i know exactly what the secret series is and you know damn well i'm here to ask for snips. from whichever one you feel like, i just. i need to know. i need to see inside that folder.
>:3c
you asked for snips from when dew is really worked up about everything and i have one wip that works perfectly for that. you're gonna get more than one snip because out of all the documents in that folder, this is the one i wish i could release into the wild
He’s well-slicked from the dream, enough to go ahead and add a third finger, rocking down onto his own hand, his jaw going slack as he moans into the sheets without restraint. It feels good, but it’s not fucking enough.
Dew lets out a growl of frustration and throws his body upright, rising to his knees and letting them slide apart across the sheets until he’s sinking back down to where he can comfortably ride his fingers, sliding his other hand down his stomach to rub at himself, harsh and quick. He’s been shifted for days now, and while he doesn’t normally spend long like this, he’s quickly learned the most efficient ways to get himself off, what he can do to himself that usually gets him a few minutes of satisfaction.
He’s chasing his release, fucking himself hard and fast and he can hear how slick he is, loud in the otherwise silent room. It doesn’t take him long to build up that simmering heat in his belly to an intense burn that courses through his pelvis, bursting up through his belly and then his back is arching and he’s letting out a feral sound as he comes, clenching down hard on his fingers. With effort, he fucks himself through it, feels a different kind of pressure begin building before he even begins to come down, and then he’s coming again, gushing over his hand and onto the bedspread. He stays like that for a long moment, head tipped back in momentary bliss, pulsing around his fingers as the aftershocks wash over him, and he waits until his cunt is finally still before he pulls his fingers out and sinks down to rest his ass on his heels, posture slumping as he catches his breath. He can feel his heart thumping in his whole body, but the release has only helped for approximately four goddamn seconds; he's already throbbing involuntarily at nothing. He lets out a whine that sounds pitiful even to his own ears and wonders if one more would leave him any more satisfied. It probably won’t, but it’s worth a try.
He turns, avoiding the wet spot in the center of the mattress, sliding over the side of it until he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the bedframe. He spreads his legs and lets his head lean back against the mattress, jumping straight to four fingers. He doesn’t bother starting slow, setting the pace as fast as he can get his hand to move, hips rocking desperately. He can hear the keening sound he’s making, knows he’s probably stinking up the whole wing, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to feel satiated for more than five fucking minutes.
He’s in the middle of his second orgasm, muscles clenching and his back arching, hips lifting up off the floor as he comes, drenching the thin carpet in front of him – when the door opens. His eyes have rolled back in his pleasure, but Dew manages to wrench his head up to see who the hell is barging in unannounced, and he really shouldn’t be surprised to see that it’s Rain. Dew lets out a feral sound as his hips kick one more time, a pathetic little spray splattering the floor. He melts, boneless, letting his head loll to look at Rain. The fuck do you want, he mutters, unable to muster up the usual fight.
He can’t help it. He feels blissfully invisible, and it’s far, far too easy to let his vision unfocus and pretend he’s alone, to grip at the edge of the chair between his knees as he rocks down onto the plug, desperate enough to grind against his own wrist and it feels so fucking good. He’s not even aware he’s whimpering until he feels Rain prod sharply at his thoughts. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he forces his gaze to focus enough to look across the table at him; Rain just fixes him with a stern look and it’s enough to make shame roll through him. He feels appropriately chastised for approximately three seconds before it rolls right back over into lust. His fangs break through the skin of his lip and the sudden burst of bright copper taste on his tongue isn’t helping things in the least, but he manages to swallow back what’s sure to have been a pitiful sound.
Dew manages to reduce his movement to tiny, unsatisfactory circles until the food is served and Rain’s attention is otherwise occupied before he’s grinding down onto the plug again in earnest, his awareness narrowing down to the waves of pleasure burning hot through him. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to even pretend to give a shit if Rain is paying attention to what he’s doing or not, assuming that he’ll stop him the second he notices. Dew doesn’t get stopped, though, and he’s safe in the security that he’s home free. Heat coils tightly in the pit of his stomach, rolling through him as he shifts his hips and finds the perfect angle, his muscles starting to tense and he’s so fucking close and there’s no way he’s not moaning like a whore, but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is his release, he’s right at the edge, just needs one more push –
Rain slams into his consciousness, one single word blasted into his brain: Don’t.
Rain finds him almost immediately, tangled in the underbrush, just lying on his side in the dirt, chest heaving and his eyes wild and dazed as he watches Rain approach. He looks pathetic, with leaves tangled in his hair and his face flushed, mouth slack, raising his hips into the air and letting his tail fall to the side.
Rain crouches over him, momentarily overcome with the urge to give in to what Dew so desperately wants, give in to his instincts and mount him right there, but instead he reaches out to cup his cheek and relishes in the whimper he gets just from that touch. There's no resistance at all when he reaches for Dew's thoughts to say, You really think I'm that easy, huh? Get up.
He keeps his expression carefully neutral, even a little bored as he watches Dew's eyes widen a split second before he scrambles backwards out from under him. He staggers to his feet and takes off, unsteady and stumbling. Rain follows at a leisurely pace, keeps his eyes on the place Dew had disappeared into the underbrush.
Rain pushes through the same place Dew had, disappointed but not surprised to find him bent over a log, ass up and legs spread in a frankly extremely tempting display, desperately rubbing at himself through the fabric of his pants, but Rain steps over to him and hauls him up by the back of his shirt, shoving him forward again. Dew yelps and stumbles forward, making a valiant effort at running off again. He doesn’t make it very far before he lets out a feral howl and drops to his knees and shoves a hand down his pants, where it looks like he's ripped the fly open, frantically grinding against himself. Rain gives a warning growl, and when Dew doesn’t move he has to drag him to his feet and drive him forward into motion again.
They do this again and again until Dew is trembling and heaving for breath, until he finally manages to dart off out of sight, his path zigzagging as he lists from side to side. Rain waits where he is for a moment, giving Dew some time to put distance between them and for himself to clear his head. He needs to stay focused.
It seems he's making more of an effort this time, but Rain still finds the shredded remains of his pants discarded among the roots of a tree not much further into the forest. He crouches beside them, reaching out to pick them up as he debates whether or not to leave them there. His nostrils flare as he catches the scent on them, and he can't help but lift the ruined fabric to his face and breathe in the thick smell of the slick Dew had left behind. It goes straight to his cock, and Rain has to wrestle with his self control to drop the pants back to the ground and stand.
He tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he catches Dew's trail on the breeze. It's suspiciously like the odor of his pants, warm and salty and it draws Rain further into the woods. He knows Dew is nearby, it’s just a matter of finding him; Rain pushes a low-hanging branch to the side and emerges into a small clearing. Dew is crouched beside a large oak tree, one hand gripping the bark and the other between his legs. He’s a whining, whimpering mess, begging wordlessly as he fucks himself with four fingers, hips rocking erratically as he rides his own hand. It’s shockingly like the way Rain had found him this morning, and the sight sends heat coiling through him. Dew hasn’t noticed him yet, his eyes screwed up tight as he gasps and writhes. His claws tighten on the tree beside him, and it’s clear that he’s right on the edge of release but he can’t find that last push over the edge.
As Rain watches, Dew curls his thumb in against his palm, shifting the shape of his hand and Rain feels dizzy as he witnesses Dew’s frenzied attempts to get his whole hand into himself, watches the way his fingers fold together as he works them in to the knuckle, throwing his head back and chittering wildly as he rocks his hips down onto his hand. Rain can see by the frustration in his knit brows and the tension in his body that it’s still not enough, even as he manages to get his knuckles into himself, and then the rest of his hand goes easy. Rain decides now is as good a time as any to make his presence known, stepping further into the clearing and chirping softly. Dew’s head whips towards him; bark splinters and shatters from the tree under the crushing grip of his claws. He’s gasping wildly, staring wide-eyed at Rain but he doesn’t stop fucking himself, and even at this distance Rain can see the blood smeared on his lips from where his fangs have pierced the delicate skin. The pure, instinctual need Dew feels floods his scent, makes Rain's head swim and his cock jump, but he forces himself to move calmly across the clearing. He doesn't even have to say anything, he's just giving Dew a mildly disappointed look and he's arching up, throwing his head back and howling as he comes, his whole body shuddering as he sprays the ground beneath him like a damn fountain. His thighs are quivering with the effort of holding himself up, his hips jerking with the aftershocks, each one pulling little whimper from Dew. Rain kneels in front of him, resting a hand on his knee and waits for Dew to slowly lift his head and struggle to fix unfocused eyes on him. At the edge of his vision he can see Dew pulling his hand out, can see the way he throbs hard around nothing, and when he focuses on Dew's face again there are tears of desperation gathering in his eyes. Rain feels about as wrecked as Dew looks, but he just says, This could all go away if you just [REDACTED].
