(For all those that find themselves lost this Christmas, and for those that dare to reach out and love them. Love and hugs to you all ~ Jade)
Wolf whined softly in the back of his throat and took another desperate, but increasingly hopeless look around the forest.
It was so dark. So cold. The deep blanket of snow was broken only by the tall, black trunks of the trees crowded in around him. While they offered a merciful reduction in the wind chill factor, they also felt slightly…sinister—like crones crowding around to watch him stumbling to his demise. It was well below freezing anyway. The difference was probably only a few extra minutes of misery.
You’ve really done it this time, you stupid mutt!
This wasn’t good. Running away from the slave caravan in the middle of winter certainly wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. But what on Rigial had possessed him to do it naked? At the very least he should have tried to steal a cloak, or a blanket, or…something. Maybe a loincloth. A fur lined loincloth. If his cock and balls climbed any higher up into his body, he’d have trouble swallowing.
Unfortunately, apart from his own, admittedly hirsute hide, he was as bare-assed naked as the day his mother had whelped him. And he could smell the snow storm that was coming—sharp and ominous. The sensitive black tip of his nose quivered and he couldn’t hold back another whine of distress. If only he could actually shift into full-wolf form—which would better preserve his body heat. But of course, being defective, he couldn’t.
His desperation to escape his Masters had made him stupid. More stupid than normal. More stupid than the handlers told him he was every day. Damn, he wished he could have proven them wrong. Just once. Running away into a blizzard probably wasn’t going to accomplish that though.
Sadly, even if he did die out here, the truth was they’d probably find him and still manage to get their pound of flesh. He could just see it. He’d end up a frozen Wolf-boy Popsicle to amuse the masses at the next carnival or street fair. Well, at least until spring when the weather warmed up and he began to melt…and stink. Mind you, this far north that eventuality was many months away.
Wolf fought hard not to cry at the depressing track his mind insisted on taking. Numerous “training” sessions had beaten him into realizing tears were futile. He didn’t want to appear any more pathetic than he already was either—although he hardly imagined the nightsquarrels and owlings would care. And finally, but probably most importantly of all, tears would freeze almost instantly in this weather, and he was already quite miserable enough as it was.
Still, he was forced to wipe at his eyes and down his long muzzle moments later. Damn it.
Flagging badly, but determined not to give in—to keep going until there was no more go left in him—Wolf climbed to the top of the next snow drift and…stared in amazement. In the distance, warm yellow light spilled out across the snow. The log cabin it came from—with its thick plume of enticing smoke that whipped away into the forest beyond—lay in the valley below like a beacon promising welcome and survival.
It was, of course, a great big steaming pile of horse manure and lies—no one was likely to welcome Wolf. He was too freakish, too “defective” as so many had jeered and mocked—eternally caught between wolf and man and not able to shift into either. When no Master would have him, he had ended up a travelling curiosity in the cesspit they diplomatically called a circus.
But perhaps he could hide in a shed. Or shelter in a root cellar. It was certainly worth a try. And if he was caught…well he’d escaped once now. He could do it again.
Surging ahead, eager to escape the bone numbing hypothermia already setting in, Wolf hadn’t managed more than a few hurried steps before pain exploded up his right leg. His foot connected sharply with something hard and unyielding beneath the deceptively smooth surface of the snow. It was probably a rock or thick log buried beneath the white death all around him. But Wolf really didn’t have time to wonder.
He stumbled forward. With nothing to catch hold of and slow his decent, he tumbled down the steep slope unchecked. While he’d long since lost feeling in his pads and lower limbs, apparently his numb body could still register bone jarring jolts of agony as he fell headlong down into the valley.
Wolf knew the black spine of rock he had spotted sticking up at the bottom of the slope would break his fall—and probably his neck as well. But miraculously, the gods smiled on him. He never registered the impact. The world went black and he lost consciousness when his head hit a submerged tree branch he never even saw coming.
Cy added more wood to the already blazing fire. Although the stray he had rescued from the snow had long since stopped shivering, he didn’t want to take any chances. The cabin was well insulated, but the approaching storm would soon have the temperature dropping even inside the warm shelter.
He gazed down at his unexpected house guest. Normally it would be unwelcome house guest, but there was something about the little wolf-boy as Cy looked him over from pointed ears to cute padded toes—lingering for a long while on the mesmerizing curve of his firm ass—that made it hard to wish him anywhere but right where he was.
Wolf-boy certainly made a very attractive addition to the hearth rug. Cy could imagine long hours spent admiring the new addition to his home. Well, admiring in a very tactile way at least.
The boy had been hard to ignore outside too. When the early warning wards at the edge of the forest had been triggered, letting Cy know someone was encroaching on his territory, he hadn’t paid much attention. With a storm rapidly approaching and the temperature dropping at an alarming rate, the likelihood of anyone making it into the valley alive to disturb him had been minimal. And he had no intention of leaving his warm little nest on a wild goose chase for a corpse.
But when the wards at the top of the ridge had been breached, Cy had found himself compelled to focus his senses—to brush against the presence approaching his home. And from that point on he’d been lost.
Something about the soft whine he’d discovered as he stretched out with his magic called to him. He’d almost felt as if someone was shoving at him, forcing him along as he tracked down the intruder. And he was so glad he had followed the insistent demand. The boy was fascinating. Cy had never seen anyone like him.
Fur covered the boy’s whole body in a soft, silky pelt of brown and black, but it did little to distract from the firm, toned body beneath. A thick bushy tail sprouted from the base of his spine and currently lay limply across the floor. Cy longed to reach out and caress along its length—investigating where it rooted into the boy’s body. He wanted to explore what lay beneath too—nestled between the boys tight ass cheeks.
But truly, it was the boy’s face that was the most captivating. He had a wolf’s pointed muzzle and sturdy head that tapered down to a very human, very male body. A thick brown ruff of fur protected his nape and upper shoulders. His ears where sharp triangles. His nose a very canine soft black flare at the tip of his snout. In other words, he was mesmerizing.
Cy could see wet tracks down the boys muzzle. It was obvious at some point he’d been crying. Cy loved tears. And something about the wolf-boy made Cy want them. He wanted the soft whine again too. But this time they needed to be edged with arousal and desperation for release. A release Cy wouldn’t grant until the boy was begging—crying out for his cock.
As Cy knelt down beside him, the boy began to stir. A low moan escaped the long muzzle as the pup stretched out his neck and slowly regained consciousness. It ignited a tiny flame of awareness in Cy’s belly—a very primitive, very aroused awareness that called to something deep and instinctual. It demanded possession. Cy tamped it down, but didn’t dismiss or push it away completely.
“Hush. You’re safe, little wolf.” With a gentle brush of his magic, Cy began checking the boy over.
The boy slowly open his eyes and raised his head to focus on Cy as he worked. But after a moment of stunned silence, the wolf-boy gasped and pulled away.
Cy instantly raised his hand to the deep scars that ran from his hair line down the left hand side of his face in three thick, ugly gouges. Damn it all! How could he have forgotten to cover the scars? It had been so long since he had been in the company of others he had almost lost sight of why he shunned the outside world.
The wolf-boy ducked his head and cowered away. Cy felt every muscle he possessed clench in anger and humiliation.
“You needn’t be afraid. My scars are not contagious,” Cy snapped as he very purposefully lowered his hand away from his face. He didn’t want to frighten the boy, but he refused to hide in his own home.
The boy cringed further away from him and a tiny whine escaped. Something about the reaction gave Cy a moment of pause. He’d spent most of his adult life being ostracised for something completely beyond his control until he’d simply given up on society in disgust. But something about the way the pup whined and bared his throat made Cy feel like he’d kicked a puppy.
Cy studied the Wolf-boy cowering in front of him. He looked…frightened. Cy couldn’t help himself. He reached out to touch the boy's head. But again the pup jerked away, whining softly—his ears collapsing down against his head and his beautiful thick, bushy tail tucking in between his legs.
“Hush,” Cy commanded firmly, but not unkindly.
He reached out and very gently ran his hand over one silky ear and down into the pup’s thick neck ruff.
After years of deliberately avoiding the stupidity of the outside world—a world so vain and enamoured of physical beauty it refused to see past the superficial imperfection of his face—Cy found it difficult to find the words he needed.
“My apologies, little wolf. I…should not have snapped at you.”
Wolf-boy looked up at him suddenly, clearly startled by the admission and apology. The boy even forgot to avert his eyes. Cy’s heart sped up as he stared into the brilliant gold colour that reflected open amazement at him.
“I’m sorry, Master. I…I wasn’t…” The pup’s voice was low, with a slight growling accent. His eyes pleaded for something, but Cy wasn’t quite sure what.
“I know my face is…unpleasant. There’s no need for either of us to pretend otherwise.”
“No!” The denial was quick and loud. “I mean…I was…” The wolf whined—his long, pink tongue licking along his muzzle nervously.
Cy waited patiently—his innate curiosity piqued. What was the boy trying to say?
“Your…your magic it…touched me. In the forest and a…again just now,” the boy finally said.
Cy blinked several times in surprise. Of all the things he’d imagined the boy would say that hadn’t even crossed his mind for a second. He took a moment to study the wolf-boy. If he was telling the truth, if the denial that had come so easily was real, then…
Perhaps his magic was trying to tell him something, Cy reflected. Trying to guide him as it often did since the attack. And perhaps…well perhaps the two of them weren’t as dissimilar as first appearances would suggest. He doubted the boy’s fearful, cringing reactions were a result of love and acceptance.
Very tentatively, Cy reached out with a thin tendril of his magic—imagining himself caressing along the boys back and down towards the base of his tail. The boy whined, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stretched up to meet the invisible caress—unconsciously exposing his vulnerable neck as his leg began a very slight, involuntary scratching motion and his tail wagged hesitantly. He was the very picture of a puppy on the edge of canine bliss. Cy felt his cock twitch as he watched the tip of the pups cock emerge from his foreskin—a hot pink head that begged for attention.
Oh, fuck! Cy’s mind shouted as he groaned and very nearly followed through with the thought. He wanted to roll the pup over, mount him and pound into him right there on the faded red and gold rug until the cum boiling away in his balls flooded into the wolf’s ass. Cum would be a delicious addition to the ash, charcoal, and tiny splinters of wood on the rug. It was that last item that had him pulling away. He didn’t want splinters anywhere near what he had planned.
The boy looked up at him—confusion and a little hurt reflected in his eyes as Cy withdrew the caress.
“Good, pup.” Cy enjoyed the way the boy relaxed instantly under his approval.
A moment of silence stretched out between them as they looked one another over carefully. Cy could see the boy’s eyes repeatedly drawn to the scars, but refused to hide them.
“What…what happened?” the boy eventually asked. When Cy didn’t answer immediately, the boy tensed and lower his eyes again fearfully. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“
“My father had many enemies at court. Enemies that sent an assassin cat that won’t be hunting ever again.” Cy growled angrily at the memory of that night so many years ago that had changed his life forever.
He’d barely been seventeen—barely been in control of his magic. But mage society was competitive. It was cutthroat and vicious. Weakness and imperfection simply were not tolerated. Cy had gone from being a first-born, talented and destined to rule his father’s holdings, to an outcast and pariah which his own sire was embarrassed to acknowledge.
Cy was so caught up in his own dark, painful thoughts, he didn’t noticed the wolf-boy move. Suddenly, a cold, wet nose touched the side of Cy’s face. He had to work very hard not to flinch. He refused to show any signs of weakness. Never again.
But when a warm tongue caressed the side of his face, Cy started in surprise. The pup looked away as if embarrassed by the spontaneous canine caress. Cy watched him in amazement. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him, never mind kissed him.
“What is your name, little wolf?” Cy couldn’t resist stroking his hand along the ruff of fur that grew at the back and sides of the boys neck like a brindle mane. It was thick and warm and infinitely fascinating. As he ran his fingers through it, the boy arched up into his touch.
“Wolf,” the boy replied on a sigh.
Cy cocked an eyebrow—not exactly doubting the little wolf, but…“Really?”
Wolf shrugged and looked away—embarrassed again. “No one ever bothered to call me anything else.”
Cy studied the side of Wolf’s long muzzle and the line of his strong head as it curved up to the tip of his sharp, pointed ears. “It’s a good name. Wolves are strong, loyal and brave,” he finally announced firmly—leaving no room for doubt or ambiguity.
Wolf looked up at him in surprise. Cy had to wonder if the boy had ever received a complement—even an offhanded one such as the one he had offered. He’d have to work hard, but for however long the boy chose to hang around, Cy wouldn’t begrudge them when earned.
“Are you hungry, Wolf?”
Cy allowed a small smile of pleasure to tilt the corner of his mouth. He liked the way Wolf said the word Master—low, rough and with an edge of longing.
Wolf cocked his head as he watched the gorgeous man in front of him turn and head into a small cooking area.
Mage, he corrected himself instantly. The man was most definitely a Master Mage. The power swirled and throbbed around the man in shimmering eddies so strong Wolf almost felt as if he could reach out and touch them. And for the first time in his life he wanted to. In the past, mages had always scared him just a little, but not this one. Something about this one’s magic was…enthralling.
The man had mesmerizing eyes too. Intense, dark blue orbs that Wolf was drawn to over and over again—despite having been warned repeatedly during his training to keep his eyes lowered in submission. Even more inappropriately, Wolf found himself wondering what the man’s soft, enticing pink lips would taste like.
And the long, black hair that was caught in a leather thong at the base of his neck tempted Wolf’s fingers mercilessly. Two large hanks had escaped, framing the mages long, thin face, and Wolf wanted to reach out and touch them so badly—to see if they were as soft and silky as they looked. He managed to restrain himself…just barely.
Studying the man’s profile, Wolf once again found himself studying the scars on the man’s face. They were three, long, thin red claw marks that made the man look fierce and…strong in Wolf’s opinion. Wolf imagined they belonged to someone that had been tested and proven themselves worthy of survival. Someone that was quite capable of fighting to defend both themselves and their home. It was infinitely attractive to Wolf, whose silly heart longed for that sort of safety and security, and a Master to tie him to it.
Being a mage, Wolf would have expected a lot of things—disgust at his appearance being first and foremost. Mages didn’t like imperfection and differences. But this mage didn’t seem at all concerned by his oddity. In fact, he seemed a little…taken with it.
He was just so different from anyone Wolf had ever met—mage or shifter. Wolf wasn’t exactly sure what to do with him. At that precise moment Wolf’s cock twitched again, letting him know that if he had no idea, it had a few to offer.
Wolf shivered as he remembered the touch of the man’s magic playing along his body. It was…incredible. A wild, lustful pull that called to his wolf nature, whispering promises of mating and bliss and…home. Wolf shook his head at his own foolishness. He was being utterly ridiculous. Why on Rigial would a Master Mage give him a second glance, unless it was to stare as his strange appearance? He was—
Something inside Wolf stretched out towards the mage. He wanted to rub himself all over the man until their scents blended and fused. He wanted to touch and be touched. He constantly had to stifle the growls and whines of invitation in the back of his throat. His body wanted him to lift his hips, cock his tail and brace his limbs for the man to plunge his cock into him in a wild, thorough claiming.
“So…where did you come from anyway, little wolf?” the Master asked casually as he filled a bowl from a large pot with thick stew.
Wolf managed not to fidget as he eyed the bowl hungrily. He wanted the food, but there was no way he was telling the gorgeous man in front of him he was a runaway. And not even a useful, valuable runaway. He was a freak. A curio. Part of a travelling show going from holding to holding for the amusement and awed disgust of the nobility and nosey.
He just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. He didn’t want to see the interest he saw in the other man’s eyes dim. But worse than that, he secretly knew that his heart wouldn’t survive seeing pity in the mage’s eyes.
The question of whether or not the mage would withhold food if Wolf refused to answer was solved when the warm bowl was placed in Wolf’s hands. He lapped at it eagerly—gulping it down before the man could change his mind. But the Mage just smiled at him indulgently as he lowered himself into a large, wing-backed chair by the fire.
A rush of wind that rattled at the windows heralded the arrival of the storm. Wolf shivered just thinking about being outside it in.
“Looks like we got you in just in time,” the Mage observed.
“Thank you, Master,” Wolf whispered—so grateful he felt his heart ache a little with it.
“You’re welcome, Wolf.”
Wolf quickly finished his meal and looked around, uncertain what to do or where to be. He took his bowl back to the kitchen area and carefully washed and dried it.
“Why don’t you bring some cushions to the rug and enjoy the fire.”
Wolf sighed. A full belly, a warm fire and the howl of the wind outside, it was an offer too tempting to refuse. Doing as the Master suggested, Wolf gathered the cushions, tucked his legs into his body and curled his tail around himself to settle at the Master's feet.
After a few moments, a slim hand caressed Wolf’s head, running his long, agile fingers over his ears and down his neck. Wolf pushed into the touch, craving more of the delicious contact. He sighed, closing his eyes in bliss. Not willing to question the perfection of the moment. And never wanting it to end.
Cy ran his hand back through the long fall of his hair—brushing the errant strands away from his face in frustration. Wolf was driving him absolutely insane. Not necessarily in a bad way, more as in “I want him bad”.
Last night’s storm had raged into the early hours of the morning, but now the forest was calm and still. The sun was even peeking out through the clouds—showcasing the forest in a glittering wonderland that belied how deadly, and lonely it could be.
Cy looked over at Wolf curled contentedly on the hearth rug. Somewhere between the food and intermittent conversation long into the night—before sleep had finally claimed them both—Wolf had calmed and settled in.
Somehow, Wolf had found a neat little place for himself between the warm fire and Cy’s cold heart.
It was a shame the pup was about to get the fright of his life.
Crouching down at Wolf’s side, Cy gently stroked Wolf’s head. He settled his hand firmly over Wolf’s muzzle as golden brown eyes flickered open—demanding silence.
“Ssh! Don’t move. Trust me to keep you safe.”
Even as the words left his mouth, a heavy fist pounded on the door. Wolf’s eyes grew wide and wild with fear. Cy held his breath—waiting to see what the boy would do. If Wolf trusted him, then everything would be fine. More than fine actually. If Wolf bolted, things were going to get ugly. And Cy would lose another little piece of himself—his faith in his instincts. Instincts that told him Wolf wanted to trust and ultimately submit to him.
After a moment, Cy removed his hand. The pup stayed absolutely still except for the rapid movement of his chest as he panted in fear. That was perfectly acceptable—courage without fear was meaningless.
Cy studied Wolf for a moment. His submission—the control and dedication he displayed in doing exactly as he was told—was stunning. It sent a flood of excitement through Cy so powerful he had to take a second to find his own composure, before rising smoothly to his feet and calmly opening the door.
Outside, in the clearing that passed for Cy’s front yard, a small group of heavily armed men were clustered together, fighting to control their nervous horses. Cy ignored them in favour of staring down the two guards that stood on his doorstep. He carefully kept his demeanour neutral—neither welcoming nor outright driving them away. Though the temptation was strong.
The man directly in front of him—the one who had most likely pounded on the cabin door—cleared his throat. “Good day to you, Sir. We’re—”
“Master,” Cy said coldly.
Cy pointed to the lintel where is mages sigil was displayed. Admittedly it was tarnished with weather and age—long since browned so it nearly blended in with the wooden frame—but that was no excuse. He was quite within his rights to punish them all for the lack of respect afforded his station. And the men knew it. They paled to a rather sickly shade of white-green.
“I beg your pardon, Master Mage. Forgive me.” The pair stepped back—bowing low at the waist, their hands clutching over their hearts in a frantic bid to appease.
Cy stood silent and aloof.
“We…ah…we’re chasing a runaway slave. It’s sneaky and dangerous, with a monstrous appearance. Have you seen anything…weird in the area lately?”
The first man blinked, waiting for Cy to elaborate—perhaps even watching for a slip or a sign that something was amiss. The second man shifted from foot to foot, looking out into the forest—either worried about the possibility of another snow storm or wanting to run away from Cy. The guards trying to calm the nervous horses behind them looked like they were hoping for an invitation to come in out of the weather—obviously having missed Cy pointing out the sigil.
All of them were going to be bitterly disappointed. Cy didn’t flinch. Cy didn’t give a toss if the men hunting Wolf froze to death. And he certainly wasn’t in the habit of inviting strangers to stay—barring gorgeous wolf-boys with warm golden eyes and tight furry asses, of course.
“Yes, good day, gentlemen. I suggest you leave my land by sunset.”
With that, Cy closed the door in their faces. He paused long enough to reach out with his magic and feel the group clamber up onto their mounts and hurry away—the tang of fear following them out of his clearing.
Then he turned back to the frightened wolf cowering on his rug.
“You’ve been a very naughty pup, haven’t you?”
“No, Master! I…I’m a good boy. A good pup.” Wolf swallowed visibly, the silky smooth hair on his throat undulating under the nervous wave of muscles. “Y…your—?”
Wolf didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.
It was way too soon. Way too fast. There were a million words to say between them. A thousand touches and, hopefully hundreds of soft sighs and little whining cries. And if Cy was very lucky, perhaps even a few tears. Still, the unspoken offer—the promise of something one day—was…tempting. More than tempting. It was…intoxicating.
Which is the only explanation Cy could come up with years later for what happened next.
Surging forward, Cy gripped the thick fur at the back of Wolf’s neck and yanked him closer—pulling him up from the floor until they stood toe to toe. Wolf followed eagerly, and was quickly pinned against Cy’s body.
Holding him firmly in place, and acting purely on instinct, Cy rubbed his face along the side of Wolf’s head, stopping only when he came to the base of one tall, triangular ear.
“Should I make you prove yourself, pup?” Cy whispered. “Prove that you’re a good boy?”
Wolf whined, but pushed closer to Cy at the same time.
Oh! So pretty!
Cy reached down and took Wolf’s cock in his hand. It was hot and hard. Swiping the tip, Cy also felt how wet it was—pre-cum spilling out of the slit to coat his thumb.
“Eager little pup. Do you like that?”
Wolf whined and nodded, burying his head against Cy’s neck.
“Tell me. I want to hear you.”
“Y…yes…Master. Oh! Please…”
Wolf’s velvety warm tongue licked over Cy’s neck, sending shivers of delight racing up and down his spine. Cy felt his cock throb in his pants, seconds away from release when Wolf caressed the lobe of his ear and hesitantly reached out to clutch Cy’s waist.
It was too much. Cy released the boy’s cock and took a step back. He didn’t want to come in his pants—not when there were better, more attractive alternatives.
“On your knees, pup.”
For a moment, Wolf looked confused by the instructions, but quickly lowered himself to the floor when Cy continued to stare at him—waiting for his order to be obeyed. He couldn’t help but smile when Wolf’s snout nosed forward in tiny, involuntary jerks, sniffing the air around Cy’s groin. He knew the instant Wolf caught the scent of his arousal—the pup’s eyes widened as he began to pant.
But Cy had other plans for that long, pink tongue.
He released the leather ties on his pants and pushed the material aside so his cock sprang free—bobbing enthusiastically in front of Wolf’s face. Wolf focused on it so completely that he actually started in surprise when Cy spoke several seconds later—trying to get his attention. Cy applauded the boy’s dedication, but he wanted the pup’s tongue on him. Now!
“Lick it,” Cy repeated, holding his cock steady and offering it to Wolf.
Slow and hesitant, Wolf leaned forward and tentatively lapped at the rounded head, swiping the drop of pre-cum that had formed at the slit. Chills of pleasure raced across Cy’s skin, forcing a moan of bliss from him. The more he moaned, the braver Wolf got—it seemed foolish to hold it in.
Soon the boy was bathing Cy’s entire cock, balls and even the tender, sensitive flesh where his leg met his body with his long, agile tongue. It was so delightful, Cy found himself needing to catch hold of the wolf’s head to steady himself—but it only seemed to spur his lover on.
Soon it became too much again.
Wolf whined and gazed up—meeting Cy’s eyes with a pleading, golden-yellow look as he swiped the cock in front of him once more very lightly, as if begging to be allowed to continue.
“I said stop!” Cy forced the pup away, but eased the reprimand by stroking his hand over one silky ear, gently scratching the base with his finger tips.
“On all fours for me, pup. I want inside you now.”
Cy didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone move faster. Wolf spun around, lowering himself to his elbows so his ass was offered up to Cy in one swift movement. It was such an amazing display Cy had to take a moment to admire it.
Wolf’s knees were spread apart for support, allowing Cy to see the glorious globes of his firm furry balls hanging full and heavy between his legs. The taunt, furry cheeks of his muscular ass were parted just enough to glimpse the tight, puckered rosette Cy longed to feel wrapped around his cock. And Wolf’s thick bushy tail was cocked to the side, allowing easy access to his most private hole. It was nearly more than Cy could take. But something was missing.
“Stay,” Cy growled as he hurried to the kitchen.
After ferreting around for several wasted seconds, he finally found a fresh jar of oil and rushed back. Kneeling down directly behind Wolf, Cy slathered the thin oil liberally over his cock. When Wolf looked back over his shoulder, watching him with sultry yellow eyes, Cy nearly lost all reason and plunged straight in. But he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he took the time to circle Wolf’s hole, spreading oil around to sooth and loosen the muscles, dipping his fingertips inside to open the way for his claiming.
Wolf pushed back against his fingers, softly growling, his eyes closing in eager anticipation. Cy couldn’t take it any more. He lined up his cock and nudged the head into Wolf—giving a few, teasing thrusts to ease his way, before surging ahead in one long push that buried him balls deep in Wolf’s ass.
Wolf arched back into him, drawing him impossibly deeper. Their balls touched for a moment, before Cy pulled back, only to plunge back in for more of Wolf’s tight heat over and over again. Sweat dripped off Cy’s brow. Wolf grunted and whined as he thrust back against Cy. It was pure, wild, torturous bliss. But it couldn’t go on for much longer. Cy was too close. They both were.
Pressure building, Cy reached around, encircling Wolf’s cock with his hand. He wanted to feel Wolf come while buried deep inside him.
“Now, Wolf. Cum for me now.”
With the command, Wolf threw back his head and came, gripping Cy’s cock like a vice and locking him deep inside. The pulsing contractions of Wolf’s ass as he pumped spurt after spurt of cum out into Cy’s hand and across the rug were all Cy needed though.
“Wolf!” Cy cried—yelling the name into the rafters as he exploded in great jerking waves of cum inside Wolf’s ass.
Time hung suspended as their balls emptied. A rush of pleasure so strong swept over him that Cy lost all connection to the world. The only thing that existed was Wolf’s body—warm and soft beneath his hands and wrapped around his cock.
Finally, Cy pulled free, gently guiding Wolf back against him. Wolf whined as he sat back on his heels.
“Did I hurt you.” Cy heard the edge of concern in his own voice, but didn’t regret it. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Wolf. Well not in a bad hurt kind of way at least.
“Splinter,” Wolf explained, holding out his hand for Cy’s inspection.
Cy reached out and cradled it between his hands. It was surprisingly soft. An amazing combination of human hand and wolf’s paw that was unique to Wolf. And in the pad of one digit a surprisingly large sliver of wood could be seen.
He’d have to remember to clean the rug thoroughly before they played in front of the fire again. And there would be an again. Winters were obnoxiously long and bitterly cold this far north.
Leaning forward, Cy lowered his mouth to the fingertip, all the while watching Wolf’s golden eyes widen in surprise. He used his tongue to gently probe the area, guiding his teeth in to nip around the splinter. Gripping it firmly, Cy removed the foreign object from Wolf’s paw then bathed the injury with a few gentle swipes of his tongue.
Wolf whined, wriggling his ass. Cy smiled at the telling reaction. He suddenly loved long winters.
Cy studied the smooth white expanse of fresh snow around his cabin carefully. There were no boot prints, no paw or hoof marks to mar its crisp new surface. Since last night’s snow storm, nothing had passed this way. He’d make sure to set out more wards over the next days, weeks and months, but apparently the searchers had moved on.
Or perhaps simply given up. It wasn’t unheard of for people to simply disappear in the Great Northern Tundra. After a week in the cold, unforgiving environment, with no clothes, food or shelter, no one would expect to find Wolf alive.
Cy smiled. He knew Wolf was very much alive—though slightly exhausted after an extended play. He’d left the pup curled up, snoring softly to complete the rounds he made twice a day since Wolf came into his life. He had a prize even more precious than solitude to protect now. He was twice as vigilant as he’d ever been before.
Weaving another, slightly stronger dissuade spell around the perimeter that would gently nudge any trespasses away from the cabin, Cy headed back. He really didn’t want to have to spill blood to defend his Wolf. It was just so messy and always led to headaches. Better just to avoid the issue altogether.
But one way or another, Wolf was his, and he was staying that way. No one was getting their hands on the pup…well other than Cy, of course. And he planned to have his hands on, in and over the boy as often as possible. He didn’t want anyone or anything to disrupt that goal.
Speaking of which—
Cy quietly opened the cabin door—shedding his cloak and easing off his snow encrusted boots once he had secured the latch with a locking spell. He left both boots and cloak to dry by the fire and padded into the bedroom on soft, stockinged feet. When he had left to search the perimeter, Wolf had been curled up—fast asleep and exhausted. Expecting to see more of the same, Cy was surprised to find his little wolf awake.
Wolf’s tail was lazily fanning the air in a deliberately provocative way. The gentle back and forth sway drew attention to where the root emerged above the tightest, most drool worthy ass Cy has ever had the pleasure of. Wolf’s balls rested against the sheets, begging to be fondled and squeezed just enough to induce a delicious humping against the linens.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Wolf’s arms cradled his head in the sweetest, most enticing display of innocence Cy had ever seen. But it was the eyes—golden and soft and the tiny smile that reached out and snared Cy’s heart.
The promise was still there. But now it was tempered with something even more precious. More rare and utterly beguiling. Love shone back at him—new and unspoken—but like a tiny mustard seed, it promised years if only Cy was brave enough to accept it. Strong enough to nurture it.
Without a second thought, Cy stepped into the room. He was brave. He was strong. And he was utterly, blissfully lost.