Otter Creek I'll [m]ake your timber shiver

Xan was not used to being submissive, having always believed himself to be the greatest. He was a borderline narcissist, through and through, and yet his resolve had falter when a growl had sounded from behind him. The words that'd followed had not ignited the same desire to attack as they once would have, offering to him another new experience. He did not want to sink his teeth into the other male, to tear from him however much flesh that he could manage; not even after he'd felt the grip on his scruff tighten did he have an urge to cause actual harm. It had made him shut up, though, suggesting that he'd accepted the claim placed over him. Yet, in the back of his mind, he still had not. No one could have him, not entirely, for he'd never allow for every inch of himself to be known.

A breath had hitched in his throat the moment the other had experience his release, the sensation entirely foreign and not at all something he'd been expecting. And while normally something like that would have caused for his entire form to go rigid, he'd only been able to feel something similar to relaxation. Every muscle in his body had eased, the other's release having set off a chain reaction, ending with Xan's own. His body had trembled from the feeling of it, and so it'd come as a shock once he'd realized that their coupling had yet to cease. Blunt claws had been forced into the dirt, toes spreading and then pulling back together as some sort of traction was sought after. And though the motions had eventually ended, the male had not pulled himself off. The Inuit had kept still, for the most part, until irritation started to set in. "Get off," was all he'd managed to say, legs demanding a moment of rest. There was also another matter that he wanted to bring up, but felt himself at too big of a disadvantage to be doing so given their current positions.