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If he knew just how horny wolves could get, Kim Dokja would’ve reconsidered this entire arrangement.
“Ugh, Joonghyuk—Joonghyuk-ah!” His hands try to push Yoo Joonghyuk off of where he’s latched himself on him, nipping at a bud as if he were a newborn kit easing milk out of a nipple. “S-stop!”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s tail flicks behind him, betraying his enjoyment of this. It whips around frantically in the air behind him, the movement only growing in fervor as his tongue continues to lap at the sore bud.
However, Kim Dokja isn’t enjoying this one bit. No, not at all.
A sharp keen forces itself out of his mouth as Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue expertly runs around the thing, his legs trembling at the jolt that erupts through his body. His tail swats at Yoo Joonghyuk, despite it all, but it only seems to egg him on.
“Don’t,” Kim Dokja breathes, “don’t you think we should deal with that, first?”
His foot presses against the offending bulge within his pants, forcing a hiss out of Yoo Joonghyuk. Finally, his mouth separates from Kim Dokja’s nipple, and to that, he releases a sigh of relief. The bud, licked so much by this damn bastard’s tongue, stings against the open air, the skin raw and sensitive.
Yoo Joonghyuk offers him no more than a glare at his action, before sighing.
“Take your foot off,” he says. His push against it, but Kim Dokja holds firm. “Off.”
“Ah, fine.”
Kim Dokja’s foot moves off of Yoo Joonghyuk’s bulge, his tail flicking slightly behind him as he does so. He musters an annoyed look, glaring at Yoo Joonghyuk, before blinking.
“Come on, quick. If you’re going to do it, then do it.”
“Are you that desperate for it?”
“W-what?” Kim Dokja looks at him, mouth agape. “No, no! Not in a million years!”
“Liar,” he chuffs.
Still, he humors him, his hands coming quick against his own pants to unbuckle them. Clinking and jingling, Kim Dokja swallows as he comes face-to-face with a familiar sight.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s length slaps outwards onto his own thigh, a resounding sound in the small space of their room. It’s angry red, the sight causing Kim Dokja’s mouth to fill with saliva.
Ah, his traitorous body yearns for something that would likely kill him. Even with his rationality screaming at him to back out now, there was no way he could reject Yoo Joonghyuk’s advances.
His thighs rub together, his gaze heated on the throbbing length.
Yoo Joonghyuk catches his small movements easily, an amused huff escaping from.
“What are you laughing at, you brat?”
Calloused hands come towards his own pants, taking both garments down in one fell swoop. Kim Dokja’s hands fly towards his bare body, trying to cover it up. Of course, it makes no difference at all with Yoo Joonghyuk’s perverted gaze running all over him, but he still needs to try to maintain his dignity!
“H-hey! At least give me a warning first…”
“You really need a warning for this?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers ease apart his folds, tantalizing slick glistening against them. “You’re so desperate right now, even a warning wouldn’t have sufficed.”
“Shut… ngh—shut it, Joonghyuk…”
Yoo Joonghyuk really knows him too well, and it’s not a good thing. Not at all, when Yoo Joonghyuk starts to rub his tip against the wet folds, the obscene squelch nearly enough to drive Kim Dokja mad.
He does it again and again, even when Kim Dokja’s tail slaps against his back, a warning for him to stop messing around.
“F-fuck,” he groans. The tip presses, circling against his clit, a maddening touch that only sends Kim Dokja spiralling. His toes curl, and there’s a particular itch to kick him that manifests within his leg as Yoo Joonghyuk continues to tease.
If this bastard doesn’t get to the main course, he’s going to stomp on his damn balls!
Thankfully, he takes the memo only a moment later, his eyes plastered against his own fingers as if he’s found gold.
Kim Dokja shifts his head, trying to catch the thing that he’s so enamored with. Yoo Joonghyuk… with his own fingers… was glancing at the wetness gathered from that brief touch.
His face burns at the realization.
“Stop fucking around.” He kicks at Yoo Joonghyuk, grazing his length. “Hurry it! Are you just going to sit there like a duck?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hisses, glowering at him. His hand, stained with Kim Dokja’s drying slick, comes to touch his slick-soaked cock. It’s a sight to behold, Yoo Joonghyuk’s angry cock in his own hand. If he could take a snapshot right now, he would, if only to spite this damn bastard.
“Then,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, “brace yourself, Kim Dokja.”
“Brace myself for wha—ungh!”
The tip breaches with no further fanfare, but his tail whips up a storm around Yoo Joonghyuk, striking his back weakly.
Kim Dokja would never get used to this size, this girth, this stretch that would always drive him insane, no matter how many times he thought he had familiarized himself with it. It doesn’t sting, no, but it burns, searing straight through his nerves, stopping his breaths in their tracks.
“Hu, ah, ha—ah,” he breathes, sharp gasps elicited.
Yoo Joonghyuk continues to move, anyways. He doesn’t wait for Kim Dokja to catch up before he rams, straight into his cervix as if he were desperate for him to carry his kits.
“Ugh, fuck, oh, oh fuck!” he cries. “Too deep, ngh—fuck, Joonghyuk-ah!”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t deign him with a response. No, that bastard is too busy fucking into him, ramming into his cervix over and over again as if he were trying to breach straight through. Each time he hits that spot, again and again, Kim Dokja’s body chooses to clench down on him, as if desperate to take in all of his length. It’s a maddening pressure, but at every moment his body betrays him.
“You’re fuck—fuck, ah! Ngh, fuck!” Kim Dokja sputters. “You’re too—hah, ha—ah, you’re too deep, Joonghyuk-ah, fuck! You—you can’t, you can’t get me pregnant, you bastard!”
“Pregnant?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s thrusts stutter in the midst of his movements. Through blurred eyes, Kim Dokja sees something snap in that gaze.
Oh no.
“Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice is deep, too deep, rumbling through his body in little vibrations that nearly cause his eyes to roll back into his head. “You don’t want to be pregnant with my kits?”
“Ah—no, no!” Kim Dokja cries. “No—fuck!”
“Why?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath fans out in front of him, overheating his already feverish face. “You’re already mine, Kim Dokja. Why don’t you want to be full of our kits?”
He’s started something terrible, Kim Dokja realizes. He shouldn’t have talked about this at all.
But something about the idea of him being Yoo Joonghyuk’s alone, nursing kits with him, starting a family, sends heat spiralling down in the depths of his stomach. Sitting on Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock all day, belly swollen beyond imagination, aching teats taken care of by Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth.
It’s too much, the sight. Kim Dokja tries to swat it away with his tail, slapping against Yoo Joonghyuk uselessly. It only urges Yoo Joonghyuk to fuck against his cervix harder, until breaths come out of his mouth, punched-out. Until he can’t breathe anymore.
“Breathe properly, Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk groans. And only then does he remember to do so, his toes having curled back, bracing weakly by Yoo Joonghyuk’s legs.
Again and again, his cervix, battered, faces Yoo Joonghyuk’s torment. It takes only a second longer to squirt all over Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock, spraying juices against him, a mess that would’ve embarrassed him if he were in any other state of mind. Now, though, the only thing he can pay attention to are the waves washing over him, his mind electrocuted.
His ears lay completely flat against his head as the pleasure bursts through him like a dam, his insides clamping down on Yoo Joonghyuk’s length, keeping him still there.
“F-fuck!” Kim Dokja rumbles. A purr, or a groan overtakes his chest, his tail wrapping around Yoo Joonghyuk’s thigh. He feels something furry try to brush it off, Yoo Joonghyuk’s own tail, likely, but he can’t take this away from him. The touch of his tail against Yoo Joognhyuk’s thigh is the only thing grounding him, stopping him from losing his grip on his sanity.
His eyes shake, his vision wavering. Yoo Joonghyuk’s not done yet, and he surely won’t be done until he knots.