The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

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.”