Work Text:
Rimming – Forced Orgasm (BG3) – Monsterfucking (TWST)
Title from Pippa Little's the summer I lived as a wolf
—
Epel’s Meemaw told the stories around cozy winter fires, or when she was peeling apples for pies. “You see ‘em up on the mountain sometimes,” she warned him. “Big white wolves the size of ponies, the winter spirits of the woods.”
Epel had scoffed. Sure, the mountain was dangerous if you weren’t prepped properly, but he wasn’t going to avoid it just because Meemaw and half the other old folks were convinced that giant wolves lived on Mount Moln. So he trotted up and down the side of the mountain without a care and never thought nothin’ of it.
He’s regretting that now. If only he had magic or something, he’d be able to... well. Do something. But Epel has less arcane aptitude than an apple tree, and the wolf staring him down is twice his weight at least.
It growls something and rears up on its hind legs, and in the dim fading light of the winter afternoon, Epel would swear there’s something intelligent in those eyes. “N-nice wolfy,” he says. “Easy.”
It stays reared up, shuddering and twisting like it’s tryin’ to twitch off a fly, and Epel realizes with a start that it’s not quite fully a wolf. The back legs are too long, an’ the head’s at the wrong angle. He swallows hard, scrabbling to stand from where he put a foot wrong and plunged off the trail, but fuck if it don’t hurt— he’s twisted the dickens out of his ankle and there’s no way he’ll be able to put any real weight on it. He hisses and falls, and the wolf-man-thing lurches forward with its teeth bared.
Great.
Stuck on Mt. Moln in January with a dang werewolf.
Well. Epel’s never gone down easy, not when he got bullied in school for talkin’ like a geezer and not when his entire family tried to convince him to go away for high school and he’s not gonna go down easy here neither. He bares his teeth in return. “You wanna try me, ya lump-brained animal?” he hisses.
The werewolf recoils, and glares at him. Slowly, it returns to all fours and reaches a paw out, and Epel scrabbles backward.
Slowly, like it’s movin’ through apple jelly, the paw scrapes something into the snow.
NOT WOLF
What the fuck.
“You’re awful wolfy from where I’m standin’,” Epel says doubtfully. It gives him a baleful look and he huffs. “Fine. Where I’m sittin.’ So if'n you’re not a wolf, what in tarnation are ya?”
SPELL, the massive paw scratches, and the wolf-man-thing sits back on its haunches.
“Like someone cast a curse on ya?” But it shakes its head, so Epel realigns a lot of what the crappy public-access programs about magecraft have taught him. “Did this to yourself?”
It nods. MISTAKE.
“Nah, figured you’d fetched up all four-legged and furry on purpose,” Epel says, and he’s rewarded with a frustrated huff and a shake of the head that he’s going to interpret as the real story’s too complicated to write out. “Well. I'm all sortsa busted up an’ there’s no way I'm makin’ it down the mountain in the dark.”
CARRY.
And Epel can’t help himself. He giggles. “Yer sweet, hey? But nah, comin’ down mountain in the dark’s not a good idea. We should wait ‘till dawn and head back then.” He pats his cheeks with mittened hands, feeling the bite of the wind against his skin. “Just gotta find someplace warm to stay nearby.”
The wolf squirms close on its belly and jerks its head in an unmistakable get on gesture, and Epel struggles up onto his knees to belly-flop onto its back.
“Oof. Okay.”
The wolf makes a chuffing noise that might be a rough laugh and stands up with him in a piggyback, walkin’ slow so he doesn’t jar Epel’s ankle too bad, and Epel just clings on all clumsy-like as the wolf walks into the trees.
Into a campsite.
The fire’s gone out but there’s a tent big enough to accommodate three of Epel, and a backpack with a logo of some kind on it, and the wolf pads over to a tree and nudges at a bear canister until he can roll it back to the fire. Slowly, he bends to let Epel slide off his back and find a seat on a log, and pointedly pushes the bear canister to Epel’s feet.
Sits.
Waits.
“Hungry, huh?” Epel asks, and the werewolf nods. “Can’t be easy to get into this thing without thumbs. I gotcha.” He finds the lock mechanism and twists, revealing several types of dehydrated meals and a pack of protein powder and a granola bar. “At least you came prepared. Got matches? A lighter?”
The werewolf grabs the school bag and clomps back over, form wavering a little. Huh. Maybe the spell’s wearin’ off? Epel eyes the logo: Night Raven College. Isn’t that some fancy magic school? He’d have thought one of their students would know enough not to get themselves turned into a half-animal thing, but apparently magic’s like anything else and can mess you up.
But there’s a lighter inside, and Epel sparks it up enough to get a little flame going. The wolf-man drops a pile of twigs into the fire circle, and they catch easy enough that he’s feeding a bigger log into it right quick and sighing in relief as the warmth washes over his skin. “Thanks, and all,” he says, shooting the werewolf a quick grin. “My fam’ly’s prolly worried sick over me, but we’ll get back down to Harveston tomorrow and see what we can do for yer, uh... predicament.”
The wolf nods. Here beneath the thick tree cover, the snow’s awful light, and he scrapes it down to the dirt. JACK.
“Nice ta meetcha, Jack. I’m Epel.”
Jack offers him what must be a wolfy smile, tongue lolling out, and Epel gets to work boiling water for the packaged meals.
They turn in right after eating, eager for the sun to rise. Jack won’t fit in the sleeping bag, so he flops down on the floor of the tent and takes up two-thirds of it, and Epel cozies up to his belly because Jack is warm.
There’s something hard against his leg, and Epel looks down cautiously. Useless, of course; it’s dark as a cellar in here. “Er. Jack.”
Jack gives a whining, apologetic whimper and shifts, but that lets the cold air sneak in and Epel grabs at him. “It’s fine. Yer... not gonna do anything, right?”
A huff.
And Epel tries to find a position that doesn’t press an enormous canine cock against his thigh, but when he shifts carefully onto his side to avoid it, his ankle screams with the movement and he hisses. “Fuck!”
Jack whines again, and Epel finds a laugh and a groan tangling around each other on the way outta his mouth. “‘S fine, Jack. Just my ankle.” For a moment, neither of them say anything, and then Epel ventures “I dunno if werewolves can rub one out, but I won’t be teed off if’n you wanted to go, uh, take care of it. I c’n be cold for a spell.”
“Spell,” Jack says. It’s rough and garbled through a mouth that is definitely not made for human speech, but it’s definitely a word.
“Oh thank heavens,” Epel says. “If you can talk it’ll make everything’ a darn sight simpler.” He squints up at Jack, a light shadow in the tent’s gloom. “Listen, it happens to the best of us at weird times, all right? A couple months ago I was s’posed ta give a presentation in class an’ I had to sneak off to the restroom to get it to calm down afore I went up to the front.”
Jack doesn’t say anything, this time, but Epel swears he can hear teeth grinding. And then, quietly, defeated: “Can’t.” Another huff, and the enormous furry body moves to let the hard jut of his dick poke into the cold air. It’s utterly unflagging in the chill and Epel’s truthfully more impressed at its fortitude than anythin’ else at this point. His own dick is so small from the chill that it’s practically takin’ refuge inside his body. “Knot,” Jack continues.
“Not?”
“Knot.” And when Epel doesn’t get it, Jack groans and grabs at his hand through the too-big sleeping bag and lets Epel feel at the base of the dick.
Even through the padding and down and insulation, there’s a faint swelling. And listen, Epel’s whole family are farmers. He’s seen his share of livestock guard dogs.
Seen his fair share of puppies in the making.
“Oh,” he says, and his voice comes out all small and meek.
“Can’t,” Jack repeats, and Epel gets it.
“I, uh, I’m awful sorry ‘bout it, then,” he says awkwardly. “Seems uncomfortable.”
“Yes,” Jack says, and something about his voice seems less bestial.
Epel feels the muscular body against his own, the heat pouring from Jack’s skin and snowy fur. He thinks about this wolf-man’s gruff kindness, givin’ him a place to sleep outta the elements and food from his own stores besides.
And he thinks about the tiny interested twitch in his own pants, and makes a decision. “Want help?”
Jack jerks back so hard Epel’s half worried he’s gotten caught off guard by something in the forest. But no, the werewolf sniffs at his ear, his hair, his throat, and a cold wet nose brushes his cheek, and a voice rumbles, “sure?” with a quiet desperation in the search for Epel’s agreement.
Epel doesn’t back down easy, and he’s sure as hell not a coward. “Yeah. You need to tie, right? Got anything slick?”
With a huffing groan, Jack reaches up to one of the tent pockets and produces a small tin, tiny in one enormous clawed paw-hand. Epel can’t read it in the gloom, but when he opens it, he understands: it’s some of the bag balm the outdoor outfitters in town sell, the stuff they give tourists climbing the mountain to protect against wind burn and chapped skin. It’s at least a little slippery, laden with oils, and it’ll do.
Clumsy inside the sleeping bag, he squirms and shuffles to pull his trousers and underwear down enough to free his erection and ass, fabric bunching around his thighs. Behind him, Jack makes a whimpery whuffing noise, and there’s suddenly a cold wet nose at his ear as Jack sniffs, nudging at the suddenly-sensitive place just behind his earlobe.
Epel whines. He wishes he could call it something else, but there’s no way he can call the noise he just made anything else. Jack’s fur tickles at his cheek, the brawny body warm and solid behind him through the sleeping bag and suddenly Epel’s not thinkin’ about the cold or the day he’s had or the weirdness of what he’s about to do.
He shoves his first two fingers into the tin and shoves his hand inside the sleeping bag, trying not to smear the balm on the tech fabric and mostly succeeding in just getting it all over his palm instead. Ah, well. Waste not, want not, as Meemaw says.
The first touch against his dick makes him jump — it’s so much harder than he’d realized, twitching against the twist of his fingers and the slick of his palm as he wraps his hand around. “Ah!”
Jack’s hips buck, shoving the massive dick against Epel’s ass. He makes an apologetic whining noise and Epel grins, a devilish confidence flooding through his body.
Suddenly, he can’t remember any of the complaints he’s ever had about his lack of muscle or short stature, because if it makes someone as heavily built and powerful as Jack lose control with only that... maybe his body has its own strengths. Kicking, he fumbles with the zipper and pushes himself halfway outta the bag, keeping it wrapped warm and comforting around his knees and chilly toes inside his warm wool socks. The air of the tent is colder against his bare bum, but it’s already warming with just the heat that pours from Jack’s body; he’s definitely got something magical to insulate or reflect heat from the fabric.
It’s still a relief when Jack’s legs and hips and chest crowd tighter against his ass and thighs. Epel scoops another two fingerfuls of the slippery balm and squirms to look Jack in the eye over his shoulder. “Hold me open?” he asks, and Jack’s clawed fingers clench a little tighter on his hips. “Ah c’n finger myself better this way.” (Probably. It’s not like he’s done this before. But it sure seems like getting his ass spread will make things easier, and even though his dick is hard as stone, he wants the length of Jack’s cock inside him with a desire that makes him a little dizzy.)
Jack’s palm cradles his ass, hand large enough that Epel’s skin loses any semblance of chill altogether. “Thank... you,” he rasps, the words thick and strange from the spell’s hold on him.
Epel takes advantage of the new position, twisting his arm to dip between his cheeks and swipe the balm against his hole. Thick and greasy, it turns the motion into a loving stroke and the sensation into a tease. Why has he never tried this before? His clenched-tight rim nearly aches with the desire to shove his fingers inside.
Well. That’s what he’s here to do, so he follows the impulse and pushes his pointer finger against the furl. “Hahhh...!”
Jack groans behind him, rutting up against the base of Epel’s spine; the heat of him blazes thick against Epel’s skin in a length that seems impossible to process when compared with his own finger. Just one finger feels enormous inside of him, rim clutching at his knuckles and his walls clenching tight. How will he ever fit Jack inside him?
“Scared?” Jack manages, and Epel twitches.
“No! No! You’re just... big.” And he is small.
“I’ll wait.” The low rumble of Jack’s voice is steely, a promise in the words. It lodges itself in Epel’s hindbrain and he groans, pumping his finger a little and testing a different angle. Jack trembles, holding himself back, but Epel doesn’t find it scary at all: he knows Jack will do nothing until he is ready, knows it in the meat of his bones as sure as he knows the best time to pick each apple on the tree outside his bedroom window.
So he rocks against his finger and explores and lets himself make all the noises that each discovery sends tumbling off his tongue. The stretch loosens a little bit with each movement, making it a little easier to sink the full length of it with each push. Pleasure begins to lick at his toes and the tips of his ears, tingling somewhere just slightly deeper inside his body. Huh. Wonder what’ll happen if I...
Electricity crackles through him. What in tarnation?
“Again,” Jack rasps. “Smell good.”
If Jack can smell how worked up he is, can catch the scent of Epel’s mind going white like one of the farm’s livestock guard dogs scenting wolves on the wind... Epel’s well and truly fucked.
Luckily, he likes that. He can admit that one, easy as pie. (It’s hard to deny when the idea of getting split open on Jack’s cock is making him push his own fingers hard against this newly-discovered magical spot.)
Epel pushes the tip of his middle finger against his rim, and it slides in with only a teeny-tiny stretch that feels a little like the sweet-sharp ache of growing pains. “Ah!”
Jack’s dick throbs against his body as Epel twists into his own hand, rocking his hips to take the fingers deeper and curling them against a rounded, fleshy thing that feels almost swollen against his pubic bone. Every time he touches it, he stutters and gasps and jerks, feeling the pleasure fizz along his body. His cock bounces against his thighs and belly as he shifts and squirms, rubbing the spot and feeling Jack’s soft fur drift against his skin. “Feels so good,” he manages, pulling his fingers free to add more lube and twist a third into his asshole as it yields in welcome.
Against his back, Jack groans and rubs his cock harder against Epel’s rear; Epel grins, wild and challenging. He can do this. That monster’s going in his ass and he’s going to stretch around a thick, heavy knot and he’ll be full of Jack’s hot cum to sleep...
The image is so intense that he’s shouting almost before he realizes what’s happening, cum spraying from his dick to splatter on his clothes and other hand as he milks out the last few drops. The pleasure drags against his body, heavy, eager, and he pulls his fingers out with a gasp. “In me, Jack,” he demands, grabbing another handful of slick balm to lube up. “Ah’ll guide ya in. Here.”
He maybe tugs a little too hard on the cock, because Jack whines a little into his ear as he grabs it and puts the head up against his hole. One of Jack’s hands is still holding Epel’s ass open, which makes it a darn sight easier to position him right up tight against the furl and coo, “come on, Jack, put it in me.”
Slam.
Jack’s hips snap forward at his command, sinking the head inside and pushing a high, breathy noise from Epel’s throat; he is enormous, prying Epel wide, and it hurts but somehow the hurt feels amazing, like the burn of new muscle building when he lifts a crate of apples filled a little too full.
It feels so fucking good. Epel bucks himself backward, unable to hold back, too focused on getting Jack deeper, deeper...
Jack helps him, abandoning his grasp on Epel’s ass and yanking his hips back with that warm-furred hand. “Yeah,” he grunts, slowly beginning to piston himself back and forth to stretch Epel’s hole further. “Yeah, yeah. Like that.”
The next thrust pushes his tip against Epel’s sweet spot, and Epel shouts with pleasure as he takes Jack deeper. “Fuck! Ah! Harder, Jack, I c’n take it!”
The wolf-man doesn’t answer, just rocks a little deeper until his hips are pressed up against Epel’s cheeks and the heavily-furred balls are resting full and ready against Epel’s body.
For a moment, neither of them move, and Epel takes a deep breath—
Jack pulls out and pushes in, groaning deep as he seats himself against Epel’s deepest parts and begins to thrust. “So fuckin’ good, huh,” Jack rumbles, finding a rhythm that feels like a practiced run: fast, consistent, enduring. “Epel.”
It’s the first time Jack has said his name, and he lets it rumble through his spine as he arches and squirms against Jack’s movements. “Yeah?”
“This feels like heaven.” Jack’s breathless.
“Sure does,” Epel replies, rolling himself against the cock inside him to grind it against the spot that makes fireworks light behind his eyelids like a summer cookout night. “Faster, please!”
“Sure thing, baby.”
A sudden silence.
“Shit. Was that okay?”
“Yeah,” Epel says, throat dry with how much more than okay it was. Baby, low and deep and growly in Jack’s throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
Fine doesn’t begin to cover the heat that blazes through him at the thought of getting to hear it again.
“Kay.” Jack pulls himself halfway back, grabbing Epel’s hand and dragging it to the dick somehow hard again between Epel’s thighs. “Touch yourself, baby, wanna feel you come on me.”
Epel gasps, squeezing tight and thanking every higher power he can think of that he’s still got lube smeared on his hand, because he doesn’t think he could stop now. Not when stopping would mean the loss of the way his hand moves in time with Jack’s balls slapping against him and his cock pounding into his hole, stretching Epel so good that he feels as though he’s falling to pieces with it. Each thrust shoves Epel forward a little bit, pushing him a little further outta his mind and body.
He’s come before, is the thing. He knows how to jerk off. But this is something else entirely, an intimacy and a pleasure of getting to have this kind of effect on someone, and that makes it so much better that he can’t even put words to it. “Fuck me harder, Jack!”
Jack can’t manage words either; he just snarls and bucks into Epel’s body, pummeling the spot that sends pleasure rocketing along his spine.
Epel shouts as he comes, howling along with Jack; it feels as though the inflating knot is squeezing out all the space inside of him, pushing his cum out of his balls to make more room for Jack’s width. The heat of Jack’s release inside of him feels like lava.
As the knot locks fully into place, Epel winces with the first twinge of pain. “Ow.”
“Shit, shit, sorry,” Jack gasps, and it’s clearer than anything else he’s said. Still low and gravely, but this sounds almost human.
Epel twists as best as he can while tied to Jack’s cock still pumping erratic spurts of hot cum into his ass, looking up to find a guy with deep skin and fluffy white hair and wolf ears. “Aw, shit,” he says, accent dragging it out into a long sheeeyit like his old folks do when they think he ain’t listening. “Sorry yer spell’s still not all gone,” he says, jerking his chin toward the ears and shuddering as the motion drags an aftershock of pleasure from him.
Jack looks baffled for a moment, ears flattening, and then cracks a smile. “Never seen a beastman before?”
Epel knows beastfolk, sure: the nice chipmunk-folk family that lives near his high school and runs a general store where he sometimes buys snacks, for one. It’s pretty obvious in retrospect, he guesses, but he gives himself some leeway — he’s never heard tell of any of the Noisette family turnin’ half rodent. “Oh! But you were a wolf, and I thought someone had, ya know, put you under a spell?”
“I did, yeah,” Jack says, wrapping a muscular arm awkwardly below Epel’s head and tugging the sleeping bag back up to act as a blanket. “You know what a ‘signature spell’ is?”
That, at least, is pretty well covered in the magic Epel knows about from the two or three channels of low-budget public-access stations that reach their black-and-white TV. “Somethin’ only you can do?”
“Yeah. But you gotta practice, and train with it, and one of my mentors said it helps to do it alone the first few times...” Jack’s cheeks stain red. “So I came out here on school break to try. This was my first time getting the full transformation. I guess I didn’t realize how hard it would be to turn back.” Even with the complication, his voice burns with pride at the accomplishment. Must be a big to-do for magical folks.
“But yer sure yer all the way back?” Epel asks, squeezing his pleasantly-sore muscles around the knot. “Is this... y’know, normal?”
Jack laughs. It’s small, just a little huff of a thing and a creased cheek, and it’s so beautiful that Epel feels like he’ll do anything to see it again. “It’ll go down in a few minutes.”
“Oh.” Why does he feel sorta disappointed by that?
“Until then... fuck, Epel baby,” Jack groans as Epel clenches down once more. “Feel so good around me, holy shit. Don’t stop.” His knot throbs against Epel’s rim.
“I won’t,” Epel promises, dragging a hand down to rest against his stomach. Jack is so much larger than he is, he half expects to find the bulge rounding his stomach from the outside with how wide it keeps him locked. Open and full.
He can feel the warmth of Jack’s cum inside him, and that’s maybe enough for now. But in the future... “Hey. Jack. If you wanna come back with me tomorrow, we can give you a good home-cooked meal to celebrate.”
Jack’s smile widens. “Invitin’ me back to meet your family?” It’s sweet and touched and so good it makes Epel’s heart ache. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. B’sides, I gotta get you and your busted ankle back anyway.”
Epel grins. “Y’know, I think it was worth it.”
He snuggles into the blazing heat of Jack’s body and the puffy sleeping bag and goes to sleep, Jack still locked inside him.