Plo's Bros inc.

Touch

He remembered holding her face. How he'd tilted her chin up but imagined instead that he was examining what was his. Remembering how he'd put his thumb against her lips after she'd parted them. Just for him. He imagined his thumb entering her mouth. The eyes which begged to be fucked framed by the innocent obedience on her face. The way her tongue would demonstrate its talents. Her eyes unsure whether to look away bashfully or to look up at him questioningly. Of every depraved thought of ravishing her, he'd never had this good of a memory to base it on. She'd been completely sober and just as desperate for him as he was for her.

He wrapped his hand around his girth and started to slowly pump away at it. He was glad that he'd been up later than his brothers. He had his own room but rarely used it. He usually enjoyed sleeping with the rest of his pack but the privacy came in handy at times. He lifted his hand to his face as he sat up a little. He spat into his hand before taking his warm saliva down to his desperate cock. He let himself flop back down a little and put his bent left arm up so that his hand was behind his head. He let out a quiet groan as his right hand got to work. He imagined his hand was Doryn's mouth. The wet sounds and sensation helped. He wanted to cover her fur in his cum. He wanted to release all over her and in her. He remembered how she'd looked in that outfit she'd gone to the lower levels in. How her hips would be perfect to grip and bruise as he thrust himself into her. He growled to himself as he pictured how her ass would bounce against his hips as he plowed into his girl. He imagined the wet slapping sound that would be forgotten under the sound of her muddled brain only knowing how to call out his name in pleasure.

As much as Doryn tried to silence herself, she couldn't help the small whimper of a 'please'. Attachment and selfish want were paths to the dark side but the act of sex itself was in some cases encouraged. She'd touched herself before but she'd never brought memories or fantasies into it until that night. The embarrassing bit was that just remembering his hand on her throat was enough to make her want to beg. She hadn't even imagined further than them almost kissing. Though, it'd been enough to make her spend the rest of the day trying to calm herself down. Unsuccessfully, of course. She spent her entire time balancing between drilling the men and making sure she didn't beg Wolffe to drill her. She was sure that her desire for him and just him would be her undoing, that she'd walk the path to the darkside because of the way her mind and soul screamed nothing but their selfish wants when he was near. She didn't care. Not out of a want to abandon the light but out of lacking the capacity to care for much when she was so fixated on him.

She let her finger slip down and toy with her entrance. She imagined Wolffe looking down at her as he felt how wet she was for him. Her filthy excitement. How he'd tell her what a dirty kitten she was and how she'd tell him that it was only for him. How she'd surrender her body and soul to him completely. She imagined the sensation of his fingers against her needy lips, using the memory of how his thumb against her mouth had felt. Part of that same memory, how his hand in her fur made her jaw tingle, was the basis of her fantasising of how his hand would feel exploring her body. She let her free hand run up her body and grasp at her chest. She imagined it was his hand grabbing at her. Grabbing at what was his. She brought her other hand up a little to reach her bud. She tried to be slow and tease herself like she wished she'd one day experience Wolffe doing to her. She ended up failing at her attempt of teasing. The fantasy quickly became that it was his nose snuffling into her clit as he licked at her opening like he was preparing her to mate. Her imagination caused her to gently rock her hips as she involuntarily clenched and relaxed her walls repeatedly. As if begging to get to be what milked the big bad Wolffe. Like it promised that he'd be dust by the end.

Wolffe squeezed his eyes shut as his hips bucked up to his hand. He let out a grunt in place of the growl he wanted to let out while obliterating what was his. He couldn't help but remember what he'd seen when she landed in her robes. Panties that would've been torn to shreds if they'd had the same kind of alone time they'd had earlier that day. He thought about how he should've just had her there and then instead of torturing himself with fantasies. One of those fantasies was how loud he could make her as she came for him. He tightened his hand as if it was Doryn cumming on him. Because of him. It was likely a combination of his thoughts, the prolonged friction and the grip on his cock that brought him so close to the edge so suddenly. It came on so quickly and he grabbed the closest thing to him, his blacks. They already had one of his bodily fluids soaked into their fibers and soon had another as he brought it over the head of his cock. He gasped as he felt the heavy stream of cum shoot out of him. He made the mistake of moving his hand a little and growled at the movement against his suddenly sensitive tip. He slowly calmed his breathing as he felt the pulse run hard through himself as each hot rope was pumped out of him.

Doryn's left hand was like a stand in for Wolffe and an aid in creating sensations from her vivid imagination of what his actions would be. It had involved a lot of gripping. At that moment, she grasped her hip, imagining how hard Wolffe would hold her in place as they mated. How at that point into it he'd not only thrust into her but would also pull her into him as he pushed into her. She was so close to moaning but kept stopping herself. She imagined how frustrated and, hopefully, enraged Wolffe would get over her managing to stay silent and how he'd get rougher and rougher until he finally broke her. Until she became a moaning mess under him. She let herself get lost in the fantasy and didn't notice her claws extend out until they punctured the skin of her hip. The shock and pain mixed in an unexpected wave of pleasure that was the final push needed to break the damn completely. She gasped and then let out a moan as she spasmed from the release. The built up pleasure and stress slowly left her with each hit of her climax until all she wanted to do was to sleep in her collection of blankets and pillows.

Just telling herself that the weight of her blankets was Wolffe holding her was enough to put her into a state of feeling absolutely safe. She wasn't sure how he'd gotten his scar but it set off the cathar instinct to trust he could keep her safe. She knew realistically that she was a lot more powerful than him. She knew this yet couldn't imagine a place safer than Wolffe's arms. His warmth against her. The way it just felt right in a way she couldn't explain. She purred gently in simple satisfaction as she got comfy and remembered how sharing a bed with him had felt.

Wolffe stared at the ceiling for a while. Once the excited thoughts had subsided and he was once again compus mentis, he realised that it would only ever be fantasy. The things he wanted could never happen. Despite knowing that, he still spooned a pillow and pretended it was Ryn. He pretended because he had no hope that such things would ever exist outside of his mind. If he got to live in a reality where he held her every night, then he figured that he'd be contented to continue living inside his own mind.