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The Hunt

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He’s seen this time and time again. Gaston killing a deer, a buck, something so majestic. The man is a beast of prey. A predator of the most dangerous sort.
And he looks the part whenever he does this .
This, Gaston had explained to LeFou on their first hunt together, is a tradition. This is almost disgusting. This is primal.
LeFou shudders and licks his lips when Gaston kneels down to cut the deer’s throat and cup a hand to catch some of the flowing blood.
LeFou’s pupils are blown wide while he watches Gaston lap at the blood in his hand and some trickling down his chin. It’s the most erotic thing LeFou’s ever seen, and as always, he’s hard in his breeches.
And for the first time, when Gaston asks him - as he always does - if he wants some, LeFou nods.
Gaston blinks and there’s a moment of stunned silence as LeFou steps closer and reaches for the hunter’s hand, expecting him to pull back. All Gaston does though is stare at LeFou, eyes wide and shocked.
LeFou’s not sure where he finds the courage to keep looking at Gaston as he slides his tongue along one of the bloody digits. The flavor of fresh blood blooms on his tongue with metallic sharpness and he groans. LeFou’s not sure if he likes it or if he want’s to spit it out, but then Gaston takes the decision from him as he strokes his bloodied thumb over LeFou’s lips and then pushes it past them. LeFou does the only thing he can - he sucks. Still staring at Gaston.
Gaston’s mouth falls open in a moan and then LeFou’s hauled in by his waist, the bloody hand pressing his head to the side - leaving dark red smudges - and Gaston’s mouth crashes onto his. There’s nothing gentle here, only hunger. Their bodies meet with force and LeFou’s glad that they are already kneeling on the floor as they rip each others clothes off.
There seems to be blood everywhere now. Gaston must have put his hand accidentally into the puddle under the bleeding deer’s neck at some point.
There are fingerprints on the wide expanse of LeFou’s belly and dark red stripes on his milky thighs, droplets of shimmering red on his hard cock. He groans as he spreads his legs for Gaston, offering himself  up to be ravaged.
The fingers tracing along his entrance are slick and LeFou lifts his head to see what Gaston found  to ease the way when it hits him and he drops his head back down with a groan and lifts his hips.
The fingers are pushed in and LeFou arches his back with a hoarse shout, gripping Gaston’s shoulders hard, short nails digging in. “Don’t stop…”
The only answer he gets is a deep, primal growl from Gaston, who’s preparing him rough and fast. There’s barely time to get used to the feeling of fingers before Gaston slots himself in place and pushes in with groan that shakes his whole frame and LeFou instantly arches into the push with a sobbing moan.
“That’s it, don’t you dare stop!” LeFou orders as he brings his legs up around Gaston’s waist to press him closer, deeper, smearing the blood on his thighs against Gaston’s flanks.
And then Gaston moves. It’s fast and brutal, deep strokes, his cock driving LeFou mad as he arches up against them, pushes back, heels digging into Gaston’s ass to get him to move even faster. Gaston complies with yet another growl and slams his hips into LeFou. There will be bruises tomorrow, he just knows it. But Gaston’s back will look worse, because LeFou’s digging his nails in, leaving long red welts.
There’s a moment when they both freeze and their eyes meet and neither of them is surprised to see the same wildness reflected in the other’s. It’s also all it needs for LeFou to come, his ass squeezing Gaston’s cock and pulling him right with him over the edge, both of them lost in a primal roar.
They lie there for a moment while LeFou slowly comes to, lets his tired legs slide off of Gaston’s waist and Gaston pulls out. LeFou feels uncomfortably empty at the loss. He looks up at Gaston, waiting for the kiss, the soft words he usually gets after such ferocious lovemaking. It doesn’t come. Not today, not yet. Instead there’s the same wild and untamed look trapped in Gaston’s eyes as before, as he is crouching on the floor like a wolf before an attack, hair hanging into his eyes and bloody all over. LeFou feels a rush of adrenalin claiming him as Gaston growls , “run!”
LeFou swallows and scrambles to his shaking legs and runs . He surprised at his own speed as he dashes through the trees in a wild zigzag course, trying to make the hunt pleasurable for Gaston. His heart is in his throat, his lungs hurt and he looks over his shoulder, causing him to stumble. The hunter is over him in no time, but there’s a questioning look under all of Gaston’s wildness and LeFou shake’s his head. He’s not hurt, but he is so ready for whatever Gaston will throw at him.
LeFou’s pulled up to his feet by strong hands and then smashed against against a tree. Gaston is already slipping into him - he’s still wide and loose from just before - and it feels so good when LeFou brings his legs up around him and clings to his shoulders. They move in perfect rhythm, tuned in to the other as always.
Gaston slams his teeth into LeFou’s shoulders after a while, right before they both howl out their release once again. They slide down to the floor, LeFou still in Gaston’s lap, clinging trembling to his neck, Gaston’s arms securely around LeFou. They both gulp down desperate breaths and share a look. The laughter catches them both unexpectedly and then LeFou purrs, “mon chasseur” and Gaston nuzzles his neck, murmuring, “mon amour.”





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there's now art by  dear friend who got inspired:

http://eroticute.blogspot.ch/2017/06/run.html?zx=317c9cda15583833