What you'll find in this post: disclaimers, content warnings, information about requests (including guidelines for requests), important links, and some facts about me!!
DISCLAIMERS:
This is rpf, y'all. None of this is real. I am under no delusions about the validity of headcanons, reality of ships, etc. If you're not into it, please get to steppin'.
If you do not have an age (either a specific age or even just an age range) anywhere on your page, I will not interact with you. I check every tumblr that sends in a request/ask before I work on it. And expect to be blocked. This includes when someone sends in an ask and when someone follows me.
I'm trans, so I do write versions of characters that are trans/nonbinary/etc. Those AUs are tagged accordingly, and please feel free to ignore those if they aren't your preference. Again, this is rpf. I don't believe any of the band boys are anything other than band boys. Guessing other people's SAAB/genders is just weird in general. As someone who deals with that, please don't.
CONTENT WARNINGS:
Please check specific content warnings for each fic that I post. The most common warnings are for sexual themes/content, but there are a few darker fics, and minding the warnings at the beginning are the best way to keep yourself safe.
I try to make sure to tag things like mentions of alcohol, on-screen food/eating, comments about body size/shape, and discussions of gender dysphoria. If there is something I don't tag in a fic that you think warrants a warning, please let me know and I'll add it!
I am straightedge, and I have been my entire life. As such, I might mention substances, but I will not write anything with characters doing anything other than vaguely having a casual drink (in terms of substance use). As of right now, I will also not be writing characters that are intoxicated in any manner.
REQUESTS:
Requests are currently closed unless I reblog a prompt list/writing meme and specify in the tags. I am only accepting content with band members; I will not be accepting any x reader requests. I am disabled and employed full-time, so they will possibly (likely) take a while. Sometimes an unreasonably long time. I will never delete a request unless it's something that violates a stated boundary/guideline or I just simply cannot write it. If the latter happens, I'll contact the requester (unless they're anon) and see if there's something else I could write instead.
If you'd like to request anything, feel free to use any of my previously reblogged prompts (just indicate which post it's from if it's been a while) or send in a custom request. I will need to know which boys you'd like included. I write for Folio, Jolly, Nicholas, and Noah from Bad Omens; Chris, Justin, Ricky, Ryan, and Vinny from MIW; and Will Ramos from Lorna Shore. If you request something with a trans/nonbinary take on a band guy, you'll be my favorite person of the day. Possibly week.
Please do not send in requests that include noncon, extreme age gaps, scat play, self-harm, or anti-fat language.
IMPORTANT LINKS:
Masterlist can be found here!!
Tag list sign-up post can be found here!!
All of my writing can be found here!!
Answered asks can be found here!!
You can find memes to send in here and prompts to send in here!!
My (usually pretty mediocre) moodboards can be found here!!
ABOUT JESTER:
They/she/it pronouns only. Genderfluid and getting funky with it, but I currently sit somewhere on the nonbinary spectrum close-ish to demigirl. Feminine terms like "woman" are my preference, but gender-neutral work just as well. Visibly trans. Blatantly, unapologetically queer. In a happy gay marriage with the most amazing man.
Twenty-eight. I've been writing since elementary school (primarily in the form of role play).
Disabled and neurodivergent. Chronic pain, mental illness, the whole circus. I'm the monkey.
General tag found here! This includes ficlets, drabbles, etc.
like a good dog. ( Chris x Will )
Summary: Chris thinks Will would look so cute licking her boots clean, and she knows how to get what she wants.
Word count: Approx. 4,000 words
go ahead and touch. ( Chris x Justin )
Summary: Chris wants to get his teeth in Justin, and Justin can't help but give him what he wants.
Word count: Approx. 3,600 words
the bond has reached the bone. ( Chris x Ricky )
Summary: Ricky doesn't spoil himself, so Chris decides to do it instead; in the process, Ricky plays doll.
Word count: Approx. 4,200 words
so come to me (no sense of restraint). ( Chris x Justin )
Summary: A trip out for ice cream and an excessive amount of Axe body spray finally prompts Justin to act on feelings he's been harboring.
Word count: Approx. 5,400 words
Summary: Deep into tour, Noah canât get enough of flustering people and Folio becomes his next victim.
Content: 18+mdni, explicit smut: oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, semi-public sex (back lounge of the bus), hair pulling, dirty talk, language, friends-with-benefits (theyâre winging it)
Word count: 3.3k
band fics list | taglist
*note for tagged users below: I may have added boy x boy as a âdonât tagâ option after you filled out the form. If you donât wanna be tagged you can message me or fill out a new form and Iâll update :)
Big big thank you again to @jestersnotebook for the beta read on this, it was such a relief lol <3
Noah would be lying if he said that he doesn't know what he does to people. Trust, he knows.
He tries not to be loud about it, and he really tries not to be obvious about how much he likes it, but it slips sometimes. Getting a rise out of people is like microdosing in that feeling where he gets someone flustered in the bedroom. He likes to watch them blush, likes to hear their breath catch, likes to feel their skin get hot or their heart beat faster.
Today, he can't get enough. The crowd was so loving when he was on stage. He caught as many excited squeals and flustered gasps as he could and somehow it still didn't sate the desire settling in him.
Poor Folio just happens to be the one in the back lounge of the bus with him when he finally decides he can't take it.
Noah leans back from where he is hunched against the table, laptop open as he works on the mix for a demo. Nick is just looking at his phone, hair falling in his face while Noah stretches his arms out and arches his back with a groan.
"Fuck, I should be naked on a table somewhere right now."
Folio's eyes snap up from his screen instantly.
"What?" he chokes out.
Playing stupid, Noah furrows his brows and then chuckles.
"Like, I should be getting a massage."
"Oh," the drummer answers, his tone stiff.
He plays it off pretty well, though. He laughs a little and nods as if he didn't falter.
"Yeah, me too," he adds.
"I would offer, but we'll just hurt ourselves more," Noah jokes.
"I am not doing shit with my hands at this point of tour, man," Nick says with a snort.
The grin that spreads on Noah's face is genuine. He doesn't spend enough time with Folio and he forgets what good company he is. His voice is nice to listen to, his face is nice to look at, and he has an aura about him that Jolly and Nicholas can't quite match.
The reply catches up to him and Noah realizes this might be a good chance to lean into what he wants.
"Mm, I think we're all doing something with our hand at this point of tour," Noah says, trying not to let his smirk grow too much.
His friend falters again and averts his gaze, unable to look Noah in the eyes as the innuendo lands. He still tries to laugh it off, but they all know this is the week it gets uncomfortable. It is hard to find that time alone on tour to get off and have some relief, and it has usually built up by now to a point where anyone is looking for a few minutes alone to let go.
Instead of letting Nick answer, Noah reaches back and grabs the collar of his shirt behind his head. He slips it off, the movement messing his hair. He avoids looking at Nick as he shakes the brown strands loosely back into place and drops his shirt on the couch next to him.
"Fucking summer tour heat," he murmurs, loud enough for Folio to hear but low enough that it could seem like he is talking to himself.
Noah goes back to his computer, sparing a very discreet glance to the man seated near him. The angle isn't great, but he can see the rigid stillness in Nick's body. He looks like he's holding his breath.
When Noah runs a hand through his hair, letting his bicep and pec flex with the movement, he catches Folio shift to spread his legs a little more.
It takes a lot for Noah to not get smug.
"You ever think about how different this seems from how tour was in, like, the 80s?" Noah continues.
"How so?" Nick asks.
"Like, the bras on stage, the groupies, shit like that," he answers. "I mean, there's still a hookup here or there, but everyone makes it sound like they were getting it all the time at shows."
Nick shrugs. "I think it's just kinda different now."
"That's what I mean. Could you imagine doing that?"
There is a moment of silence, so Noah turns to look at Nick again. He folds his arms on the table and pins his gaze on his friend, who swallows with the weight of the look. For someone who usually has so much energy, Folio is completely still.
"Haven't we all talked about how we don't want that for us?" he replies, deflecting.
"Yeah, I'm not suggesting it. I'm just asking if you've ever thought of how convenient that would be," Noah explains. "You know how some of those fans see us."
"I guess, but aren't you the one who said you don't wanna be that guy?"
"It's just hypothetical," he says with a laugh. "What? You don't ever think about how much of a relief it would be to lock yourself back here with someone and do something other than jerk off?â
Folio's eyes widen and he lets out a broken, breathy laugh. He shifts again and looks at his phone like it might help distract him, but the screen has absolutely turned off by now. His eyes dance around the floor for a moment before he looks back up because he knows it's the only way to keep his unbothered act going.
"Dude, you need to get laid when we all go home," Nick announces.
"Or I could get laid here," Noah says playfully.
"It's gonna take a lot of convincing to get them to let you bring someone else on this bus," he answers, laughing along like it's the most ridiculous notion he has heard in a long time.
Noah glances down at his computer and smirks a little. "It doesn't have to be someone else."
"What?" Nick blurts out.
When he lifts his gaze, Noah finds his friend's face getting pink and his eyes wide again.
"We all know what it's like. . . being all pent up, no privacy," he explains. "Have you ever thought of how easy it would be if we could all help each other out?"
Folio's chest rises and falls a little faster now.
"Noah â."
"Think about it," Noah cuts him off.
The drummer purses his lips, trying hard not to think about it. But Noah could not care less. His gut is warming and the pressure of arousal growing in his shorts is way too hard to pass up.
"We know what we like, what it feels like. . . It would be so easy."
"It would be complicated," Nick answers, voice a little breathless.
"But it doesn't have to be if we all agree it's purely for relief. It doesn't have to be every day, just off and on when things get tense."
Noah closes his laptop and shifts closer to Folio, who is clenching his jaw and trying to catch his breath. His eyes linger on Noah's chest and arms, over all his tattoos and the soft muscles underneath. The darkness in his eyes is visible now, the images floating through his head, and Noah's cock stirs at those same ideas.
"I've got you flustered," he declares, eyeing the way Nick fidgets and shifts his legs again.
"It's not hard to do," Folio mutters.
"No, but I've only ever seen it a few times."
Nick swallows when Noah gets close enough that their knees almost touch.
"Noah, this isn't a good idea."
"Why not?"
"The guys â."
"Half of them are asleep and no one is coming back here at this time."
Despite his protest, Nick is leaned towards Noah and doesn't move away.
"But if they hear. . ."
Noah smirks. "You're telling me you can't stay quiet?"
"No, I can, but. . ." he trails off, breaths shaky as Noah looks him up and down.
He gives him time to finish the sentence or voice other concerns, or outright say no, but he doesn't.
"Just lock the door, at least.â
Pride fills him with the request and Noah quickly stands, walking to flip the lock into place on the door.
He stalks back to where Folio sits on the couch and settles next to him. His eyes drag up from his bare knees, over his shorts to the gentle definition of an erection, then up to his neck. Noah smiles a little in anticipation, but looks Nick in the eyes again.
"Can I touch you?"
Nick sucks in a breath, then nods.
His skin is heated under Noah's fingertips. It is immediately intoxicating, just as much as the shaky exhale that brushes his ear. Noah grazes his hand up and down Nick's thigh, on and off his shorts to ease into the new dynamic. Then, once he's sure that Nick isn't backing out yet, he lets his fingers slide under the fabric of the drummer's shorts.
Watching his hand disappear does something to Noah. It excites him in a way he hadn't expected, but Nick's skin is soft and his little ragged breaths are so infectious. He wants to move up further, see if the skin of his hardening cock is even smoother.
"It's hot in here," Nick whispers.
Noah chuckles and Nick joins him. There is an awkward hesitation to all of this that eases with the comment.
Pulling his hand from Nick's shorts, Noah grabs at the hem of his bandmates T-shirt and looks at him for any objection, but he nods his consent once more. The colorful burst of the tattoo on his chest seems brighter with the intimacy of all this, even the skin around it gaining some extra color from the heat of the room and the desire.
It never occurred to Noah that he might caress his friend's skin, might trace the lines of his tattoo or palm his chest, but he doesn't want to stop now. Sure, Folio has appeared in a wet dream or two, but he never let himself think further.
Not until tonight when he saw him looking so innocent, scrolling on his phone while the lust was ready to bubble over.
"Is it okay if I put my mouth on you?" Noah hums.
Nick shuffles again. "Like, suck my dick?"
Noah pauses. It isn't what he meant right now, but. . .
"Is that what you want?"
"Is that what you want?" Folio parrots.
A hesitant bit of excitement comes to Noah's face and he glances down at the little trail of hair traveling down from Nick's navel. He slides his hand down his chest until he brushes the little strands of hair, then moves further until his palm is on top of the clothed boner.
"Not what I meant when I asked, but I like the idea," Noah replies.
"Fuck," Nick breathes out at the way Noah gently palms him, his head falling back.
The arousal takes over and Noah leans in, running his tongue up the man's neck. He shudders beneath him and then fingers are threaded in Noah's hair, gripping the strands like he is gripping Nick's dick, and instinct completely takes over.
Noah begins a trail of messy kisses on his neck, nipping at him a few times and soothing the spot with brushes of his tongue. His hand teases Nick's covered erection, squeezing and rubbing it, feeling it grow and stiffen even more under his palm. And the whole time, little gasps and swears fill his ear and fingers pull at his hair.
"Can I take these off?" Noah finally asks, hooking a finger under the waistband of Folio's shorts.
"Please," he gasps.
He lifts his hips so Noah can work them off. Once they touch the floor, Noah looks back up to see the bulge under Nick's boxer briefs, which he has his fingers hooked under.
He watches Noah with a questioning expression, seeing if it's okay to take these off too.
All it takes is a smile and an enthusiastic nod, and the underwear are gone.
Nick's cock slaps the skin under his navel as it is freed. Noah has seen it before, but never like this. Never high on want and lust and never so hard. The veins are highlighted in the shitty lighting of the room and his skin looks completely smooth.
It didn't occur to Noah that Nick might have more girth to his dick than he had on his own, but he can't even find it in himself to be worried about that right now.
Noah moves to kneel between Nickâs legs, attacking his thighs, kissing and biting and licking at them to elicit more soft moans. He can see in the corner of his eye that Nick has spread the little bit of leaking arousal onto his length and gives it a slow stroke. His belly shudders with his shaky breath of pleasure and Noah digs his teeth into the skin of his thigh.
"Shit," Nick rasps and grabs Noah's hair again. "This is so insane."
When Noah hums in reply, the vibration travels up Nick's leg.
"You worry too much," he says against his skin.
"Looks who's talking," Nick jokes.
They both chuckle again and Noah lifts his head, squeezing the muscular thighs of the man above him and watching his hand slide slowly up and down his shaft, tightening at the tip.
"You gonna let me take over?"
Nick bites his lip a little, like he's making sure he is really okay with this, but it's hard to tell Noah Sebastian no when he is looking up at you like that.
"Mhm," Nick hums in agreement, letting go.
Noah tries not to get caught up in the nerves. This wouldn't be his first blowjob and he does like giving them, but he hasn't done many.
Sitting up a little more on his knees, Noah gently touches Nick's cock. He familiarizes himself, gets used to its weight in his hand and the feel of how soft his skin is. He plays with the head of it, basking in those first whimpers of bliss from above.
And then he opens his mouth, letting built up saliva fall on the rock hard dick in his hand, and gives it a few good strokes before taking the tip in his mouth.
"Oh my God," Nick mutters, head lolling back and fingers gripping Noah's tufts of hair a little tighter.
Noah learns fast that sucking someone's dick is a little like riding a bike. You never really forget how to do it, you just have to get your bearings. And fuck, does he get them quick.
Nick's cock makes his mouth feel blissfully full, his lips wrapped around the wide size and coated in saliva that drips out and spreads everywhere. He tries not to rush, but he loves how it feels sliding in and out of him. He loves the way he brushes the back of his throat, how he twitches, the subtly bitter taste of all the precum he is leaking.
And how could he have any self control when he looks up to see Nick watching him, jaw slacked, brows knitted, eyes hazy while those quieted, delicious moans slip out of him?
Who knew Nick Folio would be so hot while getting his dick sucked?
"Fuck, Noah," he groans, trying to stay quiet. "How are you so good at this?"
When he hums teasingly, a dangerously audible moan comes out of Nick.
His hand flies up to cover his mouth, the other pulling Noah's hair hard enough to make his eyes water, but he doesn't care. No, Noah wants Nick to come completely undone, and he loves having his hair pulled.
He continues to moan against Folio's cock and finally gives in to reaching in his boxers to start taking care of his own aching boner. The precum slicks easily over his length, offering a little bit of help with the friction. But between that, the sounds his drummer is making, and how good it feels to nearly gag on someone's dick again, he probably won't last long anyway.
Nick's hips start lifting, his thighs trembling, and Noah has to stop touching himself because he can't focus. The closer he gets him, the faster and deeper he goes. Gasps and heavy breathing and whining fill Noah's head and go straight between his legs. He did not expect to get so turned on by one of his bandmates, but he just sounds and feels and tastes so good.
"Noah, you should â. I can't," Nick pants suddenly. "I'm close."
As much as he doesn't want to stop, Noah slips off Nick's cock, his mouth immediately replaced by Nick's hand.
Desperate and aching, Noah sheds his own shorts and underwear. Folio's eyes fall to the singer's hips and against his will, he whimpers. If he weren't so close to coming, he would drop to his knees and return the favor even though he had no experience.
Nick reaches out and grabs Noah's hand, jolting him forward so hard that the only option is for Noah to plant his knees on the couch on either side of his blissed out friend. He catches himself before he can fall on him completely, but even the space between them radiates like a furnace.
His hand is grabbed again and Nick spits into it, seemingly much more sure of himself on the brink of climax. He is moving a little slower now, but still pumps himself rough and hungrily.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Nick gasps, grabbing Noah and pulling him close enough to bury his face in his tattooed neck. "I'm gonna come."
Words are rushed and shaky as they both urgently stroke themselves and breathe hot air on each other's ears and necks.
"You want me to come with you?"
"I want you to come with me."
"You want me to come all over you?"
"Yes, fuck, please!"
In seconds, Nick's face is dug into the crook of Noah's neck, praising the frontman's name in a muffled cry. Hot ropes of cum spurt on both of their torsos as the moan turns to whines and shallow breaths.
Noah bites his tongue so hard to hold back his own noises that he starts to taste blood. He doesn't last, not with the sound of Folio's needy moans as he finishes, the warmth of his release on Noah's skin. All it takes is a few more fast, tight jerks of his fist before he's nuzzled into Folio's hair, his head forced down to watch as Noah shoots string after string of his own cum all over Folio's tattoo and and ribs.
By the time they're done, the room is humid and smells like sex, a problem they didn't even consider before giving into their horny flirtations. But they don't say anything, they just both catch their breath until Noah climbs off the couch and uses the inside of his shirt to wipe their mess off of Folio's body.
It is silent as they both get dressed again, then for a few seconds after once Nick finally finds the bottle of Febreeze he knew they kept back here somewhere.
"I, uh, didn't know you knew how to do that," he tells Noah.
Despite how awkward this should be, Noah just smiles a little. He can't help it.
"I've experimented."
"Definitely one of the best I've had," Nick says with an airy laugh. "Sorry, maybe that's weird."
Noah chuckles with him. "No, it's a compliment."
They fall silent again while the room is sprayed, then watch each other hesitantly.
Noah knows this may have been a bad idea, that it maybe never should have happened, but he has never felt more relieved on the road. All he can hope is that Nick doesn't regret it. That's all he is worried about.
"We. . . don't have to do anything like that again if you don't want to," he mutters.
Ship: Werewolf!Nick Folio x Gender Neutral!Reader x Noah Sebastian
Content warnings: Pet play, collars, dry humping/clothed grinding, praise kink, sloppy/slightly rough oral sex (male receiving), oral sex on reader (sex unspecified), rutting/pillow humping, voyeurism/exhibitionism (kind of), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, cum eating. There's also a vague sort of power dynamic going on here, but gods know it's beyond me.
Summary: Your boys swear they've been so patient waiting for you to finish chores. Don't they deserve a treat?
Word count: Approx. 3,600 words
Authorâs note: Happy birthmas, Folio! This turned out way less monsterfucker-y than something I write usually would, but I ended up focusing in more on the dynamic than the actual werewolf component. Oops. Reader in this is completely gender neutral, down to the terms used for anatomy (hint: I don't really use any). Thank you to @ami-gami for the check-in on fic quality. This isn't something I'm super stressed about (it's not my best work and probably needs another proofread pass, honestly), but I wanted to do something for fishboy's birthday, so. Enjoy, I hope! Divider by @/saradika-graphics.
The only thing better than one needy puppy pawing at you for attention (when you had the time to give it, of course) was two of them. You had been trailed for the better part of twenty minutes, back and forth throughout the house as you finished chores; you kept promising both men youâd be done soon, so they had held off on whining, but you could tell they were getting antsy.
It was certainly sweet, though. Stolen kisses and nuzzles, hands that squeezed without much rhyme or reason. Both of your boys wanted your affection, but youâd also let them derail you from cleaning for the past three nights â and something had to give. It wasnât going to be your house, though. Besides, as you repeatedly told them, you only needed until seven, and then theyâd have all of your undivided attention.
By six, Noah was whining, and Folio was always quick to follow â he blamed it on pack instincts, but you were pretty sure that Folio just took Noahâs soft little noises as permission to make his own. You huffed, placed your hands on your hips, and did your best to give them both stern expressions. âGo play in the living room,â you ordered, resisting the urge to melt when they both pouted in sync.
Having them act like that at the same time was always a challenge, but Folio seemed to take you more seriously than Noah did. He ducked a little, pressed a kiss under your chin, and then ushered Noah off toward the couch. âIâll put your collar on you,â he promised the taller man.Â
It was always a toss-up if Noah would let him put the collar on (he often insisted it was you that did it), but apparently Noah was amicable that evening. He huffed on his way out of the room but offered some vague affirmation you barely caught. You just hoped theyâd play nice until you were finished; you only had an hour left, after all, and then youâd promised both yourself and your puppies that youâd be free.
When you finished up and walked into the living room at six-fifty, the sight that greeted you was only a little surprising: Noah and Folio tangled up on the couch, kissing and slowly rocking their hips together. Noah did have his collar on, Folioâs finger hooked through the d-ring on the front and simply resting there, and they passed breaths and soft, pleased noises back and forth between their lips.
For all of the assertiveness Noah had on stage, and the confidence and self-assuredness he'd started carrying himself with even off it, he tended to melt when Folio slipped into that headspace where he was closer to wolf than human. It was typical for Noah to top in most situations; however, once Folio allowed himself to indulge in his feral streak, Noah was quick to roll onto his back.
You stood for a moment and watched their leisurely, unhurried movements. Normally, theyâd be rutting so desperately that they fell off the couch â or damn near did â but they seemed content to settle into something slow this evening.
Once you spoke, though, their gazes snapped to you. âMaybe I should go back to cleaning and leave you two to play,â you teased, well aware that you wouldnât be able to walk away now, especially not with the heat that greeted you.
Noah whimpered and whined, pulling out that pleading expression of his that always made you fold. Folio echoed the noises, a bit quieter, and sat up, untangling their limbs. âYou could play with us instead, baby,â he encouraged, baring his teeth in a hungry grin.
How could you say no to that? How could you walk away when Folio and Noah stood up, scrambled to press close â one on each side, nuzzling into your hair and neck and shoulders? While Folio was the only one who could really indulge in your scent, Noah acted like he had a similar experience. In fact, heâd even spend several minutes rubbing his face against your bare skin like he was scenting you when he felt particularly affectionate.
âGood puppies,â you cooed, scratching at Folioâs scalp and under Noahâs chin. âLetâs go to the bedroom, yeah? Get you both undressed for me?â The gentle, sweet encouragement was all it took for them to both start tugging you to the room in question, Folio making sweet, mindless promises that they'd make you feel good the whole time.
It seemed that when Noah was collared and mute, Folio took it upon himself to speak for both of them. He wasnât usually nearly as talkative as he was in those scenes and encounters, and you loved hearing both the lilt to his words and the boyish giggles sprinkled throughout them.Â
The three of you stepped into the bedroom and both of your boys didnât hesitate to strip down. Noah seemed to waver and hesitate once he was naked, but you smiled and told him, âYou can kneel, pup. I know you love being on your knees.â That permission was all he needed to sink down, seeming pleased to be on his knees and peering up at both of you with blatant interest.
Your own need was swelling in your gut and setting restlessness into your limbs as Folio detoured to speak to Noah on his way to the bed. âYou look so hungry for something in your mouth,â Folio said, audibly delighted. He tugged on Noahâs d-ring until the taller manâs head tilted back, and then he glanced at you. âCan I give the puppy a treat? Heâs been so good. Iâve been good, too,â he added, a little rushed, like he didnât want you to forget that fact.
You took a moment to pretend to consider, tapping your chin as you walked to the bed and perched on the edge of it. A grin grew on your face at how both men squirmed, and you finally pitied them enough to nod. âYeah, go ahead and give the puppy a treat, Folio. But if you want to fill me up, you better not cum,â you reminded him with a playful wiggle of your eyebrows.
Noah needed no more prompting to start pawing at Folioâs thigh, blinking big, dark eyes up at Folio like the werewolf would need any convincing at all. In fact, Folio was mostly hard already, never challenging to work up into a frenzy. Folio stroked himself and crooned down at Noah about earning his treat, begging for it like a good boy â and Noah barked, loudly, as he gave another excited wiggle.
For how neat Noah typically was â almost to the point of fussy â it was amazing to see how sloppy he got when he had his collar on. Any sense of restraint seemed to unravel in the face of his earnestness, his enthusiasm, and it made something in your gut heat even as your heart swelled with affection. Now was one of those moments when his composure fell apart, and he looked so beautiful as it did.
Folio certainly appreciated it too. He was always messy, both in daily life and in intimate moments, and he beamed down at Noah with obvious joy for how the puppy was taking after him. As Noah wrapped his lips around Folioâs cock and immediately began to bob his head, Folio canted his hips forward just enough to gag him on each descent. Soon, spit began to trickle from the corners of his lips, and Folio fisted Noahâs hair to get a better view, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.
You moved slowly as you watched your boys, undoing your pants and wiggling them down enough to get a hand on yourself. You thought youâd get away with being a voyeur, at least for the moment, but then you felt the mess youâd made of yourself and gasped. It was barely audible, but Folioâs werewolf senses meant he cocked his head.
Lust-darkened eyes were suddenly locked on you, and you felt your heart stutter at how feral Folio already looked. He grunted and tugged Noah down onto his cock even more firmly than before, taking in the sight of you just barely exposed â enough to pleasure yourself and to start filling the room with the scent of your arousal. He always swore it drove him crazy because it set his wolf into a possessive fit, and you found you believed him.
âHey, puppy,â Folio started, pulling Noah off of his cock. You both looked down at the singer, and he offered each of you a hazy grin, eyes glazed over and face flushed. âIt looks like they need some help. You want to go get another treat?â He fisted himself loosely as he spoke, shoulders rolling as if suppressing some urge you couldnât place.
Noah perked up at the mention of another treat, and he grinned at you when he realized what Folio meant. He yipped and started crawling the second Folio released his hair; you managed to shove your pants and underwear off by the time he made it to you, and you took a moment to scratch under his chin and coo about how handsome he was.
The praise didnât seem to satisfy Noah for long. As Folio came to join you both, Noah nipped at your fingers and then dove between your legs â you flopped back on the mattress and gasped at the feeling of Noahâs mouth on you, wet and hot and demanding. You felt one of Folioâs hands lift your left thigh to drape your leg over Noahâs shoulder, and you used the leverage to wrap your calf around his back and pull him in closer.
Folio settled next to your head on the bed, shoving your shirt up to get fingers on your nipples. âI still get to fill you up, donât I?â he clarified, leaning down to steal a kiss that you couldnât help but moan into.
You nodded and tugged on the back of Noahâs collar with one hand, snagged Folioâs hair with the other. âYeah, you can fill me up,â you promised breathlessly, rocking your lips a little. Noah was whimpering and whining against you, tongue dragging and teeth tucked so neatly away. Folio was the one who liked the tease with hints of teeth, but Noah was usually far too obedient to even pretend to bite. Not when he was getting a treat, at least.
As pleasure swelled in your gut, your back bowing up off the bed, Folio grinned down at you. âOkay, puppy, give them a break,â he ordered, pushing at Noahâs shoulder when he didnât budge. He rumbled at Noah when he didnât listen, and that sound was enough for Noah to pull back and blink up at him.
Lifting onto your elbows, you took a moment to just admire the sight of Noah dazed and blissful, hair sticking up oddly and face damp with sweat and the mess heâd made of himself.
âUp,â you ordered, patting the mattress next to you. Your voice came out small and shaky, but Noah happily complied regardless, clambering onto the bed and settling next to you. He preened when you sat up completely to cover his face in kisses, wiping at his chin and tutting about the mess heâd made â a mess he looked completely unembarrassed about.
Folio still hadnât stopped touching you. His hand wandered from your chest now, exploring your stomach and the lines of your hips. It dipped down to where Noahâs mouth had just been, his touch making you whimper as your lashes fluttered, and he grinned as he bit down gently on your shoulder.Â
Noah wiggled about and pawed at your side, making inquisitive little noises. It took you a moment to realize what he was asking, and you grinned brightly when it clicked. âDoes the puppy want to rut today?â you asked, watching his face light up. âYou want me to get your pillow and let you hump it like a dumb little puppy while Folio fills me up?â
It might have sounded odd to someone on the outside, but Noah enjoyed getting the chance to simply watch and chase his own pleasure. He couldnât find the words for it outside of puppy space, and he didnât have access to words at all once his collar came on, but you thought you understood well enough. Observing without touching meant all Noah needed to do was be a good boy and get himself off, and sometimes he needed that space.Â
Of course, there were also times that Noah would insist without words that he needed to finish inside you â or, rarely, with you filling him up, hips rutting up into the air in search of friction you all knew he didnât actually need to get off.
Tonight was an evening that Noah seemed more excited to rut against a pillow than he couldâve ever been to actually fuck you. You kept a body pillow that Noah would always use to get off in moments like this, occasionally reminding Noah of the mess he always made of it just to earn a furrowed brow and flushed cheeks, and it was easy enough to grab it now as Folio snagged lube.
When youâd started dating, Folio had dutifully donned a condom every time you fucked, but he had almost wept with joy when you finally decided you were fine without one. It had been a little dramatic, sure, but youâd also gotten fucked through the mattress that evening in a way that had you wishing youâd made the decision sooner.
You settled on all fours, wiggling your hips and earning a playful growl from Folio, and made sure you were facing Noah so you could watch your puppy make a mess of himself. He was simply settled for now, hips idly rocking every few seconds; he seemed far more interested in watching Folio get behind you and slick his fingers.
As Folio worked you open, Noah started to move. He gasped softly to echo each noise you made, cock already leaking against the fabric of the pillowcase, and you reached out to touch one of the hands clutching the pillow as a small reminder to take things slowly. Noah had definitely gotten too eager before and finished before you or Folio were even close, and it hadnât been a big deal, but you wanted him to enjoy himself for as long as possible tonight.
Before you knew it, Folio was working three fingers into you, pressing them deep and curling in search of the spot that made you shudder and keen the second he found it. He made a pleased noise from somewhere deep in his chest and fucked his digits into you at just the right angle to hit the bundle of nerves every time, and you whimpered and scrunched your eyes shut.
âPlease,â you finally gasped, unable to ignore how close youâd gotten from Folioâs fingers. âPlease, fuck me. Fill me.â That was Folioâs favorite thing: filling you, breeding you. Sometimes heâd lose himself in the moment and mutter about giving you his pups, something you hadnât actually talked about but that pushed you over the edge every time.
Folio pulled his fingers out and wasted no time in burying his cock in you, taking it as slowly as he could manage. Three fingers was always slightly more stretch than you needed, but it made the press and friction perfect as he settled in to the hilt inside you. âSo good for me,â he said, fingers clawing at your hips. He knew better than to go before you gave permission.
You lifted your head to look at Noah, smiling to yourself when you realized he was trying to see where your body met Folioâs. He whimpered when he noticed your gaze on him, rutting a bit faster and looking awfully pathetic about not being able to get what he wanted. He was so spoiled, but it was hard to resist â you told Folio to pull out just long enough to adjust where your bodies were, giving Noah a better angle as Folio yanked you back onto his cock the second he was given permission.
Normally, you liked to kiss Noah while you got fucked, but it seemed Noah couldnât decide who he wanted to watch in the moment, and this gave him a chance to see everything. He yipped his appreciation, butted his head against Folioâs shoulder, and then howled softly in a request for more. Again, you really had spoiled him.
âMove,â you finally managed, once youâd adjusted and were sure you wouldnât cum too quickly. You could see Noah if you turned your head just a bit, and you watched as he settled into a rhythm of rutting against the pillow in an exact mirror of Folioâs movements. As Folio fucked you slow and deep, Noah rolled his hips the same way, and his tongue ended up lolling out as he panted.
Folioâs hands slid lower on your hips, settled somewhere he could get good, solid handfuls; he grunted softly and then fucked into you harder, clearly trying to maintain a slower pace. âGod, baby,â he babbled mindlessly, voice a little hoarse, âyou feel so fucking good around me. Wanna fill you up.âÂ
When you clenched at his words, Folio hissed and slammed his hips forward abruptly, not giving you a chance to brace yourself as he started to chase his own pleasure. He was a gentleman, of course, and kept himself upright so Noah could watch, despite the fact heâd usually drape across your back to bite on your shoulder â never harshly enough to break the skin, of course, though heâd occasionally admitted he wanted to.
It was normally Noahâs job to leave the bite marks and hickeys. Folio could have sucked the latter into your skin, and he often commented on how pretty the ones from Noah looked there, but he also didnât trust himself not to latch on and dig his teeth in. The last thing you all needed was a second werewolf in your house.
Your gaze shifted back to Noah even as things grew blurry. You could see his face still flushed, lips parted and tongue peeking out, and noticed that he had continued matching Folioâs rhythm. âGood puppy,â you moaned, hand slipping down beneath your own body. âGood puppy.â The words set Noah whining and writhing, though he kept up his rutting like a good boy. After all, youâd told him the trick you wanted. Spoiled as he was, he was trained well.
Noah was the first one to spill. He tipped his head back, tendons in his neck straining and jaw clenching as he came hard, making a mess you knew youâd be making him clean up. Folio beat you to it, though, and barked out for Noah to clean it up the second heâd came down from his high; you both watched Noah comply, looking tired but pleased with himself.
The sight of Noah licking up his own cum made your climax hit you hard and unexpected, and you bit your bottom lip to muffle a wail as you pressed back against Folio and grinded desperately in search of more. You needed Folio to cum in you, to breed you, and you managed to get out, âPlease, Nick.â
You swore you heard another mumble about pups, and then Folio was pounding into you so hard you gasped with each slam of his cock. He spilled as deep inside you as he could manage, and he kneaded your undoubtedly-bruised hips as he came down from the high. All three of you were mostly quiet in the afterglow, panting softly and reaching for each other.
Folio ruffled Noahâs hair as you squeezed his hand, and Noah leaned down to nose at your ear as Folio said, âThat didnât take you long, puppy.â He was clearly teasing, but the way Noah squirmed told you it had hit home anyways.
Noah watched as Folio pulled out of you and then plugged you with two fingers, urging you to lay down slowly so as not to dislodge them. It wouldnât do anything, really, but you indulged him despite how sensitive you felt and the twinge it caused in your thighs. Noah wavered for a mere second and then was nuzzling in close against your chest, mouthing at the warm skin and making a pleased noise that sounded almost like purring.
âDogs donât purr,â you mumbled as Folio cuddled up behind you, adjusting the angle of his arm as best he could despite the fact it definitely seemed like itâd be uncomfortable. Your wolf was so stubborn, but it was endearing in this moment. It wasnât always.
Folio kissed your shoulder and grinned. âMaybe this one does. Noahâs always been weird. Isnât that right, puppy?â he asked, giggling softly when Noah snapped his teeth playfully.
It was interesting to watch Folio and Noah banter like this, when Noah was still in pup space; only one of them could speak, but Noah certainly had retorts for all of Folioâs remarks, especially the dumb ones. You found yourself dozing off to the sound of it now, the silly words from Folio and the grumbles from Noah.Â
As Folio pressed closer, you yawned and mumbled, âI love you.â Noah yipped softly and Folio yawned around his own reply, and you knew that both of them meant it. Here, with arguably the best behaved pups in the world, you knew you were loved.
Tag list: @ami-gami, @ladyveronikawrites, @malice-ov-mercy, @dodgersnotebook, @theservantbones, @dominuslunae, @fadingangelwisp
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Content Warnings: 18+. Explicit. Size kink/size difference. Anal sex. Anal fingering. References to body weight (positive).
Notes: Request for the bestie, @spiritshousex, I'm just dumb and forgot to post it with the ask.
[ Tag List: @jestersnotebook, @dead-astrid ]
Ricky is unsure of when it started. He knows that itâs fairly recent, maybe a few years since they had been doing this. He was going to say three years, even if it sounded wrong, and Ryan insisted that they used to do this when they were younger and that Ricky just didnât remember. But Ricky thinks that he would have remembered sleeping on top of one of his best friends when he was younger. Although it wouldnât have been entirely weird, considering they used to travel in a shitty van and get cheap motel rooms that they could barely afford. Whatever the case, he wouldnât admit that Ryan might have been right.
â
Whatever the case may be, Ricky and Ryan have had an oddly close friendship these past few years. They started to room together, swapping keys with other members of the band if they had to, and utilizing one bed as a place to throw all of their luggage on while the other was occupied by both of them. Ricky enjoyed the closeness. Ryan enjoyed the warmth. They both won that way.
â
Over time, it went from friendly cuddling to sometimes one of them taking their clothes off in the middle of the night, then one of them coming to bed with nothing on, before they both started to simply not bother with any sweatpants or loose-fitting shirts at all. It wasnât discussed, even if it should have been. There was never a talk about how this could blur the lines between intimacy and friendship. Ryan just simply woke up one day to a mostly naked Ricky on top of him, snoring into his chest and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and that was the start of it all.
â
âYou going to hurry up and come to bed?â Ryan asked with a groan as he looked over at Ricky, typing away on his laptop. He was entranced with the screen, and he had been all day, clearly eager to get all of his ideas out of his brain before they flew elsewhere. But Ryan was eager to go to bed, preferably with his friend and super hot band mate on top of him.
â
âHm? Oh, yeah, just finishing this.â Ryan rolled his eyes, although he couldnât help but laugh softly. Heâs beginning to think it would be better for him to just pull out his laptop and play some games while he waits for Ricky, although the last time he did that, Ricky ended up whining for him to come to bed as though he was the one waiting in the first place. He thinks that heâs been hanging around Vinny too much, their bratty attitudes rubbing off on one another and making the other worse by the minute.
â
He didnât wait too long, or at least not as long as he had waited in the past for Ricky to âfinish this one thing.â He was just thankful to have Ricky on top of him, stripped down to nothing, their bodies slotting together perfectly.
â
Maybe their friendship was a little odd. It definitely wasnât a standard friendship, but did any of them have a ânormalâ friendship within the band? They invited Vinny to cuddle up sometimes, often waking up with more than just cuddling when he was involved, although they never really spoke about it. And they both knew Justin had some weird sexual tension with ⊠well, probably everybody in the band and crew. So, who could judge them for wanting to cuddle up naked every so often? Besides, they didnât go much further than sloppy handjobs in the morning, when it was just the two of them. Thatâs a normal friend thing to do, right?
â
In all honesty, Ricky didnât know what this was. And he knew Ryan didnât know either, because neither of them brought it up nor asked. What he did know was that he liked waking up to Ryan pressed against him, how warm he was, how his arms wrapped tightly around his smaller frame and didnât let go throughout the night. Ricky was a little hooked on the feeling it brought him, even if he couldnât explain it. He simply liked it, waking up to the morning light coming through the hotel window, highlighting the two of them in bed. More importantly, highlighting Ryan and how he looked in the sunlight.
â
His fingers gently danced over his cheek, brushing against the facial hair. It scratched at his skin, reminding him of how sometimes he wakes up to Ryan burying his face into his neck, his beard making the sensitive flesh there itch. Thereâs a slow rise and fall of his chest beneath him, and if Ricky holds his breath for a second, he can faintly hear the thump of the other guitaristâs heart. Maybe one day he could press his ear there and listen closer. But for now, he was happy to simply admire the man below him. The line between friendship and intimacy wobbled in his head as his hand slipped down to graze over his chest.
â
âAre you going to keep staring at me or are you going back to sleep?â His voice startled Ricky a little, as he hadn't expected him to be awake quite yet. Typically, he always woke up later in the morning and had time to maybe doze off for another hour before Ryan was up, but clearly that wasnât the case this time around.
â
âThought maybe Iâd just keep staring at you.â Ricky spoke with a slight chuckle, and it only furthered his amusement when he caught the smile on Ryanâs face.
â
While Ricky was more than willing to stare at the man below him, it seemed as though Ryan had different ideas. Putting a hand on the back of his neck, he pulled him down into a kiss. Sleepy and lazy, but still a kiss. Friends could kiss, right? Could friends kiss one another and run their hands all over each other's bodies? That wasnât weird. Ricky was a little distracted, and it was almost like Ryan could tell, his hands slipping down to grab the manâs ass, pulling him quickly back to reality and dragging a soft moan out of his throat.
â
âStop thinking so much.â Ryan mumbled against his lips. But Ricky couldnât help it. He couldnât help but wonder why this seemed to only happen in hotel rooms, or why they never spoke about it once it was over. He also couldnât help but wonder how far it would go this time. Grinding? Touching? Maybe Ricky would finally use his mouth, as he had offered some time ago.
â
Ricky pushed his ass back against those big hands, feeling his fingers knead in the flesh. Ryan was right. He needed to stop thinking so much. Because right now, in this moment, he felt good and he didnât have to worry about the conversations that would never happen. Right now, he could grind down against the other manâs lap, feel their lengths brush together, and shove his tongue into the manâs mouth. That didnât require any thinking at all. Though he seemed to be pulled away from his pleasure when he felt two thick fingers brush over his entrance, his hips jerking forward with a small gasp.
â
âNo?â Ryan asked softly, looking up at the man. Ricky was no stranger to bottoming; he just never thought that he would be for Ryan. Heâs felt the manâs size and seen it, and he wasnât above admitting that he touched himself once or twice at the thought of it. He was impressively thick, and the idea of that stretching him out made his dick twitch between them.
â
Honestly, if Ryan had asked â and maybe even if he didnât ask â Ricky would gladly worship his dick, whether it be with his tongue or his hands. Part of the reason he enjoyed grinding so much against the man was their difference in size, watching their dicks slide against one another and barely able to even cover the larger manâs. It wasnât like he was super big, as far as length goes, but his girth was intimidating to anybody. Well, intimidating for anyone except maybe Ricky, who practically drooled at the sight of it. Ricky was smaller, though, and maybe that made it seem like Ryan was bigger, since he beat the man in both size factors. He supposed he would find out this morning.
â
âUh. Lube?â Ryan motioned towards his bag on the bed with a tilt of his head. And it was like a switch was flicked in him, scrambling off of Ryan and careful not to accidentally knee him in his efforts to get out of bed, so he could grab his backpack and dig through the pockets. It didnât take very long to find the bottle, pulling out the half-empty tube and tossing it towards the other. He debated for a moment whether he should grab a condom, but he trusted Ryan. If he had any sort of disease, he would have told him. Besides, it wasnât like he slept around, or else Ricky would have heard about that too.
â
The cap was popped open as Ricky situated himself back on top, watching as those thick fingers were coated in lube and the bottle was discarded next to them for now. And they went right back to how they were, those lazy kisses that were a little sloppy with tongue and probably a little too much spit, as Ryanâs hands moved back to where they were. Ricky pushed back, grinding down against his length with a low moan that was muffled by their lips. Two fingers pressed inside of him, causing that uncomfortable stretch and burn that came along with prep.
â
Prep had always been Rickyâs least favorite part of bottoming, but right now, it was more than enjoyable. He wasnât sure if it was because he was so focused on the pleasure of grinding against his friend, or it was because he was a little too deep in thought when it came to Ryanâs hands, or maybe he was just that good at fingering him open. Whatever the case, Ricky thinks he could stay like this for hours, simply kissing the other breathless with lazy little rolls of his hips as he was worked open, fingers carefully sliding in and out of him.
â
He gave a light nudge to Ryanâs arm, and he was glad the man got the hint, with fingers slowly slipping out of him with a lewd sound to follow. Grabbing the lube that had been discarded, Ricky adjusted the pair as he slicked his hand with the thick substance, reaching behind himself to stroke the other slowly. There was a low groan that came from him, his head pressed back against the pillow and his arms coming up to rest behind his head, after he wiped his lube-covered fingers onto the mattress. Ricky could have stared at him all day. He was thick in all the right ways, and part of him wondered if Ryan would let him grab and massage all over his body, especially his arms and his stomach. Was it strange? Perhaps a little, but it wasnât like he would ever let these things slip out loud, even if it was obvious by the way he was staring. Was he drooling a little? He wouldnât be shocked if he were.
â
Ricky remembers when Ryan was, as a lot of fans called both of them, a âtwink.â And he was attractive then; there was no denying or arguing that, but Ricky wouldnât even imagine doing this with him back then. He wasnât his type. If you ask him, the twink death of Ryan Sitkowski was the best goddamn thing to ever happen.
â
âQuit staring, man.â There was a gentle nudge from Ryan, moving his leg up to garner Rickyâs attention, pulling him away from staring at the manâs body. And maybe that was for the best, before he started thinking about his body hair too.
â
âSorry.â Ricky gave a small smile, although all he got in return was an eyeroll. Clearly his apology wasnât believable. Leaning down to capture his lips once more, he lifted his hips up and adjusted sort of awkwardly before he was able to lower back down onto Ryanâs length, feeling it press against his entrance. There was a soft gasp against his lips that had shifted into a moan when Ryan rolled his hips upward, the head of his cock pushing inside from the movement.
â
It was sort of a process to get adjusted, and Ricky used a lot more lube than he had anticipated. With little movements, taking an inch at a time and trying to ignore the burn, and practically melting at all the praise in that gruff, sleepy tone, Ricky wasnât sure how long it had taken him to be fully seated on his lap. There was a low moan underneath him, and hands had moved at some point to rest on his thighs, brushing over the pale skin, occasionally grabbing and kneading. And there Ricky was, getting lost in the thought of his hands again, more specifically, how big they looked in comparison to his thighs. His mind felt like it was spinning with too many thoughts at once.
â
He needed to stop thinking.
â
âDoing so good.â Ryan muttered against his lips, moans and gentle growls coming from his throat as Ricky moved at a slow pace, carefully rising his hips up and back down. Their bodies radiated heat, a thin layer of sweat to show that, and Rickyâs hair was a little damp too, with strands falling into his face, only for Ryan to push them back how he liked it.
â
Maybe it was because it was so early in the morning or because they both wanted to savor this as much as possible, but they had kept that same pace as long as they could. Rickyâs careful little rocks of his hips, his dick trapped between their stomachs from his current position of leaning down to either kiss the man or simply have their heads pressed together. The contrast of his practically hairless stomach and Ryanâs fur had done a lot more for him than it should have, his dick twitching and leaving a small pool of pre-cum to be smeared between them. Their moans mixed together, often muffled by the otherâs mouth, their heavy breaths meeting and being the only noise in the room, apart from the lewd, wet noises of Ricky slowly fucking himself back onto his bandmate.
â
Ricky wasnât sure he wanted this to end. The idea of letting this much pleasure go after dancing around the mere idea of this for so long made him ache. Surely, they would do this again, and he didnât have to worry about going without it. Their next hotel stop, this would happen again, right? He practically whined at the thought of this being only a one-time thing, and he knew it wasnât fair to already start to pout at a scenario that Ryan had no idea was happening in his head.
â
âYouâre thinking too much again.â Ryan grumbled, his hips jerking forward, disrupting their careful pace and grabbing Rickyâs attention all over again. He yelped softly at the suddenness of it, looking down at Ryan with a small glare.
â
âCanât help it. Thinking about you and how hot you are, and how I really, really want this to happen again.â He confessed with a gentle whine, although it was unclear if it was because of the shift in his hips or because of the thought of missing out on this. Ryan chuckled at him, whatever the reason.
â
âItâll happen again. Stop worrying so much.â Easier said than done. Ricky was a chronic overthinker and worrier. But his mind was wiped clean once more, with only the focus of the here and now, as Ryan grabbed his hips firmly in order to flip their position and pin the smaller man down to the mattress. Ricky thinks he was half a second away from busting at the ease with which he was flipped around.
â
Despite their change in position, their overall pace didnât change too much. Ryan moved slowly still, but it felt as though he had a little more force in his movements, as if trying to get every last inch inside of Ricky and be as deep as he could manage. His arms wrapped around Ryanâs neck loosely, carding fingers through his hair as a tongue invaded his mouth to taste him. He gradually sped up, getting a little faster and keeping a steady rhythm, their noises only getting louder.
â
Ricky might be an overthinker, but it was as though Ryan had reached inside him and grabbed his brain just to throw it away, so he could enjoy this without a thought in his head. It was pure pleasure running through him, his noises flowing so freely and his dick aching for release. He could feel himself right on the edge, just barely on the brink of his orgasm, and it was all he could ever want right now. The moment Ryanâs hand wrapped around him, giving him a few strokes to match the pace he had set, he was done. His back arched off the bed as he let out a soft cry of a moan, spilling onto his stomach.
â
He saw white for a moment, riding out his high with a few involuntary twitches of his hips. He vaguely remembers the feeling of Ryan twitching inside of him as he gave one last hard thrust, finishing inside of the smaller man with that loud, gruff moan that made his softening dick jerk in response.
â
He couldnât help the slight whimper that escaped when he pulled out, nor the grimace on his face when he could feel Ryan dripping out of him. He couldnât recall the last time he allowed a guy to do that to him, and he now remembers why. Ryan only laughed softly, almost breathless, at the look on the guitaristâs face.
â
âShould I pull out next time?â He asked as he flopped down onto the bed, immediately wrapping an arm around Ricky to pull him closer, burying his nose into the damp hair. He could feel a few kisses being left behind on top of his head, and it made him feel just a little less gross.
â
âSo, thereâs a next time?â He could practically hear the roll of Ryanâs eyes, not able to see his face from their current position.
Fresh five for Werewolf!Folio x Reader x Puppy!Noah please đââïž <3
I'll format this later because I'm currently on mobile, but! I thought I'd handwrite the fresh five, so you can see my handwriting (a fun little treat, I'd think) and also how I go about editing my writing on paper. I hope it's not too rough.
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Content warnings: Underage drinking (Noah and Nick are nineteen in one scene), one single reference to pregnancy, wine, intoxication, dirty talk, references to masturbation, oral sex/blowjob, public(? Semi-public?) sex, outdoor sex, exhibitionism (though no one finds them, Noahâs super into the concept), Will spits in Noahâs mouth once, some divine madness in a sexy way, finger sucking, anal fingering and anal sex (trans woman receiving), unprotected sex, cum eating, praise kink (kind of), weird power dynamics.
Summary: While gathered to worship her patron, Noah stumbles upon the very god she has devoted herself to. Somehow, impossibly, he decides that he wants to ruin her.
Word count: Approx. 5,900 words
Authorâs note: Trans woman!Noah and Dionysus!Will, y'all. Anyone have this on your bingo card? If you know a ton about Greek mythology and are fervent about historical accuracy, you might want to skip this. Maenads are a complicated concept from what I understand, but maenads in this fic are simply a special type of female worshipper of Dionysus. They do bloody things on his behalf and hold a special connection, and it's all with full, enthusiastic consent on their part. I also got my information from Wikipedia because the last thing I wanted was to rabbit hole instead of write this silly little thing. It should have been edited a few more times instead of posted, but I'm impatient. It'll see some edits before I crosspost to AO3, at least. Title from "Heaven is Here" by Florence + the Machine, and the divider is by @/saradika-graphics.
Noah refers to her body with the terms âbreasts,â âclitâ but also terms like âheadâ and âglans,â and âentrance.â Take care of yourself and skip this if you're uncertain!
Even before Noah had started her transition, Dionysus had spoken to her.
Dionysus certainly had male followers; he welcomed those of all genders into the revelry, the ecstasy, the cacophony. Maenads, though â those beloved worshippers were women, wrapped in femininity for reasons she was too mortal to question, and her dreams had started long before sheâd begun to question her gender consciously.
In the dreams, she was always a tall, gangly woman with long, flowing hair. Noah decided when she turned thirteen that she would no longer cut her locks and would allow them to grow to the impressive, draping length she saw in what she knew were visions of her future. The dancing she dreamt of started as a slow, swaying sort of movement; as she grew older, the dance intensified, and so did the urge to act it out.
Noah could not dance. That was abundantly clear from a young age â she had no rhythm, couldnât move her hips, would rock her shoulders but not move much else. She could shimmy with the best of them, but dancing was beyond her.
And then she turned nineteen and drank wine for the first time. It was something cheap that her friend Nick had sweet-talked his way into (an oddly rebellious gesture for such a well-mannered, mellow person), but the taste had still sparked something in Noah. She had drained half the bottle on her own, passing it back and forth with Nick, and then stood and danced.Â
Their dorm room was small, but there was just enough room for Noahâs movements. Nick told her afterwards that she had looked like she knew what she was doing. Sheâd looked graceful, even, and he was still amazed that even a god could spark such a drastic shift in demeanor. She had danced until her feet ached, a pleasant buzz filling her skull, and then sheâd collapsed onto Nickâs bed (and Nick) in a fit of giggles.
As Noah came into herself and her womanhood, she also explored her spirituality. Most people had a patron god, but sheâd never announced which deity she was faithful to. It wasnât uncommon to hold that knowledge as something private and treasured, so no one asked, and maybe that was why Noah had hesitated. Given how sheâd grown up, the idea of a higher power who still turned a blind eye to her suffering made her nose curl.
But, eventually, she realized that Dionysus simply wasnât the type to meddle. He asked for worship and offered ecstasy, but he didnât interfere in the lives of his followers. Perhaps if sheâd been a woman who could conceive, he would have offered a blessing longer than a dance or a festival, but he left her well enough alone as it was.
Noah realized that she was fine with that. Sheâd rather leave her fate in her own hands; she wanted agency over her life, and sheâd tired of others making decisions on her behalf. Even if her journey would be more difficult for navigating alone, at least she knew sheâd chosen the path she took.
It wasnât uncommon for Noah to attend gatherings. While she normally hated being around people, worship was different; Dionysus clamored for bodies, for sweat, for movement, for exclamation and intoxication. She would spend her week grinding out music between shifts at some dreadful office job, and then sheâd take Saturday to partake and Sunday to recover.
It was the first time Noah was attending such an event dressed to her calling. Maenads were separate from the average female follower, but theyâd long since ceased demands of formal assignment. Now, people were trusted to be genuine when they claimed divine visions and calls to motion and blood: being a raving one was an honor that came wrapped in just enough violence to deter false professions.
Nick helped her dress but declined attending himself. He apologized a couple of times, voice soft and expression sheepish, but explained that his own patron wasnât the biggest fan of Dionysus. It was a fair enough argument that Noah had simply kissed his cheek and hushed any further attempts at apology.
The orchard was wrapped in twilight, lights twined through the trees and draped between poles staked into the ground. Music played from speakers Noah couldnât locate, and wine flowed freely and excessively. She had only had one glass, but it was enough to set her buzzing; she knew that, once she started her dance, it wouldnât take her long to sink.
Noah adjusted the fawn skin draped over her shoulders and wished sheâd worn something a bit more modest. It wasnât the most scandalous outfit â she wasnât confident enough for that â but the crop top and shorts felt far too scanty. Maybe part of it was the fact that her legs seemed to go on for ages and created the illusion that sheâd donned scraps for shorts.
Someone bumped into her, and Noah gasped, staggered forward. Another person wrapped in the faint fragrance of flowers caught her, and she laughed an apology, self-deprecating and embarrassed. Her eyes took a moment to focus as the stranger reached up to straighten the ivy wreath placed on her head, and the features she finally registered were unfamiliar but still sparked a flame in her gut.
âNo need to apologize,â he assured her, voice loud and confident. The way his fingers lingered at her hair should have made Noahâs skin crawl, but she leaned into it. Even that brief moment of contact had her lips parting and cheeks flushing like sheâd taken a deep, long drink of wine.
It dawned on Noah only after the man had pulled her into the mass of dancing, writhing bodies that she knew who he was. The problem was fathoming why heâd chosen her of all people. There were other maenads here, women draped in snakes and already dropped into ecstatic incoherency. Dionysus seemed to only have eyes for her, hands on her sides to guide her movements in a rhythm more sensual than most of her dances.
They end up plastered together, Noahâs back to his chest, and it only felt a bit silly for the height difference. Noah would have thought a god would want to be the tallest partner in a dance, but Will seemed content for her to grind back on him and his lips to brush against her neck, sparking shivers and shudders.
By the time Noah and Dionysus had slipped from the crowd, most people had joined in the dance. The air was filled with magic, and it seemed that energy was flowing through the god. His skin was almost golden, radiant and warm; his eyes swam with golden swirls, and his touch felt like electric as a hand on the small of Noahâs back guided her toward the wine.
âWhy me?â Noah blurted between sips of sweetness that lingered on her tongue and encouraged her to press even closer to Dionysus. They swayed together absently, following the beat of the music that seemed to grow faint despite no greater distance.
Dionysus raised his eyebrows and smirked around the lip of his glass. âWhy you?â he echoed, like he was waiting for her to hear the punchline in her own words. When Noah just frowned at him, he laughed and shrugged. âYou caught my attention, Noah.â Hearing her name leave his lips made her head go dizzy, and she leaned further into him to steady herself.
It was hard to fathom how sheâd managed that. âIâm no one special,â Noah huffed, though it occurred to her that perhaps that was the point. Maybe Dionysus wanted someone mundane and unremarkable to dance with.
âYou are,â Will disagreed, leaning in and lifting onto his toes to speak against the shell of her ear. âI know how you worship, late at night and alone in bed. I hear the praises fall from your lips. Did you think it wouldnât draw my interest?â His voice was a hum that seemed to come from inside her skull rather than his lips, and the dissonance made her eyelashes flutter.
Noah dared to reach a hand up, twine a finger through Dionysusâs ringlet curls. They were a remarkable bubblegum pink and felt like silk against her skin, and she wondered what itâd be like to grab it by the handful and pull.
Not that Noah needed to think in such a direction while tucked into Dionysusâs side. He certainly already knew her thoughts, and he had clearly been privy to the way she practiced outside of these group rituals, but it wouldnât help her focus.
As it was, her face was flush and her heart felt settled somewhere in her throat, making it hard to catch her breath. âDo I call you Dionysus?â Noah murmured, not certain why she was asking. It felt like someone else was speaking for her, and she swore the branches of the trees were swelling with ripened fruit despite them having been barren of anything but leaves prior.
The god laughed and tilted his head to peer up at Noah. âNo. Call me Will. As much as I enjoy being the god who comes, sometimes being a man who comes is enough for a night,â he snickered, and it was such a juvenile amusement that it jarred Noah for a moment.
Noah blinked at Dionysus â no, at Will â and found her words after a brief pause. âDo you expect me to forget that youâre a god?â she asked, disbelief audible in her voice. How could she ever neglect to acknowledge the magnitude of the figure now tilting her head, hand on her cheek to guide her into a kiss?
It was a kiss that sparked even the nerves down in her toes. By the time Will pulled back, Noah was panting, and her gaze felt heavy and lazy in a way that matched Willâs grin. âOf course not. And you can still worship me, if you want. As long as I can ravage you before the nightâs over.â He said it all so casually, so easily, as if this was nothing more than a hookup.
The contrast was stark between Willâs flippancy and Noahâs urge to hit her knees despite the fact they were surrounded by people (someone bumped into Will as they stumbled to pour themself more wine, seemingly oblivious to who he was). Let them witness how devoted she was.
Will clicked his tongue and gave a small shake of his head. âAt least wander into the orchard with me,â he encouraged, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. âPeaches are your favorite, arenât they? Iâll pluck you the ripest I can summon, and then Iâll let you settle at my feet to worship.â He kissed her knuckles, grinning against the skin. âIf youâll let me, Noah, Iâll ruin you.â
It felt so natural to follow Will â sheâd done it most of her life, chasing fragments and dreams and glimpses given in moments of revelry and movement. Now she even had a hand in hers, a physical tether for Noahâs faith to orient itself around, and a grinning face to attach her belief and devotion to.
Gods, wasnât Will beautiful. As they danced in and out of shadows, steps taking on a rhythm that echoed the music still trailing faintly after them, Noah found herself staring. He was captivating, the large plugs in his ears catching light that wasnât there and the ink on his skin appearing to move and dance in the split second before she blinked.
Noah was given a peach. The gift was presented with a flourish and a devilish little grin curling the corners of Willâs lips, an expression to match how his gaze sharpened as she brought the fruit to her mouth. It was full in her hands, swollen and ripe; the skin was soft, faintly fuzzy, and it was firm to squeeze in her hand.
As Noah bit down and it gave beneath her teeth, she felt juice spill down her chin. Her face heated and she attempted to turn away, tried to duck behind her hair and conceal the mess she was making, but Will was suddenly close, fingers on her cheek to keep her still. She tried to focus on how sweet the peach was as she chewed and swallowed, but all she could really register was the faint brush of silken skin along her cheekbone.
âSorry,â she rasped, as if the mess was wasteful. In reality, she felt foolish and overwhelmingly mortal for it, and she reached her free hand to wipe at it. Before she could attempt to tidy herself (or, more likely, merely smear the juices into her skin further), Willâs free hand caught her wrist, the digits wrapping easily and bringing stillness without any force behind the digits.
Will shook his head, slivered that distance between them even further, and licked his lips. âLet me help,â he said softly. It likely wasnât meant as an order, but she certainly took it as one â after all, who was she to ignore the words of her patron? He leaned up and in, tongue dragging up her throat, tracing the shape of her chin; it barely brushed her bottom lip and then was gone, the motion repeated to lap up more of the sticky liquid.
By the fourth drag of his tongue, Noah was shuddering and shaking, gaze blurring a bit with the effort of remaining still and obedient. Finally, that little hint of wet heat against her bottom lip prompted words to spill from where sheâd held them captive behind her teeth. âMay I kiss you, Dionysus?â she exhaled, lashes fluttering.
There was no correction for the name Noah uttered, and she herself was too captivated by how Will gazed into her eyes and the way everything around them grew faint and distant to offer an apology. âYouâre still a mess, Noah,â he started, âbut I suppose you will be until the revelryâs over. Kiss me.â
Noah couldnât recall another divine message that had been easier to follow. She moved with blind faith and hunger, leaning down to kiss Will with reverence-tempered hunger. The peach fell from her fingers, dropped into the grass, and was immediately forgotten as Will met her need with desire of his own.
Their lips danced the same way Noah would when wrapped in wine-tinged divine madness, urgent and fast and with enough force to it all to bruise. Willâs hands found her bare hips and kneaded, pulled her flush against him, and Noahâs arms remained at her sides for only moments before she grasped his face. The way his cheeks swelled against her palms with a grin felt like fate, a predetermination sheâd never thought to anticipate.
It felt like a gift to finally settle on her knees. Noah was eased down by Willâs soft words, and he adjusted the wreath on her head a second time as she peered up at him. âMy beautiful maenad,â he murmured with a heated sort of affection. He looked a bit like a snake sizing up his prey despite the warmth; she almost expected him to unhinge his jaw and swallow her whole.
âMy beloved god,â Noah replied in a soft murmur, undoing his pants and pulling his cock free with hands that trembled and shook. The grass tickled her bare knees as she settled, and it was difficult to ignore the warmth settling in her own groin, but she found it hard to mind either sensation as she stroked Willâs cock.
Will was nothing spectacular in terms of length or girth, but there was something for the warmth of his cock, how it leaked for her, the way it tasted on her tongue. She lapped and suckled the tip for a moment, eyes still locked on Will for an inability to look away; she wanted to watch Will unravel within the heat of her mouth, and she needed him to see how desperately she wanted this.
Sucking Willâs cock was a novel form of worship that Noah sank into with mirth. She gazed up at him as she bobbed her head, slowly and leisurely as each gradual sinking of his cock down her throat earned a throaty moan from Will. His fingers gathered her hair, pulled it back in a fistful behind her head without dislodging her wreath, and she moved a bit faster as his hips began to twitch forward faintly.
Noah kept her hands in her own lap, clasped together tightly to keep them from wandering; her own pleasure wasnât the purpose of this act, and she dared not distract herself. It all felt like sinking into the haze of wine-induced intoxication â different for her, as a follower of Dionysus, than the average person. She could feel prickles of sensation sparking gooseflesh on her bare thighs and arms, and she swore there was a faint thrum audible in the air.
âAh,â Will gasped, grip tightening on Noahâs hair. âDo you want your reward?â He didnât allow Noah to pull off to answer; when she attempted to, he used his fistful of her hair to pull her back down. She went willingly, tears prickling in her eyes as she attempted to nod around the cock that throbbed on her tongue. âGood girl,â he crooned.
Madness began to sink into Willâs movements then. He used her throat with far less care than heâd handled her with up until that moment, but he still traced the seam of her lips with a touch so light that it made her dizzy. He offered little warning for the gift that spilled, merely grunted and then pulled her head down to ensure he came down her throat in firm, insistent pulses.
When Noah was released, tears wet her cheeks and spit had joined the remnants of juice slicking her chin. She blinked and swayed, sitting back on her heels as she took rasping, shaking breaths. It barely registered that Willâs free hand clutched hers, provided a pressure and grip that kept her from floating.
By the time Noah regained awareness, Willâs cock was still flush and erect. She opened her mouth to inquire, wondering if perhaps she hadnât managed to satisfy the god, but then Willâs voice danced through her skull. âI told you that I would ruin you, Noah. I havenât done that yet.âÂ
The idea of any further pleasure almost overwhelmed her. Noah nodded, though, stood and brushed the grass from her knees. She kissed Will at his behest, the hand on her throat squeezing in a wordless prompting to part her lips; he licked into her mouth, perhaps chasing the taste of his own godly seed, and then he pulled back to offer a cheshire grin that further stilted the rhythm of her heart.
âIâll take you on your back, so I can see your beautiful face,â Will told her, and his teeth seemed to flash impossibly bright in the bare scraps of moonlight. In fact, everything stood out in stark detail, even as far from the lights as they were; it allowed her to catch the way his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second and the twitch of his hand at his side.
Noah felt overwhelmingly bashful at the thought of being perceived in a moment so vulnerable, but she couldnât fathom denying her god this wish. She would relinquish this and any further request without hesitation, would scoop out her insides and offer them in certainty-steady hands if that was what Will desired.
For now, it seemed that Will would be satisfied with her laying in the grass, shorts and underwear pulled off and tucked against her side for ease of retrieval. He settled between her slim thighs and raked his gaze over her body; after a pause, her chest was bared as well, crop top shoved up to her collarbone to expose her breasts. She had such small swells of flesh that she didnât typically bother wearing a bra, and the bare air against them caused her nipples to pebble.
As Will looked her over, his fingers trailed along with the heat of his attention. He seemed particularly taken with the divots of her hips and that seam where they met her legs, but perhaps that fascination was inspired by how she twitched and leaked at each soft brush of fingertips.
The attention was already enough that Noah felt set to spill over. Her eyes scrunched shut and she took a breath to settle the urge to writhe, fingers scratching at the ground. She fisted blades of grass, pulled some free, caught dirt beneath her nails. âI hope,â she started, voice unbearably small for the immensity of the god above her, âIâm enough for you.â
It felt borderline blasphemous to even aspire for such a feat. Will had undoubtedly laid countless mortals and nymphs and gods alike bare before him; heâd certainly taken beings far more beautiful and remarkable than Noah. But it was also a sincere sentiment. Foolish as it was, she desired to sate that peculiar and inexplicable hunger she could feel emanate from Willâs mostly-clothed figure.
Will did not seem inclined toward rushing the experience, despite the fact Noah was exposed in such a public space. She found it more euphoric than anxiety-inducing to consider that anyone could stumble upon her pleasing her patron in such an embodied manner, and she spread her legs further at the thought, head tipping back to bare her throat. She wished there was more to expose, greater vulnerability to present.
At least his touches found greater firmness. Willâs palms pressed flush against her stomach, slid up her torso until he cradled her small breasts in hand; he gave small, gentle kneads as he leaned over her. âLook at me.â When she acquiesced, unwavering in her obedience, he gave a crooked little smile as his face hovered above hers. âOpen your mouth.â Again, the words left his lips and she acted without conscious thought.
Noah was uncertain what to expect, but Will spitting in her mouth caught her off guard in a manner she hadnât anticipated. She blinked as heat swelled in her face and tinted her cheeks, but she swallowed when prompted and then parted her lips again as if an inspection would render any sort of meaningful verdict. Maybe she was hoping for another gift of the same nature, unpredictable but gratifying; the blessing had stirred her gut, twisted her lust into something thick and desperate.
She knew better than to rush Will, though. Time itself seemed to slip, and Noah caught sight of stars behind Willâs head that appeared to shift and spin in the darkness of space. Her gaze snapped back to Will as one hand released her breast to snake fingertips down her stomach.Â
âYouâre such an obedient girl, Noah,â Will sighed, voice lilted and honey sweet. His touch was warm enough to melt any lingering tension in her spine as it finally found her clit, half-hard in that manner she found so gender affirming but dripping from desperation and desire. He seemed to know exactly how to touch Noah too, grazing along the length of her but focusing in on the head of her clit. He rubbed at the glans, slid the pads of his fingers over where she was wet and leaking, and murmured the entire time.
Will was certainly offering something coherent and logical. Despite the full sentences he undoubtedly uttered, words all orderly and comprehensible, Noah only caught snippets that did not result in anything she could parse. Did she need to understand what he was saying, though? Just the rumble of his words in her ears was enough for her to sink, eyes hooded as she shuddered out breaths and stared up at Willâs warm, glowing face.
How nice it felt to drift downwards into the haze and bliss of ecstasy. It was the type of sensation that Noah chased, and she typically only achieved it after several glasses of wine and dance so intense and fervent that her ankles creaked in protest and the echoes of exertion thrummed through her muscles the next day.
Now it was Will pulling her into the depths of something close to madness, albeit not as permanent. Occasionally she indulged in thoughts of what it would be like to lose herself entirely, to submerge and never resurface, but then she would think of Nick and realize she had something to cling to with sanity and coherency. As Nick flickered through her mind for a split second, she realized even that was not enough to anchor her in the moment.
As Will plucked notes of pleasure from her body that vibrated in her gut like the composition of a well-rehearsed melody, Noah relinquished her entire self to it. She arched up beneath his touch and breathed pleas for more, uncertain of what she craved but trusting Will to bless her with it regardless. How could she not trust a god who seemed to have settled just beneath her skin in a manner that suggested he fit perfectly? How could she not trust a god whom she had seemingly been crafted and shaped for?
Will pressed his fingers to Noahâs lips, and she granted him entry without thought. Her tongue curled around the digits and she indulged in mindless, sloppy drooling â only partially to better slick Willâs digits. As he pulled them back and her desperate, trembling gasps spilled into the air once more, one hand kept teasing at her clit and the other moved to press a single digit against her entrance.
There was a mere moment of teasing, and then Willâs finger sank inside her. Noah whimpered at how her body simply welcomed him in; she frequently filled herself but still found surprise in how little pain there was. It was merely a gentle, warming stretch, an easy press to the knuckle.Â
It brought back recollections in brief flickers of her working herself open late at night, gasping for Dionysus as she brought herself to the brink, over and over, in search of his divine presence. She always used her fingers, never a toy, preferring the warmth of the long digits and a human touch curling and pressing. Nothing she had ever managed on her own, tangled in her own sheets or with a cheek pressed to her pillow, felt quite like this.
Not even anotherâs touch had felt so blissful. Noah recalled the few times she had fallen into bed with Nick, surreptitious affairs they ignored in an attempt to obscure reality from themselves, and marveled at how his fingers and cock had felt so overwhelming in the moment, only to pale in comparison to the sensations flooding her body now.
Noah moved with the thrusts of Willâs fingers, meeting them with leisurely rocks of her hips; she dared not touch him, left her arms at her side despite the urge to cradle his face and stroke his hair with hands adoring and reverential. And as Will added a second finger, a third, he leaned down to press a slow, wet kiss to her lips and murmured, âTouch yourself for me, beautiful maenad.â
How could she not obey? Noahâs hand drifted to her clit and began to offer herself the same manner of touches Will had gifted her before, albeit a bit firmer and more insistent as she followed her pleasure down a winding, shadowed path. Her eyes had drifted shut to relish in the feeling of Will filling her so wholly and sweetly, but they opened now as Will withdrew those very fingers.
She didnât register any complaints or begging from her own lips, but it seemed something had spilled from them for the way Will grinned and shushed her. âIâll give you what you need,â he promised her, repeating the words as she felt the tip of his cock bump against her entrance. He teased her for what felt like an eternity, as if he spent hours merely circling and circling and circling, and then he began to slowly, sweetly sink inside.
It felt inconsequential that they were amidst the trees of an orchard or that there was a teeming, bustling crowd of revelers a few dozen yards away. Noahâs back bowed and she wailed her pleasure, a trembling sort of sound drawn out until it broke for the overwhelming sensation of Willâs hips meeting her flesh.
As Will began to move, Noahâs eyes slid shut once more. It felt too overwhelming to stare up at the god, expression fond as he offered a dimpled, lazy-lidded grin â he seemed far more composed than her, clearly experiencing pleasure but nowhere near the point of unraveling. Noah felt as if she had been haphazardly stitched up and left adorned in loose threads. All Will would need to do would be tug at one, and her insides would spill out.
The visions that danced across Noahâs eyelids felt familiar. When she would dance, Dionysus would often fill her thoughts with images and sensations, smells and phantom tastes on her tongue, and she found that being in his presence only amplified the richness. She saw vines wrapping around her ankles, up her calves, up her thighs â enveloping her like an embrace before blossoming and blooming. It turned her into something beautiful and more alive than she could have ever achieved on her own, and it set her nerves alight in a way that induced a steady tremble in her limbs.
One of Willâs hands settled on Noahâs throat, an expanse of inked skin she eagerly bared to him. There was no pressure behind it, despite what Noah might have typically craved or encouraged, but it was more than enough. She wondered how intently her pulse thrummed beneath his fingers and if he could feel her throat work with each gasp and whimper of his name. Will found its way from her lips more often than not, but occasionally his godly name escaped, and she found both induced a throb in her clit.
Willâs other hand clutched at Noahâs hip and pulled her down to meet his thrusts. She realized, belatedly, that sheâd gone limp beneath him, far too overwhelmed with pleasure to offer the sort of movements that her lust would have typically prompted. Part of her prayed that Will wasnât disappointed in her for it, for the fallibility of her mortal self, and Willâs grin grew in a way that told her heâd heard the pleas.
âYouâre far from disappointing,â Will purred down at her, fingers digging into the softness at her hip. She wondered if it would be uncouth and too forward to request he leave her bruises to recall the evening by, and a moment later she felt his grip tighten enough to earn a soft wail. The ache of it promised a visible reminder, and she knew that such a guarantee would unspool any last remnant of restraint.
Noah wasnât certain which moment was the one she came undone. By the time she realized, her pleasure had twisted into something edging on discomfort, and her fingers were slick with her own release as they mindlessly continued to touch, to rub. Will had given her a command, and she wouldnât cease until he acknowledged the end of her task, even as her hips twitched in protest and her face scrunched.
The moment of relief was found in Willâs hand moving from her throat to her wrist. He pulled Noahâs hand to his mouth and sucked her fingers between his lips, tongue laving over the skin as he groaned low and melodic. His hips stuttered, each thrust ever more forceful and growing increasingly staggered, and then he growled something so brutal and harsh that Noah gasped at the mere sound of it.
As Will came inside her, Noah wondered how she was meant to ever relinquish the god back to his duties. She longed to covet him and keep him close, and the kiss he offered her as he slid his cock free only lodged that selfish and wholly unwise desire deeper inside her chest. She allowed herself the sin of touch now, and she cupped his full cheeks in her hands, pulled him down for a second kiss she had no right to lay claim to.
Will indulged her regardless. In fact, he lay next to her on the fawn skin sheâd not registered beneath her back, and they curled up together as one kiss bled into another. His mouth grew familiar and ever the more intoxicating for it, and she whispered his name in those moments of hushed breaths. âWill,â she murmured, a countless utterance of it, as if she could keep him in proximity through name alone.
Eventually, as the celebration in the distance carried into more erratic revelry and lifted itself into more maddened forms in the small hours of the morning, Will did withdraw. He sat up and smiled down at her something fond and a touch distant. âYou were perfect,â he assured her before doubts could bloom among her thoughts.
He stroked Noahâs hair back from her face in a gesture almost studious in its attentiveness, and Will only stood once he had righted her clothes and granted her a modesty she felt no attachment to. Surely anyone who could find her in such a state would understand the awe and amazement of such an experience, and theyâd feel envy rather than contempt or disgust.
âI donât think Iâm finished with you, Noah,â Will announced, even as he fixed his own attire. She realized now how mundane his appearance was as a whole, and she considered that he had been tangled amongst the crowd when sheâd stumbled upon him. Maybe his presence had graced the space on previous evenings, and she had simply been unaware of how close she was to divinity.
She knew sheâd seek him out now, any time wine or festivity blessed a space. Noah sat up and offered a shaking, flushed smile. âI hope not.â Her voice was small, and she wondered how inconsequential her existence was in the face of Willâs godhood. She marveled at the fact heâd deemed her worthy of this encounter, and she couldnât fathom that he would desire further interaction.
Willâs figure grew faint as he took one step backwards, then another. Each stride tugged at Noahâs gut, as if some invisible string had twined around her and bound her to Will. She had assumed some sort of connection prior, but now she knew sheâd been blessed with something far more meaningful and intimate than most worshippers could ever begin to dream of.
âThank you,â Noah blurted upon realizing she had yet to express her gratitude. All that echoed in return was a laugh, faint and lilted, and then Will stepped into shadows and was lost. She sat for a while and stared at the space, perhaps hoping heâd return; after it became clear that he had departed for places or perhaps people more dignified and important than her, she stood and went about brushing the grass and leaves from her clothing.
When Noah returned to the party, she found the music and laughter rang hollow in the face of what she had experienced. She exchanged curt nods and brief touches to elbows as she swam through the crowd, but she quickly found her way to the beat-up thing she called her car and then made a commute she couldnât recall back to her dorm.
As she sank into her sheets, Nick sleeping soundly across the room, Noah touched her own lips and wondered when sheâd get to taste Dionysus again.
Tag list: @ami-gami, @dodgersnotebook, @desperatetype, @ladyveronikawrites, @malice-ov-mercy
Content Warnings: 18+, explicit, somnophilia, trans man!Vinny, oral
Vinny goes to bed way too late sometimes. He gets distracted with gaming, with editing a new video, with being on call with his friends, and he rolls into bed at a stupid hour of the night, after Justin has already gone to sleep. His head usually hits the pillow and heâs out like a light, all snuggled up next to his giant of a boyfriend.
Sometimes Justin hates that Vinny gets so distracted and invested in holding up in that room of his all day. And sometimes, Justin realizes that he can simply make it up to himself the next morning by diving underneath the covers, to get in between a sleeping drummerâs legs.
He can simply spread open Vinnyâs thighs, reveal his âpretty cuntâ â Justinâs words, not Vinnyâs â to him while he listens to those quiet little snores. And he can just as easily run his tongue over his hole and his dick, before wrapping his lips around it to gently suck and lap at. He loves to make Vinny squirm and whine, even while heâs sleeping. He loves to dip his fingers inside of him, feel how wet he is, and devour him.
âGood morning to you too,â is what comes out of Vinnyâs mouth, all sleepy and groggy, but Justin doesnât stop. Or at least, not until the drummerâs perfect arch is on display, a cry of a moan is let out, and Justin has the taste of Vinny all over his face.
Content warnings: References to grief (I donât really go into it, just hint at it); ice cream; scratching; biting; unprotected sex; rimming; anal fingering; dirty talk; referenced masturbation and (kind of) voyeurism/exhibitionism; rough anal sex; knotting.
Summary: A trip out for ice cream and an excessive amount of Axe body spray finally prompts Justin to act on feelings he's been harboring.
Word count: Approx. 5,400 words
Authorâs note: This has been in progress for . . . a while. Major shoutout to @desperatetype for beta reading this grammatically bonkers thing, and I'd also like to thank Dodger for the unending encouragement. I had no idea when I started this that I'd go on this kind of journey, and these guys took me places that I had definitely not expected. In general, I think I did too much lore building for it being a standalone (a different series with werewolf!Justin is in the works, though), but it was fun to write. I hope y'all enjoy! Title from "Wasp" by Motionless In White (no, not "Werewolf"), and the divider's by @/saradika-graphics.
Living with a werewolf was a lot like having a dog â not always, not with every wolf, but definitely with this one specifically. Maybe it was because Justin wasnât bitten; he was born a wolf but oddly socialized. He swore he used to be a normal member of his pack, well-behaved and obedient, but now Justin was . . . well, he was still obedient, at least.
Losing a pack was a traumatic experience. Chris was merely a human, not a werewolf, but he knew that much. Heâd heard stories, seen the effects; rather than become some hollowed-out shell howling at shadows in hopes of hearing a familiar echo, though, Justin seemed to have grown outwards in search of meaning. The face he turned toward the world without the shape his pack provided him to fill was vibrant and colorful.
Shortly after moving in with Chris, an odd string of events that Chris could never relay to someone else in a way that made sense, Justin had asked if Chris could teach him how to do his makeup. âI never got to learn,â Justin explained, looking sheepish â a peculiar expression and demeanor for such a large, bulky frame.
So Chris sat Justin down in fits and bursts: the first time was the longest, Chris doing Justinâs entire face in makeup with input and feedback from the supernatural as they went. Justin had stared for a long minute and then grinned, a slightly unsettling sight with the lipstick stretched too far past his lips, but it had been so endearing. And kind of hot.
Within a few weeks, Justin was doing his own makeup pretty regularly â most of the looks bizarre, far from natural. Some days he couldnât be bothered, of course, but he seemed to be in a better mood while he was done up in pale foundation. He didnât go out in it, but that was because he didnât go out at first. He wouldnât talk about it, always finding something else, anything else to interject with when Chris tried to ease an explanation from him, but it was obviously something that haunted him.
Chris was haunted too, so he didnât press the issue. If Justin didnât demand that Chris bare his own ghosts, Chris wouldnât demand a recounting of skeletons. Heâd let the cobwebs settle if that was what Justin needed.Â
âWe should go out,â Chris said one day, offhanded and casual. They were cooking, Ricky due to come over soon â he had an odd banter with Justin but always somehow ended up perched on his knee, so Chris assumed they liked each other.
Justin glanced over at Chris and blinked at him like the words were impossible to translate into something that made sense. âGo out?â he echoed, and there was that curious little tilt of his head, a puppy dog angle that said Justin wasnât entirely opposed to it, just confused.
A pause as Chris nudged at Justinâs shoulder with his own, a gentle herding out of the way so Chris had access to the pan. It was always convenient that he could angle his body a certain way, move in closer, and Justin would mindlessly drift in whatever direction Chris wanted. âYeah, we could go get ice cream. You always eat all of the pints I bring home.â It was more amusing than anything, because no human could feasibly put away entire tubs of ice cream in an hour the way that Justin could.
Oh, that seemed to get Justinâs interest in full. He perked up, and Chris could almost imagine a tail lifting, wagging without reserve, the same way Justinâs wolf would swing their own when they saw Chris in the woods on a full moon â the only time Justin left the house, though that never felt like a proper trip, given it was from the front door to Chrisâs car, then from Chrisâs car to the woods near his place.Â
âYeah, that sounds good. Iâd be up for it,â Justin agreed with a sort of levity that struck Chris as odd. He had expected resistance disguised as an absentminded detour, not an easy sort of acquiescence; that being said, he certainly wasnât complaining. Ricky had a stubborn streak wide enough to satisfy any yearning Chris might have had for a brat.
Chris took Justin out for ice cream the next day. Justin was quiet the walk there, the time they sat at the booth, and the traipse back home. The door shut and then Justin made a face, shaking out his arms. âI forgot how many things smelled,â he commented, which struck Chris as odd. His house smelled too, but he could have been misunderstanding.Â
âDid something stink?â he asked, toeing off his shoes and watching Justin pause mid-step as he scrambled to get his own off.
Justin shook his head, stopped, then snorted. âI mean, some guy reeked of Axe body spray. That sucked. But there were so many scents that I didnât know. I guess I knew them, I could tell you what they were, they just werenât familiar.â The attempt at the explanation was interrupted mid-sentence at one point, briefly, by Justin flopping on the couch.
Chris made a vague noise of understanding: Justin hadnât left the house much since Chris had brought the shifted and wounded wolf home. In fact, as far as he knew, Justin had only ventured outside of the four walls to shift in the nearby woods once a full moon.Â
âWas it okay otherwise? Besides the smells?â Chris asked, emphasizing the last word in the same manner Justin had. He was pleased that it made Justin snort, always enjoying when he could make the large man laugh â it was such a full sound, teeming with amusement and often joy. It contrasted sharply with the manner in which Justin would shut down, how heâd rarely but markedly withdraw into shadows cast by something Chris couldnât see.
A slow, almost leisurely nod from Justin before his head rolled back to rest against the couch. âYeah, it was okay. The ice cream was banger.â He gave a lopsided grin, then patted the cushion next to him. âI do have a weird favor to ask,â he added, as if most of his requests werenât odd.
Curiosity was what pushed Chris to oblige without an immediate inquiry, settling much less emphatically than Justin. Though similar in height, Justin was thicker, but the disparity in size still didnât quite seem to account for the difference in the manner of their movements. Chris often imagined how Justin might have moved and carried himself when hunting: a contrasting litheness that allowed him to move with subtlety and care, no longer stomping about and seeming to ensure his own safety through heft alone.
Before Chris could ask, Justin was hauling him in by the shoulder and nosing his way into Chrisâs hair. It earned a brief, surprised tensing from Chris, but then he relaxed into it, trusting Justin to remain affectionate despite how bizarre and unexpected such a gesture was. âThe new smells have me feeling weird. Figured something familiar might help.â He burrowed further into Chrisâs strands and inhaled deeply enough for even human ears to catch the sound.
Chris laughed. âYou could have asked,â he remarked, though he notably did not pull away or protest. In fact, a hand landed on Justinâs thigh, perhaps a bit higher on the thick, muscled limb than strictly necessary. He allowed Justin the chance to breathe in his scent uninhibited, tilting his head in bemused compliance when the werewolf nosed lower. A tucking in of his face against the crook of Chrisâs jaw, and Justin seemed to settle there, content.
âI can hear your heartbeat,â Justin announced, breaking the silence that had settled, softly accented by sniffling and the rustling of clothes as they both shifted around to find comfortable positions. âYou have a werewolf right at your throat . . .â He moved then, lips barely brushing against Chrisâs neck, over the ink-adorned skin. â. . . and you sound calm. Relaxed. Like weâre watching a dumb reality show together.â Chris was certain Justin heard the momentary jar in rhythm when teeth grazed flesh, though it certainly wasnât a fear response.
Chris illustrated the effect it had on him by tipping his head and baring his throat further. Perhaps there might have been a risk there, had the wolf been anyone but Justin. Five months couldnât reasonably justify such a deep-rooted trust, but something about the manner in which Justin unfailingly gazed at Chris had settled any reservations only weeks into having his bizarre new housemate.Â
There was a remarkably tinted fondness for Justin, something Chris had hesitated to act on for the ambiguity of its nature. It was a peculiar sort of affection: there was undoubtedly a carnal sort of desire, twisted and hot, but Justin felt more akin to a pet at times than a partner. Perhaps it was cruel and unkind, but Chris was unable to shape it into something more appropriate.
Chrisâs words were soft, and he felt Justin press a faintly-stubbled cheek to the column of his throat as if in search of the vibrations that shook his vocal cords. âI know you wonât hurt me.â The statement came with an unwavering, solid sort of assurance, and he punctuated the confidence by carding fingers through Justinâs hair but allowing him to continue mouthing at his neck.
One of Justinâs hands â a big, occasionally clumsy paw of a thing, all thick fingers and calloused palm â moved to Chrisâs chest and slid down slowly. He kneaded at the hint of softness of Chrisâs lower stomach, above the fabric of his shirt but still remarkably hot upon contact. For all of the remarks Justin offered about feeling cold, the chill that seemed to haunt him despite the reasonable temperature Chris kept his house at, every instance of physical contact had involved surprise at how warm Justin was.
âYeah?â Justin rumbled, and there was a heat to his words now as well. He gave Chrisâs skin firm kisses, a series of them down the length of offered flesh. âYou think youâve got the feral wolf tamed?â Chris found himself moaning softly at the feeling of a tongue dragging up, never one for restraining or concealing his own pleasure.
Chris laughed softly, though the amusement wavered a bit when it left his slightly-parted lips. âFeral, sure. Tamed?â He made a thoughtful noise, turning over the notion in his head. âNot quite yet, but I think itâd be fun to get you there,â he mused, giving Justinâs hair a sharp, short tug â meant to sting, not to dislodge him from his attentive, languid lavishing.
The way they settled into it felt easy and natural, even though theyâd spent the past months merely dancing around the static between them. Justinâs gaze tended to linger for longer than Chrisâs did, and there had been a sort of amusement sparked by it that led to Chris seeing how long it would take for Justin to break. After all, with how insistent Justinâs attention was, Chris was curious when that desire would boil over.
Justinâs hand moved to settle on Chrisâs throat, and Chris started to turn toward the werewolf, but Justin was already there â he kissed Chris a little lopsided, growling low in his throat despite how he almost missed Chrisâs mouth. He pulled back just enough for Chris to properly face him and proceeded to devour him, all lips and tongue and more than a little teeth. He leaned his whole body into it, the hand not settled on Chrisâs neck shoving up under his shirt to paw at bare skin.
Chris found Justinâs appetite sparked his own. There was something about how eagerly Justin took â taking, not asking, not waiting for a wordless agreement, just surging forward and tasting â that made it easy to give in. Despite that, there was no question as to who was in charge; just to prove his point to himself, Chris broke the kiss and exhaled, âStop.â It was barely audible to his own ears, but there was no doubt Justin caught the word.
The response was instant â Justin pulled back, panting softly, and stared at Chris with a hooded, starved gaze. For how his fingers twitched against Chrisâs stomach, he didnât move, just waited. Chris could feel the need buzzing beneath Justinâs skin, but that didnât manifest externally in impatience or frustration. Despite the fact that Chris hadnât tamed Justin yet, the werewolf still heeled beautifully.
âI am not fucking you on the couch,â Chris announced, and that statement did earn a whine â one that quieted the second Chrisâs eyebrows rose. âWeâre going to my bed.â Despite the fact Justin still had a light but steady grip on his throat, Chrisâs voice was unwavering.
There was no hesitation on Justinâs part. He jumped up and tugged Chris with him by both hands in a gesture so innocently eager that Chris laughed. As Justin herded him like a lost sheep into his bedroom, Chris glanced back and smirked. He would have so much fun taking this hulking wolf apart until Justin howled on command, and there was no doubt Justin would come back for seconds.
Despite that lust, tinged at the edges in something almost mean in nature, there was also fondness in Chrisâs chest. It swelled as Justin abandoned Chris to dive into Chrisâs bed, burying his face in Chrisâs blankets to blatantly inhale his scent. Justin continued to nose around and sniff as Chris flicked on the light, only lifting his head and blinking with a faintly puzzled expression when Chris cleared his throat.
âOh,â Justin uttered, sitting up. âWe were gonna fuck.â He sounded like he had genuinely forgotten, had derailed thoroughly once given the opportunity to bury himself in Chrisâs scent, and Chris wondered if it could truly be blamed on the heavy-handed Axe scent from before. Certainly Justin had lingered close before, had lifted his nose slightly in a gesture Chris had no problem deciphering, but it had never been this full-bodied and enthusiastic.
Maybe Justin had harbored greater feelings than Chris had caught hints of.
Chris tilted his head with a challenge to his words. âWould you rather roll around in the sheets? I can go do something else.â As if Chris would be content with leaving this where it was, unresolved and burning in his own gut. As if Chris wasnât determined to have Justin in every way possible, to sate the part of himself that had lingered on thoughts of how the werewolfâs cock would feel fucking him open.
Justin snorted. âYeah, sure. Go fold towels. Iâll just jerk off in your bed.â As if to convey he was joking, he moved forward â clumsy despite his supernatural nature, something Chris found endlessly amusing â and grabbed at Chrisâs sides. A far from gentle tug on Chrisâs hips had Chris falling into the bed, laughing again. Justin didnât hesitate, hands all but yanking at Chrisâs clothes. âI need you naked,â he insisted.
Part of Chris wanted to chastise Justin for his demand, but Chris couldnât deny he also needed them both stripped bare. He wanted his fingers and teeth on the parts of Justin heâd yet to see, desired mapping out those places that made Justin squirm or moan. There was an urge to press at the vulnerable bits, to get this wolf on his back and helpless, just to prove he could.Â
It didnât take much. The undressing part of the endeavor was clumsy and stuttered for how earnest Justin was, the way his hands fumbled and their limbs bumped into each other. Eventually, Chris pushed Justinâs chest until the werewolf laid on his back. âStay,â he ordered. Since Justin was already naked, somehow, all he had to do was stand and finish peeling off his own clothes.
Once Chris stripped, he sat on Justinâs thighs and grinned down at him. It felt like a feral expression, something tilted and toothy, and it matched how he dragged his nails down Justinâs chest. He watched the werewolfâs back arch up into the touch, drinking in the low, rattling groan that emanated from Justinâs bared throat. The lines were bright red and vivid but faded almost instantly, and Chris frowned to himself.
âDo you always heal that fast?â Chris inquired, repeating the motion and watching the same process occur. When Justin nodded, he leaned down to dig his teeth into the strong line of Justinâs shoulder â a hard, deep bite that came without warning. It would have drawn blood if Justin had been human, but now it earned Chris another throaty sound and nails scrabbling at his own hips. He pulled back, caught the shadowed remnants that faded a moment later.Â
Justin shrugged in odd contrast to his sharp, ragged breaths. âIt takes a lot to mark me up. I donât think anyoneâs left something that lasted.â He was clearly lying: there was a scar on his right shoulder, close to the curve where it met his neck, raised tissue in the shape of teeth. Part of Chris wanted to press the issue, and he even brushed his fingers over what had obviously been a bite, but then Justin bristled and he decided to set it aside.
Chris found it far more enticing â and far easier â to introduce himself to Justinâs dick. It was certainly appropriate for the size of the werewolf himself: long and thick, a hefty weight in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it and gave a few experimental pumps. âYou know, I donât usually choke on dicks,â he mused aloud, absentmindedly, ignoring the way Justin whined in the back of his throat and pressed up into his touch, âbut I think youâd make a mess of me with this one.â
A soft, trembling breath left Justin. âThanks? I think?â he managed. âOr please? Fuck, Chris.â The twist of Chrisâs hand just below the crown had Justin shuddering, eyes scrunched shut against the pleasure Chris could feel thrumming through Justinâs body. His free hand wandered and groped, scratched and clawed despite the futility to it: there was something about the little bit of give above hard, firm muscle that made Chris faintly delirious.
But what a waste itâd be, really, to have such a large cock in his hand and not get fucked stupid by it. Chris released Justinâs dick and stood, laughing openly at how Justin whined and immediately sat up to chase him. He shoved at Justinâs broad chest, hard enough to make his point but nowhere near firmly enough to actually move him, and tried to give a stern look that was completely undermined by how funny he found the predictability of it all. âStay,â he repeated.
Chris took his time getting the condom heâd forgotten earlier. He toyed with it for a moment, glanced back over his shoulder at Justin (who hadnât actually laid back down but had at least stayed where he was on the bed), and held up the shiny foil packaging. âDo you want to use this?â he asked, even though he already knew the answer. At least he could say he checked.
The answer was an emphatic shake of Justinâs head. âNo. Jesus. Youâll smell like me if we donât,â he replied instantly, groaning low in his chest at the very thought of it. He took a breath and shakily added, âUnless you want to.â It clearly killed him, the very thought of conceding that satisfaction, but it was so endearing that Justin pushed through anyways.
A soft snort was the only answer Chris gave. He dropped the condom back in the drawer, shoved it (mostly) shut, and made his way back to the bed. âCatch.â He tossed Justin the bottle of lube and watched him â somehow, potentially impossibly, given what Chris knew about werewolves â fumble it for a solid five seconds before snagging it.
âI didnât know werewolves could be clumsy,â Chris mused, shoving at Justin to get him to move. He supposed it wouldnât have been surprising if Justin was an exception, given how peculiar the man was in general. He stole a kiss that turned into five or six of them and ended up on all fours, then lowered to his elbows to present himself properly.
Justin laughed even as his free hand pawed at Chrisâs ass, big fingers squeezing and kneading with a firm enough grip to make Chris shudder. âIâm fucking huge, Chris. Werewolf or not, I was born to be a big idiot who falls over all the time,â he argued, and he kept talking so casually that Chris actually jolted a bit when he felt Justinâs exhale against his hole.
There was a dusting of stubble on Justinâs cheeks and jaw, and Chris felt it prickle against his own skin as Justin buried his face and lapped at Chrisâs hole â tongue thick and hot, dragging repeatedly and making a mess far faster than should have been possible. Chrisâs breath left him in a sharp exhale when Justin pulled back, but any protest was forgotten when all Justin did was spit and then dive back in.
As much as Chris wanted to indulge in Justin eating him out like a starving wolf tasting tender, raw meat for the first time in months, he also knew that he wanted more. âI want your cock,â Chris managed, and it was meant to be a demand. The attempt at instruction came out far too shaky, though, and sounded a bit like a plea as Justinâs tongue pressed against his rim. âI want your knot.âÂ
That earned a response. Justin pulled away again, thumb replacing his mouth. It slid inside Chris easily, and Justin left it hooked inside him as he spoke. âKnots are actually an urban legend,â he informed Chris, the bed dipping and creaking as Justin shifted his weight around and sidled up closer.
Chris groaned and dropped his head. âAre you shitting me? Itâs notââ Maybe it was greedy of him, to be faced with a cock the size of Justinâs and an undoubtedly earnest fuck ahead of him but still want for more, but Chris had always fantasized about it: some half-feral wolf taking him from behind, popping a knot and breeding him despite how futile it was to pump Chris full.
âOh my god,â Justin interrupted, laughing so hard that it seemed to bounce off the walls. âYouâre really that upset? Youâre so fucking weird, Chris. People have been disgusted by my knot before, and here you are, whining about not getting it. Iâm fucking with you, dude. I am absolutely going to knot you,â he promised, words punctuated by the click of the lube bottle.
It was hard to properly gripe at Justin when he was suddenly pressing two thick fingers inside him. Chris keened and fisted the sheets, bared his teeth in a wordless snarl at how good the burn felt. âIâm a â fuck â a monsterfucker, Justin. You should be able to tell that about me.â He licked his lips between heavy, shaking pants, angling his hips to better present himself.
Justinâs voice was deeper now, a hint of rumble to the words. âI mean, I guess thatâs obvious. Sure as shit know how horny you are.â He worked his fingers haphazardly, pressing them knuckles deep and then withdrawing them just as quickly. There seemed to be more interest in stretching Chris out than taking him apart, but Chrisâs own impatience left him uncomplaining.Â
âI can hear you, you know,â Justin continued. âWhen youâre getting off in your bedroom. I hear your vibe, or the sound your dildo makes as you fuck yourself. You use so much lube, dude, I bet you make a mess. It sounds sloppy. And then there was that time you and Rick hooked up in the bathroom, like I wasnât gonna hear you over the TV. It sounded like you gave some stellar fucking head. Iâm gonna need you to blow me next time, actually.â All of it was said in one steady stream of words, no indication of filter.
It was almost humbling how difficult Chris found it to compose a coherent sentence. Justin certainly wasnât helping his efforts, a third finger slipping in when Chris opened his mouth to reply. A hiss, even as Chris pressed back into the thrust of the digits, and then he managed, âI did it on purpose.â Chris wasnât an idiot, and heâd been far too enticed by the thought of provoking Justin. It was merely a marvel that it had taken this long despite his best efforts.
Another laugh, this one far more akin to a bark than a bellow. âOf course you did,â Justin muttered, as if he truly hadnât realized the intention behind such vocal mischief on Chrisâs part. âWell, youâre getting your way now. Gonna fill you up so fucking full.â In an almost tragic sort of irony, Justin slipped his fingers out and left Chris empty and wanting, clenching around nothing and biting back a pathetic whimper.
Chris wasnât going to grovel for the pet he was teaching to beg.
Justin muttered to himself, something about goth guys and cute asses and dimples (where was Justin seeing a dimple?), and grasped at Chrisâs hip. He squeezed tight enough to draw a low moan from Chris, and then the head of his cock was teasing at Chrisâs entrance and prompting a much louder and far more enthusiastic sound from Chris.
There was no need to encourage Justin, to demand more: Justin merely snagged Chrisâs other hip in hand as the crown of his dick slipped past Chrisâs rim, and then he was fucking forward in one smooth, aggressive thrust. It was so sharp and sudden and forceful that Chris gave some wordless exclamation; he very nearly fell on his face, and he took a moment to catch his breath when Justin went utterly still.
âDid I hurt you?â Justin asked, concern audible in his voice. He had even stopped his incessant, mindless kneading at Chrisâs waist, every part of him taut with nerves.
Chris tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was far too breathless and thready. It sounded more like a wheeze, which certainly wasnât comforting, but then he shook his head. âNo, you didnât hurt me. Just startled me. Most guys work up to pounding me into the mattress,â he said, glancing back over his tattooed shoulder and flashing Justin a grin.
Whatever Justin saw in Chrisâs gaze seemed to settle his nerves and offered enough reassurance for Justin to grin back, wide and lopsided and with a hint of tongue poking out. He always looked like a dog convinced he was about to be given tummy rubs when he grinned like that, as if his treat was secured. âItâs a werewolf thing.â His tone made it impossible to tell if he was full of shit (again) or speaking factually â not that Chris found any genuine interest in the answer.
He simply let himself go loose and lax, bracing himself a bit better for the harsh rhythm Justin set. Sounds spilled from his lips freely, mingling in the air with the throaty snarls and soft growls that Justin uttered openly. Chris swore he heard the snap of teeth next to his ear as Justin draped himself over Chrisâs back, hands moving to the mattress on either side to brace himself.
Justin nosed against Chrisâs neck again, seemingly oblivious to the sweat that had strands of hair sticking to flushed skin. He inhaled and then rumbled with blatant pleasure, hips stuttering and then finally adjusting their angle â Chris shuddered violently when he hit his prostate, Justinâs name leaving his lips shakily.
âJustin, Justin, Justin,â Chris panted, encouragement he offered freely. He couldnât reach to get a hand on his cock despite how he leaked and throbbed; he needed to plant his hands to not be shoved up against the headboard, and he wondered if Justin would have it in him to finish Chris while they waited for his knot to recede.
But then Chris felt that swell start, the faint catch at his rim, and his eyes rolled back in his head the first time Justinâs rhythm faltered with the effort it took to keep fucking him with long, deep thrusts. âGonna fuckinâ fill you up,â Justin snarled as the knot caught and stuck, leaving him to just rut up into Chris frantically. It was a wet, desperate affair, and Chris was startled to find it enough to tip him over the edge.
Justinâs knot was so much bigger than heâd expected. It swelled to the point Chris ached, and it was that faint twinge of pain that made him spill. He clenched down around Justin, groaning loudly, and tried to rock back as best he could to encourage Justin to keep moving. The pleasure that thrummed in Chrisâs gut seemed to pulse with Justinâs cock as the werewolf came; his seed was even hotter than the skin pressed flush to his back, the breath against his ear, and Chrisâs vision blurred.
By the time Chris could breathe past the sensation of being filled so completely, Justin had collapsed on top of him â pinning him to the bed, flat on his stomach, the weight on Chrisâs back solid and hefty enough to make breaths challenging to draw in. A few complaints and gentle elbows later, and Justin twisted them onto their sides.
Chris knew that knotting was an intimate affair. Aside from the act itself, the swelling took time to come down; they would be locked together for a notable amount of time, inevitable and not undesired, but he hadnât quite envisioned it playing out like this. Rather than Justin dozing off against his shoulder or them exchanging soft, murmured check-ins like heâd expected, Justin was seemingly wide awake and intent on sniffing Chris until they could separate.
âI promise my scentâs not going to change,â Chris laughed breathlessly, closing his eyes. Despite the sounds in his ear and the way Justin occasionally flicked his tongue over Chrisâs skin, he was comfortable. He sank back against Justinâs chest and allowed his limbs to relax. âYou canât actually breed me.â The reminder felt unnecessary, but he still uttered it, primarily to tease.
The noise Justin made suggested that it wasnât an appreciated remark. âYouâre gonna smell like me for a while,â he argued. âAny other wolfâs gonna know I fucked you.â He pressed a grin into Chrisâs shoulder then, fingers tracing idle, meaningless shapes against the skin of Chrisâs stomach.Â
That raised a question, one that Chris had to examine and evaluate for a moment before vocalizing. âDo you want this to mean something other than us fucking?â he asked, each word followed neatly by the next. It was a calculated inquiry but a risk nonetheless â the last thing he wanted was for awkwardness to chill the room as they remained pressed flush for the next ten minutes.
Justin made a vague, noncommittal sound and gnawed on Chrisâs shoulder. There wasnât nearly enough pressure behind his teeth to break skin, and it seemed to be a mindless, idle gesture. âWant people to know weâre pack,â he muttered, as if the words left a bitter taste on his tongue. It was an odd sort of response â Justin hadnât been required to offer honesty. He could have always avoided answering, or he could have given some half-truth or obscure, meaningless response that said nothing at all.
More than that, the notion of pack settled funny in Chrisâs chest. It wasnât a lack of desire for connection, but Justin had just skirted the concept so completely and insistently that Chris hadnât anticipated it being an option for them, unconventional as it was to begin with. âWeâre pack?â he echoed, rather than pursue any other line of thought.
Chris felt a soft hum against his back as Justinâs grip tightened, pulling him flush against his chest. âWeâre pack,â Justin affirmed, as if that settled the entire debate.
Perhaps Chris should have protested. Such a declaration was heavy and important, meaningful in a way a human could never truly comprehend; certainly it warranted a discussion, not just a fuck and a decision on a hormone-drunk werewolfâs part. But it also felt right, and it settled onto Chrisâs shoulders with a weight more comforting than drowning. âAm I the alpha?â he murmured, setting aside practical concerns for another time.
Justin snorted softly as he rocked his hips a little, earning himself a slap on the side. âOf course you are.â
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