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His spear. Check. His sling. Check. His waterhorn. Check.

That should be it, Marceau thought to himself as he fastened his polearm onto his back, the clink of metal assuring him it was in place. The wolf breathed in, the warm air full of rich musty earth and hints of sweat lingered in his tent, the smell of home, but for now his mind was somewhere far from it. He pushed himself up, pushing away the tent flaps as he emerged from his abode, the largest of all his tribe. All about him was the hustle and bustle of his people making their rounds, working their jobs, doing their part to keep the tribe going for another day.

Yet he had none such plans in mind. As Marceau began to set off from the tribe, he began to ease himself from the duties, the responsibilities, everything that was required of him, he shed with each step. Today was a day for himself, just to let go for a second- “Chief!”. Marceau snapped from his thoughts, looking up at the voice who called out, putting a soft, yet tired smile as he watched his personal bodyguard jogging over to his side. The wolf admired the larger lupine as he strode up to him, looking over the man’s form. His eyes drifted from the wolf’s impressive pecs, scaling down his sculpted abdomen, and to that bulging loinclo- Don’t look too hard, he had to remind himself, feeling a slight stirring under his loincloth, looking away for a second to recompose himself.

“Sir! I didn’t think you had anything planned today,” the larger wolf said as he stepped up to the other.

“Relax Renaul, I was just going out to clear my mind” Marceau looked up at his guard, a soft smile on his face.

“Will you be long? Should I accompany you, chief?”

Marceau chuckles, placing a reassuring paw on the taller lupine as he shakes his head, “I’ll be alright Renaul. I’ll be back before sundown, I promise”.

The larger wolf gives his chieftain a worried look, but nods all the same, stepping back as if to give his grace. Marceau gives the wolf one last reassuring pat before he walks off, getting the occasional greeting and flirt from the other tribes-folk as he heads out into the great savannahs.

Damned stupid wolf… He was lost in his mind again, letting his body automatically carry him wherever it so desired as he mulled over his encounter with his bodyguard. Damned stupid… sexy hunky wolf… Marceau’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to picture his guard, completely undressed. Those pecs, firm and solid muscle, rippling with masculinity, following down the trail of hardened abdominal muscles, and that bulge… no longer concealed by that pesky cloth. The chieftain groaned softly to himself, feeling the blood rush to his nethers as he continued to daydream.

Though the wolf was the leader of his clan and certainly had more than a choice of prime mates to pick from, the chieftain had a side that he seldom explored… One not often expected of a typical leader. The wolf trembled as he leaned himself against a tree, allowing himself a moment of respite as his paw drifted downward to his tenting loincloth. Renaul was bigger than him in every way, stronger, muscular… attractive. Oozing power and masculinity, even in his scent. Oh god his scent… The chief couldn’t help himself as he pictured himself looking up at his bodyguard with his legs draped over his shoulders, having the bigger male ravage and rut him as he ordered him to-

Marceau gasped, limply lying against the tree as he stroked himself furiously, moaning softly as he could only dream of this. He’d only rarely been able to experience this side of him in the past, once having been caught unawares by a rather hung crocodile that taught him what being the prey felt like… And another neighboring wolf clan, tying him to a tree as he tied himself in him… How he wished his guard could do the same. It was so frustrating to be around him all the time! Always in view of such a spectacular studly specimen and unable to just… sink to his knees and… and… Marceau let out a long, drawn-out moan as his paws furiously worked over his shaft, wasting ropes of his seed on the dirt below. His balls jumped and pulsed, frantically releasing his pent-up need on the ground, and for a second, relief washed over the spent wolf.

But only for a second, as he came down from his high, groaning softly as the dull ache in his tailhole twitched with need… a feeling that would not dissipate soon. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the tree, gathering himself as he cleared his mind of the lingering fogginess. Right. That was out of his system now. Now it was time to focus, to distract himself on what mattered to him. To hunt.

It was rare for the chieftain to need to hunt for his own food, given that he had an ample selection of seasoned hunters to do it for him. Most days, such trivial concerns were taken care of by his people, leaving him to focus on more important matters befitting of a man in his place. But truth be told… Marceau missed the thrill of the hunt. There was a sort of art to it, a song and dance to be mastered as he prowled the grasslands, spear in hand as he stalked his prey. His breath was measured, taking in the heat of the air, expelling his nerves with every exhale. The smell of earth clung to his pelt, masking his scent as he prowled forward, eyes locked onto his prey. There was a grace to his steps, barely shifting the grass around him, letting little sound whisper from his position downwind of the unaware gazelle.

His eyes narrowed, his heart slowing as he slowed his breath. In… His hand clutched his spear, ready to spring. Out… He perched on the balls of his toes, ready to give chase. In… The smell of dried earth and heavy savannah heat, of ripe sweat and intense musk grounded him- wait… That wasn’t right. Marceau’s head snapped back, realizing too late that he wasn’t alone, about to put his arms up for a fight, only for his vision to darken as something rather wet and heavy was flung into his face. Flabbergasted, the wolf tripped backwards, falling onto his rear as he reached up hastily to remove whatever it was from his face to face his- wait… that scent. For a second, the chieftain had to pause as his nose twitched, breathing in the scent that pressed down on his face. So intense… so rich… so… ripe and… good…

“You even hearing me? The fuck do you think you’re doing in my territory?”.

At first, it was hard to focus on that voice, but Marceau was made of tougher stuff than this! Or, he thought so, struggling to find the resolve to slide off that heavenly-scented leather from his face. No… fight it Marceau! Bleary-eyed and hazy-minded, the prostrate wolf looked before him, his eyes struggling to focus on his assailant. “Goddamn, scent musta fried your head or something. Answer me, runt, what are you doing in my land?” The figure the voice belonged to was starting to clear up, as Marceau held a hand over his brow and looked up, he saw… -

Marceau’s jaw hung as he just… stared up in awe of the beast before him. Towering well above him stood the biggest hyena he’d ever seen, with dark spots smattered across his dark brown pelt. His coat was short, and the wolf was thankful for it, as his eyes trailed the clearly defined lines of musculature rippling under the beast’s skin. Those arms, thick as tree limbs, that led up to such broad, strong shoulders, over his bulging pectorals that overhanged over his firm abdomen, and finally, nestled between his thick thighs was a proper, hefty sheath. The wolf’s eyes were locked there, his senses drawn to the thick furred package before him, his nose twitched, small hesitant breaths drawn in as if he couldn’t believe the incredible scent before him. “Heh… I see what the problem is. Well, if you want it so badly…” the hyena stepped forward, Marceau’s eyes still locked on his sheath, his breath hitching- “why don’t you come and get it then?”.

Marceau licked his chops, his eyes glued to the stranger's sheath, the way he flexed it, making it bounce was almost hypnotic. His gaze cast upwards, putting on his own self-confident smirk, “Glad you asked, big guy, I do want it”. The wolf turned himself around, crawling on all fours towards the towering hyena, feeling the low thrum of his nerves spiking anxiety through his spine. This wasn't quite like him, to give in to these… urges. But something about this hyena turned something on inside him, something long dormant, a call to his primal desires that he just needed to sate.

Oof. His mind went blank for a minute before slowly readjusting to the smells being shoved right in his face. His vision slowly came into focus, Marceau letting out a low moan as he realized his snout was nary an inch before his desires, so close… And it could be closer… On instinct, the wolf pursed his lips as he pressed himself in, not noticing the hefty hand resting on his head as his outstretched tongue met the tip of that sheath. As if the potent musk was a precursor to the impact of his taste, Marceau moaned the second the hyena’s tip met his lips, sinking down until his nose rested against the outer rim of his furred sheath. His lips were stuck in a permanent ‘o’, kept right behind the slimy warmth of the bigger male’s sheath while his tongue delved deeper, feeling and tasting the underside of his yet hardened shaft. There in between his thighs, with his nose pressed right on his sheath, there was no filter left to soften the blow of the hyena’s powerful musk. The sweltering heat around the lupine felt almost cool compared to the heat emanating off onto his face and maw. The intensity of his warmth exacerbated the male’s scent, adding an underlying yet very much overwhelming presence, a temperate edge that only bolstered the intensely masculine pheromone that egged on the chieftain’s long-forgotten urges. Dimly, he realized the man was talking again, that harsh, brassy voice that just sounded so good to listen to…

“Hmpf… distracted again?” The hyena stared down at the muscular wolf with disapproval, thumbing his head-furs impatiently as his partner seemed to blissfully lose himself to the richness of his scent. Rather abruptly, Marceau was pushed back, the palm on his forehead feeling rather forceful as his jaw was pushed away. The wolf realized his maw had been stretched wide open this whole time, with the hyena’s whole shaft fully thickened in his mouth, unbeknownst to him in his addled state. The wolf’s eyes crossed as he watched that thick, black shaft snake out of his mouth, the base of it still stuck behind the bigger male’s sheath, the daunting knot unfreed from its prison. With a wet plop, the tip was freed from his lips, the shaft turning from that deep black to a dark pink as it reached the top. It bobbed in the air, throbbing almost hypnotically before the wolf’s very eyes, beautifully coated in a wet sheen of pre and saliva, slowly swaying as it began to disappear from his view. Panting, the wolf looked up at the hyena, the two sharing that knowing grin. Nothing needed to be said, just instincts being followed, desires being fulfilled, any remnants of civility and status long gone, reduced to nothing but carnal instinct.

Before long, Marceau found himself face to face with that massive bitch-breaker, still un-inflated and hidden away, bigger than his face already… and the sheath, so damp with strong-smelling sweat, fat bullets running down the length and over those plump balls, swaying between the stud’s thighs…

“Sorry, stud” The wolf wiped his jaw with the back of his wrist, leaning back on his haunches, “got a bit carried away there… You taste… fuck, you taste amazing”. In spite of himself, the chieftain shamelessly leans back in, pressing his face right up against the sloppy shaft, slickened with his saliva, smooshing it against his face as he looked up adoringly at the hyena. The bigger male let out an appreciative grunt as the lupine fondled the stranger’s set of balls, feeling the heft of them, enjoying their weight… Fuck. Was there no part of this hyena that he couldn’t help himself to? What was happening to him? Why was he so… needy?

But it mattered not, as he acted on his newfound instinctual need, pressed himself forward, eyes closing as he began the slow, worshipping of the bigger stud before him. In the back of his mind, Marceau realized that the image of the proud chieftain of the wolf clan, laid bare on his knees as he sullied himself on this stranger’s shaft, letting the sweat paint his face, enriching his furs with this stud’s scent… it should feel wrong, but all Marceau felt was need. This wasn’t something to hide, no. His wants, his desires, to worship a proper breeding stud felt good. It felt right. His nose was pressed up in the nook where sheath met sack, the sheer heat that that spot rolled off on his wetted nose, twitching as he took soft breaths, allowing that spiced scent to cloud his judgement further. His tongue was not idle either, lapping up from the bottom of the matted ball furs that dripped potent sweat onto the dry earth below, following the curvature of those massive orbs and soaked furs, up into the nook where his nose resided… Each lap granted the wolf a second of fresh air, and Marceau found himself addicted to that feeling. That second of escape, that left his lungs needfully longing for the return of that smell, that numbing feeling of comfort and following the carnal instinct that was brought out of him by the sheer power of pheromones and desire…

The hyena looked down at the wolf, smirking cockily at the eager lupine, deepening his need himself further on his rich scent. Their eyes were locked together, the hyena indulging the wolf in his self-guided exploration, knowing that he didn't need to take control, not when that tongue and nose were doing all that he wanted. He sighed, throwing his head back and letting his shoulders sag a little as he relaxed, luxuriated in that simple feeling of a slut that knew how to make a man feel like he was on top of the world. His hand pressed into the back of the wolf’s skull, pressing him deeper in, as if there were any more space to find, but it drew a definite moan out of his partner regardless. This was the good life… he could stay like this for hours, and even humored the idea for a second, but…

He brought his view back down, licking his chops, watching the stream of pre cascade down from his tapered tip onto the wolf’s backside. Mmph… There was something more that he wanted…

Marceau’s reverie was once again disrupted, the sudden push sending him sprawling on his back. For a few seconds his mind was blank, taking back control from instinct. Through his blurred vision, Marceau could see the mighty pair of paws approaching, before kneeling down before him. That thick, squarish muzzle met his face, that self-confident smirk on the brute’s face said it all, as he felt those big hands feel up his legs, grabbing hold of his ankles. “I-...” the hyena looked up at him, watching the wolf, but Marceau couldn’t find any reason to let his hesitation ruin the moment. The hyena smirked, shaking his head, his world flipped, and the wolf found himself on his back, matted, sweaty fur meeting the dry ground behind him with an oof. He could feel the hyena bringing himself closer to his tailhole as his legs were lifted back behind his head, the hyena chuckling at the wolf’s surprising limberness. Marceau felt the tip of his shaft poke at his entrance, wetting his hole with heated pre, and gulped.

“W-wait… you won’t fit!” Marceau blurted out before realizing he’d done so himself. “Oho? The wolf finally speaks, and it's to protest? Heh, doesn’t matter, wolf, I’m gonna fit” the hyena barks, making the wolf’s ears fall flat against his skull. Marceau feels the tip kissing his unprepared rim a few times, eyes closing as he whimpers, readying himself for the impending penetration… but to his relief, he feels the hyena retreating. Marceau’s eyes open, only to see the glaring golden eyes looking down back at him with smoldering intent… He gulps.

And moans, as he feels a slickened pair of digits rub their way around his rim. There’s a surprising gentleness behind the forceful thumbing, the insistent stretching and prods, a “we’re coming in, whether you like it or not” but with a grace given to him, if only for a second. There’s a stream of hot fluid, slickening his entrance as the fingers begin to press in, Marceau realizing it's all that pre pouring from the hyena’s tip being worked into his hole. Their eyes met, Marceau looking away sheepishly as the hyena just smirked at him, “what, thought I'd go in dry? I know how to loosen up my lovers”. Those rough paws dig deep, giving the wolf nary a second as they pump more slick heat into him, massaging and pulling at his hole, stretching him wider still. He throws his head back into the dirt, uncaring of the muck and mud he’s getting into his pelt as his sweat combines with the dirt, almost cooling his body down as more heat enters him. Those digits dig deep, pressing knuckles against his rim as they cruelly curl on his prostate, forcing a cry out of the wolf’s agape maw. Another finger is added, another moan drawn from him, unable to hold anything back as this studly stranger makes quick work of his doubts. Any thoughts of being too tight to fit the hyena are quickly dispelled as more and more thick pre is thrust into him by means of forceful fingering. Another finger, now four, finds its way into his hole, Marceau gasps as pleasure runs through him, his legs clutched against the larger male’s frame, now urging on the stud’s methodic ministrations.

The wolf gasps as he feels himself being emptied, those fingers freeing themselves from his hole. The aching emptiness settles in, that need for something, anything to fill that void left in him. His eyes look back up at the hyena’s golden glare, feeling himself shrinking under his gaze…

“Think you’re ready, pup”

Marceau pants, feeling his hole stretched farther than it ever had been before. Sure, he’d taken someone behind once or twice, but this time it was different. He was gaped, left lingering in a needy state, and that awakened a strange new side of him he’d not known before.

The wolf met the hyena’s gaze with his own, renewed by newfound determination.

“Fuck me you big, sexy stud”

Marceau throws his head back, claws digging in the softening dirt below him, wailing out for the world to hear as his hole is taken at last. His legs are pressed down to either side of his head as he’s folded in half, feeling nothing but the intensity of that initial penetration, the sensations overwhelming his musk-filled brain. Though he was tapered, the hyena’s shaft was big, already thicker than his fingers before, as he sank a few more inches into the wolf. Marceau could only tap his legs against the hyena’s pecs, his hands shakily clutching at the torso looming over him, mindlessly reacting to the utter numbing ecstasy his mind was reeling from… and it was only just starting.

The hyena wouldn’t slow his descent, a slick roll of his hips sank the last few inches into the quivering wolf’s hole, drawing frantic moans and sweet little taps as his knot ground against his lover's rim. Marceau could feel that bulb pressing into him, not quite daring to pop in, but certainly pressing enough to make his muddled mind aware of its immense presence. The hyena held still, paw resting on his hips as he allowed Marceau to adjust, watching the wolf carefully. “Ready?”. The chieftain took a breath in … and nodded, relaxing himself as much as he could.

“Glk!!” the sound uttering from his trembling lips as he felt himself being dragged upwards. It took a second to recover, but the hand on his hip held him up against the male’s knot, with only his back now laid bare on the softening ground below him. The wolf looked up, dazed at the hyena’s pecs, watching that proud chest heave with powerful breaths, as it rose and fell above him.

Their breaths matched, rising and falling together as one, their shared heat intensifying the lust between them. The words weren't spoken, but the blazing confidence in the wolf's eyes said it all, looking up at the brutish hyena, his face spoke for him. He wanted it, now.

And then his gaze shifted southward, towards where his rear met his hips, watching through half-lidded eyes as the hyena began to pull back. Fuck yes, that gnawing feeling began to return, the chieftain groaning as he felt his insides getting emptier by the second… only to moan in relief as the hyena drove forward once again. Marceau’s head lolled back, landing in the dirt with a thud as he let himself be taken, delirious moans and cries spilling from his mouth unabashedly as the hyena began to breed him in force. In and out, the big brute’s thrusts were savage, with the intent of claiming and breeding the chieftain being the driving force behind every plow. The lupine could feel it too, every thrust stealing his breath away, dragging him back and forth in the dirt under him. That powerful feeling of being bred so thoroughly, that cock as much his as his hole was the hyena’s

The wolf stared upwards at the bigger male’s chest, watching the muscles flex and stretch as they worked together to rut him down; watched as those muscles practically worked out before his very eyes. The hyena was putting his all into claiming him, and combined with that savannah heat… the dirt below began to feel cold compared to the fog of heat building up between the wall of muscle and the wolf. Underneath, the chieftain swore it was hotter than being under the midday sun, the air thick with humid sweat. His scent was incredible, so rich and dense, tainting the air the wolf breathed in, further enforcing the idea that this was his place all along. His eyes followed every drop of sweat, watched it trail along the outline of his pectorals, down the matted tufts of chest fur until it dropped down onto his folded body. So much of it rained down on him, rolled down his own pelt and watered the parched earth below, enough that he began to feel himself sliding back and forth on the now muddy dirt under him.

“Ugh!”

The hyena returns a growl.

“Don’t you fucking stop!”

His pace increases.

“Fuck me harder dammit, I need it!-- Glk!!!”

Whapwhapwhapwhap.

The lack of friction was something that the hyena used to his advatage, allowing to more easily fuck the wolf into the ground. A smoother ride, one both lubricated by the earth below and the copious amounts of heated pre pouring into the lupine’s stretched hole. Every thrust was accentuated with a hard grinding of his knot into that pliant rim, briefly bringing the chieftain back into semi-coherence. The brutish top enjoyed that brief second of frantic tapping, only to ease off as he drew back for another. This game of teasing the wolf with that vicious tie grew stale though, even with the slow rise of his impending orgasm; each press of his knot in would only gain a mere millimeter of leeway in, before the wolf began to protest.

No, it wasn’t enough for him, he wanted to tie his bitch, and nothing would stop him.

The thrusts began to get faster, harsher; Marceau cried out nigh constantly, milking that shaft with his hole. In the back of his mind, the chieftain knew what was coming; all the signs were there. The way the hyena pressed his knot ever harder, the growls and grunts, the heavy breathing… He’d seen this before, when he shared a lover with his personal guard, when Renaul was close to tying. It couldn’t fit. It wouldn’t, - but dammit he wanted it!-

Gasp. And there it was. That insistent grind, one that said there was no going back.

In a second, Marceau was looking up at the heaving hyena’s chest, eyes meeting his, “fucking do it. I want that knot, and I'm gonna take it, so fucking put it in!--!!!”.

In the next, his eyes went wide, completely encompassed by darkness, his entire face shoved somewhere hot and damp.

Another second, and his brain caught up, only to be muddled into complete bliss, realizing he’d been shoved right under the hyena’s arm, his nose directly smooshed into his pits. There was nothing separating him and that absolutely amazing scent, so strong, so manly, so… overpowering. So… right…

Another second passes, the ruined chieftain’s eyes briefly widen, and a loud moan is muffled into the dank pits of the growling hyena, triumphantly stuffing his knot into the writhing wolf. So tight, so hot, so slick and soft and good. And. All his. The hyena thrusts frantically now, absolutely grinding the lupine’s prostate into dust, bringing himself to that teetering edge of bliss, only to send himself - and the wolf below - crashing over it. To him, there was nothing more than the primal bliss of unloading his seed into the depths of his conquest, breeding the chieftain and claiming him as his own. The clench of his cheeks as his balls draw up and throb, pulses of cum running down the length of his shaft and firing as thick ropes of heated seed into the lupine.

To Marceau, there was… so much. So much that it hardly felt like anything, or at least, there was nothing but what mattered. His mind was blank, left empty save for that overwhelming scent burning into his nose, breathing heavily as he allowed himself to be ruined. And then the heat, growing in his stomach, swelling throughout him, encompassing his whole body in that overwhelming sense of belonging. It felt comforting. It felt good. It felt right. This was the feeling he loved and longed for, as he stared up into the dense mass of matted fur in his face, he felt like he belonged. Like he found his place, and it was under someone bigger, breeding him. That feeling was so intense that the chieftain barely realized he’d came himself, his throbbing shaft slapping the underside of the hyena as it fired ropes of seed. What should be bred into his own bitch was now just mussing up the chest furs of this brutish hyena… but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The hyena above let out a satisfied growl turned sigh as his climax began to peter off, his throbs slowing in frequency as he began to relax. He laid himself over the wolf, not fully on him, but enough to feel those little twitches under him. “Fuck… I'm impressed you fit it… Heh, you're a damn fine lay” The hyena looked down, barely able to see one of the wolf’s eye peeking out from under his armpit. “Heh, guess I fucked you too hard. That's fine, with the way you went down on me, guess you really wanted it” the hyena continued, mostly talking to himself as he idly thrusted some, “guess you’ll be stuck with me for a minute though. Oh… heh, figures”. Looking down, Marceau's eyes had rolled up, before fully shutting, the wolf lying limp under him. “Guess I tuckered you out! Heh, s’alright, you make a cute pillow.” he shifted a little, now lying on his side to be a bit more comfortable, with the wolf lying cradled in his arms, “probably should bring you back to wherever you came from though…”.

___________________________________________________________

By now, the sun was setting, almost fully over the horizon. Renaul’s fur stood tall, his hackles rising, anxiety running through his blood as he frantically rushed towards the chieftain’s tent. It had been hours since his leader had left, hours since he promised he’d be back! And now, reports had come in of a large lurking shadow traipsing about the chief’s tent… The wolf held his spear ever tighter, the point held straight before him. Just outside now, there was no sound from within… wait… no! The chief’s groan! The wolf rushed in, spear in hand, ready to save his leader…

Only to gasp in shock at the sight before him.

There, before his very eyes, was his proud chieftain, laid on his front with his ass pointed up, tail flung behind his back… His tailhole stretched open, sloppy with seed still sliding down his taint and balls. Ruined. Wrecked. Claimed. The scent of someone much stronger lingered in the still air inside the tent, but not actively present… Renaul stepped forward gingerly, looking over the prostrate form of his chieftain. The scent was stronger there… The wolf leaned down and took a small whiff, recoiling as he realized that it reeked all over his leader… but moreso, the scent on his chief had changed.

Usually, there was an air of pride and power on the wolf, someone strong and dependable, someone to trust and look to for answers. The scent of a leader. And it was still there… sort of… but it changed. The smell was different now, something that stirred Renaul in his loins.

The wolf groaned, stirring from his stupor, Renaul rushing to his side as his chief came to. “Mm… where … where am I?” Marceau slurred almost drunkenly, dazedly looking around, before his eyes met his bodyguard. “Mm… Renaul” the wolf breathed in deeply, his eyes closing as if he was luxuriating in the position he was in.

“Sir! Are you alright?! You're a… well… you're-”

“Gods you smell so good~”

Renaul was shocked silent, stepping for a second. “S-sir? What-... You're delirious still, you should wash up-”.

“Fuck me”.

The silence hung in the air as the words lingered, their intent clear. The larger wolf just stared in shock, bewildered eyes locked with his leader's rather sultry, half-lidded ones, sassy and inquisitive.

The guard couldn't decide what to do then. His mind told him that his chief was merely in his daze, still stuck in whatever this mood was, and that it would pass. His cock, though, was harder than ever, and it screamed to pounce.

Then he moaned. That tail lifted upwards, trailing up the insides of his thighs, tickling his erogenous zones, teasing his hard shaft behind his tented loincloth.

That settled it.

“I always knew you wanted a piece of me…” The wolf stepped up behind his leader, undoing his loincloth, “bout time I gave you what you wanted, eh?”.

“Do it. I’ve wanted this for so long… Renaul, don't hold back” Marceau's head lazily looked back at the wolf readying himself at his loosened rim.

For a second, his guard hesitated, as if the weight of actions began to actualize… “I… this … sir, are you sure?”

Renaul gasped as he found himself being pulled down, closer to the smaller wolf, their muzzles nearly meeting. “Renaul, as your chieftain, I am ordering you fucking ravage me like you and I have always wanted. Now fuck me already, I need it!” The wolf whispered huskily, before mashing their lips together into a sloppy, lust-fueled kiss.

Marceau pulled away, moaning softly as he felt himself being taken once again, the wolf’s member not quite the size of the hyena but… the way it soothed that aching need in his hole, oh it felt so right. Better than it had any right to, better than any hole he'd had. “Gods you’re so sloppy,” the wolf growled in his ear, the hot breath of his guard making his cheeks burn and ears twitch. “Fuck… you feel amazing, better than I ever could've imagined” Renaul chuckles for a second, bucking his hips into his leader, making his moan rather loudly. “Better be quiet, unless you want everyone else to join in” he growls, feeling around the bed for something. “Heh, you're right… besides … I only want the biggest stud to fill me from now on~”

Before long, Marceau’s moans were muffled, ringing out only for Renaul to hear as he leaned over his chief’s back, knot popping in and out while the wolf bit down on the loincloth in his maw… Just the way it was meant to be.