Tight Quarters PART 2-FINAL (werewolf best friend x fem reader)
Summary: You have been avoiding your werewolf best friend after the intimate moment between you earlier that night. But Marcus corners you. Things get intense, physical, and very real between you.
TW: NSFW, P in V, oral (fem), fingering, possessive behavior, knotting, claiming, size difference, HEA.
GO TO PART 1
Happy reading, holy smut awaits below!
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The storm didn't stop.
And you... you became a ghost in the cabin.
Flitting from room to room, always one step ahead of Marcus. When he entered the kitchen, you suddenly needed something from another room. When he settled on the couch, you remembered something you'd left upstairs. When he looked at you, you found something fascinating to study on the opposite wall.
Candles got lit because the power was still unstable. Sarah made boxed mac and cheese while someone else burned popcorn in the microwave. You laughed at jokes you didn't hear and ate food you couldn't taste.
And through all of it, you felt Marcus watching.
When midnight came, everyone started claiming sleeping spots. One took the upstairs bedroom. Someone called the couch. A sleeping bag was rolled out near the fireplace while voices argued over blankets.
You waited until nobody paid attention before escaping to the attic.
Bad idea.
The second you stepped out into the hallway, a large hand wrapped around your wrist.
Marcus.
He didn’t say a word. Just dragged you down the hall toward the downstairs bedroom. His bedroom. You knew because it was saturated with his scent. The storm growled outside as he pulled you inside after him.
"They won't hear us down here," he said, closing the door. The lock clicked. "Not with the storm."
You stood in the center of the room, trembling, your tights ruined, your thighs sticky. The room was small; paneled walls, a pull-out couch, a single window showing nothing but rain.
Marcus circled you like the wolf he was. His dark hair was messy from running his hand through it all night. His broad shoulders tense under his gray hoodie. His beautiful green eyes glittered in the low light.
"You really thought you could ignore me all night?" he asked.
You swallowed hard. "I wasn’t ignoring you."
Marcus laughed. "Yeah? So that’s why you wouldn’t even look at me after grinding all over my lap?"
"I wasn’t grinding—"
"You came on my jeans."
Your mouth snapped shut.
He stopped directly in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame. His body blocked out the window, the door, the rest of the room.
"And then you avoided me for hours." His jaw flexed. "What exactly was your plan there?"
"I didn’t know what to do."
"You could’ve talked to me."
"I panicked!"
"You panicked?" His eyebrows lifted. "Sweetheart, you’ve been acting nervous around me for months. You think I didn’t notice?"
Your sighed. Of course he noticed. Marcus noticed everything about you.
Thunder cracked outside. Instinctively, you flinched.
"You know what pissed me off the most?" he asked quietly.
You shook your head.
"The fact you acted embarrassed." He inched even closer. "Like what happened between us was a mistake."
"It wasn’t a mistake," you mumbled before you could call the words back.
"Good," he drawled. "Because I’m done pretending this is normal best-friend shit."
Your heart hammered.
"We crossed those lines a long time ago," he said. "You know it. I know it."
He was right.
For a long time now, you'd lost track of what was normal.
The way you slept curled against him during movie nights, his arm around your waist. The way he growled at guys who flirted with you. The way his hand would linger on your thigh too long, and your fingers would trace his chest longer than they should. The way he looked at your mouth. The way you looked at his.
"I’ve wanted you for years," he admitted. "And now I know you want me too. So no." He shook his head. "I'm not backing down. You made a mess of my jeans. You take responsibility."
"I—"
"Do you know how hard I am right now?" He grabbed your hand, guided it against the front of his fly. The bulge there was obscene; a huge column straining against the denim, so large your fingers couldn't wrap around it.
"This is what you did to me. Thirty minutes of grinding that sweet little cunt against my lap, and now my cock's so fucking painful I can't think straight."
Your mouth watered.
"See something you want?" He unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper came down, tooth by tooth, and when he reached inside and pulled—
God.
His cock was huge. Thick, long and flushed dark red, the head shiny with pre-cum, thick veins running along the underside. His balls hung fat, drawn up tight against his body.
He wrapped his hand around the base and pumped. A bead of fluid leaked from the slit and dripped down the shaft.
"You're going to make it up to me," he said, stepping closer. The head of his cock nudged your hip, leaving a smear of pre-cum on your shirt. "And then you're going to remember that no one else gets to touch what's mine."
"I-I'm a free woman—"
He grabbed your jaw. His fingers dug into your cheeks.
"Free?" He laughed, and there was nothing friendly in it. "You are mine. You're not free because you have someone who belongs to you: ME. You think I'd let anyone else put their hands on you? Watch you squirm and cum?"
His thick thumb shoved past your lips. Pressed down on your tongue. You tasted his salty skin.
"Marc.... mmmhp—"
He leaned in closer. His musky scent filled your nose. Made your pussy clench.
"I'd kill them," he said, matter-of-fact. "I'd tear their throats out with my teeth before I let them see what's mine. That cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. Every wet, dripping sound you make, every time you clench around nothing thinking about my cock—mine."
You whimpered around his thumb. Your nipples hardened under your shirt. Heat flooded between your legs.
He released your jaw, stepped back, and smiled. "Now strip for me."
You arched a brow, smirking up at him. "Strip me yourself, wolf. You said you're mine, right? Come and take what's yours."
A deep growl and he lunged, his mouth claiming yours. His tongue coaxed your lips apart, while his hands yanked at your shirt. He peeled it off, then clawed at your bra, snapping the straps and tossing it aside. Your tights came next until you stood naked except for your drenched panties.
"What's next, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. This wolf who belongs to you. What do you want him to do?"
You gazed up at Marcus, your best friend for years, and saw something feral looking back. Was that side always there? What had you missed and why did you love it so much? This possession in his eyes. The absolute adoration. They set you on fire. He set you on fire.
"Please," you whispered.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Please... I need your cock inside me. I need you to split me open on it. I've been thinking about it for months, about how big you are, about how it would feel—"
He kissed you again, all teeth and tongue, his hand fisting in your hair while the other ripped your panties down your legs. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, spun you around, bent you over the arm of the pull-out couch.
Fabric rustled behind you. His deep grunts as he stripped off his clothes. You glanced back. he was naked. Tall. Furred. Muscled. Every inch the werewolf he was. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks apart. His tongue dragged over your slick folds, making your toes curl.
"Fuck, this pussy." He lapped again. "Pretty little pussy that squirted so hard for me."
"Marcus... oh fuuuck..."
"Hold still." His tongue flicked your clit while his thick fingers probed your slit. One digit pushed in. Then a second. Stretching you wider.
You gasped, choking on a moan as he pumped them, your juices squelching around his knuckles.
"Marcus—mhnn, it's too much—"
"I know, sweetheart," he whined, pumping steadily and licking your trickling juices. "I know you're so fucking tight. Hasn't had a real cock in ages, has it? But you'll take every inch of my fat dick anyway, won't you? Because you're my good girl."
You nodded frantically.
"Words."
"Yes—fuck yes, I'll take it, just please—"
The head of his cock nudged your slit.
You'd thought you were prepared.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the way he impaled you, the burning stretch of that thick crown spreading your muscles inch by inch.
"Fuuuck," you sobbed. "Too big—can't—"
"Shh. You can." His hips rolled. Sank deeper. You moaned brokenly. "Taking me so well. Look at that—" His thumb found your clit, rubbing in circles. The pleasure-pain short-circuited your brain. "—your pretty cunt's swallowing my cock because it was made for it."
With a wet squelch, he was in. Bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his balls pressing against your clit. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulsing vein, the way his cock stretched your walls so wide you swore you could feel yourself in your throat.
"Inside," you gasped. "You're inside—"
"All the way." He sounded wrecked. "Feel that?" He shifted his hips, and you felt the bulge of him moving inside you. "Feel how deep I am?"
You couldn't answer.
Your mouth hung open. Drool dripped onto the couch. Your eyes rolled back.
"Hnng—fuck, you're tight—" He fucked you. Slow strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your walls clenched around him, tried to hold him, and he snarled. "Shiiiit—
"Marcus—"
"Not gonna last." His hips picked up speed. The couch creaked beneath you, shoved against the wall with each thrust. "You feel too good. This perfect, wet, gripping cunt—"
He grabbed your hips. Angled you up.
The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"HGNNN—!" you sobbed. "Right there—oh fuck, don't stop—"
He didn't.
Brutally, his hips snapped against yours. Each stroke hammered that spot until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only ride higher and higher.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
"Gonna bust," he warned. "I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up. And then I'm gonna keep you on my cock until it takes." His rhythm faltered. "Until everyone upstairs smells it on you. Until they know."
"Yes—yes—"
"From now on, you belong to me. And I belong to you. No one touches me and no one touches you. You understand?"
So filthy. So possessive.
You came on his next thrust, your whole body convulsing, your pussy milking his cock as he fucked you through it.
"Guh—guh—guh—"
"Fuck—aah—" Marcus's hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking. His cock swelled inside you, the knot at the base spreading your slit wide. You mewled at the stretch. Felt the first hot spurt of cum flood your channel. "Hnnnnng— take it—"
Splorch. Splorch. Splorch.
He kept you impaled, pumping ropes of his seed deep into your pussy while you clenched around him, taking everything he gave. His knot locked you together—it was impossible to pull out. He slumped over your back, breathing ragged.
"That," he said, "was just the beginning."
It was minutes later when his knot finally deflated. He pulled out. You winced at the emptiness and the feel of his cum dribbling down your thighs. He spun you around, kissed you wetly, and wiped his thumb through the mess between your legs.
Then he brought that thumb to your lips.
"Lick it," he demanded and you wrapped your lips around his digit, tasting yourself and him together.
"Good girl." He smiled. "Bed. I want to hold my girlfriend."
You blinked, pretending innocence. "Girlfriend?"
"You are the one and only lucky girl."
You grinned. "Lucky doesn't cover it. From besties to this? I want you forever, boyfriend. Cuddle me and knot me to sleep every night."
"Deal," he drawled, kissing your forehead. "You're stuck with me now."
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