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He’s so small like this.
Chan’s fingers flex idly as he drags his muzzle down the back of Felix’s neck. The fine hairs at his nape tickle his nose, which twitches in response. Felix has always been slimmer than him, far more slight despite both of them being the same height when Chan had still been presenting mostly as human, but like this—he’s so small. He’s known this for a while now, but it feels different like this.
Like this—Felix lying on his stomach, baring his lovely, naked back and ass to Chan in vulnerable submission. It makes his wolf happy to see Felix like this. The freckles spotted along his arms, the little white lines along the backs of his thighs, his slender hips, all offered up to Chan on crumpled sheets that he’s almost certain are going to end up torn by the end of the night.
Chan just doesn’t know if he can do it. Take what he’s being given. He’s so small, so small and so soft and so brittle-boned, and in his true form, Chan could snap a metal table in half if he let himself go.
His tail tucks between his legs. Scared, he can’t say, but he rests his snout on Felix’s shoulder and lets out a soft whine. Don’t want to hurt you. Small, soft, sweet Felix. Big, dangerous, destructive Chan.
“Hey.” Felix turns his face to kiss at his muzzle, lips warm against his whiskers. It makes all the bittersweet fondness pool in Chan’s gut, and he shuts his eyes, unable to face Felix for the point they’ve been driven to. “Hey, stop. Don’t get into your own head again. I don’t like it when you get lost up there.”
Chan whimpers. He doesn’t like making Felix unhappy. He licks at Felix’s cheek and pants when Felix guides his face close and lets Chan lick into his mouth. Kissing’s different like this, but it still feels good. It always feels good when he’s with Felix.
Felix’s magic tastes good like this too. A simmering blue heat under his skin that calls Chan’s wolf like a moth to flame. He tastes like fresh earth and oceansalt and a dark, heady spice that belies his unassuming, gentle looks. Chan craves it more like this, in this form that’s so connected to the magic that runs through the soul of every living and passed werewolf. The same soft of moon magic that holds them both captive.
Wolf and dokkaebi, bound by starlight.
“You can’t hurt me,” Felix reassures him again for the second, third, fifth, tenth time. “I’d never let it happen. I’m not human either, remember?”
But you look like one, Chan thinks, and I don’t.
He hasn’t ever since that full moon night when he’d been cursed, ever since he’d staggered home on two raised hind legs and howled his horror at Felix’s despair at him being unable to say a single word to explain. It’s been months since then and while they’ve adjusted to life with Chan stuck this way for the foreseeable future, the thing that’d taken the biggest hit was Chan’s willingness to touch Felix the way he used to.
Chan’s paw rests on Felix’s hip, one claw stroking along his skin so lightly that it doesn’t even leave a mark. Like this.
“Please, Channie-hyung,” and Chan huffs a breath, ears perking up at Felix using his name, “I want you. Don’t you want me?”
Of course he does. He wants Felix so bad that it’s all-consuming. Not touching him or kissing him for months… it’s made his skin and fur burn with desire. The same hunger that’s nestled within his belly but amplified sevenfold. He snaps lightly at Felix’s throat right over his pulse-point. Yes, yes. Felix want.
“You want me,” Felix murmurs, voice sliding into a low croon, “you want to make me feel good, you want to feel good too, don’t you, puppy?”
His tail wags. He does, he does, he wants that. Want, want, his wolf wants.
Felix’s hands skim down his own ass, and Chan tilts his head to watch with bated breath as Felix tugs his cheeks apart, pushing up on his toes to meet Chan’s crotch. He smells wet with slick even though Chan hadn’t seem him prepare himself—but it smells natural, like the aftermath of a thunderstorm and the musk of skin and magic, something mischievous bent to suit his own needs, the way Felix loves using it. Slick and wet and open. Want, good, need.
Chan’s cock stirs and swells, blood-red and thick as it pushes up against Felix’s balls and then catches on his rim. Thicker than Felix’s, thicker than his own as a human. Felix moans, and a light blows out in the next room.
He’s not the only one tempted to lose control here.
Chan snaps his jaws and growls, pushing himself up to grasp at Felix’s hips, tugging him nearer to the edge of the bed to place him exactly where Chan wants him. His pretty dokkaebi, ready to be bred.
Feels good, he thinks, grinding into the crevice between Felix's cheeks, want, want. Want Felix, and he shoves his snout into Felix's throat and licks at his skin, listens for the way Felix's heartbeat picks up when he nips with his front teeth and rubs the head of his throbbing cock along Felix's hole. He must feel so warm inside. Chan's dazed with the thought. Felix Felix Felix. Warm and good and tight.
"Puppy," Felix calls, breathless with anticipation, "aw, baby, you're so cute. You're so messy—look at you, slobbering all over me."
He’s right. There’s a thick line of drool between Felix’s shoulderblades leading to his tongue. Chan whines and licks it away and snuffles at the back of Felix’s neck, tail thumping against the side of the bed. He can't help it, he's just excited. He loves Felix. Wants to get inside him, wants to taste him, to get his wet heat around his cock. His cock, his knot; they throb with want. Sorry, he wants to say, but the words don't come out. Instead, he lets out a little yip, and Felix giggles, pushing back against him.
"C'mon, puppy," Felix coaxes. "You're gonna feel so good inside me, aren't you? Be a good boy, c'mon."
He's a good boy. He's the best boy. Felix’s best boy.
Chan’s tail wags happily as he licks at a patch of freckles high up on Felix's shoulder and attempts to mount Felix, but he can't quite manage it, movement clumsy and paws uncoordinated in his haste. Felix laughs again and reaches back, his little hand closing around Chan's cock as he guides him in—and Chan's tongue lolls as he punches his hips into Felix and makes him groan. Hot, wet, hot, wet. Felix good, Felix. Chan howls, giving into the need to get deeper inside him. His claws dig into the sheets as he clambers up on top of Felix as he fucks him harder, faster, until Felix is begging words that Chan doesn't understand, swallowed up in his wolf brain by knot and hole. It's overwhelming in a way that it'd never been when he'd still been human. It feels natural to take like this, take and take, all for himself, because Felix is his.
Chan’s tail curls as he approaches the edge of his orgasm. He wants Felix to come too, wants to feel Felix squeeze and clench around his cock and cry out the way Chan’s voice wants to within the confines of his chest.
And Felix does, when Chan clamps his fangs into the curve of his neck and bites down hard the way he likes it.
It might feel different, but some things are still the same. The sounds that Felix makes when he milks his cock through his high, face smushed against the pillow as he lets out broken little ‘uh, uh, uh’ noises each time Chan pounds into him. The way he looks over his shoulder at Chan, eyes bright and heavy with affection, watching this strange version of Chan fuck him. Chan might forget what it’s like to be human some nights but he’ll never forget this—the way he loves Felix so much that his heart feels like it’ll burst.
His hips stutter against Felix’s ass as he comes, teeth bared and tail a lash against his own thighs as he howls again, this time loud and piercing. He’s always been noisy in bed. One more thing that hasn’t changed.
“Channie,” Felix says, heaving and pleased and surprised, “Channie, puppy, you’re so good—you did so good, baby—”
Felix’s voice cuts off with a sharp inhale when Chan pulls out of him. His hole, red and swollen, clenches around nothing with a wink. Thick come begins to slide out of him, running down his balls. Chan’s teeth begin to ache, and his tongue falls out of his mouth as he bodily tugs Felix up and pushes him up the bed.
There’s a squeal from Felix, but that doesn’t deter Chan, who parts Felix’s ass with his large, clawed hands and buries his muzzle within his warmth to lick up the come that’s dripping out of his hole. He’s a good boy, he’s going to clean Felix up, he’s going to make Felix feel good, so good, and he wants, wants so bad—wants Felix, wants to taste his tight heat on his tongue, wants to feel him fall apart again as he whines and licks him into a second orgasm.
Felix’s knees tremble and buckle beneath him, and Chan holds him securely the entire time. He licks Felix’s come off his own cock too, and then whatever’s spilled down his thighs, and then licks a long, wet stripe back up his back.
He noses up into Felix’s hair and nuzzles at the base of his skull, nipping lightly to let him know that he’s done.
“Ah,” Felix breathes, contentment audible in his voice, and he makes grabby hands at Chan to turn him over on the bed before tugging at his arm to get him close. Chan lets Felix curl up along his side and tilts his head for Felix to scratch behind his ears. His tail smacks the sheets in delight. “Channie, puppy.”
Chan lets out a little snuffly noise. He feels floaty and good in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time. And, above all—he feels nothing but adoration for Felix, who kisses him with just as much feeling as he always does, who looks at Chan and sees past the wolf, who looks at Chan like he loves him no matter what he looks like.
He loves him.
“Best boy,” Felix whispers, “the best, silliest, loveliest, hottest boyfriend I could ever ask for.”
Chan gives him a sloppy kiss on the mouth and smiles, tongue lolling out again. Happy birthday, little one, he thinks. There’s no one else for me but you.