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Grey Moon Rising
When they first get together, they nominally live at Gustave’s—Gustave seems to prefer it, in the quietly possessive way he has—but Verso keeps his own place above the bakery. He doesn’t spend much time there these days; it’s mostly for security, and for the nights he knows Gustave worries about him, when he can’t sleep and doesn’t want to confront the reasons why. They’re both nocturnal creatures, after a fashion, but Gustave has sense enough to sleep when he can; Verso conveniently (or inconveniently, depending on whether you ask him or Gustave about it) forgets to, when the memories and regrets claw at him.
Technically Verso doesn’t need to sleep—he might die from sleep deprivation but he’ll always come back. Though deathsleep isn’t as restorative as you’d think, Verso tells himself it satisfies his sleep debt anyway.
(It really doesn’t.)
The latest complication that comes from living with Gustave, Verso’s discovered, is he now lives with someone who recognizes his insomnia and is willing and able to do something about it.
Like now.
Verso is still getting used to the “my boyfriend is a werewolf” twist in his life (then again, his life is insane, so why not this), and sometimes forgets that Gustave can transform into a giant gray wolf. He’s especially prone to forgetting this when he’s exhausted after not sleeping for days on end, or hungry because he hasn’t managed to get up the energy to eat.
The sleeplessness (and possibly the hunger) have led him here: one day he finds himself in Gustave’s apartment, muttering something incoherently apologetic about how he’d forgotten there was a full moon, sorry, he’ll see Gustave in a day or so. He’s tried to keep better time lately, something else he’s not used to, but when days and nights blend together it’s hard to keep track.
When he tries to leave there is a very large wolf standing between him and the door, all grey and bristling fur with a fierce light in its golden eyes.
He freezes.
Gustave has warned him that he doesn’t have full control over himself on full moon nights. “If you do somehow run into me,” Gustave had said, taking his hands in his own, impressing the seriousness of the moment into him, “don’t—don’t make sudden movements, or shout or anything. I don’t think I’ll hurt you, but you… you might startle the wolf.”
So of course Verso, in his sleep-deprived and possibly half starved state, promptly screams.
That gets him a snarl and hackles raising, and a slow, menacing step closer.
Verso has seen and faced down incomprehensible horrors (well, he’s still working on “the truth of his own existence”), and he’s done it without flinching, but there’s something about being stared at this way, prey suddenly brought to a predator’s attention, that makes him want to turn and run.
He tries to be rational, one eye on the door as he edges slowly back, hoping to put something between him and the wolf so he can make a break for the door and get out, but then he realizes Gustave is herding him, back and back, further away from the door, past his bookcases and the kitchen table, and towards the bedroom.
He tests his theory by stepping to the side, aiming to get around Gustave.
Gustave answers with a snarl, golden eyes fixed on him. Verso steps back to his original position and Gustave quiets, taking another step forward and growling when Verso doesn’t retreat.
Another step back. And back, and back, down the narrow hall and through the door that leads to Gustave’s bedroom. Their bedroom.
The bedroom isn’t great. Gustave normally locks the windows on nights he knows he’ll shift so getting out of there will take time and the wolf will definitely get him before that. Even though the wolf can’t kill him, he’d rather not traumatize Gustave. Again. So he backs up.
Three more steps back, while he’s softly reminding Gustave that he’s Verso, he’s Gustave’s boyfriend and not food, that he’d really like to go home, and then suddenly the backs of his knees collide with the bed. For the second time tonight Verso screams, arms pinwheeling as he falls over backwards. Gustave is a blur of motion, so fast for a hysterical moment Verso imagines he’s learned how to tear holes in the Canvas.
Everything happens at once. Verso’s back hits the mattress, Gustave hits Verso, almost two hundred pounds of muscle and fur pressing Verso down and down, and Verso’s so shocked and so unexpectedly terrified (of fighting Gustave, of hurting him, of Gustave hurting him) he freezes as the heavy wolf body covers his.
But then, then, instead of ripping out Verso’s throat or tearing his chest open, Gustave settles down atop him, his nose buried in the crook of Verso’s neck.
Verso freezes like a rabbit with its neck caught in the jaws of a predator, but nothing else happens.
In fact, Gustave whines and his snout rubs against Verso’s neck, cold nose drawing a sound that Verso would deny is a giggle. He attempts to shift, which draws another growl from Gustave. He lies flat to see what Gustave does, but aside from some squirming to make sure every inch of Verso is covered in a massive, heavy, fur blanket, Gustave does nothing.
Then, he does something.
He licks Verso’s face.
Verso laughs, or tries to; it’s hard with a gigantic wolf on top of him, compressing his lungs. Still, he manages to inflate his lungs enough to say, “your breath is awful.”
It’s true. Gustave’s breath is meaty and animal and hot, and horribly Verso’s comment just makes Gustave lick him again, body moving as he wags his tail. He wriggles a little bit as if making himself comfortable, and only tenses when Verso tries to push at his shoulder and ease out from underneath him. As terrifying as Gustave’s growl was when he’d been standing up, it’s much more terrifying now trapped underneath him, with those teeth right next to his jugular.
“Okay, okay,” Verso mutters, relaxing back “I won’t go anywhere.” Gustave whines, and his tail wags slowly.
He tries to wiggle his feet up onto the bed at least, toeing off his shoes. “Any chance you can shift enough to let me get more comfortable? I’d like to actually be able to bend my back later.” Gustave growls again and Verso is sure the answer is ‘no,’ but then Gustave actually lifts off him a bit, not much and not enough for him to wiggle out from under him but, enough to let him pull his legs onto the bed and shift onto the pillow. No sooner has he gotten comfortable that Gustave lays on him again and Verso resigns himself to be a wolf’s body pillow for the rest of the night.
It should be impossible to sleep, what with being half-suffocated and burning up with a ton of living, breathing fur on top of him, yet somehow he closes his eyes for only a moment and when he opens them, it’s full morning, sunlight streaming through the windows and the wolf is gone.
There’s only Gustave: warm and naked and no longer on top of him (unfortunate), and pressed close to Verso’s side with an arm and a leg wrapped tight around him. He growls sleepily when Verso moves, but it’s a gentle sound and he settles when Verso frees one arm to wrap it around his shoulders and play with his curls, which are more disastrous than usual
Verso soaks in the morning, idly pleased to have survived another night and not stained his and Gustave’s bedroom with blood. He wonders how much of a tongue lashing he’s going to get when Gustave remembers what happened the previous night, if at all. Gustave snuffles and buries his face further into his shoulder, then sneezes when Verso’s hair tickles his nose, blinking and scrunching his nose up like a confused puppy and it makes Verso smile.
“Good morning.” Gustave blinks at him blearily, uncomprehending. “Good morning.” His forehead thumps on Verso’s shoulder, a couple of absent, soft kisses brushed against skin. Then he freezes and Verso braces himself for the panic.
“Did I—” Gustave sits up abruptly, a flash of tense muscle Verso has to corral before he leaps out of bed. “Putain, Verso—”
It’s one of the things Gustave is genuinely terrified of, even though there’s no need to be: that he’ll hurt Verso, not meaning to.
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m all right,” Verso says. For the first time in a while he absolutely means it: he feels more than all right, rested, warm, loose as if he’s had some terrible wire pulled out of him that had been the only thing keeping him together. “See? No blood, no guts.”
Gustave’s gaze sweeps comprehensively over him once, twice, and then he glances around the room as if not entirely convinced Verso is telling the truth. Which is fair of him, Verso supposes.
Then careful fingers are back on Verso’s face, tracing over his jaw and pushing his hair out of his eyes, gentle touches like he’s trying to make sure Verso truly is unharmed.
“I can’t believe I did that,” Gustave mutters apologetically. “I shouldn’t have—Verso, god, I’m so sorry.”
Verso snorts, reaching up to boop Gustave’s nose: an impulse from last night that his meager survival instincts had managed to make him refrain from temporarily. “Done what?” he asks dryly, “Corral me into our bed and then sit on me? We do that nightly anyway.”
Gustave’s face turns red, “I—that’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“It was fine,” Verso emphasizes, cupping Gustave’s face and pulling him down for a kiss, “you didn’t hurt me, just were profoundly upset that I was going to leave. It was… sweet.”
“You have a very disturbing definition of ’sweet,’” Gustave informs him. All the same, he settles against Verso, where he belongs, and agrees to a series of slow, soft kisses before he pulls back a little and adds, “You have been sleeping terribly, though. I can tell. You always close off if I try to bring it up—”
“Maybe the wolf did it for you,” Verso says. “Took it into his own paws, you could say.”
“I’m not going to say that,” Gustave grumbles, rolling his eyes.
Verso chuckles, fingers moving a strand of Gustave’s hair from his face and gently urging him closer for a kiss. “You’re very forward as a wolf, you know—”
Gustave’s blushing, cheeks warm under Verso’s touch. “Verso—”
“Corralling me to the bed, lying on top of me, pinning me down even—”
“You say that like you didn’t like it,” Gustave smirks, looming over him a bit and more confident now.
Verso grins. “I never said I didn’t.”
“Well, then,” Gustave murmurs, shoulders mantling Verso’s again as he swings astride Verso’s hips, “now that I know how much you love being pinned down...” His hand skates gently down Verso’s side, arcing back up under his shirt to call up shivers and a bit of laughter when he finds Verso’s ribs. Gustave smiles against his mouth, a happiness Verso can taste as he licks into him.
“We’ll have to try that again sometime,” Verso says once Gustave lets him up for air, just before Gustave can take him back under.
“What’s that?” Gustave’s fingers are quick and clever on Verso’s buttons, spreading the fabric apart to reveal the planes of soft skin underneath. “Eight hours of sleep, or me being in wolf form on top of you?”
“Both,” Verso says with a shiver. “Definitely both.”
“That can be arranged,” Gustave murmurs, running his fingers down the expanse of his chest and abdomen. “You drive me nuts, you know that?”
“It’s been mentioned,” Verso grins at him, small and sweet. God, Gustave loves him. “The feeling is very mutual, just so you know.”
“It’s been mentioned,” Gustave shoots back, leaning down so that he’s hovering bare inches above him.
And that’s something else: he’s honest with Gustave (most of the time) in ways he never is with anyone else, not even Lune or Sciel. He’s trying even if he can’t tell the truth—he wants to, desperately, but a hundred years of habit keeps his mouth shut tight, or transforms his words into untruths or redirections.
Gustave sees through him anyway.
He knows Verso wants him to the point of distraction, like now when Gustave buries his face in the crook of Verso’s arm and inhales, a deep, lewd sound that actually makes Verso blush. “You smell perfect,” Gustave croons, nuzzling his way down Verso’s chest. “Taste even better.”
“Is that why you licked me so much yesterday?” Verso chuckles breathlessly, fingers twisting the bedspread into a mess.
“Maybe,” Gustave grins at him, “you are very difficult to resist.” He trails a hand down verso side to his hip, dipping into his waistband. “Especially like this.”
“Half dressed, sleep deprived and covered in wolf drool?” Verso retorts.
Gustave laughs brightly, making his heart twist. “Especially like this.” He presses a kiss to Verso’s chest, right above his heart. “You smell like mine.”
“Think I like smelling like yours,” Verso admits.
“Good,” Gustave says, hint of a growl coloring the word. He buries his face in Verso’s neck again, rubbing his cheek from his collar bone up to the hinge of his jaw, snuffling into the humid space behind his ear. “You should smell like mine, make sure everyone knows it, knows who you belong to.”
He adds in some teeth, which pulls a hiss from Verso as Gustave’s canines sink delicately into the yoke of his shoulder. A soft, wet tongue licks the sting away, only for it to be replaced when Gustave leaves a trail of quiet bites across Verso’s chest, grumbling and muttering to himself, sounding almost angry, jealous, possessive, and Verso loves that to a dangerous degree.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Verso says. He’s got his fingers knotted in Gustave’s hair now, not sure whether he wants to soothe or encourage. “I know I’m yours.”
“Mine,” Gustave says with an urgent whine. “Mine to keep, mine to care for, I need—”
“Yes,” Verso says, immediately. Whatever Gustave wants or needs, he will always have. “Whatever you want.”
Gustave pulls back and Verso can see the effort he expends to do so. “Are you sure? I know it’s a lot—“
“Not from you,” Verso cuts him off. From someone else, maybe. No one has made him feel quite this same though. “Anything for you.”
Gustave leans down, lips hovering over Verso’s, “last chance…” murmured into his lips. Verso doesn’t take it, just tilting his head up to meet Gustave’s lips with his own.
Gustave sinks into him, and this kiss makes everything that came before seem tame. Gustave licks and bites at him, growling against Verso’s mouth when he thinks Verso’s trying to pull away. The hand on his hip travels to his wrist, and oh Verso likes that, the effortless strength that pins him down. Gustave’s prosthetic hand wraps around his hip, maneuvering and adjusting roughly so he can slide between Verso’s thighs.
“Mine to care for,” Gustave mumbles distractedly. He’s working his way back down Verso’s body, one hand and the weight of his torso holding Verso completely still. “Mine, my mate,” and oh that does ruinous things to Verso’s heart and all the rest of him.
He brings his knees up to either side of his hips, holding onto him the only way he can with Gustave laying claim to his wrists. He doesn’t know what it is about Gustave that makes him want to surrender, but knows deep down it’s due to the amount of care Gustave shows for everything. Care he is not exempt from.
“Your mate,” Verso agrees, voice low, biting his lip when Gustave growls into his neck, threat of teeth just enough to make him shudder, “All yours.”
Something in Gustave snaps. Verso sees it, feels it.
Even out of his wolfshape Gustave is fast. He never seems so in combat, not compared to Verso himself or Alicia, but like this? He has Verso’s legs hiked up and knees pushed back, his prosthetic heavy across Verso’s abdomen to pin him down, and-
“Fuck! Gustave!” he yelps as Gustave’s other hand curls around his cock and Gustave nuzzles his balls, lapping and sucking greedily.
“So beautiful,” Gustave whispers between obscene sucks and slurps, each word a kiss that has Verso twitching and moaning. “Smell so good, taste even better.”
Verso bites his lip, bringing the back of one hand up to muffle his moans; his other hand finds a home in Gustave’s curls. He’s never seen Gustave so eager, so desperate, and it’s quickly driving him wild. Gustave has him so thoroughly pinned he has no hope to do anything but take it, and he has a feeling that’s exactly what Gustave wants. Gustave dips lower and Verso yips in surprise as his tongue flickers over his hole.
He’s done this before, had it done to him, but he’s never heard this kind of enjoyment before, the raw, animal sounds of pleasure coming from between his thighs as Gustave just fucking devours him. He licks into Verso on a long and delicious sigh, his shoulders holding Verso’s legs apart as if Verso could possibly ever want to close them. One finger slides in alongside that wicked tongue, both of them pushing deeper than anything human possibly could. Gustave croons against him, the vibration traveling up through Verso’s entire body and god, fuck, he’s going to come just from this.
“Gustave,” he gasps out, hands clutching at the pillow under his head, “Gustave…”
“My beautiful mate,” Gustave murmurs against his skin, sliding another finger into Verso’s licked-open hole, “my moonlight.”
“Mon amour,” Verso breathes out, eyes fluttering closed with each movement of Gustave’s hand, “Please…”
An idea strikes him and he gently pushes Gustave back, heart warming at how easily he goes, concern in his eyes that Verso has to kiss away. Then he turns around and wraps his arms around the pillow, arching his back and presenting himself to Gustave. For mounting. And judging by the low growl he hears, Gustave has picked up on his hints.
He glances back over his shoulder.
Gustave is beautiful, hazel eyes glassy and huge, vacant of everything except a hunger that sends excitement dancing up Verso’s spine. He’s shaking and tense, and his mouth is slightly open to savor Verso’s scent and taste (how Verso shudders at that, thinking that he smells and tastes good).
Then he’s moving again, covering Verso with those sturdy, solid shoulders of his, knee pushing Verso’s apart. His mouth finds the nape of Verso’s neck to press more kisses and bites that Verso’s going to make himself not heal so he can wear them like jewelry. Verso ducks his head and moans into his pillow as Gustave’s lovely cock—long, hard, hot, perfect—presses into the slick mess he’s made of Verso’s ass, stretching his hole even more than his tongue and fingers had.
There are very few things Gustave considers to be truly beautiful, and Verso would be at the top of the list by a mile. Every inch of him is perfection, from the length of his gorgeous, pale body, scarred and strong, to that delightfully soft hair that Gustave loves burying his face into. Nothing, however, can compare to Verso’s eyes, so beautifully and uniquely pale, Gustave can’t help but think of the moon when he looks at them. Right now those eyes are looking at him, dark and heady, and Gustave can’t help but accept the invitation they’re issuing. He leans over Verso to press a kiss to his cheek right as he slides in, groaning as Verso’s incredible warmth surrounds him, threatening to burn him to ash.
At the end of the long slow slide he’s hilted in Verso’s body. The wolf inside him is exultant at being buried in his mate, his moonlight, his everything, and it yips and shudders in excitement at the thought of fucking him, filling him, and (moons and stars) knotting him. Gustave has to bite back that last urge, tuck his face into Verso’s neck and breathe until his lovely scent anchors him—reminds him his mate is human, for all his immortality, and isn’t made for what Gustave wants in the darkest corners of his heart. That is something that needs discussion, and however much the wolf growls hungrily Verso needs to know, has to know what this means.
“Verso,” he says hoarsely.
“Fuck me,” Verso says, somewhere between begging and imperious.
Gustave growls. His mate has asked and he will give. The first thrust in gets him a shuddering gasp and Verso tightening around him exquisitely, leaving Gustave digging hands—his claws, he notes absently—into the sheets. From then on, instinct takes over and he draws almost all the way out only to surge back in. Verso keens, back arching, knees digging into the mattress to press his ass up more, offering himself up to Gustave exactly how a good mate should, Verso is the best mate—
His breathing changes as the change hits him. Underneath him, around him, Verso tenses before the surprise melts into arousal. His scent spikes even hotter with it, swamping Gustave so he barely registers his claws lengthening and sharpening, brown-grey fur coating his arms, muscles stretching and bones lengthening, and usually the transformation hurts, but now it’s beautiful, it means he can fuck his mate properly, the way he deserves.
“Gustave,” Verso breathes. His moonlight eyes are hazy with excitement and admiration. Admiring him, Gustave thinks with a happy growl. His mate thinks him pleasing.
“Gustave,” Verso says again, this time shocky and choked, and he arches sharply against Gustave before melting again. Oh, Gustave thinks hazily, looking down at where he’s buried in Verso’s body. There’s that too.
“Gustave,” Verso chokes out, barely even able to breathe anymore. Lights, he’s so full. “Merde…”
Gustave can’t blame him. He knows he’s larger and his dick is proportional. He takes a moment to admire how wide he’s got Verso stretched, rim almost pale around the thickness of him. Good. Let his mate know that no one else will ever compare. That there is no one better for him. Verso is his and the wolf does not share.
Verso whines underneath him as Gustave starts to rock into him again, taking his time, unwilling to hurt his beautiful moonlight. One large clawed hand shifts from the bed to press against Verso’s abdomen, his palm nearly spanning the whole width of it, not that there’s much (he wonders if he can span his entire waist with his hand), taking some of his weight and hauling his ass up even higher.
Like this he somehow gets even deeper, every inch of him buried in the gorgeous heat of Verso’s body. when he presses his hand against Verso’s belly—hard enough that the claws prick in and Verso shudders in welcome as dots of blood bloom across his back—he feels himself moving in hard steady strokes, all of Verso flexing around him so, so beautifully he could cry with it. He moans instead, bending his head to lick the sweat from Verso’s face, from his neck, with a tongue that’s long and soft and perfect for cleaning his darling mate. Verso is sweaty and salty, and the taste of him sings in Gustave’s mouth, and his scent fills the nostrils on the long snout Gustave is pushing into the hot declivity of his neck. His moans echo sweetly in Gustave’s ears and raise prickles of pleasure down his spine.
Mate needs to come, he thinks—no point to this if he can’t see his mate falling apart with pleasure underneath him.
“Gustave,” Verso can barely speak now, the only thoughts in his mind yes and more and Gustave, each thrust carving a path for his mate inside himself, making sure Verso knows exactly who he is with and who he will stay with. Gustave has claimed him so thoroughly. He won’t be surprised to find traces of him ingrained into his Chroma.
There is no one without the other anymore.
He fumbles a hand back to bury into Gustave’s fur, head tilting to make more room for that snout. Hes never been taken like this, like a beast, and he loves every moment of it. All he’s ever wanted is to belong and he knows with complete certainty that he’s been claimed—he belongs completely to Gustave, is part of him.
“Yours,” he gasps out, shuddering at yet another thrust, feeling something pressing against his hole, the pressure increasing as Gustave gets closer. He pushes back into the huge cock pressing him open, trying to usher Gustave deeper. To let him take all of him. He takes a chance and braces himself. “Breed me…”
Gustave snarls and those perfect, vicious teeth bury themselves in the base of Verso’s neck. The blood is a hot shock against even Verso’s overheated skin, flowing across the bridge of his collar bone and down his arm and his chest. Gustave’s growl echoes through him as he laps at the blood, as he licks at Verso’s mouth, smearing the coppery taste of across his lips and tongue. It’s heady, overwhelming, being held so close to Gustave with that long tongue lapping into him as that huge, gorgeous cock fucks into him, and he’s so lost to it that he almost misses the sudden, aching stretch in his ass, Gustave somehow growing even bigger as with one last, ragged howl, Gustave comes deep inside of him.
Fuck, it’s so much, Verso thinks deliriously, the heat filling him endlessly as Gustave thrusts frantically against him, that knot stretching him impossibly wide and making sure all that come stays where Gustave’s put it deep inside Verso’s body.
With every pump of his hips, Gustave feels that feral edge ebb away, soothed by each pump of his come into his mate, making sure anyone and everyone knows who has claimed this gorgeous man and that he is his. He laps at the blood flowing from his bite, a worried whine breaking through before the blood stops flowing, Verso’s gift asserting itself, but the marks remain. He huffs, knowing that it’s intentional, but he’ll argue with Verso about it later.
Verso, meanwhile, is in a state of utter bliss, practically limp underneath him. The only thing keeping his hips up now is Gustave’s hand on his abdomen and his knot in his ass, locking them both together. Any attempt to shift or squirm draws a growl from Gustave and a tug on his hole that makes Verso shudder and squeeze around him, coaxing another load of come that he can’t fathom Gustave still has left. His voice has long since left him—he can only moan and whimper now, toes curling as Gustave rocks into him again, just teasing him with the knot so firmly lodged inside of him.
It’s a cycle of pleasure Verso hopes will never end, spark of pain followed by the sweetest ache that starts from the knot throbbing in his hole and spreads across his hips and up his spine and contracts all of his body around itself. His cock twitches where it’s trapped between Gustave’s clawed hand and his belly and Gustave chuffs happily, a croon that sounds almost like mine breaking from him as his grip tightens.
He sobs Gustave’s name into his pillow, not sure what he’s asking for—if it’s more, if it’s for Gustave to stop before he dies from how much he loves it, or if it’s for everything to continue like this forever. He’s never been filled like this, he’s always been an empty thing to house someone’s grief, or need for vengeance, or disappointment, but this is the first time he’s welcomed someone in. It’s the first time he’s wanted to be filled, and he can’t imagine being filled by anything else again.
He’s come, he realizes hazily, his own spend cooling and sticky against his belly and the sheets, and probably Gustave’s huge, furry palm. Gustave whines happily as he traces his fingers through it, smearing the mess of it into Verso’s skin before licking it off his palm with a groan that vibrates through his entire body and straight into Verso, and somehow Gustave can still keep going—one more twitch of his hips and even more seed spills into him.
“Fuck, Gustave,” he gasps.
He yelps as Gustave rolls sideways, taking him with him, curling around him, tongue lapping at the scant tears that escaped his eyes at some point. Gustave takes up most of the bed in this form and radiates heat like a furnace, leaving Verso feeling smothered, but in a good way. Safe. Protected.
“You beast,” he mumbles, reaching up to scratch behind Gustave’s ear, a breathless gasp escaping as Gustave’s leg kicks a bit in reflex, jostling him where they’re still connected. “You really are just a big puppy, aren’t you?”
Gustave growls menacingly but it just makes Verso laugh now.
“You are!” Verso says, delighted and also maybe just a bit thrilled at this new source of danger in his life. He scratches behind Gustave’s ear again and snickers when Gustave nips at him, claws scraping lightly down his belly before they trap that wayward hand so Gustave can push his snout into it and lick between the fingers.
“Maybe we can go for walkies later,” Verso suggests. Gustave rumbles grouchily at him and rolls his hips, pressing his knot even deeper. Verso shudders and yeah, walking sounds like a terrible idea. Doing anything other than lie here while Gustave fills him and stays locked inside him sounds like a terrible idea.
Gustave can’t speak. Otherwise, he would tell Verso that he wouldn’t mind going for a walk with Verso mounted on him, but then is also mortified at the direction his thoughts go in. And also maybe a little, shamefully aroused, but in his defense his partner is beautiful and Gustave is so, so in love with him.
Despite the incredible sex, Gustave can’t help but feel this is the best part: having Verso in his arms, light and playful, teasing him even as he occasionally shudders from Gustave’s movements, when his knot pulses or Gustave shifts to make sure he’s comfortable. He almost doesn’t want his knot to go down, but he also hears Verso’s stomach growl and knows they need food soon.
Well, he thinks, no harm in an appetizer, and Verso’s keeping one warm…
Verso yelps as Gustave surges up behind him and cries out Gustave’s deflating knot pops out of him. A stream of come follows in its wake, slicking his thighs and ruining what’s left of the bedsheets. He opens his mouth to protest, only to gasp as Gustave shifts, sliding down the gorgeous arc of Verso’s body, hands turning him effortlessly so he can lap and lick his way along skin that tastes like Verso and tastes like him, back to the beautiful, humid space between Verso’s legs. Where, Gustave thinks happily, his knot just was, where Verso’s still open and soft and tempting.
The drawn-out sound he pries from Verso’s mouth is delicious, almost as delicious as the sweat coating his thighs and his ass, and even the come slowly seeping out of him. A pity, Gustave thinks vaguely, that Verso can’t keep it all in, but he’s sure there’s plenty left tucked away, and more than enough for Gustave to clean off in long, languorous licks. If he were more rational he’d probably be amazed, and a little horrified, at how much he’s put into Verso. But then, this has never happened before and he’s still stunned at the thought of it—he’s never had a mate, never had anyone who’d wanted this, or whom he could trust enough to be like this with them.
And he’s proud. Proud of how much he’s given his Verso, his mate, his moonlight. Proud to know Verso will never be without him.
The thoughts twine lazily with hungry pleasure as he licks Verso clean and crawls back up his body with a sigh. He will need to change back, if he doesn’t want to crash into every piece of furniture in his flat, but for now something in him soothes to hold Verso close and smell him and hear his heart.
Verso waits for the stars in his vision to fade away, settling back into Gustave’s furry bulk. He laces his own human fingers through Gustave’s animal ones, pressing them both into the flat of his belly. Gustave rumbles out a sigh and nuzzles a furry cheek against him. Verso lets the silence ride as he tries to catch up with all that’s happened. Then, because he can’t resist it—
“Why don’t you fuck me like that normally?”
A growl, admonishing: Because it’s dangerous, because I don’t want to hurt you, because you deserve to be treated gently. Verso knows it—he may not know Wolf, but he knows Gustave.
“I mean it! Don’t get me wrong, I like the slow and sweet stuff too but lights—”
Barking.
“Yes yes, I know and I appreciate it, but I’m just saying—”
Another growl.
“—I wouldn’t mind more nights like this. Preferably not when we have anywhere to be for a couple days. Maybe a week, actually.”
Another bark.
“That’s just uncalled for. But not inaccurate.”
A whine.
“Yeah, you might want to change back before that dries. If it’s that much of a bitch to get out of hair, out of fur…“
Low bark, a gentle lick across his cheek that melts into a human kiss.
“I love you too, mon amour.”