The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sexual Content

WARNING!

EVERYTHING IN THE POSTS BELOW WILL BE RATED MATURE — 18+ PLEASE!

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As Donovan trails down the beautiful curve of his rib cage into his stomach, his eyes are watchful and notice the confusion and anxiety held within them. Perhaps he’s a vergin? Maybe he’s never had someone go down on him before? There’s many possibilities that Donovan doesn’t feel like filing through right now. 

He just wants to enjoy the moment and make Clay do the same. Donovan wants to see the grumpy, maw with the big attitude lose himself to Donovan’s administrations. To be unable to control himself and label Donovan as his best; or at least that’s what he aiming for. If anything, he prides himself on being a well rounded and experienced lover.

Willing to try his hardest to make Clay think he’s a Saint in regards to this, he’s going to go all out. Starting with the smaller nips and licks Donovan offers on his way down to the males sensitive bits, his yellow eyes never leave his own. Yearning for a reaction and a reaction is what he gets. Clay settles a paw and pushes onto his forehead, a sign for Donovan to go faster, yet his words don’t match. The smaller spits insult after insult and Donovan only chuckles against him. Ah, so he’s never had this done to him yet. There’s always time for a first. 

He hums a low, rumbling, “Oh, you’ll see.” Though the order that hits his ears soon after makes Donovan smile mischievously. “No.” He challenges. “Now relax, dear.” Are his last words before he’s diving in. 

He lowers his up upper body into a beautiful bow, the marking of his pelt curving enticingly by the way his back arches. Sliding large forearms beneath the smaller’s thighs, he rests large paws on his stomach. Donovan’s extraordinarily oddly black tongue flicks along his sheath. Continuing this until the other is fully exposed. Taking him into his maw and giving him a pleasure surely no other has every given him. He’d continue this for a long while, until Clay is writhing and whimpering beneath him.

first time writing wolf smut. //cracks fingers
If anyone I know IRL stumbles across this: I'm sorry and do not make eye contact with me. I will yell.

 

Donovan denied him;
The beast denied him!

Clay glowered at the man below like never before. Not once had he he ever been ushered the words 'no.' Not by Valour, Not by Takeshi, Not by any of his friends. But this stranger—This absolute crowfodder had the audacity to say such a thing. And before Clay could even get a word out of his throat it died.

It fucking died. Whatever words he intended to direct at the man died beneath the way he said Donovan's name like a desperate plea. Though he wasn't sure what he was pleading for.

"What is wrong with you?" he spat, slamming the back of his head against the ground with such force to daze himself. Sadly, his brains did not splatter upon impact, and he was very much still in the present and feeling everything. Donovan's tongue against him, his teeth lightly scrapping the sides of his length, the weight of his paws settled on the lower part of his stomach, far too close to his dick with their nails.

He didn't know what repulsed him more. The feeling of his nerves giving in the beast's minstrations—or the fact that the beast was doing this. It felt wrong, it felt oh so wrong but it also felt good; And Clay was never good at feeling good.

Tears pin pricked at the corner of his emerald eyes, threatening to spill over his cheeks and down his neck. He didn't understand why he was crying, nor why he was shaking and why his limbs felt like lead, but he knew that Donovan was the cause; and it was enough for Clay to hate him more. "Get off of me. Now." He hissed upon pushing his paw hasher into the man's head. The  familiar feeling clenching in his gut he got when his bladder was held for too long was making him unnerved. And Clay would be dammed if he pissed all over the brute. "This isnt—This isn't correct."

Donovan can tell the work no flipped a switch in his brain. He is a prince after all, perhaps he’s not used to such a word being thrown at him so casually and in such a circumstance as this one. He’s waiting for the grey wolf to pop off on another bout of insults. It never comes though. Rather a sudden cry of his name and the man’s questioning his actions again. He knows it feels good. The dull thud of Clay allowing his head to smack down into the rock below and the squirming beneath his paws is making Donovan’s own bits unsheathe. 

He doesn’t relent and the other wriggles beneath him like a worm. It’s so satisfying to flick flame like eyes up to revel in the pleasure ridden face. Tears staining the fur of his cheeks and mouth open enticingly, releasing pants and moans all for Donovan’s ears to eat up. Fuck. His own length is throbbing and he doesn’t know how much long her can wait until he right out jumps the other.

The paw that nudges his massive head pushes harder now. He’s words sound more like a whine to Donovan and it gets him solid. Get off? Say less. He takes the opportunity to swallow the length of him once more before standing. Looking down upon Clays wriggling, heated, submissive form below.

He tilts his head down, breath ghosting over his southern region. “You want it on your back? Or you want me to take you from behind?” He asks shamelessly. “I want you to tell me.” 

Donovan doesn't pull off the second Clay tells him to—no. He stays there, still laving over the prince's length and giving it generous treatment until he doesn't. And while Clay is relieved, taking that chance to suck in air to his lungs, he also finds himself missing the attention.

-Just another thing that adds to the jumbled mess of confusion in his mind.

Continuing to suck in breaths, eager to calm down and smother the weird feeling in his chest, in his body, Clay barely notices that the alpha is staring down at him as if he was a meal. It's only when the beast bends down to breath on him—something that makes him struggle more, too sensitive, that Clay finally sees. "Don't look at me like that."

But then Donovan asks him a question and Clay is once more confused. On his back? Thats not—. This whole encounter is making him feel as if he knows nothing about sex. That HE is the one who has never done this before. "Shut up." He snaps, more so telling himself than the other. "We'll do it properly." Is how he answers, denying the man's request.

Standing up and winching at the heavy arousal hanging between his thighs, Clay reluctantly turns back to look at Donovan and notices just how well endowed the man is. He is large—too large, and Clay wonders just how such a thing is going to fit. He stares openly, mouth wide with shock until he notices that it is rude.

"Don't add to the scars. And don't knot me." Is what he closes with to the man, bending down his front half to the mud.

Don’t look at my like that. He snarls down to Donovan and his smile is truly gleaming. He literally cannot help it. He’s so enraptured by the other face so lost to the pleasure he’s receiving. Donovan likes to see what he has the capability to do to people. Loves tearing people apart and watching them try and pick up the pieces. He would consider himself sexually experienced. Though for some time now he hasn’t met a truly submissive or even dominant wolf that seems quite confused as Clay does. Another thing Don likes to give is new and unique experiences. 

He wants them to remember his name, chant it like a mantra even when he isn’t around. Wants the image of him to come to their minds and be unable to get rid of it. He wants to excel in every shape and form of the sexual experience for each and every wolf. He’d do just about anything one asked of him — almost.

For now though he takes in the other males face and shakes his head just a tag. He zoned out just watching him writhe is pleasure and he chuckles against him. “I can’t help it.” Comes an honest reply. He has to take in every little noise and expression Clay makes and burn it into his memory. Donovan want his image and what he’s done to the slate wolf burned into his memory, never to forget Donovan’s name.

Even a cranky sneer and the muttering of a shut up doesn’t deter him. Really it only serves to urge him to work harder at pleasing the other wolf. He focuses on the way the male struggles to stand, surely there’s a heavy weakness to his limbs due to his skilled tongue. Though as he turns around and gives an astonished look back Donovan’s smirk becomes positively devilish. The obviously surprise on Clays face at seeing Donovan’s own hanging pleasure is priceless.

What really gets Donovan is when the other is lowering his upper half into a bow. The enticing curve of his spine leading beautifully up to his hips — perfect for grabbing. Presenting his rump to Donovan he demands the most ridiculous request. Don’t add to the scars. And don’t knot me. He almost chokes at the last one — unlikely. He won’t give him scars, but he knows he’ll be giving Clay something else.

He hums and licks his chops like Clay is the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. A low, “Fuck—.” coming from deep within his chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Is all he growls before craning his head towards his rump.

Shamelessly nosing aside the plume of his tail and immediately goes to town. Tongue lapping at the puckered entrance and experimentally dipping in. Continuing this for a fair couple minutes to make the experience as comfortable as possible.

Time for the full meal, desert included. Donovan steps over, easily dwarfing the smaller wolf. Wrapping a single forearm around a small waist and settling the other on the ground, he prods and pokes for him mark. Grinding until he finds it, slipping in at a tantalizingly slow pace. He’s seated fully inside the other, except for the bulge at the base, and Donovan can’t help the animalistic growl that rumbles from him. He’ll stay here just a moment and wait for the other to get used to it before continuing, or until Clay gives him a sign to do so.

'I can't help it,'

"Don't give me that shit, Donovan." Clay hisses. He didn't mean to use the other's name in the insult, but the slip of it somehow felt more personal[madsh]closer, and as he said it Clay decided that he rather liked it. He knew the man was playing with him—toying with him; He wasn't blind.

But just as Donovan reveled in the feeling of undermining him, Clay felt the exact same. He hated the man's staring gaze, but also felt empowered that he was the one causing it. HE was the one that had the beast's full attention, and as he laid there, feeling uncomfortable and gross under the man's tongue, Clay decided that he would do everything in his power to keep it.

He would be the one to tame this Alpha.
If he couldn't have Valour, if he couldn't have Takeshi, he would have Donovan.

Moving his tail out of the way, the prince made sure to slap the other in the face with it—or at least try to with a quick movement. "And you're fucking disgusting,"

But as The Saint crowded over him, hugging him closer with a large forepaw and resting his weight, Clay couldn't help but continue his trembles. The warmth radiating off the male's underside and into his back was rather nice—pleasing even. It reminded him of warm, sunny days where he would bask in the sun's rays. Or perhaps it was more akin to the nearly faded memories of being hugged against his mother's side.

He presses up into Donovan, eager for more of that warmth, more of that weight, more of that attention. But as the beast slid home, filling him, burning him, Clay couldn't help but shout as he's moved forward. Whatever shreads of dignity he was holding onto finally fell apart as he gave in to the blinding white rupture within his stomach. Coils that were once twisted tight and bound came loose, firing all at once as he spent himself of the ground below within the matter of seconds.

'Disgusting' he muttered once more after coming down from his high, feeling himself clench around the man in sync with the pumping of his blood.


"Is this why youre so fucking dumb? All the blood to your brain is gone to your stupidly large cock?—gods." Clay shoots out shaky limb, hooking it around the man's standing front paw as he attempts to bite into it with warning. He hates that the man is doing this to him; Making him cum just with the action of being settled.

"Move. Right now. I'm not going to fucking break." He snarls. He wants to get this over with.

He loves the sound of his name being growled out by the other. He doesn’t care what’s attached to it — an insult, a compliment, he doesn’t give a fuck as long as he hears his name come from those lips. He almost visibly shudders from it and a growl leaves his maw. Doesn’t even care when he’s slapped in the face with the fluff of his tail. Hell, Clay could choke him to death right now and he’d die happy.  

Though as he settles over the other and has finally seated comfortably in the wickedly tight heat that is Clay. His paw grips him further as Donovan grunts into the fur of Clays scruff as he feels a quick pulse around him. Then the other is completely falling down the road to no return and surely he whimpers and cries when Clay reaches his release. Donovan exhales and breathes that same breath in just as quickly when the pulsing continues all around him. Hugging his member so tight — almost too tight — as Donovan writhes and groans against him. Pressing himself deeper, paw in the ground clawing excessively at the dirt. Donovan even moans in earnest at the pulsating, purposely not moving to feel it around him. 

Too soon is Clay mouthing off again and he gathers his dignity enough to shake his head and give a breathy laugh. Eyes flicking down to follow the feeling of teeth in his arm. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t remember how to speak if you keep that up, princess.” He teases gruffly. 

Then all of a sudden he’s thrusting at a brutal pace, though not as deep at it is fast and shallow he switches it up. Stopping to grind the beginnings of a knot onto the ring of his entrance threateningly. This time when the movements are deep, solid, long thrusts. He drops his hips lower to hit it at a different angle. Surely hitting the males pleasure spot like nothing he’s ever felt before. He is persistent and brutally attacked the same spot over and over again.

They keep this up for much longer than Clay surely expects. Donovan enjoys his own pleasure, but would almost say he cares more of the others. Still he’s reaching his peak and he can go on no longer. His breath is coming in heavy and he lies a massive head, cheek down on his shoulders. He’s vocal, shameless in his pleasure. A long moan and a huff of breath onto his shoulder and Donovan can’t help it, he’s about to finally cum too. 

Picking his heavy head up once more, he growls and licks at Clays scruff. His thrusts have become deeper and he can feel his knot swelling, he has to get it in before it becomes too big to attempt. Suddenly, he stills himself, not wanting to hurt the other by attempting to lodge the base in with a thrust, he grinds himself against him. Snatching up his scruff on his maw and even picking up his other paw from the ground to meet beside the first. Surely it’s obvious what he has planned. Thankfully the base is only a quarter of what it’s fully inflated size is. Though with one more deep grind, they both could feel it pop right in. Yet he continues his thrusts and moans into the scruff of his neck. They’re shallow now and his knot inflated larger and larger. Donovan’s hold onto the other is tighter than a bear trap and his final thrust where he grinds in and growls against his coat reveal that he’s finally tipped over the edge.

Ropes of milky substance flow into him and his knot swells so large that there’s no way to pull from it without injury on both sides. The base pulls on his entrance as he continues his shallow thrusts, unable to stop the movement. For as long as his knot is inflated, he’d continue to release the fluid inside of him. Filling him up so full that if he were a bitch in heat, there’d be no doubt of the outcome.

Clay doesn't know how much time has passed, nor how many times he's spilled himself. All he knows is that he's still being rocked by the thrusts of the man behind him and the fact his body feels like moss. He's too tired, too weak, and the only reason he's still standing is because of the beast still holding hip upright. He tries to talk, to sour words, but his tongue is once again dry from hanging out of his jaws. It's only when he pulls it back in and waits that he's able to finally voice his opinions.

"Y-you never shut up, don't you?" He grunts out, "You're so full of yourself you think you can shut me up? Can silence me? You truely are pathetic. How do you ever expect t-" He's cut off as the man pulls him closer, pulls him back, pulls him against the growing base of himself. He can't be.

"No," he gasps. "Don't you dare," He tries to struggle, to worm his way out once more, but the tightened grip on the back of his nape as him crying, has him bowing deeper into the ground where his face is now smudged against the dirt, dirtied just as he did to the Alpha. "Donovan, no. I said No!" He snaps as the man tries to grind himself in, not listening to a word he's saying.

"P-please," he finally begs, scared of the beast above him. "Don't—Please don't. No!" But still the man does not hear, he just keeps thrusting, keeps moving the young prince's body in tandem with his thrusts. Clay shuts his eyes at the pain, the only way he knows how to deal with it.

And when Donovan's knot finally pops in and catches Clay lets out an undignified sob, allowing his body to go completely slack from under the man. "I told you n-not to!" He wails, feeling the pulses deep within him and the warmth that spreads throughout his body. He's once again disgusted, terrified, and breathing rapidly as he enters a state of anxiety and dread.

He attempts to claw away, to leave the man behind and detach himself but it hurts—it hurts so bad. He feels the monster's length pull at his insides, nearly tearing them apart yet he doesn't give in. He keeps thrashing, keeps trying, keeps sobbing. "I can't. W-w-why can't I get up? Why can't I- Get off. Get off of me!" He screams.

Clay opens his jaws, bearing his teeth to the man in terror and actual anger. He means business now, means to harm the monster and make him pay. He aims for anything, rolling onto his back and flinching as Donovan's length turns in him. He attempts to bite at the man's neck, to maul him. To give him as much pain and neglect as he's received.

Donovan’s thrusts are erratic and he’s beginning to get so lost in the moment. It’s not like his sweet coupling with Simmik, or the rough and dirty intercourse he had with Merrick. This wolf is defiant, has fought Donovan at every turn. Seems like he couldn’t give a rats ass what Donovan has to say and always ride on the line of pessimistic. 

He doesn’t understand when, but he just zones out. He can’t help himself when he snatches up the loose skin of his neck and grinds his knot into him. Like a primal urge to just dominate. He presumed it’s due to the fact that Clay is so willing to fight him on shit, but so is everyone else — it’s just different. 

No matter how different it is and no matter how zoned out he is, the screams the other lets loose and the panic screech of his name has him snapping out of it. He’s dropping his scruff and blinking down at him with white yellow eyes. Pupils going from blown to pinpricks as the wolf sinks down to the ground, screaming and cursing. It almost sounds like he’s about to cry and fuck, Donovan actually freaks out for a second.  The situation instantly reminds himself of what he did to Aphrodite and Donovan contemplates jumping off a fucking cliff.

Then just as he’s about to lean down to try his best at comforting, Clay slinks completely to the ground, spinning to turn on his back. Donovan’s lip is snarling up at the light pain of his member being yanked down like that and he has no choice but to go down with him. Squatting his hind legs with his forearms being on either side of him he stumbles for words.

“Calm down, holy fuck.” He growls down to him. 

Then the bites start coming and he’s feeling the quick lash of teeth anywhere they can grab. His chin, neck, arms, chest, Clay is biting anything within reach and Donovan cannot get away from the vicious onslaught the other intends to give him. Donovan’s ears press back to his skull and Clays thrashing has him pulling on his member. To remedy this Donovan must risk getting his face bitten off. So he lies down right on top of him and uses from pawns to press against Clays throat and face enough to keep him at bay.

“Calm down.” Donovan says I’m a calmer voice, forcing himself to sound sweeter than his previous growl. “I can’t take it out. I literally can’t. You’re gonna have to wait, darling.” He hums down to him. “I’m—“ Donovan pauses for a seconds, ears airplaned down and brows furrowed. “I apologize, dear. Not sure if it means anything.” His attempt at apologizing is mediocre at best, but the emotions swirling within his eyes are genuine.

Clay doesn't know what he was expecting. Probably for the man to just end his pathetic life; An idea that sits oddly well with the prince. It would be so easy for Donovan to just rip his throat out, to bash his brains in with those paws and go on with his life as if nothing happened. As if Clay was just an unconventional leaf in the wind.

But he doesn't.

All he gets for his trouble is the weight of the man against him, smothering him to the earth as giant paws shove themselves into his neck and face. He can't bite back with how they're angled under his jaw, and every attempt makes an uncomfortable crick in his neck. So Clay just gives in for now and stares, seething at the man with a shakey breathes and silent curses. "Tell me to calm down one more time!" He shouts.

And then Donovan apologizes—something he didn't expect from the man. Clay tries to not let it affect him, tries to control and keep his anger constant at the beast but he can't. Not with those flat ears and soft tone, it moves him, albeit slightly, and Clay can do nothing but sigh and close his eyes.

He's tired.
He's so fucking tired.

"You're so disgusting," he whispers, barely audible on his ghosted breath. "I'm not going to be able to walk after this—I hope you know that. You're going to have to take me with you."

His own first and very frustrated growl for the other expectantly doesn’t calm him down as intended. Clay’s own savage growl is spit back up to Donovan. Yet he visibly softens, if only a touch, it’s still progress. Still the others unexpectedly sour mood from the knotting has Donovan internally rolling his eyes. Admittedly, it ruined the mood, but somehow he doesn’t feel himself softening up. Something he actually wishes would come much sooner rather than later.

Finally deeming the other safe enough to let go, he free the other of the paws near his neck and chest, settling them on either side once more. Surprisingly enough, Donovan feels the meaty portion of his hind legs cramping and admits defeat. Lowering himself into a lying down position, he rests him chin on the curve of the others rib cage. Bright yellow eyes looking up to him in an almost apologetic fashion, close enough to puppy dog eyes as a man like Donovan could get. Yet the smile that begins creeping onto his muzzle ruins any sort of resemblance to apologizing he had prior.

He is taken aback by the words the other speaks of. He wants him to bring him with? Back to his pack? What an interesting, angry, little wolf he’s made himself out to be. So Donovan gives a simple nod against his chest with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Already want to come home with me on the first date?” He teases with a wink. Then he rushes to correct himself before the onslaught of Clay’s wrath catches up to him. “Not a problem, dear, you can stay until you heal up.” He offers more casual this time. 

Finally though they wait out the few more moments until his length shrinks. Slipping himself out of the other, he has half a mind to lower himself to the offended area and lap up the mess he’s made. But knowing he’ll get scolded for being “disgusting” he decides to pass. Rather he offers to help the other wolf up and assist him on the journey to the canyon.

Clay grimaces as the man looks up at him with large eyes, disdain painting across his face before he turns it away to look elsewhere. Anywhere. The trees are surprisingly more interesting to look at than the large man who has perched himself ontop, he discovers.

Though Donovan continues to tease him, Clay only flicks an ear towards his direction with a mumbled "Shut up." He knows the man will not despite what he says, now. But the feeling, the hope, of possibly having his direction followed is good enough for the prince. "We're leaving as soon as possib- EGH!" Clay jolts at the unpleasant feeling of the man separating with him, and with a shocked look he glances downwards.

His bowels feel uneasy; He hates it instantly.

"We're leaving right now."

Donovan chuckles almost deviously as the male seems entirely grossed out by him pulling out. Followed by the male immediately ordering them to leave. What next? Will he demand Donovan to carry him all the way to the canyon on his back? Hell, if Clay asked nicely he might even be willing to do it. Yet, the spunky boy has said been anything but nice. He enjoys the attitude at times, loves the spire burning in the males soul. 

Either way, he bites his skillful tongue, bending down to assist him up. Releasing a teasing, “Yes sir.” They’ll begin their long, wet journey to Warrior’s Heart.