MLM/NBLM Smut One-shots For the Touch-Starved Gays

Sinful desires. Disgusting thoughts. Poison. How could he ever let himself think these things and not feel like a disgusting whore? The boy sits inside of the confessional, darkness consuming him. The only light that shined inside came from the plethora of holes in the chainmail of the priests’ side of the booth. The sinner tucks himself away into the corner of the confessional that was farthest away from the priest, who watched him intensely. The priest was dressed formally, a white cuff lined the inside of his black buttoned-up shirt, a portion peeked out to inform townspeople of his rank. His black hair was loosely fluffy, his favorite cross necklace hung from his hands, which were folded in his lap.

“You came here to confess your sins, so stop cowering in the corner and do so, boy,” the young priest said, his voice dripped with assertiveness.

The sinner let a tear roll down his cheek as the priest spoke, the tone of the other boy's voice made his jeans tighten. He hated it. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Pathetic.

“Father, I’ve been wanting other men to do sinful things to my body,” he let out a pathetic, choked sob as he confessed his first sin.

The priest leaned back into his seat, his thighs slid against the purple velvet as he made himself comfortable, “tell me the sinful actions you crave,” he demanded.

The sinner's eyes went wide and he whined, shaking his head, even though the priest couldn't see him do so. The priest slammed the side of his fist against the wall, making the boy on the other side scream in fear.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he threatened.

The boy let out an unintentional moan, followed by a regretful cry. He clutched his knees to his chest. The priest smirked and let out a deep, taunting chuckle.

“What a dirty whore… You want someone to boss you around? To order you around and make you feel inferior?” He questioned, holding back a groan. He had no shame in his enjoyment of the moment, but he’d never let the disgraceful sinner know that.

“Y-Yes, Father! Yes, I want to be handled like a doll. I want a man to use me to please his cock, to give me the pain my body so desperately craves!”

The priest released his groan of pleasure, his cock hardening as he heard the inferior boy speak so provocatively.

“Your mouth is as filthy as your thoughts, how dare you use such language on holy land? You’ll be damned to Hell the moment you die, whore,” the priest snarled at the boy, but as he spoke he generously palmed himself through his black dress pants.

His wooden bead cross necklace stayed gripped in his hand as he rubbed his cock through his pants, the individual beads made a pleasurable texture that made the boy moan softly, his neck bending backward and his cranium resting against the back wall of the confessional.

“F-Father? A-Are you… Moaning?” The sinner questioned timidly, his voice was shaky and nervous, but was dripping with need.

“Refer to me as Sir, Father is beyond unholy to hear when you talk so dirty,” he ordered the boy, his palm grinding against his bulge rougher with each second, “keep going, boy. Keep telling me your disgusting little fantasies. Show God how fucking disgraceful you are.”

The submissive boy choked in shock as he heard the priest speak vulgarly, but didn’t dare talk back to the other boy, he was far too turned on and far too terrified of him.

“I want a boy to shove his cock down my throat, Sir! I want him to twist his fingers in my hair and shove his cock in and out of my mouth, not caring if I beg for him to stop or even pass out!” The sinner moaned loudly this time, his legs instinctively spreading and his hands trailing down his own chest and in between his thighs.

“Sir, my cock aches at these thoughts, and it craves a man's touch, please help me, pray for me, Sir!”

The priest gripped the armrest of his chair, his claws digging into the expensive fabric. He groaned deeply, almost like a growl, as he heard the words flow so naturally from the disgrace’s mouth. He finally jumped out of his seat, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the door separating the two rooms. He yanked it open, nearly ripping the metal door off of the sliding track it was connected to. The submissive boy squeaked in fear, his hand immediately retracting from his crotch and his thighs slamming shut. The more dominant male growled in lust and aggressively closed the door, the force shaking the walls of the booth. He stormed towards the smaller boy, who timidly shuffled farther into the corner. He didn’t get very far before the priest's hand was tightly wrapped around his throat, lifting him and slamming his fragile body against the wall.

“Right now, praying isn’t going to help a disgraceful whore like you. I’ll break you before your tainted soul even makes it to Judgement Day, and then we’ll pray for you,” the older boy spat venomously at the submissive, his grip on the boy's throat tightening with every word.

The priest didn’t waste another moment before crashing his lips against the sinners, tasting the lust that dripped out of the corners of the boy's mouth. The smaller boy tangled his hands into the bigger one's hair, tightening his grip as he tasted the man who would give him every last unholy thing he’d ever dreamed of. The priest pulled away, the sinner whined at the retraction of the older boy's lips.

“I’m going to ruin your tight little ass, God will never forgive you for this moment, stupid little fuckdoll,” he growled into the submissive boy’s ear. He inhaled for a moment before spitting on the shorter boy's face; the sub moaned loudly.

“Please, Sir! Please ruin me, I want God to fucking to despise me! I want him to look upon me and feel nausea churn in his stomach, please!” The boy begged, his hands clutching the priest's shirt and tugging needily.

The more dominant boy shoved the lesser to his knees, not wasting a single moment before he hurriedly undid his belt and ripped his shirt off. Small, black buttons went flying throughout the room as a result of the priest breaking his shirt open. He whipped his belt out of the loops of his dress pants and slid them off, following up with his shoes and his socks until he was completely naked. The only thing that remained on his body was the infamous cross necklace, which hung loosely from his neck.

Without another second wasted, the priest gripped the sinner's fluffy brown hair in his hands and shoved his face into his crotch, the boy's mouth being engulfed by his cock. It filled the boy's mouth perfectly, or so the priest thought. The boy gagged harshly as his throat was full with the priest's cock, tears beading along his tear line as he tried to take every inch without worry.

“This is exactly what you fucking wanted, isn’t it? You’re such a disgusting little disgrace, a stupid fuckdoll. Nothing but a toy for men to use to get their cocks wet!” The priest slammed his cock in and out of the boy's throat, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he felt a smooth tongue swirling around the sensitive spots on his dick.

“You want to be fucked like a dog, like a pathetic bitch in heat!” The priest let out a menacing chuckle, “that’s what’s wrong! It’s mating season for a braindead little dog like you!” He laughed obnoxiously, staring down at the pathetic face of the boy he was ruining.

He groaned in ecstasy at the sight of the boy. His hair was sticking up in several different places, his pretty pink lips stretched around the base of the priest's cock, tears streaming down his red little cheeks as the tip of the dick occupying his throat teased his gag reflex.

The boy suddenly hollowed out his cheeks, completely wrapping his mouth around the priest’s cock. The older boy gasped and moaned deeply, new waves of pleasure seeping through his groin and making him fall light-headed.

“F-Fuck, baby, keep doing that, fucktoy. God- That’s perfect!” He groaned deeply as the sinner took his cock deeper, the walls of his cheeks wrapped around his cock like they were built for it.

He vigorously continued slamming deeper and faster into the disgraceful sinner’s throat, until a familiar pooling of pleasure began forming inside of his stomach.

“Shit, shit! I’m gonna fucking-” The older boy didn’t even get to warn the younger before he shot ropes of seed deep into the submissives throat, filling up his mouth with delicious amounts of cum.

The sinner lapped the semen up hungrily, as though he was a peasant presented with a king’s buffet. He sucked his dominant’s cock completely clean, his nails digging into the boys' hips as he did so. But the priest wasn’t finished with the disgrace just yet. He growled in pleasure and lifted the boy back up by his brown locks, spinning him around and aggressively slamming the boy’s chest against the corner of the wall. The younger moaned in pleasure as his face came in contact with the cold metal surface. He squeaked in surprise as he felt hands gripping his shirt clean off of his torso, and cold hands snaking around to his crotch. The priest gripped the aching bulge in the sinner’s jeans, making the sinner gasp and cry out in pleasure.

“Yeah, you stupid fucking dog? You want me to touch this dirty little cock some more, don’t you?” The priest growled, a cocky smirk was snug on his face.

He leaned down and grabbed his belt from off of the floor before fastening the submissive boy’s hands with it. He tightened it snugly, making sure that the boy wouldn’t even be able to move a finger while he absolutely fucking destroyed him.

He then removed the sinner’s belt and tossed it aside, ripping off his pants and footwear in a heartbeat. He leaned over the boy's shoulder and laughed harshly at the sight of the sinner’s cock. It was rock hard and was dripping with pre-cum. The priest felt as though all he’d have to do is flick it and the boy would release absurd amounts of cum all over the holy walls of the confessional.

The priest gripped his own cock, making sure it was still slick with the sinner’s saliva. The sinner pressed a restrained hand against the priest’s v-line in an attempt to stop him. The priest growled softly but looked up at the boy.

“I-Isn’t there preparation of some sort, Sir?” The boy asked fear and excitement laced his shaky voice.

The priest laughed, “yes, of course!” He leaned down into the smaller boy’s ear, “but not for you…”

Without another moment, the priest slammed his cock inside the tight opening of the ass of the submissive. The smaller boy screamed in pure pain, but it rang like music through the priests' ears. His laughs mixed in with the submissive’s crying and the noises jumbled together, overstimulating the quietness of the church. The priest hooked his fingers inside of the sinner's mouth to use as a grip as he slid the rest of his cock inside of the boy's ass, his tight walls gripped around the intrusive thing in protest. Tears of pain streamed down the sinner’s cheeks and drool poured from his agape mouth, but the priest stopped for nothing.

“This is what stupid little whores like you deserve, baby! Their useless little holes deserved to be ripped and stretched and made to fit their owner’s cock,” the priest said as he forced his cock in and out of the boy's tight little ass.

The sinner screamed and cried out in pain as he did so, but he didn’t dare stop him. He loved every damn second of this. He loved the burning, overwhelming pain of the stretch from the priest’s cock, he loved the harsh degrading words that spewed from the dominant’s mouth, and he loved the helpless feeling that flowed through his body. He finally started feeling the jolts of intense, overwhelming pleasure as the priest's cock slammed into that specific bundle of nerves deep inside of his ass. He moaned in pure ecstasy as he finally relaxed, the pain materializing into pleasure. He felt every inch of the priest's cock forcing itself deep inside of his ass, and he craved every last little bit of it.

The priest felt the promise of his second orgasm beginning to pool in his stomach as the sinner’s tight little ass clenched and unclenched around his cock repeatedly. He removed his fingers from the submissive boy’s mouth and replaced one around his throat and the other gripped the boy’s hair harshly. He held on as he increased the pace of his thrusts, craving for that sweet release. He craved to breed the stupid excuse for a saint who so pathetically screamed for more below him. He wanted to show God what he was to make of this stupid fucking whore.

The sinner finally had clenched too hard onto the priest's cock, and he suddenly felt the rush of pleasure that had been building up as he had mercilessly ruined the boy. Strings of hot cum filled up the already-full ass of the sinner, who moaned incredibly loud moans as he felt his ass expand even more as ropes of cum joined with the priest’s cock inside. The boy finally couldn’t take the pleasure any more, and his cock released what he was so desperately trying to ignore. Hot whips of cum flew through the air and slid down the cold metal wall that the boy was pressed up against, some stuck to his bare stomach. The priest ripped his cock out of the boy's ass and laughed teasingly as an absurd amount of seed dripped out of the boy’s entrance. He grabbed the boy’s by the shoulders just as the young one was about to fall to the floor.

“Hey now, hold steady,” the priest said, his tone had reluctantly changed into a more neutral one as they finished up.

He softly leaned the boy’s body up against the wall so that he could undo the leather restraints. Once he did so, he wrapped an arm around the boy's back and lifted his limp body. He left the piles of clothes on the floor for the time being, but he carried the boy out of the confessional and into his own sleeping chambers nearby. It was after hours, nobody would see them, so the priest wasn’t worried. The priest gently set the bruised, battered boy atop the soft, plush black blanket that was displaying neatly on the king-sized bed inside the chambers. Once he had made sure the boy was comfortable, he grabbed a spare blanket and slid in beside the boy, covering them both. Instinctively, the priest sheltered the boy with his arm and the boy snuggled closely into his chest.

The boy looked up at the priest sleepily, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion as he spoke.

“Are you the devil?” He asked, genuinely.

The priest smiled softly and shook his head, “yes, but you need rest now, boy. Goodnight.”

With a wave of his hand, the priest put the boy to rest, himself soon following.

Riches. Slaves. Servants. Women. Everything a prince could ever want, he had. From birth to the present days, Prince Rhysand had been given everything he requested. He was spoiled. Rotten. And that’s what fueled Alek’s profuse daydreams. The ones about seeing how long it took before he broke Rhysand. Before he made the snarky, overly-confident prince weep in his lap as he was taken mercilessly. Before he made the future king beg for his cock each time they made eye contact around the castle. He wanted to see what the brunette loved, what made him scream the loudest, and what made him cum the hardest. He wanted to feel every inch of the boy until they both passed out from the sheer shock and exhilaration.

If Alek was anything more than a knight, he might have been able to do it sooner. But the beautiful prince he longed after was never alone with him, an ex-stable boy. Promoted only due to a shortage of men in the king’s army. He did his job well. Defending the castle walls from mercenaries and commoners attempting to break-in. And he did it well enough to capture the King’s attention.

“Alek.”

Alek’s commander’s voice snapped him out of focus, his book long forgotten as he stood to salute the high-ranked man. 

“Commander,” he greeted, fingers positioned straight across his eyebrows as a sign of respect.

“Your presence is requested by the king himself, Alek. Bring nothing but your backbone,” the older man said to the knight.

A ping of dread pooled at the pit of Alek’s stomach, but he followed his commander into the corridor with no hesitation. Their footsteps rang throughout the empty halls, leather boots on velvet carpet filling the silence nicely. Alek knew the castle halls well, as he had plenty of time to explore them when he wasn’t training with the troops or guarding the castle motes. He was able to identify soon that they were headed towards the throne room. He concluded that he was right when the commander cracked open an old wooden door to reveal the royal family in their thrones, and the royal council around them. The raven-haired knight followed behind his superior as he was led before the king.

“Your majesty, I present to you Sir Alek of the Amren Isles,” the commander said, presenting Alek to the king, who sat, amused, in his golden-lined chair.

Alek stepped in front and bowed graciously, one arm bent across his chest whilst the other stay firm behind his back. 

“Your majesty requested my presence?” Alek asked, waiting for the approval to stand up straight before he did so.

“Sir Alek,” the king began. “Rise, boy, and I will state my requests.”

Alek stood up straight and held his chin high, his arms not flinching from their places. He glanced around at the sight before him, noting that the queen and the prince were also present. He let his gaze linger on the prince for half a second longer before he snapped his attention back to the king.

“You have been a loyal knight to me for many months now,” the king stood up and made his way down to the base of the steps, where he stood in front of Alek. “You have proved your loyalty to me and my family many times, as well as your bravery. Your actions against the vicious assassins and countless thieves are very notable to me, Sir Alek.”

The knight beamed with pride as the king praised him, and he let a kind smile fall upon his own lips. “Thank you, your majesty. You have no idea how much these words swell my heart,” he paused to bow slightly. “It is my mission to protect the royal family and the kingdom as a whole.”

The king chuckled deeply, a toothy smile on his face. “You have done your job remarkably well, good fellow, and that is why I request your permission to promote you as my son, the prince’s, head knight. His protector, if you will!” 

As the king revealed the offer, Prince Rhysand made a noise of complaint. “Father, I need no protector!” He stood up from his throne and stubbornly yelled. “Especially not this… This… Stable boy!” He sneered at Alek.

The king waved a hand at the prince. “Son, you have no say. You get yourself into countless dangerous situations,” the king turned to face the prince now. “Not to mention distracting yourselves with the maids instead of your scholarly work!” He scolded.

Alek stifled a laugh as Rhysands face grew a deep shade of pink. He growled and slammed himself back into his chair, angrily folding his arms. Alek wondered if his face turned that same shade of red whenever he had came. The knight felt his cock twitch at the thought, immediately reminding himself of where he was and what the king had said.

“Sir Alek, do you approve of my request? Will you accept the position?” The king was looking at Alek now, his face glowing with wonder.

Alek looked from the king to the prince, who glared and scoffed at the knight. Alek smirked. “I will graciously accept the honor, your majesty! Thank you for entrusting me with this position, my king.”

The king clapped his hands with glee. “Wonderful! I’m so glad you accepted, despite my son’s outburst,” he said to Alek. “Please, allow my hand to discuss the living arrangements with you. Marcus?” The older man pointed towards one of the men present at the council table.

Another older man, presumably Marcus, stood up instantly and strumbled over to the two of them. He bowed at the king with respect and gave a polite nod to Alek.

“Your majesty,” he greeted.

“Marcus, would you be so kind as to show Sir Alek to his new chambers? Please have a few of the servants ready to bring his belongings up to him as well,” the king ordered the other man, who immediately nodded.

“Yes, your majesty,” he said before turning to Alek. “Follow me, sir. Your chambers are this way.” 

Alek bowed in respect to the king and turned to follow Marcus towards the exit of the throne room. Just before he marched through the door, he glanced back at the set of thrones. The king and the queen were chatting casually, but his eyes fell upon Rhysand, who stared right back with angry eyes. Alek grinned softly, admiring the challenge he felt from the other boy’s gaze. 

This truly would be an interesting job.

______________________________________________________________________

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“Your highness?” Alek said from the opposite side of the wooden door. “Are you awake? You’ve got to be at the scholarly in about three hours.” 

The knight heard a groan emit from inside of the room and he snickered to himself. “Must I come inside?” He laughed as he heard another noise of disapproval from the prince.

Rhysand sighed deeply as he reluctantly peeled the warm sheets off of his body, knowing well enough that Alek would come in either way and he’d prefer to be wearing pants when he did so. The prince swung his legs over the edge of his bed and shuttered as the cold air attacked his nude body, leaving him with goosebumps. He sludged over to a nearby chair where the maid from the night before had been kind enough to set out a freshly washed outfit for him. Rhysand couldn’t remember her name, but just to be safe he planned to say “thank you” to everyone blonde he passed in the castle today. Just as Rhysand finished slipping on and tying his pants, Alek appeared in the doorway.

“Alek!” Rhysand yelled in surprise, struggling to cover up his chest with the remainder of the clothes.

Alek gasped softly and shielded his eyes with his hand, muttering out an apology to the half-nude prince. 

Rhysand groaned. “Ask before you walk in, stable boy!” He growled before storming into the nearby bathroom. He angrily slammed the oak door, which made an ancient groan in response. 

The knight smirked to himself and let out a silent chuckle. He was hoping to walk in on more but unfortunately had waited too long. 

In the bathroom, Rhysand cursed to himself about the knight. “Never respects closed doors! Always walks in whenever he wants to! Gah, I should have the bastard beheaded,” he ranted to himself, running a hand through his messy brown hair, sleep still running through his body. 

“What if I had been jacking off!”

Alek chuckled as he listened to the prince rant from behind the door. He glided over and sat down on the bed, which creaked as he put his weight onto it. He thought the mentioned situation over. What if he had walked in when Prince Rhysand had been pleasuring himself? He let his thoughts go wild for just a moment. The prince would probably yell in shock and rush to cover himself up, rush to hide his hard cock from Alek’s view. The knight’s gaze would be locked on the boy’s naked body, his eyes lapping up the surely gorgeous sight. Rhysand’s messy brown hair in shambles from shamelessly pulling at it as he chased his orgasm. His eyes tearful and his cheeks bright red, his breath long gone. His head would be thrown back as quick, soft pants left the boy’s mouth before he realized that Alek had walked in. Once the initial shock had settled, Alek would lean against the wall and tell Rhysand not to stop on his watch.

“You… You want to watch me cum?” Rhysand would ask, his face growing even redder than he thought was possible.

Alek would force the cocky prince to fall undone in front of him, and turn himself into a mess right before the knight’s eyes.

“What the hell are you doing on my bed, stable boy.”

Rhysand’s angry voice knocked Alek out of his erotic imagination. He looked up and hopped off of the prince’s bed, averting eye contact. 

“Sorry, your highness,” the knight muttered sheepishly.

He silently thanked the gods that the iron armor he was wearing was masking the hard-on he was now struggling with.

“Mm,” the prince said, pushing past him to grab his royal crown and cloak. 

He was fully dressed now, much to Alek’s disappointment, and was struggling to tie his cloak around his shoulders. Alek didn’t hesitate before he approached the prince and began to tie the knot for him. He was close enough to smell the young prince and close enough to make them both blush. He could see droplets of water dripping off the tip of Rhysand’s chin from the water he had splashed on his face previously.

“I can tie my own damn knots, I’m a prince, not a child, Alek,” the prince spat, pushing the older boy away from him.

Alek stumbled and steadied himself on Rhysand’s bed. An angry growl erupted from Alek, shocking the prince. The knight stood up and stormed towards the boy, grabbing the collar of his shirt forcefully.

“You know, what is it that makes you such a stuck up prick, Prince Rhysand?” He questioned angrily, his face only inches away from the royals. “Is it the masculinity issues? Or maybe the pent up anger at your father?” He added, the words stinging Rhysand like hot metal.

Rhysand’s eyes grew wide and burned with fury, his hands kept firmly at his sides. “How dare you speak to me that way!” He pushed Alek away with as much force as he could muster, but to his surprise, the knight didn’t budge. He glared at the boy, craning his neck to look at him, “and how dare you put your filthy hands on me! Just you wait until-”

Alek slammed the prince against the nearest wall, gripping his shirt with one hand and keeping another flat against the wall beside Rhysand’s head. “Until what?” Alek’s voice was deep and intimidating now and for a split second Rhysand considered his next words.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Alek?” Rhysand hissed angrily, his hands stationed on Alek’s chest plate.

“I’m sick of your cocky, stuck-up, bratty attitude,” the other boy growled, leaning down right next to Rhysand’s ear.

Alek’s breath fanned against the prince’s neck, Rhysand couldn’t stop the chills that it sent down his spine. “You’re fucking stupid,” he said, still pissed, but quieter. 

Alek laughed darkly and moved his grip into Rhysand’s hair, tugging harshly and craning the smaller boy’s neck to expose it to his own torture. Rhysand let a pitiful moan escape his throat, and he immediately attempted to rip himself from Alek’s grip. 

He stuttered, “get away from me! What are you so close for?!” 

Alek kept a firm grip on Rhysand’s hair as he pinned his head to the wall, pulling back to make merciless eye contact with the prince. “You need someone to knock that ego down a bit, don’t you, your highness?” He whispered, his voice scarily calm now.

Rhysand melted under Alek’s gaze, his mouth falling slightly agape as the words flowed from the knight’s mouth. He’d never heard this tone from anyone, let alone Alek. 

“You need…” Alek removed his hand from off the wall and gripped Rhysand’s chin, rubbing that pad of his thumb over the prince’s bottom lip. “To be used.”

Without a moment for Rhysand to register the words, Alek slammed his lips into his own, finally pouring all of his dominant energy into the kiss. Rhysand kissed back immediately, his mind foggy as Alek’s words imbedded themselves into his mind. 

“You need to be used.”

The sudden realization of how rock hard his cock was hit him like a train. He pulled away from Alek’s lips, both of them gasping for air, and looked down at his waist. Through the thin fabric of his pants, you could see the faint outline of his dick, hard and begging for friction. Alek’s eyes followed, and the sight alone made him break into a smile.

“Mm… You know that’s what you want…” Alek gripped Rhysand’s chin harshly and forced him to make eye contact again. “You know that’s what you need , isn’t it, Rhysand?”

Rhysand’s mouth hung open, his lips puffy and his eyes wide. He couldn’t think properly. All he knew was that he did indeed need something, but he refused to admit that Alek was right. “No… No… I’m a prince… I shouldn’t…” He said to himself breathlessly, but he wasn’t convincing anyone, not even himself.

Alek laughed and maliciously grazed his knee against the unexpecting prince’s crotch, the sudden action making Rhysand moan. He froze immediately after, the realization of the situation settling in his mind. He tried once again to push Alek away, but this time Alek wrapped his hands around the prince’s wrists and pinned them firmly to the stone wall behind him. He replaced his knee against Rhysand’s cock and began mercilessly grinding against it.

“You… You’ll hang for- for this!” Rhysand groaned, the much-needed friction causing him to stutter pathetically. 

He tried to fight the urge to throw his head back, to moan, to grip onto Alek’s shoulders, and submit right there. Alek kept eye contact, not moving his gaze away for a single second. “Maybe I will, but I’ll be damned if I don’t break you to pieces first.”

Oh fuck. If Alek hadn’t said that, Rhysand might have been able to keep his composure for just a little longer. He let his neck go loose, lolling his head back, hitting the wall. Alek chuckled and ground as hard as possible against the prince’s achingly hard cock. Rhysand let out a long, painful moan as pleasure coursed through his abdomen. He hated giving into Alek’s touch, but God’s he fucking loved it. With his neck exposed, Alek leaned down and began teasing the unbelievably sensitive skin. He kissed and licked patterns, watching as beautiful goosebumps appeared on the smaller boy’s skin. Unexpectedly, he sank his teeth into the softest patch of skin he could find, leaving a bruised bite mark. Rhysand moaned loudly as the indent formed in his skin, and he gripped onto Alek’s shoulders and took charge to grind himself against the knight’s leg. Alek removed one hand from the prince’s wrists and held his hip steady, a warning growl emitting from his throat.

“You are not in control,” he said, his voice deep. He leaned into Rhysand’s ear. “Slut.”

Rhysand’s eyes grew wide and he snapped his head to look at Alek. “What… Did you just call me?” He stuttered, his cheeks pink with a blush.

Alek grinned. “I called you a slut… That’s what you are.” The knight wrapped his long fingers around Rhysand’s throat and squeezed gently. “You’re my pathetic little slut.”

The noise that left Rhysand’s mouth was ungodly. His eyes rolled back slightly, and he dipped his head down as far as Alek’s hand would allow. Alek nearly moaned at the sight, his cock lay under his armor completely neglected.

“Sit on the bed,” Alek ordered, removing his knee from between Rhysand’s legs.

Rhysand whined at the loss of friction but scrambled over to his bed, eagerly sitting down. He ignored his instinctual thoughts screaming at him to run, find a guard, and behead the bastard in front of him because he knew what he really wanted. As Rhysand got lost in his lustful thoughts, Alek began stripping himself of his armor. He sighed in relief as the iron released itself from his crotch, his cock outlining his undergarments. He was as hard as Rhysand was, if not harder. He was left in nothing but his undershirt and the pair of sweatpants he wore underneath his armor. Rhysand’s eyes were locked on the very visible tent in the other boy’s pants. Alek laughed.

“Your turn,” Alek said.

Before Rhysand could comprehend what he meant, Alek was pushing the younger boy down on his own bed and undoing the very same knot he had tied moments before. He slid the cloak off of Rhysand before he began unbuttoning the fancy white shirt he wore underneath it. Once Rhysand had been stripped of his shirt and such, Alek hovered just above the prince’s V-line. He made eye contact with the royal boy, his eyes were dark with pure lust. Rhysand threw his head back and gripped his own hair roughly, not being able to handle the delicious look that the knight was giving him. Alek chuckled and began to untie Rhysand’s pants as painfully slow as he could.

“Alek!” Rhysand groaned, covering his face with his hands embarrassingly. 

Alek looked up with a smirk. “Yes, your highness?”

“Stop teasing, fucker!” The prince hissed, a hint of whining in his voice.

Alek dug his nails into Rhysand’s hips, making the smaller boy buck them forward and whine in pain. “You’re going to learn real quick that your stupid fucking attitude will get you nothing,” Alek threatened, gripping the submissive boy’s hips even harsher. Tears pricked in Rhysand’s eyes as he felt the bruises began to form. “Absolutely nothing.”

The knight removed his grip from the prince, who immediately relaxed, and ripped his pants off in one swift movement. To both of their surprise, the sound of torn fabric ripped through the air. For a moment, they shared a few seconds of laughter. 

Alek stood up and admired the beautiful sight below him: a completely naked Prince Rhysand. His eyes trailed every inch of the nude boy. His brown hair was even messier than it was when he woke up, his face was flushed red and his hands were cutely attempting to hide the need that was evident in his eyes. His cock was rock hard and pulsing with pure need as the knight’s gaze trailed over him. 

Rhysand groaned. “Alek! Stop staring and help me!” The prince whined, moving one hand from his face to cover his dick.

Alek bent down and grabbed the boy’s hips, pulling him as close to his own waist as possible. He bent down and held a tight grip on the brunette’s throat, gritting his own teeth angrily.

“You’re going to beg .”

Rhysand’s eyes grew wide and he gasped for air as Alek’s grip restricted his airway on purpose. He was going to beg? No, surely Alek wouldn’t make him throw away his pride and force him to beg for another man’s cock? 

Alek released his grip, causing Rhysand to cough and gasp for breath. “Not a chance in hell!” He said defensively.

Alek raised an eyebrow and bent down to the prince’s level. “Then I guess I’ll pack my shit and be on with my day,” he replied, his tone menacing and threatening.

Not a second passed before Rhysand was pleading. “No, no, no, you can’t!” Tears of need formed in his stubborn eyes. “You can’t leave me like this, Alek!”

Alek laughed and trailed a hand all the way from Rhysand’s chest to the top of his pelvis. Rhysand arched his hips in response. “I can, and I will,” Alek said. “Unless… You beg.” Alek kept dangerous eye contact.

Rhysand stared back, a stubborn look on his face, but his lip was quivering. He needed to be touched. He was embarrassingly hard and his cock was already leaking pre-cum. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“Please…” He whispered, cringing at himself.

“I can’t hear you, baby, you’re gonna have to speak up,” Alek grinned, rubbing Rhysand’s pale thighs slowly.

“Please!” Rhysand said a little louder, the need building him up and breaking him down at the same time.

“Go on, slut. Break. Beg for what you want.” Alek could see that Rhysand would become undone under his touch soon, he just needed a little nudge.

“Please! Please, Alek, please touch me! I’ll do anything you fucking want just… God…” Rhysand threw his head back and groaned. “ Please.”

That was all Alek needed to hear. He wrapped his fist around Rhysand’s neglected cock and smeared the embarrassing amount of pre-cum around the tip. Rhysand moaned loudly, bucking his hips into Alek’s touch needily. Alek dropped to his knees and kissed at Rhysand’s thighs simultaneously, torturing the poor prince. Rhysand cried out, moving his hands from his face to grip Alek’s hair harshly, the pleasure building up unreasonably fast. 

“Alek! Too fast, please!” Rhysand warned, arching his back unwillingly. 

Alek raised an eyebrow, “Already?” He asked, laughing slightly.

Rhysand whined in embarrassment, Alek grinned and removed his hand from the prince’s cock. Rhysand gasped and cried out in disapproval. 

“You stopped!” Rhysand whined breathlessly, furrowing his eyebrows.

Alek ignored the whining boy and frantically searched around the room. He gasped and smiled once he found what he was searching for. He returned to Rhysand with a bottle in hand.

“What… What are you doing?” Rhysand asked, still trying to catch his breath.

“You’re gonna want to be prepped,” Alek said, opening the bottle and pouring a generous amount of the liquid over his hand.

Rhysand sat up on his elbows, his legs still spread. “Prepped?” He asked.

Alek didn’t reply, he only pushed the smaller boy back down on the bed forcefully and returned to his knees. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered.

As Rhysand breathed in deeply, Alek slid a whole finger inside of the prince. He gasped in shock, the stretch being a completely new thing to him. Tears priced his eyes slightly, a faint sting erupting.

“Alek!” Rhysand scolded. “Fuck…” 

“Let me know when you’re adjusted, Rhys,” Alek said, his voice calm. 

If this was Rhysand’s first time with a guy, and it was, Alek knew that he would need to be thoroughly prepped to survive it. A small “mhm” came from Rhysand a few minutes later, and Alek gently started moving his finger in and out. Rhysand hissed at the new feeling and craned his neck back uncomfortably, but he didn’t want Alek to stop. Without warning, Alek slid in another finger. Rhysand gasped at the stretch and gripped the blankets underneath of him. Alek glanced up and him and paused, waiting for any protests.

“You’re… Good…” Rhysand stuttered.

Alek began twisting and scissoring his fingers around the inside of Rhysand’s opening, the liquid making it easy for the prince to adjust. After a while, he added one more. And then one more. 

“Fuck! Alek just… Please!” Rhysand moaned loudly as Alek showed no mercy prepping him. “Please make me cum… Your fingers feel good now, please!” He begged, the beautiful words mixing with the beautiful sounds only reminded Alek of how painfully fucking hard he was.

The knight let out a pitiful laugh. “You think this is how you’re going to cum?” He asked.

Rhysand’s eyes grew wide, and he whined as Alek retracted his fingers. “No, I’m going to make you my stupid little cockslut tonight, Prince Rhysand. ”

Alek stood up and flipped the prince around in a split second. Before the poor prince could even process the position, Alek had already stripped himself of his pants and was lining his cock up with Rhysand’s hole.

“Alek, wait- Fuck!” Rhysand let out a strangled cry as Alek slid himself inside, the tip stretching Rhysand farther than his fingers did.

Alek moaned deeply, the noise going straight to Rhysand’s cock. The knight didn’t listen to the pitiful pleads that erupted from Rhysand, he slid farther and farther into the boy until he completely bottomed out.

“Holy fucking shit , Alek,” Rhysand moaned, the burn of the stretch only adding to the pain as he was stuffed full with Alek’s dick.

“Gods, you’re fucking tight,” Alek moaned, throwing his head back as Rhysand pulsed around him.

“Move, move, move, please! Alek, please fuck me!” Rhysand gripped his bedsheets so hard that he felt his knuckles would snap right then and there.

Alek gripped the prince’s hips roughly and slid in and out, groaning deeply as the pleasure overtook him. Blinded with lust, the stronger man slammed the lessers face into the mattress and propped his leg up on the bed. With the new position, he slammed into Rhysand at an ungodly speed, making the boy scream with each thrust.

“Motherfucker, your cock feels so fucking good!” Rhysand yelled, not giving a single shit about who heard him.

Alek growled and adjusted Rhysand’s head so that his mouth was pressed against the bedding. “Shut the fuck up! Gods,” Alek moaned in between his words. “Do you fucking want us to get caught? Gah, shit! And lose this fucking cock for good?” 

Rhysand shook his head and screamed into the blanket, Alek’s cock mercilessly abusing that one fucking spot. 

Alek dug his nails into Rhysand’s shoulder. “Look at the big bad prince now, fuck! Taking my cock like a little fucking bitch- gah! Shit!” Alek let a string of moans and curses flood from his mouth as his orgasm pooled in his stomach, begging to be released.

He growled and flipped Rhysand over before slamming his cock back inside of the smaller boy, who let out an excessively loud scream as his G-spot was hit on full-force. Alek bent down and wrapped his hand around Rysand’s throat, moaning deeply.

“I wanna see your pretty little face when you cum all over my cock like a fucktoy.”

Rhysand was going fucking crazy. Between having his ass completely abused and the horribly disrespectful things coming out of Alek’s mouth, he was sure he would die at that moment. 

“Please! Please, can I please fucking cum, Alek?” He sobbed, tears spewing from his eyes as the pleasure possessed his body.

Alek sped up, going at inhuman speeds. “Yes, fuck, yes! Cum for me, fuckdoll, let me see that pretty face,” Alek approved, feeling his own orgasm approaching.

As soon as the approval was given, Rhysand let out an incredibly loud scream, white, hot pleasure turning into white, hot cum spewed all over his and Alek’s chest. The sight alone was what made Alek cum. He groaned and slammed impossibly deeper inside of Rhysand, cum filling the boy up even more. They both cried out in pleasure, Alek’s seed gushing out and pooling underneath Rhysand. Alek lost his balance, the orgasm causing his limbs to go weak and making him fall on top of Rhysand, who cried out as Alek’s cock pushed his cum deeper and deeper.

Nothing but heavy breathing and moaning was heard throughout Rhysand’s room. Alek gained a little bit of strength and used it to pull himself out and collapse beside Rhysand. The prince whined loudly as he felt warmth trickling down his thigh. Alek laughed.

“That… Was fucking fantastic...” Alek moaned out, pulling Rhysand closer to him.

Rhysand, too exhausted to speak, embraced the warmth and the scent of the boy as he was pulled closer. Alek chuckled softly and reluctantly stood up, pushing away the weakness in his knees. He let Rhysand rest, but pulled out the cum-covered blanket from underneath the prince, tossing it to the side. He found a clean cloth on the nearby bedside table and returned to Rhysand, cleaning off his thighs thoroughly. He smirked at the sight of cum dripping out of the boy he had just ruined, but he knew that taking care of the boy was more important than that right now. He grabbed a fresh blanket from the closet and returned to Rhysand, who now had opened his eyes and was watching him from afar. The knight climbed back into the bed with the prince and wrapped them both in the fresh, new blanket, sighing contently. Rhysand snuggled closer to the boy, relishing the moment. Alek smiled and kissed the top of the boy’s head, letting him drift asleep.

He grinned to himself.

His face really is that same shade of red when he cums.

It’s been a while since the night has seen a storm like this. The trees are swaying, battling each other viciously as their branches and leaves intertwine. Rain falls and splashes into deep, muddy puddles and wind hammers against the creaky boards of the hut. From the thunderous storm clouds, the nearly-full moon peeks with anxiety. Dagyr isn’t sure that the walls are going to hold up overnight, but they’re all he has. He slumps his back against the fragile wall and tucks knees into his chest, an attempt to keep his boots dry from the puddle forming in the middle of the structure. He curses at himself for not searching for a spot sooner, but the threat of the full moon was so overstimulating the week before it rose, he could barely leave his bed. He covers his ears, the pounding rain sounding like a thousand swords clashing a few inches from his head. A lightning bolt strikes and thunder crashes outside the door and he digs his nails into his skull, crying out at the headache that creeps up the back of his neck. The weather he typically adores now has a dangerous ache of frustration growing in his chest. Dagyr clenches his muscles, his heightened senses overtaken by the world around him. The sounds of the storm, the feeling of mud seeping into his boots and leaking between his toes, the taste of blood in his mouth from biting his cheeks. He prays to any god that’s listening to make the storm cease so that he may sleep in peace.
Another crack of thunder is the only thing that answers his prayers. He screams in anger. From behind his ear, he feels a slow trickle and a dull, stinging pain. He slowly removes his hands and stares at the sharp claws that have burst from his fingertips, leaving bloody cuticles and torn skin. He squeezes his eyes shut and tosses his head against the wall, trying to take deep breaths. He should be used to this by now, but it doesn’t get any easier to control his frustration when he only has himself.
Through the darkness of his eyelids, he briefly sees a flash of white light and prepares himself for the burst. It comes, louder and closer than before, and he digs his fingers into the mud and grits his teeth. Another flash of light, but this one is electric orange. He squeezes his eyes tighter and grabs fistfuls of his wet hair, yanking at the strands, waiting.
It doesn’t come.
He releases himself, the headache pounding where the hair was pulled, and opens his eyes.
In an instant, he is muzzled by what feels like a damp piece of cloth. He inhales sharply and yells, the rag blurring his vision and covering his nose. His scream turns weak in only seconds as a toxic smell overwhelms him. Tears well up in his eyes, as if he’s just been suffocated with the smoke of a damp bonfire, and his mouth rapidly fills with spit. The scent is putrid and chemical and his stomach begins to churn. His limbs go limp, as if he’s become a puppet, and he struggles to keep his eyes open. The rag is removed as he slumps to the ground. He lands in the fresh puddle and mud cakes the right side of his body and splashes across his face. With the last of his strength, Dagyr bleakly searches the room for his attacker. All he catches is a glimpse of brown hair before his consciousness is lost, one last crack of thunder echoing in his ears.

The next day, the sun dimly shines on all of the damage from last night’s storm. Branches are swung carelessly across the forest floor and puddles big enough to be small ponds have formed where animals tried to sleep. There are tattered leaves littering the ground, some sticking to the muddy side of Dagyr’s lifeless body. Handling him is a boy, who carefully secures Dagyr’s arms behind a thin oak tree. He’s careful while fastening the thick, metal chains around the boys wrists, eyeing the muscles that are bulging through his mud-soaked shirt. When the boy is confident that Dagyr cannot break through the chains, he aimlessly sits back on his heels and stares at him. Dagyr’s tan skin glows burnt orange with the light of dusk, which highlights the pale scars that decorate his exposed flesh. The boy lingers on his rugged face. He stares at Dagyr’s unkempt, dark facial hair and bushy eyebrows and chuckles silently. He knew that werewolves were messy and furry, but he didn’t agree that it had to apply to their human form. He leans forward, only a centimeter or two out of caution, and studies Dagyr more carefully. He gives Dagyr a look of empathy when he notices the slight rash that’s formed around his eyes and mouth. It’s a mix of small red and purple blisters that appear itchy, and the boy momentarily regrets using so much Wolf’s Bane. He is reassured of his dosage when Dagyr’s body suddenly jolts, making the boy jump back and land on his rear. Moments later, the werewolf remains subdued, and the boy sighs in relief. He regains his balance and kneels in front of him again.
“Fuck,” he says, letting out a breath, “I can’t believe I did this.”
Dagyr grumbles and the boy quickly stands upright, staring at him with unease.
“What…” Dagyr whispers groggily.
“What- What the fuck.”
Dagyr’s head snaps up straight and he yanks at the chains. Immediately with regret, he winces in pain and clenches his eyes.
“Fuck, my head,” he mumbles.
“It’s going to hurt for a few more hours,” his attacker says in a quiet voice.
Dagyr’s eyes shoot open and he locks them on the man. He is shorter, he notes, and scrawnier. He has short, wavy, light brown hair that splits down the middle and frames his face, which is bare of facial hair and unscarred. He’s wearing plain clothes with a single dagger attached to his left hip. Dagyr curses himself for allowing a boy like this to be the one to subdue him. Of all creatures, an unremarkable human.
The boy clears his throat and straightens his stance.
“Lycan,” he addresses Dagyr nervously, “do not try to escape, it will only hurt you.”
Dagyr doesn’t remove his intimidating gaze from the boy’s eyes. They’re crystal blue, so much so that Dagyr can imagine what they look like when they cry.
“Your poison didn’t work,” he replies in a low tone.
The boy looks to the west and studies the sky carefully. Dagyr follows his eyes and he notes the dimly lit sky.
“It kept you asleep for an entire day,” the boy says in an almost cheerful tone, “I would say that’s pretty successful.”
The realization hits Dagyr that the beautiful blue-grey sky is not dawn, but is instead the whispers of dusk.
He has only a few hours before the full moon rises.
A small smirk creeps onto his face, but is replaced by a stone cold stare when the boy looks at him again.
“It wasn’t enough to kill me.”
He nods his head towards the sky.
“You know what will happen when that sun sets. What will you do then?”
Dagyr’s voice is a mix of menacing and playful while he analyzes the human’s expressions. It’s been a long time since he’s had fresh meat like this, and he knows that his beast will enjoy it when the time comes.
The boy furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head.
“It was not my plan to kill you, lycan,” he says.
Dagyr tilts his head up, keeping his stare.
“Answer my question.”
The boy ignores him and takes a step forward.
“I’ve captured you,” he says, crouching in front of Dagyr, “because you have something that I want.”
A small smile creeps onto Dagyr’s face and he cocks his head to the side slowly.
“And what is that?”
The boy’s eyes linger on a scar on Dagyr’s neck and he stutters for a moment. Dagyr breathes through his nose and laughs dryly.
“I see,” he says, leaning forward as much as his restraints allow him, “you want me to bite you.”
Dagyr licks his lips and keeps eye contact with the boy as he finishes his sentence. The boy stands up and takes a few steps back. The werewolf can smell the sweat beginning to bead on the human’s forehead. He takes a deep breath in.
“Gods,” he sighs, “I do love that smell.”
“Smell? What smell?” The human stammers.
Dagyr stares up at him, a strong wicked smile still on his face and deep, dark eyes.
“The smell of fear.”
He lets out a small moan as the words fall from his lips and the human unsheathes his dagger, shakily holding it with two hands.
“I have no fear, lycan. You are restrained, and cannot hurt me. I have nothing to fear!” The boy yells, pointing the knife with every annunciation.
To Dagyr, it appears that the boy is trying to convince himself rather than him. He locks eyes on the dagger as it reflects the dying rays of sunlight.
“Silver,” he says curiously, “an aspiring werewolf carrying a silver dagger. You are nothing.”
With a cry of frustration, the boy aimlessly swings the dagger at nothing. He gasps in shock when the blade connects with Dagyr’s cheek and the sound of sizzling skin fills the space between them. Dagyr tosses his head back and lets out a moan and a laugh with an open jaw, showing off his fangs. The boy stares at him with terror and confusion, looking between the werewolf and the blade in his hand.
“Oh, god. You’ll need something stronger than that,” Dagyr growls with pleasure and squints his eyes, “I love that burn.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy stutters out.
He bends down and leans towards Dagyr’s face to examine the burn mark. To his surprise, the burn mark sizzles for a second longer before the skin returns to normal. The boy gasps lightly and his eyes fill with wonder and confusion.
“Amazing,” he whispers. “It’s amazing that you can do that.”
At that moment, Dagyr notices the end of a scar trailing up the back of the boy’s shoulder, peeking out of his shirt. He stares for a second, concluding that it looks like a burn mark.
“You want this curse to heal you? It will break you, boy,” Dagyr spits out.
The boy self-consciously pulls his shirt back and leans away.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you, and I don’t want to keep you tied to this tree longer than I need to.”
The boy drops to his knees and takes a few breaths. Dagyr watches him intensely, trying to analyze his next move. The boy runs both of his hands through his hair nervously and sticks one arm in front of Dagyr’s face, rolling up his sleeve.
“Do it,” he says, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth.
Dagyr stares at his arm, the decaying sunlight reflecting off his soft, pale skin. He narrows his eyebrows and parts his lips in confusion.
“What exactly are you asking me to do here?” He says, looking between the limb and the boy’s face.
The boy opens his eyes and looks at him.
“What do you think? Bite me!” He demands, grasping his wrist with his free arm and pushing it closer to Dagyr’s face.
Dagyr can’t help but toss his head back and laugh. He chuckles for a few seconds and rests his head against the tree.
“You poor thing,” he grins, “you know nothing.”
The boy’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment and he hastily yanks his sleeve down, recoiling.
“Well, what are you supposed to do?!” He sighs and tosses his hands up.
Dagyr laughs again and clears his throat before straightening out his face.
“A cursed bite is not something you can just do, boy. There are rules you have to follow and… circumstances you have to be under.” Dagyr looks him up and down slowly, rolling his shoulders back with a smolder.
“Rules? Circumstances? The book I read told me-”
Dagyr cuts him off abruptly.
“The book you read was probably written by humans who hunt me for sport. They know nothing about my culture, nothing about my species, and clearly nothing about my curse.” Dagyr’s tone is stern and offended, tired of how many people get off on misunderstanding him.
The boy goes quiet for a moment and looks at the ground, thinking deeply.
“You’re wasting time. Soon, that sun will set, and when it does, you’re not going to want to be the first thing I see,” Dagyr says, licking his lips as he finishes the sentence.
“Your chains,” the boy says, “the core of each link is silver. You can’t transform.”
Dagyr’s freezes and his eyes widen. He yanks his arms forward, jostling the chains. Looking over his shoulder, he inspects his restraints. They’re matte and stark black, with light scratches of ware along the edges.
“Unchain me, now,” Dagyr orders, staring menacingly at the boy.
The boy turns to face him with his chin held high and his shoulders tense.
“Tell me the ritual,” he counters.
Dagyr’s mind fills with fury and he yells in anger. His irises, dark brown before, ignite with a fiery orange and his face turns red.
“Release me, and I won’t tear your pathetic arms from your body,” he snarls, gritting his teeth.
“You are powerless here, lycan. The only way I’m taking those off is if you tell me exactly what I need to do. I would make up your mind before the sun sets,” the boy says, bending down and pointing behind Dagyr. “I read that those chains will have you writhing in agony.”
Dagyr screams in frustration and attempts to take deep, large breaths. He tries to think through his options. He’s only heard of these chains, but never seen them used before, and he doesn’t want to find out if the boy is right. He knows what the ritual requires, but he can’t possibly complete it with a person like this. He searches his mind for loopholes.
“Your name,” he says, looking at the ground, still thinking.
“What?” The boy replies.
“Tell me your name.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, for fucks sake.”
The boy stutters for a second, Dagyr’s tone frightening him.
“Evan. Evan Adler.”
“Dagyr.” Dagyr responds short and without patience.
“How does that help me?” Evan replies, annoyed.
Dagyr sighs impatiently and tosses his head back. He shakes his ankle anxiously. After a few seconds of silence, he groans and stares up at Evan.
“Are you a virgin?”
Evan’s eyes grow wide and he starts to sputter in shock.
“Excuse me?!”
Dagyr groans. “The most important thing for a ritual is forming a.. relationship with the victim. Getting as personal as I can is the only fucking thing I can think of right now.”
Dagyr eyeballs Evan expectantly, while Evan continues to stare with exasperation. He clenches his eyebrows and purses his lips before exhaling.
“Yes,” he mutters, looking away.
“Perfect. I’m chained up by a virgin dog-lover,” Dagyr groans and mutters under his breath.
“What do you mean by a “relationship?”” Evan questions.
Dagyr raises his eyebrows and eyes Evan, determining if he should respond. He stares instead, and Evan inhales sharply and looks away.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, “oh.” Your best chance is finding some poor she-wolf with enough lack of self respect to figure this shit out with. Now, let me go, and I’ll keep my word of not ripping you apart.”
Evan averts his gaze and inspects his boots. Dagyr watches his facial expression change from embarrassment to pure humiliation.
“Unless…” he starts.
Evan eyes dart between Dagyr and his boots.
“Unless a she-wolf wouldn’t satisfy you.”
Dagyr watches how his words affect Evan and he lets out a laugh.
“Hm, I see why you want to escape your humanity. Nature is much more accepting of our kind than a village,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and observing the swaying trees.
Evan perks up for a second and lingers on “our kind.”
“You’re…” He trails off.
“Release me and find out.” Dagyr pins his gaze on Evan’s, being strict on not breaking the contact.
Evan twitches uncomfortably and looks away from him.
“Forget it,” he says, low and with a twinge of defeat. “I’ll figure out another way.”
Before Dagyr can respond, Evan turns his back and walks towards the tattered, mossy hut. He angrily pushes the door open and leans in half way, bending down to grab something. He emerges from the building with a heavy sack and an unlit torch and walks towards Dagyr.
“Sorry about this,” Evan says plainly, though Dagyr can see the threat of tears in his eyes.
Evan sighs and turns, walking towards the west. Dagyr’s eyes catch the setting sun and he starts to scream.
“Get back here right now, what are you doing?!” He yells angrily, desperation on the edge of his voice.
“Evan!”

Evan ignores Dagyr’s screams and continues walking. His heavy pack thumps against his back, and everytime it hurts his heart more. He had packed it with enough clothes and food for at least a week, but it was useless now. When he can no longer hear Dagyr’s screams, the tears start to fall. He throws his pack down on the ground, clothes and dried meats spilling on the forest floor, and he drops to his knees. He runs his hands through his hair and pulls at the strands, releasing a cry of frustration and pain. He shoots up and kicks the sack away from him, shuffling forward and clutching his chest while trying to focus on his breaths. He blinks and finds himself squished in between the roots of an elder oak tree as the last ray of light dies on the horizon. He curls into a ball and clutches his knees to his chest. He chokes out another sob when he hears the faint, anguished scream of Dagyr in the distance. The guilt, the shame, the humiliation is all too much for him to handle, and he can’t control his breathing. Tears drip down his face, his consciousness begins to lose him, and he passes out, cradled in the tree's roots.
There’s a chilling breeze blowing through the wind as the full moon shines through the clear skies. It shines light on every leaf and twig that lay scattered around Evan as he sleeps. The moon isn’t fully risen, but it still illuminates the ground as bright as day. The sound of a quick snap echoes through the forest and Evan’s eyes shoot open. He hastily sits up and scoots further against the tree, wrapping his arms around his shins and scanning the area. He hears three short huffs of breath from his right and his hand shoots over his mouth, masking his breath. The sound of leaves crunching underneath footsteps makes his blood run cold and his mind runs wild with the imminent threat of danger. Another stick cracks, this time closer, and he wildly looks around for the source.
Evan screams as a doe peeks her head around the oak tree and locks eyes with him. Spooked, she flees and disappears into the thick fog. Evan loosens his legs and leans his head against the tree, breathing heavily.
“Fuck me,” he says, clutching his chest.
Suddenly, he feels a feverishly warm hand clasp over his mouth. An arm wraps around his stomach and he is dragged away from the safety of the tree. He can hear Dagyr’s ragged breath against his ear through his muffled screams. It’s almost monstrous, with a short growl at the end of each exhale. Evan can see chains still wrapped around his wrist. The hand wrapped around his torso still has a strip of loose chain dangling from it, smacking Evan’s thigh as he is mercilessly dragged through the forest. Dagyr hauls him for more than five minutes and Evan’s every attempt to escape is destroyed by the werewolf’s inhuman strength. With every struggle, Dagyr tightens his grip and digs his nails into the boy's skin. Tears of fear start to well up in Evan’s eyes and drip down his cheeks, landing on Dagyr’s bruised, muddy hands.
“I love that fucking smell,” Dagyr growls into Evan’s ear.
He brings them both to a halt and throws Evan to the ground. The boy lands with a cry and he hurriedly tries to crawl away. Dagyr bends down and grasps both of his ankles, pulling him with ease and flipping him onto his back. He steps so that he’s towering over Evan, each foot keeping his thighs closed, and bends down to look him in the eye.
“Let me explain something to you,” Dagyr says, an animalistic glint in his eyes.
“One thing about the transformation is that every single human instinct is replaced by an animal, and an animal only cares about three things.”
Dagyr squats so that his rear is hovering just above Evan’s shins. Evan stays perfectly still, worried that one move would end his life, and stares in horror.
“Food.”
Dagyr bares his sharp canine teeth and drags his tongue over them.
“Water.”
Evan realizes that Dagyr had dragged him to the bank of the river, the reflection of the full moon rippling across the surface. Dagyr takes one hand and rests it on Evan’s stomach, a clawed index finger lined up with the middle button of his shirt.
“And sex.”
Evan’s chest is heaving as he eyes Dagyr’s sharp claws.
Dagyr shows Evan his other hand and shakes it, wiggling the loose chain.
“See this? I told you that book was full of shit. All you did was put those monstrous instincts into a man. You gave a rabid animal a voice and hands.”
“You know Evan, animals don’t have time for emotions like anger, hatred, or revenge. No, no they only care about what they need to survive, and right now….”
Dagyr climbs on top of Evan and straddles him before wrapping a hand around the boy’s throat.
“You have me starving.”
Dagyr leans into Evan’s face and inhales deeply. He lets out a moan and closes his eyes.
“Thirsty.”
He wipes a drop of sweat off of Evan’s face with his opposite hand and licks it off his finger slowly.
“And desperate.”
Before Evan can blink, Dagyr tears his torn, tattered shirt off of his body and discards it without thought. Evan can’t help his rapid heartbeat, but the fear begins to mix with something else. Something sweeter and more exciting. There’s a scent in the air that Evan’s never experienced before. It’s a mix of floral and citrus, and something else that he can’t figure out. It intoxicates him. He lets his eyes trail over Dagyr’s chest for a moment, inspecting bruises and scars that he can see through his chest hair. Evan pauses. Something feels different. Every breath he takes, he finds himself leaning into Dagyr’s touch.
Dagyr grabs the bottom of Evan’s face with one hand and lifts his head up. Evan’s eyes snap to make contact and his stomach flutters with nerves.
“Poor thing. You didn’t read about this, did you?” Dagyr says, feigning pity.
“I’ve never-” Evan begins to stutter out through squished lips.
“You’re gonna,” Dagyr whispers, low and dominant.
Evan’s limbs go weak and he nods as best he can. Dagyr grabs a fistful of Evan’s shirt and stands abruptly, pulling the smaller boy up with him. Borderline carrying him, Dagyr slams Evan’s back into a nearby tree and releases his shirt.
“That scent?” Dagyr groans. “That’s lust. It’s the first step in the ritual.”
Evan stares nervously into Dagyr’s eyes, which have the same fiery orange glow as when he was angry. But this time, they don’t instill fear into the boy’s chest. They make him feel desperate and needy, anxious to satisfy a craving he’s never felt before. He takes in the features of Dagyr’s face that he didn’t notice before. His thick, black curly hair sticking to his drenched forehead and the scar that trails from his ear to the corner of his eyebrow. The dark, slightly purple bags that have formed under his eyes where the Wolf’s Bane rash used to be. The bloody cracks in his lips and the remnants of rash on his chin. Suddenly, the guilt floods back into Evan’s brain, and he moves without thinking. He slams his lips into Dagyr’s, who kisses him back roughly. Dagyr’s hands snake under Evan’s shirt and around his waist, cooling his palms on Evan’s skin. The kiss isn’t passionate or tender, it’s brutal and hungry. The two boys share a feeling of insatiable hunger that only they can satisfy. Dagyr’s hands trail up Evan’s chest and he forces them outward, splitting his shirt down the middle. The sound of torn fabric echoes through the forest. Evan moans into the kiss as the midnight chill hits his skin. He pushes himself into Dagyr’s chest, deepening the kiss and soaking in the warmth from the man’s skin. He wraps his arm around Dagyr’s neck, but gasps and pulls away when their hips connect. Dagyr breathes in heavily and stares at him with confusion. Evan, just as breathless, glances down between them. Dagyr grins and grabs his chin with his thumb and index finger, lifting so he looks at him.
“I forgot,” he says, pulling Evan in closer. “You’ve never felt this before.”
Dagyr pushes him flat against the tree and grinds his hips against Evan’s. Evan pants and moans, throwing his head back in pleasure.
“Fuck!” He whines.
“That’s the second step, baby,” Dagyr says with a groan. “Pleasure.”
Evan’s head goes limp against Dagyr’s shoulder as the man continues to please him. Desperate, high-pitched moans slip from his mouth with no control. Evan can’t help but feel pathetic for losing himself so easily. He lifts his head and sinks his teeth into Dagyr’s shoulder, using the flesh to muffle himself. A deep, inhuman growl erupts from Dagyr’s throat. He snakes a hand into Evan’s hair and grips it tightly, pulling the boy’s head back. He wraps his free arm around Evan’s waist for balance and leads him a few feet away from the bank of the pond. Together, they both drop to their knees and eagerly work each other’s clothes off. Dagyr’s hands go straight to Evan’s belt, quickly undoing the leather knot and loosening the thin fabric of his pants.As the material drops down Evan’s waist, Dagyr can see the defined curves of his hip and the dips that lead to his groin. He looks up at Evan with a raised eyebrow, smirking
“You’re not wearing any undergarments?” He questions.
Evan’s face turns a faint shade of pink that’s just barely visible under the light of the moon.
“I expected to change. I didn’t want to rip more than I needed,” he stutters quickly.
Dagyr leans up to face him and wraps his hands around Evan’s waist. Even on their knees, Dagyr still has to look down to catch his gaze. His hands fit against Evan’s hips like a puzzle piece. They’re large compared to Evan’s torso, and there’s only about a foot between his thumbs. The size differential of the human makes his predatory instinct wild, and he can’t help but look at Evan like he’s prey meant to be devoured.
“Or maybe,” Dagyr starts, his tone soft as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on Evan’s neck, “you wanted this to happen.”
Dagyr’s touch and breath against the side of Evan’s neck makes him sigh with pleasure and goosebumps prickle across his shoulders and his arms. Dagyr slides his hands to Evan’s lower back and pulls him closer, kissing his skin again.
“Maybe what you really wanted was to be fucked like a whore.”
Dagyr’s tone changes from soft to aggressive in seconds. The shift catches Evan off guard and he jumps. He has little time to process before Dagyr grabs the sides of his pants and splits them down the middle. The fabric hangs loosely on Evan’s thighs, just barely blocking the view of his cock. Evan is shocked by the motion and falls backwards, barely catching himself with his hand. He doesn’t hold himself up for long before Dagyr puts a hand on his chest and pushes him onto his back. Dagyr peels the ruined pants down Evan’s legs, holding devilish eye contact with him. He watches Evan’s chest rise and fall rapidly with anticipation. He can smell the nervousness and the fear and the lust. It makes him feel like a feral, starving animal. He feels the thin fabric of his own pants pressing against his cock, which starts to ache the moment he notices. He groans in pleasure as he takes in the sight of Evan being fully naked and at his disposal. His soft, untainted human skin begging for bites and bruises. Dagyr feels a sense of ownership overcome him, like a wolf with a kill. He leans forward and spreads Evan’s thighs before grabbing his waist, bending down to place kisses on the boy’s stomach. His lips follow the faint trail of hair down his stomach to right above his cock. Dagyr locks eyes with Evan, who stares with his lip between his teeth, muffling his moans. Dagyr growls at that. He wants to make Evan scream.
He wraps his hand around Evan’s cock and his lips around the tip, softly sucking the sensitive skin. Evan gasps and his hands instinctively go into Dagyr’s hair, tangling his fingers in the long, curly locks. Dagyr continues sucking, going further down every few seconds while he watches Evan’s stomach contort with pleasure. Evan keeps tugging on Dagyr’s hair, trying to find a way to cope with the amount of ecstasy he’s feeling. Both of his hands fly over his mouth when the tip of his cock touches Dagyr’s throat. Evan can feel the vibrations of the growl that leaves Dagyr’s mouth as he spews muffled moans through his fingers. Dagyr, keeping Evan’s cock in his mouth, reaches up and grasps both of Evan’s arms, pinning them to the ground. Evan bobs his head and squeezes his eyes shut, moaning between pants. Dagyr pulls away and lets the spit pool in his mouth before bringing it to his lips, taking Evan down his throat again. The wetness makes his lips slide across the skin with ease and makes Evan moan even louder.
“Dagyr, please, I can’t take it,” he whines pathetically, struggling against Dagyr’s grip on his arms.
Dagyr only tightens his fingers in response and continues to overstimulate Evan’s sensitive cock. He bobs his head up and down rapidly, sucking in his cheeks and lips to make sure he tastes every single inch. Dagyr savors the taste, and relishes the slutty noises that Evan makes and the way he struggles against Dagyr’s hold. He doesn’t stop until Evan’s moans get higher in pitch and he starts arching his back.
“No, no please don’t stop. I think I was close,” Evan begs breathlessly as Dagyr pulls his mouth away.
Evan starts to lean up but is quickly thorted as Dagyr pushes him down and puts his body between his thighs. Evan persists in his begging, desperate for the waves of pleasure that Dagyr’s mouth gave him and the amazing burn that he felt in his stomach. Dagyr covers his mouth with one hand and gives a low, quiet growl. He uses his other hand to start undoing his own pants.
“You think that’s how you get to cum?” He says rhetorically.
Evan, still breathless, furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
“No, no. You’re going to cum on my cock like the whore you are.”
Evan gasps as he feels Dagyr’s cock brush against his inner thigh. With the werewolf towering over him, he can’t see it, but the man’s smirk fills him with nerves.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Dagyr says, pushing his hand deeper against Evan’s mouth. “I’ll be gentle.” He bends down next to Evan’s ear. “I’m not going to break you yet.”
He removes his hand and presses a finger against Evan’s lips.
“Suck,” Dagyr demands.
Evan hesitates for a second, but the intoxicating look in Dagyr’s fiery eyes makes him do it. He mimics Dagyr and brings a pool of saliva to the front of his mouth before taking Dagyr’s finger completely.
Dagyr works his pants down to his ankles, not taking his eyes off of Evan’s mouth for a second. He can’t help but pump his finger in and out, fantasizing about the boy’s lips on his cock. He slips a second finger in, watching Evan’s mouth stretch.
“You look so fucking pretty like that,” Dagyr groans, pushing his hips further between Evan’s legs.
“You’re going to make me feel so good with this pretty body of yours, you know that? I’m going to make you crave it every night the moon is full. Every time you feel your senses heightened when that sun goes down, you’re going to come crawling right back to me like a pet. You’re going to be all mine.”
Evan can’t contain the moans anymore. The noises Dagyr is making, the words dripping from his mouth, the feeling of him grinding his cock against his, all of it wipes his mind clean of anything except being fucked. He pulls his mouth away from Dagyr’s fingers and stares at him with needy, desperate eyes.
“Please, Dagyr,” he pleads, spit slipping down his chin.
“Please what?” Dagyr teases. He wraps his clean hand around Evan’s throat and squeezes. “I want you to say it.”
“Please fuck me,” Evan chokes out. “I need you inside of me, I need to be fucked. Please, I’m begging you.”
Hearing the tone of Evan’s voice makes Dagyr lose control. He loses any patience for more teasing. He’s just as desperate as Evan, if not more. He takes his spit covered fingers and lines them up with Evan’s hole.
Dagyr breaks from his instincts for just a second. “This is going to hurt a little, but I promise it will get better,” he says reassuringly.
Evan nods quickly and readjusts his hips. He leans his head back and takes a deep breath in. Dagyr proceeds after the acknowledgement, slowly pushing one finger in. Evan hisses in pain and groans with insecurity. Dagyr shushes him softly, but his mind is only thinking about how tight Evan is going to be wrapped around him. He moves his hand in and out slowly, waiting for Evan to adjust. Soon, Evan gives a small “mhm,” and Dagyr slides a second finger in. He makes sure that, despite how much he wants to ruin Evan, he takes it slow and gentle with his fingers. He stares at Evan’s face, looking for any signs of unbearable pain or strain. After a few moments of sliding in and out and adjusting to the stretch, Evan lets out a soft, pleasurable moan. It makes Dagyr’s stomach tighten and burn with need, but he holds himself back.
“One more,” Dagyr says.
“One more!?” Evan exclaims. “Why?”
Dagyr grins and leans forward. “I’m bigger.”
They repeat the process one more time, this time letting Evan adjust a bit longer. It stings, but Evan can feel the pleasure starting to build up again with every pump of Dagyr’s fingers. Without warning, Dagyr pulls out and spits into his hand. Evan snaps his head up and stares. He still smells of anxiousness and excitement. Dagyr can’t wait any longer. He wraps his soaked hand around his neglected cock and groans in ecstasy. He had been so focused on Evan that he hadn’t realized the amount of precum that was dripping down his cock. He smears it up and down, coating every inch, before he aggressively spreads Evan’s leg further apart and lines the tip of his cock with his ass.
“Take a deep breath,” Dagyr demands, his soft tone forgotten.
Evan does as he says and digs his hands into the dirt, anticipation wafting off of him. Dagyr starts to push in and moans deeply. Evan starts to whine, feeling the stinging more than ever as he presses his hands against Dagyr’s chest. Dagyr ignores him completely, his attention clouded by the feeling of Evan around him. He doesn’t stop until Evan starts to cry out.
“Dagyr, it’s too much, I can’t take it!”
Dagyr looks down to see that Evan’s only taken him halfway. He growls.
“You can take it, baby, just relax,” he says, continuing to push deeper.
Dagyr keeps a firm hand pressed against Evan’s chest while the other rests on the boy’s hip. He watches Evan push the back of his head against the ground and arch his back as he continues to take Dagyr’s cock. The view only makes him want to fuck him faster. He moans loudly and takes deep, heavy breaths as the last inch slips in. He stays still for a moment, grabbing both of Evan’s hips and waiting for confirmation. Evan has his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his face is contorted in a confusing mix of pain and pleasure. He’s gripping the dirt for life, waiting for the ache and the burn to pass just like he did before. Dagyr starts rubbing the boy’s thighs.
“Breathe, baby,” he hums.
Evan lets out a deep exhale and looks up at him, giving a small nod. Dagyr sighs in relief and growls.
“Fuck, I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
His pace quickens immediately, and his claws dig into Evan’s flesh. He starts to pound into Evan, who furiously tries to keep up with the pace. He fails, whimpering and crying out with every thrust. Dagyr releases a mix of guttural snarls and moans, unable to contain how much fucking pleasure he’s getting.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good!” He moans, pulling Evan’s hips with every thrust to make sure he’s as deep as possible. “So fucking good, my little toy- fuck- I can’t get enough.”
Evan can’t get words to come out of his mouth. All he can do is submit to the slutty sounds falling from his lips. He can’t focus on anything except how fucking good Dagyr’s cock feels stretching him out.
“So fucking tight but taking me so well. God, come here.”
Dagyr slides his hands underneath Evan’s ass and lifts him up. With his cock still deep inside, Dagyr carries him to the closest tree and slams Evan’s back against it. Evan wraps his arms around Dagyr’s neck and his legs around his waist for security. In this position, Dagyr’s cock goes even deeper inside of him, finally making him scream. When Dagyr hears it, he stops for a moment and stares at the boy with a devious grin.
“Been waiting for that all fucking night,” he says.
He continues slamming into Evan against the tree, making his screams echo through the forest. Evan’s back is stinging from being furiously rubbed against the rough tree bark, but he doesn’t care. The pleasure that Dagyr is giving him is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. It makes him see white and lose all sense of nerves. He’s drowning in the feeling of Dagyr hitting that one spot. Just when he thinks he’s reached his limit of pleasure, Dagyr wraps a hand around his cock.
“Oh my fucking god,” he cries loudly. “Fuck, baby, oh my god.”
Dagyr grins and throws his head back. The tight feeling around him mixed with his heightened senses makes the sex feel more than pleasurable. It feels intoxicating, like the best high he’s ever felt in his life. He stares at Evan’s exposed neck, focusing on the soft, tender spot just above his collarbone. He licks his lips and puts all of his energy and power into fucking the boy in front of him.
“Fuck, such a good fucking boy. You’re taking it so well, fuck,” Dagyr moans, leaning his head against Evan’s neck.
Evan can’t respond. All he can do is moan and dig his nails into Dagyr’s back, nearly drawing blood.
“Oh, fuck, right there,” Evan cries out. “Please, right there. Please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.”
Dagyr releases Evan’s cock and grabs his hips, repositioning him up a little more to get a better angle before he starts pounding as hard as he can. He digs his claws into Evan’s skin, trying to hold on long enough to make him cum.
“God, you’re so tight, I can’t hold on much longer. You feel too fucking good.” Dagyr grunts and his head falls back against Evan’s neck, sweat dripping down his forehead.
“Dagyr, fuck, I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” Evan wraps his arms around Dagyr’s neck and pulls him closer, slamming his head against the tree and moaning loudly.
Dagyr doesn’t let up. He continues pounding into him, breathing heavily into the crook of his neck as Evan tightens around his cock.
Between the charge that churns inside of him from the full moon and the fire that chars his stomach from the pleasure, Dagyr gives Evan one last deep thrust before he stills his hips and sinks his fangs into the soft, delicate skin between his throat and his collarbone.
The Sweet Spot.
Just as the blood starts to fill Dagyr’s mouth, he starts fucking Evan again, letting his cum fill the boy up as he uses him to milk himself. Evan lets out a scream, a mix of agony and ecstasy and excitement, as he feels his orgasm bursting from his cock. There isn’t a word to describe the overwhelming feeling pulsing through his body. There is something flowing through his veins, he can feel it rising up his neck and pouring down his chest, every which way. The venom feels cold, a stark contrast against his heated body. But he can feel Dagyr’s cum dripping out of him as the boy continues to pump in and out, and he can feel his own seed covering his chest. The stinging of the bark against his back feels multiplied now, like every sense has been heightened. He keeps screaming until Dagyr finally rips his teeth out and slowly stops thrusting, letting his face fall against Evan’s bloodied shoulder. Their chests are hitting each other as they breathe heavily, both chasing recovery.
Dagyr pulls out of Evan with a deep, slow groan and pulls the boy close, cradling him into his chest. Despite his muscles shaking with exhaustion, he uses the last of his strength to keep Evan from slipping as he carries him. Evan is nearly silent, nothing but raspy breaths escaping his mouth, and his head bounces against Dagyr’s shoulder as he walks. With wobbly knees, Dagyr reaches the elder oak tree where he had found Evan. He gently places the delirious Evan against the side of the tree and shushes him.
“Give me one second, baby,” he whispers.
He makes his way to Evan’s root-bed and forcefully extends his claws. He uses both hands to rip up the dirt, making the ground softer to the touch. With the last of his strength leaking out of Evan, he won’t be able to get them to a shelter without some rest. He delicately scoops Evan up, careful not to move his wounded neck too much, and sits himself in the makeshift bed with Evan against his chest. Dagyr can smell pain and lasting pleasure on the boy while he shakes and sweats in his arms. Dagyr rubs his back and shoulders, comforting him with sweet words. He knows the icy feeling of venom suffocating every vein and smiting humanity from a being. But Evan is his now, and he’ll do anything to make his change more comfortable than his own was.
Dagyr is thankful when Evan passes out and his body stops shuddering. The comfort of knowing Evan will complete the first night of his change asleep is enough to let himself rest. He snuggles into the crook of the tree root, squeezes Evan one more time, and falls asleep under the light of the full moon.