying there. It hurt a little. But the hurt mixed in with everything else until you couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
He bent his head to put his mouth on you.
His teeth closed over the curve of your breast and bit down hard. You gasped and your hands flew to his hair, grabbing on.
“Mark me”
He bit harder. You felt the shape of his teeth sink in and knew it would still show tomorrow, and the thought of it made you clench around him. He felt that and bit down even harder.
He moved to the other side. Did the same thing. Then a little higher, the inside curve. Then across your collarbone. Just working his way up, leaving marks everywhere his mouth went, and the whole time his hips never stopped.
“You want to walk around tomorrow knowing exactly what I did to you?”
His mouth found the curve where your neck met your shoulder and his canines broke skin.
Your whole body locked up around him, walls clamping down hard, and he groaned against the bite, his hips stuttered and drove forward harder. The sting of it was sharper than anything else he'd done, a pain that shot straight through you and landed somewhere you hadn't expected, your body responding to the marking in some deep instinctive way that made you push into his mouth instead of pulling away.
He licked the mark. Slow. Once. The roughness of his tongue against the broken skin made you shudder.
"Mine," he said, into the mark. "Every inch of you. Mine."
"Yes, yours, please—"
The pace he set was nothing like what you were used to from him.
Your boyfriend was thorough. Attentive. He paid attention to every response you gave and adjusted accordingly. This was not that. This was deep and single minded, every thrust driving the breath out of you.
"Feel that?" he grabbed your thigh and pushed it higher, changing the angle, and something inside you ignited. "That's what you asked for every time you bent over in front of me" his mouth moved to your throat. "You wanted me to snap? Congratulations."
"I want your knot," you answered, breathless."Give it to me."
His hand found your jaw and tipped your face up. "You've never taken it before. You don't know what it feels like." his hips kept their pace even while he talked, your body taking every stroke. "And you're still asking for it."
"I've been asking for it for months and you kept saying no."
"Because I was trying to protect you," just for a second you heard him underneath it —your boyfriend— before the wolf closed back over and his grip on your jaw tightened. "And you decided to take that choice away from me by throwing yourself at me during your cycle like a—" He stopped. His jaw worked.
He fucked you harder and you felt it building, the base of his cock beginning to swell with every thrust, the knot forming slowly, pressing against your entrance without breaching it yet. It was a sensation unlike anything else, that thick pressure teasing, promising something your body was simultaneously desperate for and not entirely sure it could handle.
"Please—" almost there.
The knot pushed against your entrance.
"Breathe," his voice had changed again "Breathe and push back. Your body knows what to do."
The knot breached.
You came. Clenching down around him, making him groan through it.
A high, shocked sound left you as the thickest part of him forced past your entrance and seated inside you and suddenly he couldn't pull out, couldn't move more than a fraction, and everything inside you was full in a way that had no comparison to anything that had come before it.
"There," he rasped. Something in his voice cracked open on the word. "There it is. That's what you wanted."
You couldn't speak. Your whole body was shaking.
He couldn't thrust anymore. All he could do was grind, small rocking motions that moved the knot inside you and then the first pulse hit and you felt it — hot and thick, flooding you in a wave that went on and on, your body struggling to accommodate the volume of it, the overflow starting immediately, leaking down and dripping onto the kitchen counter.
He kept pulsing while the knot held you locked together, and you could feel the pressure building inside you until your lower belly felt tight, distended and aching.
"Too much," you gasped. "It's — Ko, it's too much—"
"You asked for it," his hand found your lower belly and pressed there, feeling the fullness of you from the outside "You're taking it perfectly."
"I'm so full—"
"I know." his lips moved to your temple. "I know you are. You're doing so well."
You turned your face into his shoulder and he let you, one arm wrapping around you while his cock kept pulsing and pulsing.
"Still more," he murmured, into your hair. "Your pussy is going to take all of it."
"All of it," you agreed, voice wrecked.
It went on for longer than you thought it would. The pulses slowing gradually, his grinding motions settling into something slower. The overflow was constant, pooling below you, and when the knot finally began to soften he moved you.
Carefully, his hands checking your legs, making sure they worked, and he looked at your face with something that had your actual boyfriend written all over it even if his eyes were still darker than normal.
"Okay?" he asked
"I asked you to knot me," you said, slightly delirious. "I'm fine."
His usual smile crossed his mouth.
Then he pulled out.
The rush that followed was obscene, spilling out of you while he watched with an expression that had gone primal again. He stared at it for a long moment.
Then he pushed three fingers into you and worked it back inside.
"I'm not finished," the wolf again. No transition. "You wanted to be bred. You're going to be properly bred."
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