The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

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.