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Remmick is out prowling the lonely roads one moonless night when he catches a strange miasma of scents.
The first is the iron tang of blood. That one’s he’s familiar with. The second is a bit harder to place. It’s the smell of a dirty, wet dog, though not quite right. There’s too much human mixed in. He’s smelled that one a few times and it never meant anything good. The third is completely new to him. It’s sweet yet heady, and it’s making his cock stir for the first time in centuries. The fourth is the unmistakable scent of Irish salt and soil, and it makes him ache.
The scent takes him off the road and into a glim grove. The darkness doesn’t bother him. He can see just fine even without the moon. After following drag marks, paw prints, and blood drops, he finds your half-eaten dinner, ripped to shreds and abandoned. It’s barely recognizable as something that used to be a man.
He follows your scent and your paw prints that gradually change to human. He can tell you’re a bit undersized for a werewolf. The scent grows stronger and so does the ache in his cock. He finds you in a clearing, licking your paws beneath the boughs of a great gnarled burr oak.
You look wretched and wild, naked, curled in on yourself, covered in blood and dirt. Your golden eyes snap to his crimson ones.
He detests werewolves. Stinky. Loud. Stupid. And they always travel in groups. A pack of them nearly tore him apart back in Virginia. But to find one all by their lonesome is truly unusual. You still stink like a dog, and it makes you as unappetizing as a charnel house. But those other scents coming off you—the tang of blood, the smell of home, and whatever that intoxicating sweetness is—draw him unthinkingly forward.
He almost feels drunk off it.
“Oh, wee pup, all alone, are we?”
“Back off,” you snarl, baring your bloody teeth to him.
“That’s cute,” he laughs, showing his.
They’re bigger.
Still, you stand to meet him. Your face lengthens as your head transforms into a wolf’s. Your knuckles pop, shifting to something halfway between hands and paws with sharp nails. Not nearly as sharp as his, though.
“The odds aren’t looking too good for you, sweetheart,” he says.
“I like ‘em just fine,” you growl.
Your accent reminds him of home, and he yearns for those old haunts. But not as much as he wants to know what that honeyed aroma wafting off you is.
Remmick is surprised that you attack first. You go straight for his throat. He moves too quickly and you’re only able to get your first few teeth into him, but you manage to rip a morsel of flesh from him.
It tastes utterly rancid.
“You dirty fucking mutt,” he snarls, and tackles you to the ground. You scrabble like animals, claws raking, legs kicking, each of you biting the air in near-misses over and over, trying to rip out the other’s throat. He pins you belly-down beneath him and sinks his teeth into your neck. You go completely limp. You have little control of your mind and body. Continuously, you shift halfway between man and beast. The sweetest blood he’s ever tasted bursts onto his tongue, and with each mouthful he swallows, he saps a bit more of your fight. He drinks and drinks but more than anything, he can’t get enough of your scent. The blood, the soil, the honey—he doesn’t even mind the dog stench much anymore.
But your mind stays your own. A man’s mind is easy to control. A werewolf’s is not. Now, however, he is privy to the faintest hints of your emotions, bleeding directly into his own. And all he feels is unrestrained arousal and need.
After filling his stomach with several eager gulps, he has to force himself to stop. Partially because he wants to keep you for later, and partially because he’s starting to feel intoxicated in a way he’s never felt. He slobbers over your throat, licking the wound until your blood clots. His cock feels like it’s going to burst.
Whining, Remmick tears his trousers open and gasps at the cool air against his aching erection.
“What have you done to me?” He grinds his cock between your legs.
There isn’t much sense remaining in you. Sapped of blood and fight, the only thing left is the heat, and it devours your mind. You whimper, prostrating yourself, ass up, spreading your legs.
That’s where it is. Remmick shoves his face down and laps at your cunt. The nectar oozing from there is what he’s been smelling all this time. It’s what’s making him feel like a beast in rut. You drool into the dirt, yowling as his long, forked tongue thrusts in and out your swollen puppycunt. His tongue catches a few times on your growing cock, desperately trying to emerge from your spade.
He never thought he would find something that tastes better than blood. He flips you over and latches onto your cock, hoping it’ll make you gush more of that sweet honey. He’s smeared your blood all over your thighs but he’ll take the time to lick you clean once he’s gotten his fill of your cunt. He drinks more of you then returns to your dick, grazing his teeth along the base, red eyes watching you thrash and shudder. A small, grape-sized knot begins to form at the root. His long, forked tongue wraps around your small knot and he hums.
Snagging his hair, you hold his head in place while you hump his mouth.
You cum twitching and howling. Collapsing back into the dirt, you try to catch your breath while he drinks up your cum and laps at your oversensitive but still hard cock.
“What a cute little puppycock you have,” he snickers. Licking the blood off your thighs, he wraps a fist around your cock and starts stroking it. You keen and buck into his hand, chasing another orgasm, but he pulls away.
“Poor little mutt, you really are a runt. You wanna knot something so bad with his little cock.” He grips the base and squeezes hard. “Maybe I’ll let you hump my leg.” Again, he takes his hand away.
You growl, scrabble to your feet, and bowl him over onto his stomach. He laughs at your little display of strength, at first. When your long, flat tongue laps at the cleft of his ass, his brain stops working. Without thinking, he spreads his legs for you, allowing your tongue to push past that ring of muscle. He whines at the new, overwhelming sensation. You tongue-fuck his ass and even dip down to lap at his balls for a bit before returning to his hole.
It takes his fuzzy mind a moment to catch up, but by the time it does, it’s already too late. Your tongue is gone and a half-second later, your paws are hooked around his hips, and your little puppydick is pushing at his ass.
You’re not a man anymore. You’re not even a half-shifted hybrid. A full-on wolf is humping his ass and all he can do is drool and yowl like a bitch in heat. Your three-inch cock bashes over and over against a strange spot inside him that seems to be knocking out his last wits. Your knot pops in and out over and over, and he claws at the dirt.
You push him to his first ever prostrate orgasm. It’s completely unlike the others he’s had. Deeper. Slower. Muscles deep inside him contract and spasm. His cock dribbles clear fluid and still aches.
After the last shudder, his arms collapse under him. Only your paws hooked around hips keep him held up. Not once does your pace falter. You still haven’t cum yet. Not from knotting him, at least. You’re still hammering his tender prostate, and he keens, tears in his eyes.
“Stop, stop, stop.” He claws at the earth and you answer him with a snarl.
You bite the back of his neck and he goes limp. He’s dangling from your maw, held up by your jaw and your paws around his hips as you fuck him. Your knot may have already popped, but as your orgasm approaches, it swells further. Though there’s no way of properly knotting him, your instincts push you on. There’s no mating gland on his neck, but still, you still sink your teeth in, marking him as yours.
“Take it,” you rumble deep in your chest. “Take my knot.”
Cuming hard, growling, you grind your knot as deep as it will go. There’s no cum erupting from it, but your cunt is squeezing and leaking all over nothing. It pushes him to another prostate orgasm and he spasms around your small knot, the contraction muscles keeping you lodged inside him, with your tip crammed against his prostate. More fluid leaks from his cock in weak trickles.
You release him from your jaws and his front half flops all but boneless into the dirt. Though you unhook your paws and shift to merely stand over him, his hips are still held up by your knot.
After twenty-minutes of him being stuck, and his prostate drained of everything it has, your puppyknot finally shrinks and you pull out. By degrees, you shift back into a man, bones and muscles popping and stretching. Still, your heat is not gone, and your empty cunt aches. You flop onto the ground, belly-up, whining.
Remmick’s cock is still unsatisfied and all he can smell is that sweet ambrosia wafting off your cunt. It revives him. He drags himself on top and kisses you. The tongue that meets his isn’t entirely human. Eagerly, your legs spread and he rubs his dick against your dripping wet cunt. When he pulls back, there’s a slight abrasiveness, as if his shaft is covered in fine, backwards-facing barbs.
He looks down as he presses the tip of his cock to part your cunt. Briefly, he considers pushing in slowly, but that isn’t quite what his dick is designed for. It’s not meant for procreation, no matter what the heat-blood in his body wants. It’s meant for pinning prey down in place so he can feed. The barbs are so his dinner can’t pull away.
He hisses as he hilts himself inside you. It’s the tightest, warmest heat he’s ever felt. Your cunt is trying to suck him in as deep as possible, clinging like your life depends on it. The feeling of it overwhelms him, and he has to take a moment to simply breathe. Dragging his nails down your chest, he draws blood, and laps at it.
“Fuck me,” you beg. “Knot me. Breed me.”
He grins. showing his wicked teeth. “I’ll give you whatever you need, whelp.”
To his surprise, he can actually pull back. The slick slathering his dick is so viscous his barbs aren’t catching. Easily, his cock slides in and out, and a part of him is deeply frustrated that he can’t pin you in place the way he should be able to. But another part of him is too drunk off the sensation of your cunt clinging to his cock on every pull back.
“Your puppycunt doesn’t want to let me go.”
He’s aching for release, but his stamina is relentless, especially aided by your pheromones pushing him into rut. Your legs wrap around him and cross at the ankles, urging him deeper, as if it were possible. Knotting him was delectable, but this—this is what you needed. His bizarre barbs make your toes curl. He pounds you like this for close to an hour, until you’re drooling and incomprehensible. He kisses you again, deep and sweet, and huffs raggedly as he pulls away. You paw at his shoulders, trying to bring him back, unable to speak anything more than a whimper. He laces his fingers with yours and pins them at either side of your head, gazing down at you.
“You’ve been such a good boy for me,” he rumbles. “Taking it so well. A human would’ve broken by now.”
Keening, you present your throat to him. The sight of your abject submission pulls him close to the edge.
“You’re gonna be mine, pup,” he promises. “Forever.”
His teeth pierce your mating gland and rip an orgasm from you. Waves of pleasure roll over you but he isn’t done yet. You’re lightheaded and your whole body is floating, apart from where the two of you are connected. Your cunt is nothing but raw pleasure. He keeps fucking you, drinking from the new wound, and you feel his whole cock start to swell as it’s engorged with even more blood. The barbs expand and finally lock you in place, pinned on cock as he cums, filling you as deeply as possible. Jet after jet of his inert seed gushes forth and your cunt clings and spasms, milking every last drop.
Still hard, he pulls off your throat and laps at his teeth marks. He nuzzles the gland beneath your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent. Gathering you in his arms, he rolls so you’re on top of him. Your cunt is still clenched around his cock, refusing to let him out. Heat finally satisfied, at least for the moment, you both are so exhausted you drift off.
Remmick wakes up a few hours later, just before dawn. Naked, he shivers from the cool air and burrows himself closer to you. He shoves a hand between your thighs and sighs happily at the warmth. You’re his personal little hearth. A contented sound he’s never made before rumbles from his chest. His mind feels clearer, but as his blood warms, his soft dick, still buried in your cunt, starts twitching.
He rumbles discontentedly when you wriggle from his grasp and his dick slides out. Remmick follows, both of you on your hands and knees, as you lead him beneath the gnarled roots of that great burr oak, into your den, and to a bed of moss, well out of the way of the coming light of dawn. He curls around you, and you twist back, nuzzling your face into his neck. He purrs happily and works his hips until his half-hard cock slides back inside you. Not thrusting, just keeping warm. Your limbs entangle and your tail softly thumps.
His cock twitches as he noses behind your ear, licking along the gland and teeth marks he left. You smell of home and him and he wants nothing more than to crawl inside you. A satisfied sense of possessiveness blooms inside him. No other filthy mutt will ever dream of taking you on, not with marks like that decorating your throat.
Your scent has changed. There’s still the honeyed scent of heat, though it’s abated somewhat. The dog stench, too, is fainter, though strangely he finds he doesn’t mind it so much anymore. But now there’s a new scent, mingled together with the earthy aroma of home, and it’s stronger now. A sharp smell from another time, another place, one he has to search his oldest memories to find.
Him. You smell like him.
Not him now, not the faint stench of rot and decay and bitter loneliness, but who he was before. Alive. Happy. Human. The smell of air on a high seacliff, the smell of a summer storm, the smell of a rare sunny day.
Something cold and hard inside his chest softens and cracks open. Closing his eyes, letting the scent of home envelop him. He clings hard to you. For the first time in fifteen centuries, he feels human again.