John jerked awake, twisting from side to side, his legs involuntarily spreading wider.
"Good, that's it." He inserted a second finger.
John's reaction was incredibly alluring, hot, open, as if it had been prepared for him all along.
He withdrew his finger, his body trembling at John's soft, weak protest. He lowered his head, using his tongue instead of his fingers to delve into the fiery passage, exploring and sucking, using saliva as lubrication to open that body. He could have continued like this for hours, but the sliding hips and pleading moans tempted him, making him want only to possess, possess, possess!
Possess him. Now! Make him yours!
He roared, smearing the remaining saliva on his penis, holding it to John's opening, widening the entrance with one hand, and thrusting in.
John's body was incomparably tight and hot. He felt there was no more wonderful experience than this, they were so perfectly matched, as if tailor-made. He tilted his head back, his teeth sinking into John's neck, his hips swaying powerfully back and forth. John was groaning, screaming, writhing, and struggling, yet simultaneously pleading for more.
He yielded, giving him more, more, and so much more.
John responded passionately, greedily demanding more, rising and falling with his rhythm. He could feel the newly formed bond, tightening them more and more until even the last gap vanished. My man, my partner, he thought. He didn't know why he had resisted this feeling before, but now nothing and no one could stop him.
He had almost reached the breaking point; he was ready to complete this final mark, to claim his territory. He was enveloped in intense heat, every nerve in his body felt like it was being pulled, taut as if about to snap. Suddenly, he shuddered violently, ejaculating with a high-pitched roar. Almost simultaneously, John released along with him. He reached out and embraced him, their bodies pressed together, feeling the hot sweat and the languid afterglow of orgasm.
"Will it always be like this?"
John lay lazily, his head resting on his arm, his eyes half-closed and hazy. The scent emanating from him was astonishing: a mixture of sweat, semen, sex, wolfishness, and his own body odor. If there were a bottle nearby, he would seal it away forever.
"No," he whispered in his ear, his nose brushing against the damp, sparse hair on John's chest, feeling John's fingers lazily stroking the back of his neck.
"That would be better."
He had slept for three hours, twenty-two minutes, and fourteen seconds, during which he could clearly feel the bond between him and John growing stronger.
John had slept for two hours, six minutes, and thirty-eight seconds longer than him; the human body was indeed so fragile. He held John, turning to shield him from the intrusive gazes, his eyes lingering on the body in his arms, his brain recording every scratch and scar. He looked at him quietly, finding nothing more captivating.
Then, he began to contradict himself; John was just as captivating when he was awake. He couldn't understand why he had once thought John was just an ordinary person.
"So this isn't a dream?" John opened his eyes, meeting his grey-blue pupils.
He growled, grinning and baring his teeth in a threatening gesture, but this didn't frighten John; instead, it made him laugh. John, laughing, pulled him close and gave him a sweet kiss. Companionship—that was all the kiss meant. Then John pushed him away, rolled off the bed, and walked to the window, deliberately tapping on it a few times. He followed, possessively wrapping his arm around John and pulling him back to his side, a low, rumbling howl emanating from his chest.
Food, he heard John ask them; water, anti-inflammatory ointment, wiping cloths, towels, and, for God's sake, some lubricant. A wave of pleasure washed over him, making him barely resist his instincts; he simply pulled John onto the bed, letting desire lead him to lick the other's neck.
After breakfast, the scientists tried to force him out of his cage to continue the damned treadmill experiment, but he swiftly nipped the idea in the bud. He knew he wasn't going anywhere now, and of course, John had to stay here too.
He groaned, his head thrown back, John's fingers digging deep into the skin of his back and sides. It was a moment of extreme ecstasy. He opened John's body and entered him, feeling the smooth, hot inner walls and John's passionate response.
Face to face, John's legs wrapped around his waist. It was a completely new position, unlike the previous night's primal, animalistic intercourse. He could see John, see every subtle expression on his face—his suppressed furrows, his erratic breathing, his lips opening and closing. He saw himself entering and exiting John's body, each deep thrust making the other tremble even more violently. He had never been so insatiable.
"So, if you are the dominant one in this relationship, then I am your subordinate?"
He pressed against John's chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat.
"Don't be silly," he murmured, "I don't look for subordinate partners."
"Oh, very good." John chuckled. "So I'm a dominant one too, right?"
"Of course, a male chauvinist partner. Dominant with dominant."
After a moment of tenderness, he grinned mischievously, making John groan again.
"Oh God! I'm just a damn girl. I'm a feminist."
He gave a soft hum in thanks, then lowered his head to explore every inch of skin he had marked.
He didn't bother with clothes; he felt wonderful being naked. Those so-called scientists had seen everything they wanted to see, maybe even more than they expected. Shyness was never a wolf's nature. Possessiveness, that was it!
The new bond that bound him and John tightly together was something he could sense and gladly accepted. One part of him was surprised at how easily he had fallen into this trap, while another part longed to declare to the world that this amazing man was his, and belonged only to him.
Those men were watching them, their gazes clearly fixed on John, who had piqued the scientists' interest. He dared say they were trying to get John out of there. They wanted to take him away, test him, their filthy hands and ridiculous instruments scurrying over his body. He wouldn't let them succeed; John was his.
He gritted his teeth, baring them, and crouched down, glaring at them.
"It's okay."
He felt John gently brush his hair aside. He never liked being touched, yet now he was unexpectedly content with John's touch; he even wished those fingers could stay there forever. But only John could do this to him, only John could.
He enjoyed John's caresses, turning closer to his partner, the familiar scent filling his nostrils. John was naked, and the familiar smell reassured him. John's limp genitals were so close; he couldn't resist nuzzling them, his tongue tracing the relatively soft skin.
John tensed, patting the back of his head: "We'll talk about it later."
"Wait, yes." It wasn't sexual intimacy in the true sense, but he understood why he'd misunderstood. Humans always become confused and disoriented when it comes to sex. Some actions don't actually contain sexual innuendo; they might be a reminder, a confirmation, or simply something to make someone feel comfortable. This time, he'd started it, and even though John rejected him, he still felt satisfied. John had accepted their sex openly and frankly, never hesitant or reserved, and wasn't afraid to say no.
"Stop threatening them, come play cards with me."
He looked away when he heard this. John was already sitting on the floor dealing cards, as if he'd expected him to come over. He liked that side of John: he was always calm and unaffected by his surroundings. He dared to order others around, completely unconcerned that the other person was a dangerous werewolf.
A truly worthy partner.
He stood up, giving the scientist one last warning look, and went back to join his partner's little game.
They kissed.
He'd never looked forward to kissing before, but now he greedily wanted more. They licked each other, their bodies rubbing together, the air around them gradually warming up.
They rolled around on the bed, John on top of him, dominating the kisses—lots and lots of kisses—his tongue tracing his face, his neck, his hair, then returning to suckle his lips. John moved at a slow, unhurried pace, and he felt John's erect penis pressing against his thigh, his own fully swollen and engorged, but they weren't in a hurry to take it to the next level, simply immersed in their intimate embrace.
"I want to know everything about you," John said to him before dinner. "I want to know who you are, where you came from, and how you can escape from here."
They simultaneously scanned the cage, glancing over the monitors and listening devices.
"I want to know what you look like running under the full moon, how you spend your free time, what you're interested in, what kind of sports you like. I want to watch soap operas with you, take you to bars, and hold your hand as we challenge everyone who opposes us. I want to meet your loved ones...