Page 40 of The Wulver's Bond
The instant and gravelly nature of Arran’s reply shot a renewed thrill into Moss’s dick. He realised, belatedly, that Arran was taking his request so,soseriously.
Arran continued solemnly. ‘My boundary, for now, is that I wish to remain restrained. I do not know the limits of your body, and I fear breaking them. I also wish for you to choose a clear way to communicate to me that you’ve had enough. That you wish to stop.’
Moss couldn’t quite believe his ears. ‘You mean a safe word?’
Such a silly idea. He’d never needed a safe word before.
He’d never had his boundaries respected before.
Swallowing back this thought, Moss covered up his unrest with a quick twirl and a flourish of his coat. ‘All right then, wolfie. My safe word is ‘willow’—how about that?’
Arran nodded. ‘Very well. You always have permission to use it, you understand? Consider that your first command.’
‘So considerate of y—’
‘Shut up. Get hard for me.’
Moss began to laugh, then abruptly stopped. The rush of heat to his groin nearly knocked him off his feet as his body strove to obey the extremely clear order it had been given. His dick perkedright up, straining toward the Wulver like a dog begging to be petted.
Arran’s voice was calm but firm, and it shuddered through Moss from his head to his toes. ‘You are going to sit on my cock. Prepare yourself for it.’
Moss had no trouble getting on board with this. He stuck two fingers in his mouth, swiping as much spit onto them as possible, then sat on the rock floor with his legs splayed out wide. He wanted to make sure Arran could seeeverything.
He started by teasing his hole with little circles. Then rubbing against it roughly. Then thrusting the first finger inside, followed quickly by the second.
Arran watched him, seemingly impassive—but his dick leaked a steady flow of clear fluid while Moss finger-fucked himself with growing urgency. Moss was panting, starting to see stars when Arran finally said, ‘Enough.’
Moss withdrew his fingers and sat still, awaiting his next command.
‘Climb up here,’ Arran said, ‘and place yourself on my cock.’
‘Mmn.’ Moss hummed a satisfied moan. That was exactly the kind of order he wanted.
He climbed Arran as though he were a tree. The roots and vines provided extra footholds, and Moss clung happily to the Wulver’s fur to pull himself up. Getting into the right position presented more of a struggle, but nothing that another well-placed vine couldn’t fix. Eventually Moss had his legs wrapped tightly around Arran’s waist, his hands tangled in the fur at his shoulders, and his hole lowering onto the wet wolf monster dick beneath him.
Moss moaned as the tip breached him, first stretching his loosened ring even wider, then filling him as he eased it deeper. He let gravity take it from there: Moss released his grip and fell all the way onto the Wulver’s shaft.
Arran jerked up with a snarl, forcing the curved tip of his penis right into Moss’s sweet spot. Moss squealed and nearly fell off entirely. A quick flick of vines caught him. Moss used them to secure himself to Arran’s body, ensuring a tight seal between his ass and Arran’s pelvis, even if it meant Moss had to curl his whole spine in order to look the wolfman in the eye.
‘What next, oh master of mine?’ Moss asked sweetly.
Arran’s eyes flashed, recognising the taunt for what it was. ‘Fuck yourself on my cock until you come.’
‘Ahhhh…’ Moss closed his eyes and obligingly rocked his hips, but in this position he couldn’t find much purchase. ‘Gonna need a little help with that, wolfie.’
Arran grunted but endeavoured to meet Moss’s rhythm. It turned out that neither of them actually had much purchase, and their combined efforts sent them swinging back and forth in Moss’s web.
Nevertheless, Moss was enjoying himself immensely. It had been a raw, urgent fuck the first time he’d goaded the Wulver into shagging him. Satisfying, yes. But fulfilling? Not quite.
Even though it was slow, and occasionally faltering when their tempos unsynced, Moss could tell by the deep, insistent thud of the Wulver’s cockhead that felt like it was about to poke a hole in his stomach, that this time it would be fulfilling.
‘That’s it, wolfie,’ he panted, heaving himself up by his grip on Arran’s fur. ‘Give me all of your juicy dick. You’re such a good dog.’
Arran groaned deeply. ‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Why? Do you like it?’
By the agonised rumble in Arran’s throat, Moss concluded that he did. He cackled joyfully and tucked the knowledge away for later. Then he summoned a new vine and looped it around Arran’s neck, giving a little tug. ‘There. What a pretty leash for a pretty dog.’
