Peshka
Something was off. The werewolf sniffed the air. An intruder in his domain.
Through the whirling snowflakes, his nose found the scent, locked onto it. The trail hung heavy in the winter air, malodorous, musty, powerful. Male.
He followed his intruder's scent around the trees and past thorny bushes, through the dark corridor of trees, into a clearing carpeted with fallen snow. A large fire crackled before him, yellow sparks erupting from its embers like angry fireflies. Smoke rose up into the darkening sky.
He sniffed the air again. The scent was gone. He looked around. Nothing but the flames, the sparks, the smoke. And the trees.
Too slow, too late, his mind grasped the obvious. Through a storm of white flakes and grey leaves, the intruder came leaping. The force of impact took him down, breath shaken from his lungs in an explosive gasp.
A mouth latched onto his neck, predator's teeth tearing into him. He flailed his arms, struggling to find release. His claws found no purchase; so he sank his teeth into the intruder's shoulder. A crimson rivulet trickled down onto his muzzle, and the other howled in pain.
They broke away.
Snow whirled, whipped into their coats. The intruder crouched in the snow, fangs bared in a vicious snarl, blood smeared against his grey-white pelt.
'This place is mine,' he growled. He was met by a hard stare.
'Claim it before you declare ownership, peshka[*](%5C).'
The other snorted. 'And you're a wise, mighty alpha? From the way you fell to my ambush, I think not.'
'Alpha or not, I am the elder, and this is my domain. If you want it,' the werewolf grinned, his lips drawing back over his fangs, 'you'll have take it from me. Peshka.'
The intruder leaped for him once again, only to land on a snowbank as the werewolf dodged to a side. In a flash he straddled the intruder and clamped his jaws down onto his exposed neck, next to the flowing wound on his shoulder. The intruder struggled, howled as teeth punctured his flesh once more.
'Now, peshka,' the wolf snarled into his ear. 'Tell me. Whose domain is this?'
' Mine ,' the intruder gurgled, chortling even as his own blood spilled down his throat.
The werewolf shook his head. This was a hard case. All the better, really.
He clamped his legs harder over the furry body beneath him. 'You have failed, my friend,' he said, tracing a line down the other werewolf's neck with his tongue, to his blood-smeared shoulder. 'And since you cannot claim this domain, I shall have to claim you.'
The intruder lay very still under him. His breath came slow and heavy. 'No,' he said softly, even as muscular, furred arms snaked around his chest and held him tight.
'Oh, I'm afraid you have no choice,' the werewolf said. 'You're mine.' And the snowfall ceased as he laughed.
As the clouds rent themselves and stars broke upon a deep evening sky, a spear of warmth jabbed against the intruder's rear. Growls tore from his throat as the spear's dripping tip eased along his bare rump, slicking the fur as it drew up from the bottom of his crack and rested, throbbing, upon the puckered entrance beneath his tail.
The werewolf ignored the male's growls. His needs were of more concern; and at this point, he could barely stop himself from driving his hips forward and shoving his entire length into the silly male under him. As it was, some amount of delicacy was required - he didn't want to make this more painful than it needed to be. But there would be pain. Oh yes.
A little jet of pre spurted from his flushed red cock; then another, and another, until little rivulets dripped down the wolf's now-moistened tailhole.
'Relax,' he said simply, as he forced his cocktip into the ring of warm flesh.
The penetration caught the growls dead in the intruder's throat. He whimpered now, he could feel a painful heat stab into him, feel his pucker being forced open around a length of slick red flesh. The pain grew as the werewolf above him grunted into the air and his grip grew tighter. The shaft buried itself slowly, slowly into his body, until a solid knob pressed up, nearly at the base of his tail. A soft, furred ballsac that hung under the knob rested snugly against his rump.
Night drew on. The cold nipped at the intruder's nose, and he noticed it was almost dry. 'Odd thing thing to think of at a time like this,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe it's because the pain has... gone?' The arms around his chest drew tighter, and he was shaken from his ruminations.
The werewolf's shaft drew itself from his rear now, almost completely. And then it plunged back in with such savage force that the swelling knob at its base almost slammed right through his puckered hole.
A sharp howl tore the air.
The werewolf slammed his hips again and again into the howling male beneath him, unheedful of his cries. The heat from that tight tailhole was driving him insane, he had to have release. He pounded his cock into the wolf beneath him, driving it with a ferocity that drew more howls and disconcerted struggling; and that only served to increase his ardour. Each howl, each slight shift beneath him caused his shaft to sink deeper into the warm flesh that closed around it, the warmth that squeezed and milked the entire length of his hardness. By Lupus, that felt like heaven itself - it was so *tight*!
He kept pumping into the male's ravaged rump, until he felt that warm pleasant glow spreading through him. He made one final, savage shove that drove his entire shaft into the male, along with the swollen knob at its base.
Two howls split the air now, one of pleasure and the other of pain; the werewolf's seed erupted from his cock into his peshka, jet after jet of fiery liquid splattering against the male's inner walls. He dug his claws deep into his peshka's sides, and his mouth drew open into a snarl as his climax surged into its final throes.
The male groaned, his vision was getting bleary; he shifted his head, looked down, and found to his amazement that his hardness was grinding into the snow as well. Even as he looked, it jerked up and four liquid arcs flew from its tip across the ground beneath him. But the pleasure it gave was momentary, for the pain enveloped him once more. He laid his head down, and whined as both their climaxes ended.
The werewolf's fleshy red knob, as large as half a fist now, lay throbbing firmly within the male, well past his muscular anal ring: they were locked together now, tied in the lover's knot. The werewolf turned his peshka over, slowly, and licked his muzzle.
'Your nose is dry,' he noted.
The male whimpered.
The werewolf embraced him tightly, and ran his tongue by the ugly wounds on his neck and houlder. Concern flashed in his eyes, and he looked at the male under him that still held his shaft. His eyes were closed.
Stars shone hard in the midnight-blue sky as the air swelled and blew a bone-piercing chill through their fur. The fire had died long ago; it had always been cold. But now as the warmth of lust ebbed slowly away, the chill came back with a vengeance.
The werewolf scooped his peshka up into his arms and bore his way into the teeth of the wind. The male trembled violently as the the cold cut deep into his senses, and together with the pain it was enough to make him faint. But the shaft inside brought him back, its knob warmly nudging his flesh with every stride. He saw that they were making it past the corridor of trees; the trees themselves loomed darkly on either side, like walls of thick shadow. His ears registered only the snow underfoot and the wind around; and as he preferred the sounds to the unholy sight of the corridor, he closed his eyes.
He must have finally lapsed for a while, more than a few minutes, since when next he came to they were already at the mouth of a large cave. It was a rough grey hollow, impenetrably dark. That it was deep there could be no doubt, and its interior would be a great shelter from the cold.
Once inside, the werewolf slumped onto the floor by a straw mattress. He laid himself down onto it, peshka on top of him; he was panting hard, and could feel his shaft's rhythmic pulse deep within the male's depths.
But now its base had shrunk back to normal proportions, so he eased it gently from the male's rear, finally sliding the entire length of his softening wolfcock out. He gave a sigh as it retreated back into its sheath, and kissed the younger male werewolf that lay quiet on top of him.
He was still shivering.
'You are my mate,' the werewolf whispered, and enfolded his lover in his arms. 'But only if you want to be. I will tend to your wounds; once they are healed, you are free to go.'
The male opened his eyes, and flicked his tongue across the werewolf's nose. 'Alpha,' he said, simply.
The werewolf shook his head, a slight smile growing on his lips. 'No,' he said. 'I am not your Alpha. Hashka[*](%5C), perhaps; and I would love for my peshka to stay with me. But the choice is yours.'
The male struggled a little, to rest his hands on the mattress and prop himself up. He gazed levelly into the werewolf's eyes. 'Then I shall stay,' he stated. 'For this domain is still mine.'
'Hashka,' he added, as the expression of the werewolf beneath him darkened, and managed a weak grin.
The werewolf chuckled and ruffled his peshka's fur. 'My mate,' he said, and rubbed his nose against his muzzle.
They nuzzled together on the mattress, cuddling warmly as the night wore on. The younger male nestled his muzzle against the older's warm chest, and the older werewolf drew him in closer and kissed him deeply. 'Let us rest now,' he said as they locked in tender embrace, 'and leave the outside world for until morning comes.'
And as the two closed their eyes, a deep sleep overcame them.
- Le fin -
*peshka - noun, an immature wolf; pup.
*hashka - noun, elder wolf; usu. employed in formal mode of address for a teacher or master.