[He doesn't relent, because he knows what his beloved likes. He only closes his eyes and listens to the way his brother's wail shatters through the stillness of the underworld air, averting his gaze as though he's unworthy of looking upon such a vision of rapture as Yuri is when he finds his bliss. He loves so much, so fiercely, that he could burst from it; his heart pounds and his blood boils and for a few moments he's nothing but an instrument perfectly tuned for this, a creature whose only purpose is to pull such sounds from the lord of the dead's throat.

He hasn't even come, hasn't even been touched, and yet a sort of peace settles over him regardless; some of the wilderness in him quiets, stroked smooth like the way that Yuri's fingers card through his thick fur. He needed this, just as much as Yuri did.

Our favorite game.

Because those are the rules of the game: if he caught his prey, then he must deserve to have it. If his teeth mark flesh, then he must deserve to claim it. If he made Yuri howl, then he must deserve to hear it.

If he pours out all his love like this, all of him, everything — then he must deserve to feel it.]

All of me. I am yours, every last bit of me.

[Finally, at last, he untangles himself when Yuri's trembling begins to subside, crawling up from between his legs to lick at the mess that mars his abdomen. As he moves further up, the shape of the wolf begins to subside, giving way for more of himself with a shimmer of fur and moonlight until at last he is himself again, draped over Yuri's body and pressing him down into the grass with his own weight.

Unable to help himself, he shifts and squirms until his cock, aching hard, is pressed to Yuri's hip, too hungry for friction to behave himself as he starts to rock against him.]

Does it feel like it did the first time? When we both learned how much we ached for this?