The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

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."