Archive of Our Own

Buck did know what he was getting into, coming into this stretch of forest on a full moon. Call it haunted or magical, cursed or hallowed. The storyteller determines the spin, and Buck is making the best of it.

He’d come in seeking out a monster. And boy oh boy had he found himself one—all Buck had to do was wander helplessly. Let the thing give chase, silent as a mouse despite considerable bulk. Hot breath at the back of his neck, only to let him dart away until they were both wound up from the chase.

And now he’s laid out at the base of a massive tree, with a big lump of muscles and fur bracketing him and whispering in his head.

None of the stories mention this part: the deep voice of the werewolf inside his skull, commanding Buck out of clothes and onto the forest floor. He’d opened himself on his own fingers and with his own spit at the behest of a voice in his head, the wolf promising a bite.

Buck had done as commanded, letting the headiness of being entirely at the mercy of a monster fizz into thrumming arousal. He’d expected to be fucked within an inch of his life, to take the bite with a werewolf cock inside of him.

He’s still not sure that that’s not what’s happening.

The werewolf is very much inside of him. He’s thick and long and hot, burning Buck up from the inside out. But his hips had gone still the moment he’d fully sheathed himself in Buck’s body, the burning length of him softening. Inside of Buck.

Buck doesn’t think he’s in a position to be asking questions. The werewolf’s voice is a contented purr in his head, as he nuzzles at Buck’s neck. There’s a spot between the junction of his neck and shoulder that he keeps licking at, and the skin is worn raw and tender. Buck’s dick twitches every time teeth scrape over the sensitive skin.

It’s still so much. He’d hardly been able to breathe when the wolf first pushed into him, breaths coming quick and shallow until he’d felt light-headed. He’d adjusted, eventually, but every part of him is still very aware of how he’s being taken, used. Like he’s nothing more than a warm body for the wolf to enjoy. That is one hell of a fantasy. His dick is dripping where it’s pressed between their bodies, wetting fur and skin.

But so far, no bite. A hell of a lot of licking.

He clears his throat, and the wolf shifts a little, making him keen. “H-hey,” he starts. “This is like, really, really great.”

The wolf rumbles, a pleased sound that Buck can feel in his nipples.

“But, uh- Just to check. You know. Communication, important, right?” The wolf laughs in his head. It’s the most human sound he’s made, rich and a little squeaky at the edges. Buck might melt. “Just so you know. And not that you have to do it! But I do, uhm, want the bite.”

He holds his breath. If the wolf isn’t interested in being the one to turn Buck, that’s—fine. Buck doesn’t really know the guy yet, even if he’s just found out that he has a pretty nice laugh. There are other wolves in the forest.

The wolf snarls. Buck freezes, skin pebbling into goosebumps.

You should know, the wolf says in his head, voice cool and level. That your thoughts are clear to me.

“That’s… Interesting,” Buck says, and suddenly he doesn’t know what normal thoughts look like. He’s lying on the forest floor, and, sure, there’s a massive dick inside of him, but there’s also an ant that’s been slowly making its way across a root out of the corner of his eye. “Uh- did you get mad because I thought about finding someone else to bite me?”

The wolf rumbles in agreement, and then rasps a long and wet line up Buck’s throat, from the dip of collarbones to the underside of his chin. He huffs out a puff of breath against the damp skin like he’s trying to blow a little piggie's house down, and Buck shivers at the cooling effect of it.

Buck, the wolf says. And there are images to go with his name—great antlered beasts in ancient forests, his own body ducking behind a tree. Mine. A warm flush of feeling. Buck’s face. Comfort and belonging and so many pups—

The wolf pulls back from Buck’s mind. Buck is—well, very, very turned on, for one. This wolf wants him in a way nothing has ever wanted him.

A wolf-y sigh, warm breath. There’s a pulse of embarrassment between them, and Buck tries to project comforting feelings. And also feelings of what is happening can you fuck me can you bite me please please please.

Is this not nice? The wolf asks, and there’s a teasing note to his mental voice.

Buck’s lips are parted in response when the wolf cants his hips, pushing just that smallest bit more into him. Buck makes a choked noise, eyes rolling at the sudden stimulation after minutes of nothing. “Good,” he breathes. “It is nice. Thank you?”

Selfish, the wolf says, and Buck thinks he’s being called selfish, until the wolf starts licking his damn neck again. Well, at least he’s a self-aware werewolf. Nosing at Buck, memorizing his scent—and Buck doesn’t have to guess at how much the wolf is loving it. He’s projecting every one of those feelings into Buck, and it loops in with Buck’s impatience. He’s not sure if he wants to live here forever, or shove the wolf off of him so he can run and hope that when he’s caught again, the wolf shows him exactly what he’s capable of.

There’s a harsher graze of teeth than before. Buck is humming with the feeling of being filled, and the pinpricks of pain as the wolf stretches his maw around his neck, the points of his teeth digging in, are like little bursts of fire. He arches up, head digging into the forest floor, pushing himself closer to the jaws of the beast.

Can’t bite like this, the wolf says. He licks sideways over Buck’s neck. Buck misses the feeling of his teeth as soon as they’re gone from his skin, but he really doesn’t have to wait long for them to return. Back at the junction of neck and shoulder. So sensitive.

Buck squirms. He can’t help it. He’d tried to fuck himself on the werewolf’s cock when he first settled inside him, but every attempt was met with a snarl. Now, the wolf doesn’t protest. It’s a maddeningly small amount of pressure, both inside and against Buck’s dick, but it’s so much more than nothing.

“Please,” he pants. He bends his knees, which feel like jelly, until his feet are planted on the ground. “Please, please, I need it. The bite. You. I’m yours, I’m—”

The wolf bites him.

It’s a great and terrible pain, crushing and ripping, as all-encompassing as being used like a cock sleeve. Pleasure and pain wrack his body in equal measures, and he knows distantly that he’s screaming.

It doesn’t fade so much as it recedes, like the water of a tsunami rushing back to the ocean. It sweeps through him again. Meets the established well of pleasure and swells it until Buck feels like he’s burning and he can’t tell the difference between one and the other any longer.

The wolf is whispering in his head. So good, he says. Doing so good, Buck. Taking it well. You’re perfect for it. Strong. I have you. I have you. Focus on me. It’s me, inside of you. Tearing you apart. Putting you back together.

And Buck can breathe again. The pain is still there, a dull throb that shudders through him, but the wolf is there, too. Hard again. Fuck, and Buck had forgotten how big he felt hard. It’s grounding in the way it makes his head drift away from his body. He doesn’t have to feel the pain, not if he thinks about how warm the wolf is, how big he is, how he stretches Buck so well. How Buck takes him.

Yesyesyes, the wolf rumbles. Good. Mine.

Buck isn’t sure which of those draws him closer to the edge. He feels so entirely owned by the wolf. Shaped by him. At his mercy, yes, but more than that. He’d do anything the wolf asked, take anything he was given, with the single-minded determination that he was meant for it.

The wolf’s cock twitches inside of him. Ah, Buck thinks. He likes that.

Another wolf-y huff. More licking. Over the site of the bite, and the pain fades with every stroke of the wolf’s tongue. Magical slober, he thinks, more than a little delirious and cock drunk.

Just a little longer, the wolf promises, and Buck is sure that he hears all the ways Buck’s mind turns that into innuendo.

“Can you tell me something?” Buck asks, the first words he’s spoken since the bite. Time is wheeling past him like the stars in the sky. He doesn’t know how long the wolf has been inside him, doesn’t know how long it’s been since the bite.

The wolf snuffles at his ear, which Buck takes as permission.

“Do you have a name?”

Mental silence. Like all of the wolf’s thoughts have ground to a halt. Did you plan to just call me the werewolf for the rest of your life?

Buck clenches around him at rest of your life. The wolf’s hips twitch in reply.

“I- ah- would have come up with something. But you sound offended, so I assume you do have a name.”

As much as I want to know what you would have come up with, the wolf laughs again. Buck could drown in that laugh. I want you to know my name. Another flood of images. Sensual and hot, all the things the wolf wants to do to Buck. He wants his name on Buck’s lips when he takes him apart.

Buck is going to come from some pictures in his head. Untouched. Nothing more than a toy. It’s going to be embarrassing, and so, so hot.

But then the wolf’s voice rumbles no. Not yet. And Buck’s orgasm recedes. The level of control held over him brings him right back to the edge, though. He can say three words and command Buck’s body better than his own. Control his bodily functions. Tell his cells what to do, probably.

You are insatiable, the wolf rumbles in his head. Not yet.

Buck’s orgasm recedes, but he’s so caught in the loop of pleasure that he hardly even notices.

“Come on,” Buck whines, once he figures out how his mouth works again. “Name. Gimme.”

You could reach into my head and take it.

Buck tries. He imagines that his own mind is an airplane terminal, thoughts flickering by loud and clear on the departures and arrivals board. The wolf’s is like a forest. Mysterious. Magical.

You’re not even trying, he huffs. And then he pushes something toward Buck, across their mentally shared space. It’s bundled like a present, and Buck rips ravenously through the paper.

There it is—Eddie Diaz.

Not as magical as he’d expected.

What? The wolf gasps in his head, voice climbing higher than Buck has heard it yet. Not- What??

“Is it short for something cool? I- I can’t really think of anything because you’re inside of me. Very, very inside of me. Ed- Edifice?”

I’m taking the bite back, the wolf whines. I’m going to suck the venom out of your skin—hot, Buck interjects—and make you human again.

“I’m still human though, aren’t I?” He doesn’t feel any different. Well, maybe under all the arousal and excitement he could find something, but he’s not too interested in self-reflection right now. “So, uh, Edible.”

Shut up. Stop.

“Are you just going to be inside of me for the rest of this? Is that how it works?”

No.

“Helpful.” He prods at Eddie’s mind, and gets that flash of the same word—selfish. “This is just how you like to do it? How you turn all the humans?”

A flash of nonono. Only you. Only ever you.

Buck bites his lip. Yay.

Yay, the wolf mirrors back. You are ridiculous.

“I think my legs are falling asleep.”

You won’t need them.

“Ominous, my Edward. Edamame.”

Shush, the wolf says. And shush, Buck does. His mind goes pleasantly, irresistibly, blank. All flights cancelled. Trains, too. He’s a meadow. Grass waving in the wind. He is a thing for Eddie to use, to keep himself warm. To sleep, maybe. Buck could be a good pillow. Keep Eddie’s cock nestled inside him and give him whatever scent he keeps chasing when he noses at Buck’s neck in a huffhuffsniff.

Buck feels the spark of excitement that rolls through Eddie. Both in the way his mind alights with it, and how his body jolts.

There it is, he says. Do you feel it? The change?

“Can I talk now?” Buck whispers.

You were not fully quiet for even a moment, Eddie laughs. Buck wants to eat his laugh, now. Final answer. I can’t command you as completely. You’re becoming a wolf.

Buck does not think yay this time. He thinks woof, and awoooo, and rippling werewolf muscles and a werewolf dick to match.

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

“What am I meant to be feeling?” Buck’s been searching. Prodding at his feelings—hornyhornyhorny—his physical state—Jesus, he’s so big and I think there’s a twig poking my ass cheek—and everything in between. No dice.

I guess I’ll just have to show you, Eddie says, and he says it with a voice. Lower. Deeper. A promise of things to finally come. Both of them, hopefully.

Every twitch of his hips that came before suddenly seems like nothing at all when Eddie pushes himself up, giant wolf hand-paws bracketing Buck’s head, knees on either side of his hips. He’s so big that he drags Buck’s body up with him, slipping out only the smallest bit.

Buck feels stretched. With some of the girth gone, he can feel how he clenches around where Eddie was. How much of him is open, waiting. And it had been a burn to get Eddie in him—spit is a last resort for a reason—but now he feels… Wet. Has Eddie been dripping pre into him this whole time?

Eddie’s voice in his head says no. Eddie, bastard, pulls out. He’s been in Buck for so long that Buck’s body has forgotten what if feels like to be empty, and he hates it with everything he has, hates it with every part of his being.

You need me, Eddie murmurs. In you. To finish the transformation. Have to knot you, make you mine.

Buck’s lips twitch in a snarl of his own as his body aches.

Do it, he pleads, lips forming the words and mind screaming it. “Do it, Eddie, Eddie-”

Eddie slides into him. Easy. Buck is so open for him. So wet for him.

That’s right, baby, Eddie’s voice says. It trembles at the edges with pleasure. You’re doing that. Getting yourself wet for me.

Baby pings around Buck’s mind like an errant ping pong ball. “More,” he pleads. Begs. It drags on his throat, and he feels Eddie’s hips sway, and he knows that he made Eddie move. “Hard, Eddie, need it so bad.”

When Eddie fucks him, Buck’s mind really does go quiet. There’s only feeling. Eddie inside of him. Eddie pounding into him, brushing Buck’s prostate on every thrust, hitting hard against the insides of him. Molding him into something new, because Buck feels—malleable. Like all his organs have turned into putty, and Eddie has to rearrange them.

Eddie makes it good for him. When Buck moans harder, he finds new strength. When Buck cants his hips up, Eddie grabs his ass with one hand, holding himself up with the other, and changes the angle until he’s thrusting down and into Buck, hitting new spots inside him that turn his spine into molten glass and make him burn.

He doesn’t know what’s spilling from his mouth—uh uh uh, fuck, EddieEddieEddie—or through the bond between them. He can feel how much Eddie loves fucking him. The greedy ways that Eddie drinks up every noise he makes, every slap of their skin together. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on his neck, and see, through him, the sight Buck makes.

How the bite that is transforming him seems to almost glow, dark and bloody against his pale and pink skin.

How he throws his head back, neck arched in a beautiful line.

How he takes Eddie. The swell of the skin of his stomach where Eddie’s cock pushes at it. The sharper edge to his teeth. The way his nails dig into the soft earth, until at Eddie’s mental wanting, he drags them against Eddie’s fur. It makes him howl, a song of mate and mine and beautiful and strong and ready.

The swell of more.

Battering at Buck’s hole, taking Eddie like he’s meant for it, like he’d warmed him for, is the growing swell of Eddie’s knot. Buck plucks the word from Eddie’s mind. Knows what it will do to him—catch inside of him. Hold Eddie’s come in, no chance of any lost to the forest floor. Hold Buck close so he’ll carry, so it’ll take.

A startled, I don’t think that’s how it works? fights to the forefront of Buck’s thoughts.

Eddie answers with, soon. And, I know, and, practice.

Buck thinks, what? and then cries out when Eddie’s knot catches. It’s too big. Too much. And yet, Buck takes it anyway. Eddie sets his hips back down against the earth, leans in close over him again. Saliva drips from his teeth, and his tongue chases after it, and Buck wishes he could lean up and lick those teeth, too, but he’s gone pliable all over, muscles worn to nothing. He sinks into the forest floor, and he takes.

Closecloseclose, Eddie thinks. The knot pulls out of him, and then is bullied back in.

Buck is—not sure if he’s come. He’s aching with want, but it’s in his entire body. He finds that he almost doesn’t care—he just wants to feel Eddie inside him.

Fuck, Eddie growls, and he must have been seeing Buck’s thoughts again. Enabling me, he chides. Letting me be selfish.

Buck sends him a warm burst of yes, please. You being selfish has worked out pretty well so far for me.

Eddie laughs and then—comes.

That is an insane ego boost.

It’s unlike anything Buck has ever felt before. The pressure against his entrance, still too much. The hot flood of Eddie’s release. So much that Buck feels it filling him, stretching his skin. He and Eddie share a thought, bright and stunning in both their minds—Buck’s stomach swelling further, full of pups.

Buck is pretty sure he comes, then.

His body feels alien, but he knows pleasure, how it makes his eyes roll and his thighs burn, how nothing else seems to matter.

If he’s not aware of how his own body is working, he is aware of everything around him.

How the earth is cooling, the last of the sun’s warmth finally taken into the night air. The shiver of the trees, the chitter and call of distant animals.

Eddie. Eddie Eddie Eddie. Inside him. On top of him. Nosing at him a little dumbly, like he’s trying to find something while half awake. His cold nose bumps the apple of Buck’s cheek, the corner of his eyes. His tongue gently flicks over his birthmark. It’s sweet. Buck wraps his arms around as much of the werewolf as he can reach, and settles into the afterglow.

His grasp on time is still not quite all there. He counts five who-whos from distant owls. Eddie finds and nibbles at the bite. The ant finally finishes crossing its root, and starts on another.

Eddie says I want to see you.

Buck’s world spins as Eddie rolls both of them, and then Buck is sitting above him. The knot hasn’t gone down at all.

Eddie looks up at him with stars in his eyes. They reflect down from the clear sky, bright and beautiful. Buck wonders what he looks like in his human form.

Heavy paws settle on his hips. Pinpricks of pressure from the points of Eddie’s claws against his back, and Buck rolls his hips experimentally—he can’t get much leverage at all, but the knot is so big that even the smallest movement draws whines from both of them.

Buck looks down. His head spins at the sight of his stomach, swollen with Eddie’s cock and spend. Eddie licks over his teeth again, following Buck’s gaze. Lower.

A rumbling purr thunders through both of them. Eddie’s. Looking at Buck. He’s sending out mental waves of pleased satisfaction, and Buck doesn’t understand. Not until Eddie sends him an image.

Himself. Hair mussed, birthmark flushed bright, eyes wild. The bite. The swell of his chest, the bulge of his stomach. The thatch of hair that leads down to his cock but—it’s gone. Replaced by a pretty pink pussy, dripping with his arousal. Swollen and new, untouched.

Buck gasps. He clenches muscles he hadn’t been aware of. Empty. So full, and empty. He keens in the back of his throat.

Touch it, Eddie rumbles. Explore.

Buck wiggles his fingers between their bodies. The bolt of pleasure that hits him when his touch grazes across his clit is great and terrible. It makes him tense again, desperate for more, but he can’t get any closer to the new parts of him, so he just touches his clit again, hard circles and grinds that build into a crescendo of feeling. His thighs tense. His muscles twitch. Eddie is hungry, so hungry, feeding off of Buck’s want and looking and looking.

He snarls. It pulls Buck back from the edge, a feeling that leaves him so empty.

Need to touch you, Eddie growls. He’s loud.

His claws dig into Buck’s back, and Buck is pulled down while Eddie leans up, and then teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder again.

It isn’t painful like the first time. More like Eddie is sucking a mark into his neck, and down from the bite cascades a rush of Buck’s body going pliant. If he weren’t already slumped over, he would have collapsed down.

A sloppy hnng? trickles past his lips as Eddie’s teeth slide out of his skin. He can feel himself healing, the second bite gone without a trace in a matter of moments, but what he’s feeling is Eddie pulling away.

He holds Buck’s hips in place and then he lifts, like he can ease Buck off his cock, off his knot.

It’s impossible. Even relaxed, even so open, he’s too big. Buck is too tight, too used to Eddie inside him. He’s made to take him, but Eddie is made to keep him close.

Let go, Eddie says. It’s less command and more plea. His thoughts are a whirlwind. Lightning bolts of want crash through, and Buck sinks into the feeling of Eddie’s venom coursing through him, and even though he doesn’t want the wolf out of him—filled and happy and taken and pups—he relaxes. Eddie’s knot catches and catches and catches and Buck is going to break and then—

Buck is empty. So, so empty. His new pussy drips slick and Eddie’s come slides out of him and there’s nothing he can do because Eddie is just holding him up, looking at him—

The world spins again. Buck is on his back. Looking at the stars. He liked them more in Eddie’s eyes. He starts to crane his head up when—oh god. Wet and demanding, familiar with how it had worn at his skin, Eddie’s tongue laps at Buck’s pussy. It’s that same devotion as he’d shown Buck before, but now Buck feels it with nerves the rest of his body doesn’t have. Eddie’s tongue envelopes his clit. Long, broad strokes and then gentler laps, and Buck’s back leaves the ground as the pleasure wracks through him.

He comes on Eddie’s tongue. The first time he’s come like this, and it’s close to what he knows and then a little to the left. He doesn’t get time to bask in the feeling, though, because even as Eddie stops his single-minded focus on Buck’s clit, he starts licking further down. Those maddening long and indulgent strokes, tasting Buck from his taint up to his lower belly.

Eddie is writhing with glee. His claws flex in the earth and his butt waggles in the air, and he eats Buck out like it’s what he was born to do.

Buck is still reeling from the boneless slump Eddie’s venom put him in. He’s thinking that Eddie made him like this. That Eddie bit him and fucked him and made him brand new. Gave him a pussy to eat and—

Buck presses a hand to his stomach and he knows. With a certainty that must come in part from Eddie knowing exactly how this would go, he knows that Eddie has given him a womb, too.

Want flattens Buck to the forest floor. He needs Eddie to put pups in him. Fill him up for real, use the new parts that he gave him.

He throws those feelings at Eddie, and sees his ears flatten back against his skull. Eddie whines into Buck, and then pulls his maw away from Buck’s clit. Buck welcomes the loss of stimulation, even as it reminds him that he’s empty. That all of Eddie’s come has leaked out of him, and his stomach is flat again.

Eddie whines, and Buck hears the apology in it.

“What?” Buck asks, blinking back tears. “Why not?”

Can’t, Eddie’s mental voice shakes. Can’t knot again. Not yet.

“When?” Buck demands, and Eddie shrugs. He sends a confusing mix of don’t know and pulled out and came already, came so much, greedy. “Fuck,” Buck moans, letting his head fall back against the ground.

Eddie doesn’t start back up on touching him, which shocks Buck. He forces himself to breathe. To settle into his body, and push back the waves and waves of feeling. He wants something in him. He wants to curl up and sleep.

Suddenly, Eddie disappears from his head. His presence had been so ubiquitous that Buck couldn’t have described it until it vanished—warm and heavy but nice, a person to share everything he felt, everything he was, with. There’s still a thin thread between them, and the more Buck focuses on it, the more he can feel Eddie again. More abstract, now. A wave of satisfaction.

Buck lifts his head up, expecting to find the beast looking at his handiwork, and instead is met with the steady gaze of a man.

His eyes are warm and brown. Mussed hair sweeps down his forehead and over his ears, curly with sweat. He’s terribly, terribly attractive. He sees Buck looking back and cocks his head, and it’s him. The wolf. Eddie.

Buck swallows. “Hi,” he says. Like this man hasn’t just been inside him.

“Hi,” Eddie says back. His voice is rough at the edges, like the wolf is still lurking. “You need something?”

“Is this going to make your knot come back faster?” Bucks asks, and then flushes, and then feels ridiculous for blushing. He is intimately familiar with that knot!

Eddie ducks his head. “No. But I had… An idea. And I needed-” he holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers. Buck had already kind of figured out he was a little bit of a dork through the whole mind-meld thing, but this is nice confirmation. Also, his hands are huge. Buck’s mouth waters.

“Anything,” Buck breathes. He’s so fucking empty.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, and a devastating little smile curls at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got you, Buck.”

The first time he’s said Buck’s name out loud. It fills the air between them as Eddie shuffles between Buck’s spread legs.

“Up?” Eddie says, pressing at the inside of Buck’s knees until Buck obliges, pulling his feet flat to the earth. “Good.”

Something aches in Buck’s chest. It’s Eddie’s care for him, and an urge to be as good as he possibly can for him. So, with an effort that has him gritting his teeth, he rolls onto his stomach, and then pushes his knees under him. He can feel Eddie’s questioning turn into a hum of want as Buck presents for him. It’s a carnal instinct, something new in him telling him how to move. Like Eddie had given him a software update with his fangs and his cock.

“Oh Buck,” Eddie murmurs, reverent. “Look at you.”

Buck twitches when a finger circles his rim. He’s still so open. It’s easy for Eddie to push a finger in. One, and then another. And another. Buck sighs at the feeling, closer to what he wants. It’s enough. He wishes he could see through Eddie’s eyes again.

Eddie nudges his fingers in deeper, and Buck takes him easily. Past the first knuckle. Eddie’s pinky nudges at his rim. Buck’s breath stutters. He’s so sensitive, but he needs it. Needs everything Eddie can give him.

So he relaxes into the fourth finger Eddie pushes into him. Widens his knees and lets his forehead kiss the ground as he thrusts gently in and out, spreading him open again. It’s almost relaxing, the tender care and steady rhythm. Not so all-encompassing as the knot. More like when Eddie was just buried, soft, inside him.

And then—Eddie curls his fingers, shapes them into a fist. It widens his knuckles. Now it’s not just a replacement for the knot Buck can’t have yet—he feels full. And there’s Eddie’s thumb, too, curling close to his fist. He pulls out, just a bit, and then pushes in, hand curled in and thumb tucked close and then he’s inside Buck, just like that. Like it was nothing, really, to fit his entire fist inside of him.

“Holy shit,” Buck chokes.

“Wish you could see,” Eddie says, echoing Buck’s thoughts. “How you take me.” He pushes deeper, and Buck can’t breathe, can’t breathe—the pressure lessens. Eddie’s still there. Stroking his flank with the hand not in him.

Buck doesn’t know how long it goes on for. He only knows the pressure. Every bit deeper Eddie pushes. How there’s no limit, not like there is when Eddie uses his dick. Buck feels like Eddie could reach all the way through him, and he’d welcome it.

He forgets everything else. Sinks into the overwhelming feeling, sinks into Eddie.

What breaks through is a new sense—Eddie’s arousal, thick and heady. Buck can smell it and taste it, and somehow, he knows that Eddie is ready for him.

They still take their time coming down from it all. Eddie goes slow, pulling out of him, and though the empty feeling returns, Buck knows it’ll be gone soon. The anticipation sparkles through him, has him panting into the cold night air when Eddie is entirely out of him.

And he doesn’t ask how Eddie wants him—he just reaches out, finds Eddie’s mind open to him as Eddie sinks back into his shift, the wolf crawling out of his skin as Buck lies on his back, watching.

It’s not the full shift, though. Buck can see and feel how Eddie holds it back. His hands are gentle and free of claws as he gets them under Buck’s hips, as he lifts him toward where Eddie’s cock bobs in the air.

“Why?” Buck asks, and the grin that takes Eddie’s lips is human and monster, wild and soft.

“So I can do this,” Eddie says. And then he’s pushing into Buck’s cunt, the first to ever take him like this, like Eddie made him for. And again it’s different, but not so much that Buck doesn’t know how to take it.

He’s lying back and he’s breathing and he’s burning when Eddie swoops down—wolf ears peaking out of his hair, the lines of his face sharp—and kisses him.

Buck feels the bond between them explode in a burst of feeling. It’s so—simple, compared to everything else they’ve done, and yet it’s so much more. Gentle and intimate and so true to that word that keeps bouncing around in Eddie’s mind, getting tangled in Buck’s own thoughts.

Mates.

Eddie fucks him slow and deep. Kisses him until the shift fully takes him, and licks at his face until Buck is laughing and gasping, taking in the breadth of new feelings. To be fucked like this. To be loved like this.

He entered the forest a lonely human. He’ll leave it the mate of a werewolf, already carrying the very beginnings of their first litter.