Boys, Baps, and Breeding

A Reverse Harem Werewolf Fantasy

Tribes of Belfast: Volume 1

By Billi Wolf

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Boys, Baps, and Breeding version 1.0 is a piece of present-day erotic urban fantasy, and is intended for adult audiences. It includes sexual scenes between mythical entities and humans. If this is personally objectionable to you or illegal for you to read in your area, please return this manuscript or eBook from whence it came.

Copyright: © Billi Wolfe, 2020. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Billi Wolf is a pen name representing the legal author and copyright owner of this work of fiction.

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Chapter 1: A Midnight Ride

Katie eyed the clock on her desk as she tried to convince the moron on the phone that she was right, and he was wrong. As politely as possible, of course.

“There's no power. It's got to be plugged in, sir. I'm certain. That's where the wee lights come from. Yup, under your desk… all the way under. There, I heard a beep. Do you see… hello?"

There wasn't a 'thank you' from the other end of the line. No apology for the prior shouting. There was just an artificial click as the call went dead. Normally Katie would be annoyed by the lack of simple courtesy, but in this case, a mercifully quick end to the support call was just fine with her.

She typed up the incident notes in record time, closing the case as 'solved'. Then she logged out of the ancient workstation, grabbed her purse, and sprinted towards the door. Some of her co-workers called out to her as she passed, with the kind of good natured jibes that she'd come to expect.

“Look 't her scamper."

“Lady Kate, records to break!"

But she didn't even have time to shoot them the rude gestures that they so richly deserved. She swept her badge over the timeclock set in the wall, clocking her out. That same badge opened the front door to the call center, allowing her to escape just in the nick of time.

Or so she hoped. She sprinted through the midnight drizzle, flanked by tall office buildings on all sides. Belfast city center was a damp maze of concrete and asphalt. She thought nothing of cutting through a narrow, unlit alley in her pursuit of motorized escape… one was just as likely to get jumped under a bright streetlamp, in her experience. Besides, she'd be damned if she had to blow her hard earned money on a cab ride home.

Katie arrived at the beat up Perspex bus shelter just as the Number Two was rolling up. She didn't have time to appreciate the primitive dicks adorning the sides, apparently carved into the surface with a box cutter. Nor did she pause to read about the next big appearance of the lady-boys of Asia, although the flier said it was a 'can't miss experience'. Generally speaking, if it happened during daylight hours, she was going to miss it.

She queued up at the back as the usual suspects climbed aboard the last pink and white bus of the night. She was too exhausted to say hello to the bus driver as she swiped her month-long pass over the sensor. The grizzled old man just gave her the barest hint of a nod as the contraption spit out a useless receipt, which she was expected to take with her. She found a spot in the middle on the left side, where nobody on the pavement would be able to see her. Then she simply shut down, doing her best to forget every annoying support call and every useless moment of her eight hour shift at the support centre. On a perfect night, she wouldn't switch back on until the robotic voice announced the Seaview stop.

This wasn't a perfect night.

The second stop for the Number Two was Royal Avenue. This was where the idiots who were too drunk to even call a cab loitered. Or perhaps they blew forty quid getting completely hammered, and didn't save a fiver for the ride home. So they dug into their pockets for shrapnel until the bus driver collected enough change for their trip.

Tonight, four such lost souls staggered onto the bus. It was an adventure, but between the lot of them they managed to come up with their fare. Not a great start, as far as she was concerned. She settled her purse safely in her lap and squeezed it tightly. At first, the lads simply staggered past. She held on to the faint hope that they were too marinated to notice her.

“Sure, lookit this fuckin' minger 'ere!"

The comment on her personal appearance was accompanied by a tense, icy knot in Katie's belly. As the assholes laughed, her own self doubt took over. They couldn't say anything that she hadn't said about herself: Her black, shoulder-length hair was plain. She was tall, but still probably a stone and a half overweight. Which meant her belly wasn't flat, but unfortunately…

“Hey love, ya left yer fuckin' tits at th' last stop."

...her chest was. Perhaps not completely flat, but she was nowhere near as 'gifted' as most women her age, as these lowlifes were only too happy to point out. She was twenty-three with the upper torso of a teenager. It was why she preferred to keep a little weight on; otherwise she would have no curves to speak of. Her lack of bust was also the reason she preferred hoodies and baggy sweaters, like the light blue cable knit affair she was sporting tonight.

Mercifully, none of them actually touched her. They balled up and threw their bus receipts at her when the Mountcollyer stop was announced, but that was the limit of their non-verbal abuse. The four smashed lads staggered out the front exit as the driver gave them the stink eye. Soon things were quiet again, though the vehicle still smelled vaguely of lager.

She glanced around at the other passengers. Most of them were shifting around, trying to regain their sense of comfort and ease after such a disruption to their night. Everyone save for the young lad diagonally across from her. He was just as 'shut down' as she had hoped to be at this point.

He was just a kid in her eyes, eighteen, nineteen at the most. The rail-thin lad was on the janitorial staff at work. The sight of his wild nest of dirty blond hair immediately summoned the sound of hoovering to her mind. When he wasn't behind a vacuum cleaner, he was behind a mop. To her recollection, he never spoke to anyone. She assumed he was a Polish immigrant without a lot of English under his belt, not that uncommon around these parts.

The good news was: She didn't care about any of that. She was in the mood for some companionship. If things went well, there would be plenty of time to work on their communication. If things went very well, language skills would be the last thing on either of their minds.

She wasn't sure exactly where he lived, but knew from experience that he got off in front of the next chippy, just up the road. That didn't leave her a lot of time to make her move.

“Next stop: Bute Street."

That automated announcement seemed to rouse the young man from his trance. He rubbed his face and took a quick glance around. He paused when he realised that Katie was staring at him openly.

She decided to give it a shot. “Hi there."

He froze. His green eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Yeah, you, hi there. Did you wanna grab a bite?"

It was an offer of kindness as much as an attempt to sate her multiple kinds of hunger. She swore that she could see his ribs through the thin green shirt he was wearing. It didn't help that his clothes were still slightly damp from his own walk between work and the bus stop.

Still, the only reaction from the off-duty janitor was stunned silence.

She tried, again, slower. If her suspicions about his language skills were right, he might need a little extra time to parse her words. “Did you. Want to eat. With me?"

“I, um. I'm sorry, I'm not allowed."

Katie was taken aback. His English was perfect. If anything, it was better than hers. But his accent was strange. She couldn't place it.

“Ach, nae wonder you're so thin if you aren't allowed to eat."

He turned his gaze downwards, self consciously. Katie felt bad. She was the last person that should be picking on someone else's personal appearance. She amended her little jibe, “Sorry. We've worked together for a while, but we never talked. Just thought, you know. Why not over a bite?"

She estimated that they had about ten seconds to come to some kind of decision. The bus was already slowing down for his stop.

He came through like a champ, though. “I mean. Just eating? Sure. I guess that's allowed."

The smell of deep fried everything assailed Katie's nostrils as the pair disembarked in front of the takeaway. The backlit sign in the store's front window said: 'Baps and More'. She knew from experience that places like this served just about every comfort food known to mankind.

He held the door open for her, then stepped through himself. The old man behind the counter scowled at his new customers. His voice was a rough growl as he addressed the younger man directly, completely ignoring Katie for the moment.

“You got my money, Conall?"

Several things struck her at the same time. First of all, she now knew that the young man she was with was named Conall. She mentally noted that the older man spoke with the same stilted accent, the one she just couldn't place. And the two knew each other, at least to the extent of one owing the other money.

Conall replied quickly, “Yessir, Mr. Martin. It's transferred into your account, or so said the bank."

Mr. Martin pointed a steak knife in the young man's general direction. “Bah! Banks. Transfers. Don't trust 'em. Next time, cash!"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the shop. Katie decided to take charge. She asked, “Do you like sausages, Conall."

The young man was nodding even before she finished her sentence.

She stepped up to the counter. “Bout ye, Mister M. Two large battered sausages in buttered baps, and a mess o' cheesy chip."

The old man stared at her. It was clear that he did not approve. Not of her getting all familiar with him. Not of the company that Conall was keeping. Possibly not even of her perfectly reasonable order.

Still, the eventual snarled reply was, “Seven quid."

The pair parked themselves at the windowside counter, perched up on tall, rarely used stools. They stared out at the Shore Road as the rain intensified into a proper hard drizzle.

“Conall's a pretty name. From here?"

Being called 'pretty', even in name, wasn't in the lad's scope of experience. He blushed a nice cherry red before he managed to answer.

“Mom was from here. Dad was from Newfoundland."

She rapped the countertop lightly. “Canada! That's the accent. Guessin' you lived o'er there?"

Conall nodded confirmation. “Yeah. We lived on the island until they passed a couple years back."

She winced a little bit. That wasn't exactly the best getting-to-know-you subject matter. “Sorry."

“It's okay. That's why I got shipped over here. Mr. Martin was Dad's half brother, as close to family as I have now. He may seem rough, but he's alright."

She shot a glance over her shoulder at the man in question. He was angrily shaking some salt and spices over an absolute mountain of shredded cheddar cheese as it melted into their hot, oily chips.

“Aye, sure. Seems… nice."

Her dry comment was the first to elicit a smile from Conall. She hoped to see a little more of that as the night drew on.

He murmured, “And you're named… Katie, right?"

“Aye, that's me. Don't ask, I don't know where Ma got it from. My own folks have been gone fer years, rest their souls. My sis took care of my brother and me until we were eighteen. Now she's up in Ballymena, he's up in Larne. University, you know."

“You've always lived here? You have an interesting way of talking."

“Oh, right. Blame Grandma. The one on my da's side. She was an Ulster Scot, and some of it rubbed off on us growin' up."

Crispy, beer battered sausages arrived, already wrapped in steaming buttered baps. Mister Martin practically threw the cheese-slathered chips onto the counter between the two youngsters.

“You'se hurry up with all this, we're about closed."

She answered sweetly, “Well, Mister M. Of course. Wouldn't want ya to be late fer yer big do, would we?"

The big man's snarl was quite satisfying to her. He headed into the back to clean, making plenty of noise as he went.

Conall whispered, “Be careful, he's got a temper."

Uncowed, she said, “Bollocks. I know the type. All growl, big teddy bear underneath. He doesn't hit you or nothin', right?"

“No! No, never.“

“See? O'course not. Is he the one who made up the rules of what you're allowed to do?"

“Uhhh. Sort of."

She reached over and grabbed his shoulder, playfully. “And yet, here ya are Conall. With a woman. An actual, real life woman sitting next to you. And the world's still spinnin'."

That made the young man snort and laugh softly. He might have even cracked a joke if he weren't so preoccupied. Katie saw him eyeing his food. She swore that she could feel him shaking with anticipation.

She let him off the hook, after giving that captive arm a light squeeze. “We should dig in while it's hot."

He didn't need to be told twice. The thin lad wolfed down his buttery sausage bap in no time at all. She made no objection to him eating his way through half of the cheese-slathered spuds before she even finished her crispy sandwich.

Katie was no stranger to small talk, given how often she had to entertain clients on the phone while they were waiting for something to reboot. They chatted for the better part of half an hour… or she talked, and he injected a word or two whenever he managed to pry his maw away from the food. In between topics ranging from work to championship snooker, he was polite enough to run into the back and get them some ice water and a bag of nuts to nibble on when the chips all disappeared. Mister M. apparently had no objection.

She eyed the man sitting next to her at the counter for a moment. Then she asked, “Is this another rule of yours? Limit yourself to 'bout a hundred words an hour?"

Conall squirmed in his seat. He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut again. After a final moment of contemplation, he blurted, “I don't go out on many dates. I don't… don't know what's proper to do."

She arched a brow at him. “Is that what this is then, boyo? A date?"

Her question froze him. There was uncertainty in his eyes.

She pursed her lips, considering. Then she delivered her verdict, “Well, I haven't been on any dates in the last couple of years, truth be told. So if this is one, it's the best I can remember."

He let out a held breath. Then he murmured, “Good. I'm glad."

Feeling bold and in control, she asked, “So is the date just about over, or is this going to end up at your place? Or mine?"

Conall was breathless. He answered her question with a hoarse, oddly phrased question of his own.

“Are you petitioning to bed me?"

She laughed. He wilted in his seat.

Seeing the effect her mirth had on him, she was quick with the reassurance, “Here, not laughing at you. That was just… real formal-like."

She studied Conall as she rolled his words around in her mind. The combination of innocence and trepidation in the young man's tone made her want to tease him. But there was something pure about the inquiry. She decided to take it at face value.

“Yes. Yes, I'm petitioning to bed you."

For a moment, Katie felt a flash of heat, not unlike passing in front of a big plate glass window on a hot Summer day. By the time he answered, the feeling had passed.

“I-I live upstairs. Above the restaurant."

“With Uncle Martin or…"

He shook his head. That was all she needed to know.

They slipped out of 'Baps and More', only having to tolerate the cold rain for a few moments. Conall produced a key to the unobtrusive door between his uncle's business and the neighboring nail salon. They crept up the steep stairs and into his loft apartment, locking doors behind them to assure their privacy.

Spartan. That was Katie's first impression of her date's abode. The entire place was a single room, save for the bathroom of course. Shaded half height windows dotted the street-facing end of the loft. The muted street lights reflected off of the kitchen area's white tile floor. The carpeted end of the apartment should have served as a living room, entertainment hub, and bedroom. But the only piece of furniture present was a futon style bed. At least it was covered with clean white sheets and a big, faux-deerskin blanket.

“It's very… clean. I'm digging the monk vibe I'm getting, boyo."

Her sarcasm was lost on Conall. “Hmm? Oh. Thanks."

Deciding that action was preferable to words, Katie reached down to take the hem of his thin green shirt between her fingertips. Her date bit his bottom lip as she started to tug the fabric upwards, but raised his arms above his head in a gesture of willing surrender. He only returned the favor after she swatted the seat of his jeans and gestured to her baggy, light blue sweater.

If Conall was disappointed with his date's somewhat flat, almost boyish chest, he hid it well. In fact, he earned himself an Oscar. His hand was trembling as he reached out to touch the black silk of her bra, as if it was a holy relic of some sort. She murmured encouragement, mirroring his slow exploration as she pawed at his breastbone and rib cage. He was surprisingly hairy, with a full, fluffy nest of curly black hair that led down to a thick treasure trail. Under his soft pelt, she could feel every bone and muscle that held the thin young man together.

At some point, each of them kicked off their work shoes and used dexterous toes to peel off each other's socks. That was likely somewhere between Conall finally managing to unhook her bra, and their first heated kiss.

He might be a timid creature in other respects, but Katie certainly respected her date's thorough oral exploration. His breath was hot against her skin, his tongue almost feverishly warm as it pushed through her pursed lips. She shivered, clinging to his shoulders just to hold herself upright when her knees threatened to give out. Her instinct was to suckle gently, rubbing the underside of his organ with her own. She not only allowed his feral invasion, she encouraged it.

It took only a scant couple of minutes to kindle a slow burning fire in Katie's chest. She stroked her way down her partner's belly until thumb and forefinger found a heavy brass button. Deftly, she popped his jeans open. The pressure of the lad's growing bulge was more than enough to half-unzip his fly without any further intervention.

The kissing stopped abruptly. His hands found her wrists and gripped them tightly. She opened her eyes. What she saw in Conall's visage was panic.

“Are you okay?"

“I. I j-just.. I don't have p-protection."

She tried to hide a smile, but failed. “I'm on the pill. And you're a virgin, right? And clean?"

He nodded, slowly.

“It's been a couple years for me, but I still get checked out. I'm clean too. Do you trust me?"

His answer was immediate. “Of course. But please, promise me something?"

“Hmm?"

“Please don't… make fun. I'm not normal. Down there."

Her reply was blunt, “As long as you have more than zero and less than two dicks, I'm in. Do you qualify?"

He swallowed hard. Another nod.

“Ach, let's make ya ready then."

“So you swear not to freak out? No matter what?"

“I swear, love."

Those simple words freed Conall from the fear that seemed to grip him. He released her wrists, allowing her to strip the well worn jeans from his hips and legs. His tighty whities were tented, his maleness clearly outlined by the pre-soaked fabric. From everything she could see, he had nothing to be ashamed of.

He went to one knee in front of her and slowly, reverently, returned the favor that had just been granted to him. When she was free of her denim prison, he gripped her thighs from behind and pulled her close. She giggled a little bit, stroking his wild hair as he buried his nose and lips in the thin, damp silk of her panties. They both shivered as he nuzzled her barely-concealed womanhood and took in her scent, her taste… her very essence.

The warmth in her core spread down to her belly. And then farther. Her petit chest heaved as the lad shamelessly worshipped her; a penitent on his knees, praying to a pagan goddess. Only when she could see a slight sheen on his nose and lips did Katie gently tug at an ear.

“Let's get comfy, hmm?"

They found themselves half under, half atop the fur blanket. Despite Conall's relative inexperience, his enthusiasm and willingness to explore couldn't be faulted. Almost as soon as the two of them were horizontal, he nosed his way down and latched onto one of her firm nipples. She half hissed, half groaned. A shock pulsed through her, rippling under her arms and all the way to her fingertips before washing upward in a hot flush that turned her cheeks scarlet. Nobody had ever taken this level of interest in her chest. He didn't seem to care that she could barely fill an A cup. He nursed and teased, lips and tongue working in tandem to bring her pleasure. Just when she thought he was done, he let out a little snarl and dove in to suckle at the other teat. He laid a gentle hand over the breast that he'd just abandoned, protecting the firm, moist flesh from the loft's cool air.

Katie recovered from her dizzying euphoria just in time to notice the state of her partner. He was whimpering softly, grinding his clothed member against the curve of her thigh. She felt the heat and the needy throb even through his soaked briefs. Forgoing her own pleasure for the moment, she reached down and gently tugged him away from her tits. She tilted his head up and murmured, “Are you close, love?"

He nodded and whined, sounding more like a needy animal than a man.

Without warning, she rolled him onto his back. It was easy: He was a lightweight, and she wasn't exactly dainty. “Save it fer the main event, yeah?" she teased. She sat astride his belly, leaning down to smother him in gentle kisses, giving him the chance to calm down a little bit. Slowly, she slid her way down the length of his body, nosing through his thick, silky treasure trail. When she was seated just above the bend of his knees, she reached up and gently tugged his wet underpants down.

“Sweet Christ on a crutch."

The words were murmured with some amount of reverence, to be fair. He hadn't been kidding about his… unusual equipment. But nothing that she saw scared Katie. If anything, she was somewhat impressed. His fuzziness didn't stop at the lad's chest and belly. A thick nest of fine black hair covered his thighs and ample balls. Resting atop this soft bed of fur was eight thick, glistening inches of needy flesh. And while his cock was nice enough, it was significantly thicker at the base, as if his skin couldn't fully contain the rush of blood and instead formed a little reservoir at the bottom.

Conall was breathless. Paralysed. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to apologise. But whatever he was going to express dissolved into a helpless groan. His partner slowly lapped at his fevered flesh, making her acceptance of his physical quirks quite clear. She avoided the over-sensitive, uncut crown of his dick, not wanting the inexperienced lad to lose control too soon. Instead she rested her cheek on his churning ballsack and wrapped her lips around the flared base of his member. She suckled and nibbled greedily, as he squirmed helplessly and his salty precum coursed down the taut flesh of his proud spire.

After a minute, she paused her oral exploration. The next two words she uttered brought tears to his eyes.

“You're beautiful."

His reply was instinctive, “So're you, Katie."

She tugged his undies all the way down, clearing his ankles so that he was free to move. Then slowly, making a show of it, she did the same for herself. Both pairs of underpants made it halfway to the kitchen before fluttering to the carpeted floor. The cool air did little to calm her need. But she saw something that would.

The lad's shaking hands found her hips as she straddled him. He supported her weight, ready to help as needed. She appreciated the gesture, but for the moment, she didn't need any assistance to take what she wanted. Gripping the base of his maleness to keep it pointed straight up, Katie let her knees buckle. His slick cockhead slid past her labia, the uncut skin rolling back when she impaled herself fully on the squirming lad's turgid flesh.

She gasped, muscles clenching involuntarily against those first few inches. “Jaysus fuck, that's good." What she didn't add aloud was just how much better it was than her lifeless gel toys. But she made her appreciation clear by slowly bouncing up and down on his cock, feeding more hot flesh into her slick embrace.

Breathlessly, Conall asked, “You okay?" He fought against the instinct to rise, to arch up off the mattress and push all the way into his lover's sex.

“Yeah, m'fine. Just this last… bit."

When she was ready, as relaxed as she reasonably could be, she let gravity do the work. That tight bulge at his base felt like an entirely different, much bigger man. The girth shook her, and she fought to draw enough air into her lungs. Finally, she rose back up until she felt her flesh start to close around his tip. Then she sat smoothly, groaning as she took the entire thing in a single thrust.

Her date's eyes squeezed shut. He clenched his jaw and snarled loudly, barely able to contain his pleasured thrashing. But he managed, for her sake. She was in charge, for as long as she wished.

Katie bounced in her lover's lap for a few long minutes, luxuriating in the easy stretch and the incomparable sensation of fullness that an all-natural cock could bring. In the back of her mind, she was impressed by Conall's self control. He made every cute little noise possible, and yet he still hadn't spent himself. Sweet of him. But...

She felt no such need to put her own pleasure off any longer. She reached down and gently brushed her slick fingertips over the hood of her swollen clit, not daring to touch the sensitive little nub directly. Combined with the satisfying stretch and fullness below, it was more than enough. The sensation spread through her entire body in rough waves, robbing her of breath. Heat and unadulterated rapture flooded her belly and ran up her spine, creating a comfortable haze in her overloaded brain.

With her eyes shut, she didn't see what Conall was doing. But she certainly felt the insistent tug and roll as she was flipped onto her back. She laughed breathlessly as the lad showed some initiative of his own. 'Good for him.' she thought. She felt the warm caress of the faux-deer fur cover her entire body as her partner panted and hunched into her with feral desperation.

'But…' the logical part of her mind insisted, '...how could the blanket be covering me while he's still pounding away?'

Confused, she opened her eyes. At first she thought it was a trick of the light as it filtered through those little half-height windows in the kitchen. But with each growl and yip, with every driving surge of those bestial flanks, the reality of her situation was driven home.

His words echoed in her head: “Please don't… make fun. I'm not normal. Down there."

She recalled the promises that she made. Starting with her 'petition' to sleep with him and culminating with her oath not to freak out if he gave her exactly what she wanted. That was Conall, telling her that he was a beast. Taking her through a ritual. Telling her that if she walked this path, he required her patience. Her discretion. Her understanding.

She watched the lithe creature, far more muscular than the beanpole of a lad that she had been riding just a couple of minutes ago, complete his transformation. The werewolf's pelt was jet black, just like the fine hairs that covered his once-human body from chest to thighs. His shaggy mane was covered in dirty blond streaks, shining like copper flames in the dim illumination of the streetlight hanging just outside his windows.

Still, despite being at the mercy of this creature, Katie felt no fear. Perhaps it was the way that the beast kept his claws sheathed. Perhaps it was the gentle, feather-light grip Conall had on her ankle and the back of her knee. Or maybe the oaths themselves were a source of reassurance; a bond stronger even than a wolf in full rut.

When her shock wore off, an entirely different sensation replaced it. Pleasure. The heat radiating from her lover's shaft was incredible. Those odd little traits manifested by his human anatomy were fully explained when she took the time to study the lupine version. It was a long 'red rocket', tapered for easy entry. But the bulge at the root of Conall's member represented the beginnings of a canine knot, threatening to swell and thicken when the beast finally found his peak.

She moaned through gritted teeth, feeling that hard, feverish bulb bump against her swollen clit every time he bottomed out. Then the incredible stretch of him trying to gain entry, trying to push all the way inside of her, only to relent and start the process all over again. The logical part of her brain, the part that should have been afraid of her perilous situation, was completely overwhelmed by carnal need. By an animal lust. She bucked her hips up at the transformed creature between her legs, wordlessly urging him to complete this feral ritual.

She spasmed and relaxed just as Conall rolled his fuzzy hips down in a sharp, committed thrust. She saw stars for the briefest of moments, experiencing a fullness that none of her toys had ever matched. That slick lupine knot pushed past her nether lips and swelled, locking the wolf inside her clenching sex.

The beast dropped her legs from nerveless paws. He howled and shuddered. She felt a virtual flood of seed being spilled inside her, each gush accompanied by a lewd throb and a little jump of that trapped shaft. He squirmed and shook, and his tremors brushed soft pubic fur right over her engorged clitoris. Heat blossomed in her belly, sending electric waves of pleasure up her spine, cascading down to every nerve ending. Her breathless screams took over just as his animal cry was coming to an end.

Warring thoughts and emotions started to coalesce, even as she came all over that alien shaft. How was this possible? Was it right? Or even legal? And how could she feel this amazing after being subjected to such intense, supernatural animal rutting? Maybe that was the answer to all of her questions: Magic. Or a science that she'd never been taught in school, at the very least.

When sanity took hold, she decided that she needed to ask her lover some hard questions. It's not like he was going anywhere any time soon, if the girth of his trapped wolven knot was any indication.

But any attempt to rouse the beast atop her was ineffective. His arms were locked around her tenderly, and he was snoring. The spent werewolf shifted a little bit after she poked his rump with sharp fingernails. She had to ride the motion, else risk a rather sudden and painful separation of their locked nether regions.

Katie sighed. “Fuck it all." she muttered. She made herself comfortable under the warm, heavy creature. Less than a minute later, she passed out in the blissful afterglow of their mating.

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