Work Text:
It had been around three months since Strade decided to keep you.
Three months since Ren’s life had shifted almost entirely to the left to make room for you.
You were, from the start, someone he had his eye on. He’d snooped around and spied on you when you’d been in the basement, gone as far as to go down and meet you, and…he’d liked you enough to give you some of his pain med stash to help with sleeping.
And all you in response did was thank him. You didn’t beg him to help you, you didn’t cry, you didn’t scream for Strade. You talked to him, cared to learn about him, but most importantly…
You were like him. Atop your head sat fluffy white dog ears, one flopped over and one straight up. Just above your lower back sat a fluffy, curled tail of the same color, one that he’d noticed had been wagging just a little bit during your exchange.
He hadn’t wanted to just leave you there, but he had no other choice - Strade was the one in control of you, after all.
He hadn’t been able to hide his excitement when Strade had decided to keep you. It had earned him an amused pat on the back rather than a punishment to admit that he’d already met you, which surprised him - and told him perhaps there was some underlying intent behind it all.
Ren knew better than to question Strade’s plans.
And, for the most part, life had shifted for the better. You and Ren just seemed to click immediately, always together when Strade was busy or out and about. He let you play on his computer, even if Strade hadn’t exactly given you permission yet - but you were quick to earn Ren’s trust, because it was obvious to him from the beginning that you weren’t stupid enough to try to escape.
You were part dog, and dogs were loyal. Was that why, after just a week, you asked if you could sleep in his nest while he cooked dinner? Was that why you’d looked so happy when he had puffed out a breath and relented?
Either way, it had made his chest feel warm, knowing you wanted to be wrapped in his scent to sleep. He figured it was the start to a good friendship, or at least companionship - knowing that you were there with him was oddly comforting.
Unfortunately, it also marked the start of different kinds of thoughts about you.
Your scent became dangerous to him. Every time he breathed it in, he felt the pull of his outrageously hormonal brain to touch you, to kiss your skin, to drag his tongue up your throat and sink his fangs into your flesh so he could get a taste. He wanted to pull you into his lap and rut with you like the animals you were, to feel how much warmer you were from the inside, to make you moan and breathe his name like he was the only thing on your mind-
Realistically, he knew it was because he hadn’t been around a fellow beastkin in…years. Quite a few. Especially not one he was attracted to and actually got along with. His instincts were screaming at him to keep you around, to court you, to make you his.
It was also the reason those thoughts terrified him. If he fucked up, if he acted, if he did anything to upset or disturb you, you would be gone. Not dead - Strade would enjoy the turmoil, the stress in the house - but you would avoid him, be scared of him. He would lose the closest thing he had to a friend.
The rest of you was more important to him than what he wanted from you. He needed you, not just your body.
So…he’d just gotten by pushing those thoughts down as they came. If he needed to get away, he made an excuse that he needed to bathe or use the bathroom - the one place you never followed him to. He never lied - he really would take an ice-cold bath or just sit on the bathroom floor for a while, until his nerves calmed and his urges relaxed themselves again. It was a delicate process, but he made it work because he cared about you.
But now it was three months in, and he could smell the change in the air.
He started locking you out of his room.
He couldn’t hurt you.
For the first two days, you were still coherent and confused. It was like you didn’t even know yourself that you were going into heat (or maybe…you did…and you wanted his company?). You knocked on his door, tried to open it, called for him, but you never went so far as to bring it up to Strade to force your way in. He appreciated that.
Ren also felt like shit, just leaving you in the dust - it was more of a matter of his own self-control than it was truly wanting to avoid you, but he wasn’t going to admit to you that he wanted to drag you into his room and fuck you until your voice gave out. He was certain that even the knowledge would make you uncomfortable.
Wouldn’t it make any person that was already actively being assaulted? He wasn’t stupid; he knew the nights you weren’t in bed with him that Strade had pulled you away for his own amusement. He knew by the way you clung to him the day after that you didn’t exactly look forward to it when it happened.
It would make him even worse to push you into more with another man you barely knew. As attached as the two of you were, that was reality: You barely knew each other.
You knew his favorite color, the foods he liked, that his ears were sensitive and loved a good scratch - but you didn’t know that he liked to hurt people, too. You didn’t know that Strade’s videos were archived in his computer, his favorite ones hidden away for playback when he needed to blow off steam, to feed his prey drive.
You didn’t know that he wanted to hurt you, too. He couldn’t help himself.
The next few days were miserable. Your scent flooded the house - your voice, too, laced with pleasure and need and crying the entirely wrong name, because Strade was there and he wasn’t.
He warred with himself over a dozen times about whether or not to leave his room. He knew Strade’s game; he was waiting for him to come out, so he could invite him (force him) to join in, to take advantage of you.
He wanted Ren to break, and to break you in the process. Well, fat chance.
He was seated at his computer at 3 AM, his headset blasting music in his ears with tissues stuffed so far up his nose he could barely breathe through it. Used tissues were littering his desk, and yet he still felt incredibly pent-up and agitated; his hands weren’t you, but he couldn’t have you.
He just wanted you because you were in heat, right?
He startled as the headphones were suddenly pulled off of his head, fear shooting straight up his spine. His tail stuck straight out, freezing in place. He couldn’t smell who it was, not with the tissues in his nose, but he knew it couldn’t possibly be you. He’d locked the door.
What did Strade want from him this late?
“Ren?” Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, his ears pricking in alarm. What? How the fuck did you get in? Did you pick the shitty lock? Did Strade let you in? Fuck, fuck, fuck-
“G-get out!!” His voice sounded panicked as he whirled around, covering his mouth with his hand to prevent himself from inhaling your fucking delicious scent-
You stared at him with a wounded expression, brows drawing in as you slunk closer to him, your lips parted and breaths heavy. You weren’t in your right mind. You weren’t going to just go away.
He pushed back against his desk as if to evade your advance, fluffy tail between his legs as he fumbled to block the view of all the tissues on the desk. His face was a deep red, both from the strain of not acting and from utter embarrassment.
“Ren..” Your tail was wagging. Your eyes were hooded, hazy with lust and desperation, your smell was leaking in through his fingers…
“I-I can’t–,” he scrambled out, hesitating before he pushed himself to his feet, held his breath, and started to push you towards the door.
Your feet dug into the carpet, however, and you surged against him all of a sudden, catching him off guard with your surprising strength and shoving him backward.
Ren gasped, flopping back onto his unused bed while you crawled on top of him like an animal. His head felt fuzzy as he sucked in the breath, inhaling every bit of your heat-scent while his eyes met yours.
Your pupils had expanded so much that you barely had any color left.
For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, before you resumed your advance and he yelped, scrambling backward awkwardly.
“W-wait, wait!”
You paused again, breaths heavy and laced with impatient growls. “What?” The attitude startled him. He thought…
He thought you’d be less coherent than that.
“I-I-” Ren wet his lips, looking anywhere but into your eyes as his shallow breaths slowly worsened his condition. He could feel himself starting to sweat, the bulge in his shorts thankfully hidden by how baggy the fabric was, and - and he could feel his self-control slipping.
Finally, his eyes met yours, uncertain.
“Are-are you…sure?” He was losing the ability to argue, to reason. All he could do now was ask permission.
Your answer was simply to sit in his lap, just like he’d imagined, and his breath shuddered as your very, very hot core sat directly on top of his trapped cock, separated only by his shorts and your panties. Ren’s hands shot to your hips, not to push you off but to urge you to rock your hips, which you quickly picked up on as he jerked his own in a somewhat shy rhythm.
Ren sat up and wrapped an arm around your waist, roughly panting out your name against your skin before his teeth nipped and his tongue flicked out to soothe the bite, drawing a soft moan from your throat while the pair of you rutted quietly, urgently. He paused to rip those stupid tissues out of his nose, so he could lean in and inhale your scent straight from the source.
Really, he was content to force himself to just have this. His eyes slipped shut, groaning into your collarbone as his grip tightened on your hip and he increased the friction, making his thrusts slower, rougher.
…and then you whimpered in his ear, slurring out a desperate plea:
“Fuck me already.”
His ears pricked straight up, and he needed no further instruction. He flipped the two of you, pushing you down on your back against the bed while he pushed the shirt you wore up, sliding his hands back down your body to take your underwear with them. It was probably obvious to you, he thought, that he’d been thinking about this for a while.
For three months.
You asked him to fuck you, but he couldn’t help himself. He slunk up the bed, pulling your thighs apart and bending your legs at the knees to keep you spread open while you whined and gripped the bedsheets, clearly anticipating what he was about to do. Seeing your tail thump against the bed in dumb, horny joy, he knew for certain.
He needed a taste.
Ren’s tongue dragged through the river of slick leaking from your pussy with glee, his ears pinned back against his head as he slid his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to him by the hips so he could properly feast. He barely heard your sigh of pleasure, but when he did, his ears perked right back up with excitement.
He worked with far more enthusiasm than experience, licking and sucking whatever he could access, stroking your skin with his clawed fingertips, plunging his tongue as deep into your hole as he could reach to make you keen and squeeze his head with your thighs. He shuddered, feeling the way your walls squeezed the wet muscle, and he withdrew his tongue to finally focus on your clit.
The second his lips closed and he sucked, your hips bucked sharply against his face and you yelped out a sharp moan, thighs shaking as his tongue followed up with heavy, persistent attention. It laved and rolled over your clit at a luxuriously rapid pace, causing your body to squirm, the tension to build, quivering and jerking in his tightening grip until your voice burst out of you again with a shell-shocked cry.
You came all over his face, pulsing and flowing with slick, and he lapped up every last bit of your essence that he could find while you twitched and whimpered his name. His tongue dragged flat over your clit one last time before he pulled back, wiping his face off with his arm as his heavy breaths betrayed his impatience to finally get started.
You pushed yourself to sit up on your elbows and watched, hardly spent, as he pulled his shorts down just enough to release his aching cock. The knot was already swelling, precum leaking from the tip and trickling down to the base while he gripped it and stared at you expectantly.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to say anything. Your ears perked and you shifted to hold your legs open eagerly, gripping your thighs and spreading. His nostrils flared before he shuffled forward quickly, his breath hitching as his tip came in contact with your folds.
Gently, he ran the head of his cock through the slick gathered between your legs, before he lined up and started to press in.
The rest of the process sort of fell apart. As soon as he came in contact with the tight, wet sensation of your pussy, his hips snapped forward violently, drawing a bark of a cry from you - and hardly one that sounded pained. Strade was bigger, and likely far rougher, he distantly thought.
No, he wasn’t going to think about Strade right now. Not Strade, not anything, not anyone but you. He was snapping his hips in rough, desperate thrusts, shoving your body up the bed and dragging you back down by latching onto your hips with his claws. They dug in and drew blood, drawing a whimper from you that drove him crazy.
Ren latched onto your collarbone, sinking his teeth in until your hands flew to his head and yanked on his hair, not quite in resistance, it seemed, but in wild pleasure. He was getting high off of the taste of your blood, the scent of your sex.
Your fingers traveled blindly, fumbling and bouncing with each vicious thrust, until they found their mark - his ears. Your nails scratched strategically, and Ren’s tail wagged fiercely as his pace began to devolve into uneven, hurried thrusts, whines seemingly endlessly spilling from him as the sensation sent his mind spiraling into tv static.
He couldn’t help it. You were so warm, your walls slick and greedy from the way they frequently clamped down on his growing knot. He had no other choice but to give you exactly what you wanted.
It was different, having this with someone who wasn’t being held down or fighting him. To do it because he wanted to, not because he was being ordered to do it to humiliate himself and his fellow victim. It was very different, because before he knew it, he felt your hand slip between the two of you, your pants and moans taking on a certain pitch as your arm shifted and moved at a hurried rate. Maybe next time, he could do that for you, he noted.
Next time…
Your pussy warned him about your orgasm when you couldn’t, its walls erratically squeezing and twitching before evolving into a powerful rush of spasms and pulses on his cock. His reaction was nearly immediate, hips stuttering from the sensation.
“F-fuck,” he panted, his voice growing strained with the effort not to just blow his load just yet. “I-I’m gonna- I-” He started to withdraw, slowing his movements, his chest heaving –
But you were having none of it. Your legs quickly locked around his hips, trapping him inside of you and drawing out a feral grunt and whimper of pleasure.
He lifted his head, mouth stained with your blood, and he looked into your hazy eyes while he resumed his starved pace, hardly needing to be told twice.
You were staring right back at him with those same hooded, lustful eyes, but beneath it, they were glowing with affection. Desire.
That was all it took to do him in.
Ren’s hands suddenly seized tightly on your hips before he gave a final harsh thrust, a strangled noise leaving his throat as his knot finished swelling inside of your cunt. The pleasure was so intense that he lost all other sensation, completely swallowed up in ecstasy and relief from the release of pent-up energy. He had no concept of what sounds he was making, of anything, except the mind-blowing rush.
He barely heard you gasp as his head dropped against your neck, body quivering and grinding into you as he flooded you with his cum. Just the thought of it taking made him shudder again, clinging to you like a lifeline. It didn’t matter that the fantastical thought would be a nightmare in reality, in the situation you were both in. He just thought you would be cute, pregnant and happy.
Ren stayed like that until he managed to catch his shaky breath, lifting his head again before it lazily plopped back onto your chest. He relaxed his tensed body, but still held his weight on his knees so he didn’t crush you.
He felt your fingers card through his hair again, and he looked up at you, meeting your sleepy stare with a slight smile already forming on his lips.
You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to.
You smiled back, and that was more than enough.