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As a villager at the foot of the mountains where Koga’s pack lives, you’ve heard stories since you were a child about the vicious wolf demons who live in caves and eat little girls who stray away from their homes. Now that you’re an adult and you only half believe in fairy tales, you still should’ve known better than to take a nap in the woods with sunset coming so soon. But who could blame you? They were just stories. Rumors. Old wives’ tales passed down from mother to daughter for generations, a warning not to stray from what was known. And you’d been exhausted. During the daylight hours you know these woods like the back of your hand—surely you can’t be blamed for putting down your basket and resting your eyes, just for a moment?
Not that he needs more than a moment. Your fate is sealed the second you step into the woods, into his territory, where he’s isolated himself to spend his rut away from the other members of his pack. It’s hard enough to hold back his…more aggressive instincts when he’s alone; but when he finds you sleeping propped up against a tree, looking sweet and innocent and smelling like a bitch in heat, you really just don’t stand a chance.
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Koga’s torso pushes down into your back like he’s trying to pin you with the weight of his body. When you manage to suck in a breath (struggling to let your ribs expand against his iron-solid grip on you), you can smell his sweat and yours mixing with the slightly-damp earth under your feet and the sharp, bitter medicinal herbs you were gathering. With your skirts pushed up to your waist the springtime evening mist is frigid against your bare skin, but the heat radiating off his body is making you feel feverish anyway. Your knees are digging into the dirt and for some reason the thought crosses your mind that your nice white stockings are definitely going to stain, and your mother is going to be so angry, and you almost want to laugh at how absurd the thought is. As if a few stains could possibly matter while a demon is fucking you.
Instead of laughing, you whimper as Koga hits a particularly deep spot inside of you. How many times has he finished inside now? Three? Four? His arm is wrapped around your torso, keeping your body locked into his while he drives into you over and over and over. His thick cock nudges up against your cervix every time he pushes his hips toward your ass. It hurt at first. You aren’t sure when it stopped hurting. Maybe it still hurts.
But oh…it feels so good, too. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this. It’s like you’ve been hungry—starving—your whole life, and now you’re finally getting something to eat. Every inch of your cunt aches, but at some point you start trying to buck your hips back toward his. It isn’t so much reciprocation as it is just trying to ground yourself, or maybe letting yourself go in the moment… You can barely keep yourself upright, and you drop onto your elbows, your forehead inches away from the mud.
The demon growls—growls, actually growls like a wild animal, as if you needed more convincing—and he presses his bare chest down toward you, the sweat soaking off of his skin and through the fabric of your bodice. His thrusts are slower now, not the rapid jerks that he started out with. Maybe he can tell you like this better? Feeling every inch of his cock opening you up and rubbing against the sensitive walls of your cunt is making you afraid you’re going to lose your mind in the delirious fog of what you would call lust if you knew the word for it.
You certainly sound like you want it, your pleas transforming into sweet moans as your body adapts to the mating. You probably don’t even realize how wanton your voice is. Whatever else you’ve said, all Koga can hear in his rut-induced haze are your cries of pleasure and the squelching of his dick sliding in and out of you.
It’s easier when you don’t have to look at him. You can pretend that this is a dream, the kind of impure fantasy the village girls giggle to each other about, comparing their conquests, making up stories about which of the young men is the most handsome, who probably has the most experience, who might have the biggest—
“Ah!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut so you don’t have to look at the creamy smears of the demon’s cum painting your thighs white and collecting on the dirt between your legs. Surely no mortal man would be capable of finishing so many times without even pulling out.
Koga releases your hips and you rock forward, startled, until he grabs you by your upper arm and pulls you upright so you’re sitting in his lap with his cock still impaled inside of you. He rolls his hips experimentally and you hiss in surprise as his thick head drags against a sensitive spot in your pussy.
Before you can get accustomed to the new angle, he’s pulling your head around so you’re forced to look into his face. You imagine that this is how a prey animal feels when it’s stared down by a predator—a rabbit looking at a wolf, haha, your mind supplies involuntarily—there’s something that makes it impossible to look away. The part of your brain that’s still clinging to rationality and trying to compartmentalize notes for a second that oddly enough, he looks just as desperate as you feel.
“Wh-whyyy?” you whine, half-aware that this is the first real word spoken between you. You don’t know why you think he’s going to respond—even though he looks more human than the other demons you’ve encountered, his actions have been just as feral and animalistic as the rest of them, if only less violent and more…depraved.
There’s a bead of sweat rolling down your neck, and Koga can’t take his eyes off of it. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls your head back to expose the smooth column of your throat, careful not to yank it hard enough to hurt you. Humans are so fragile. When he tilts forward to lick the salty droplet off your skin, he feels your shiver all the way down. “You—I smelled you…”
In your half-aware state, it takes you a moment to hear him. “…What?”
The demon nuzzles his face into your hair, and his leisurely sigh stirs the fine hairs on the back of your neck. “Smells so good…waiting for me. Begging for me…”
“I—I don’t understand? Begging? Ah—ahhh…” Not for the first time, you try to push away from the demon uselessly. The rhythm of his slow, rocking thrusts doesn’t falter—you wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t even feel it.
It’s not easy for Koga to listen to your words when your moaning is so much more interesting, but he tries. For your sake. His soft little mate, so warm and weak while you grind your ass into his lap. What about this don’t you understand? He smelled you, he wanted you, he fucked you. And you wanted it too, of course you did…why else would you be wandering around by yourself in the peak of your heat, so ripe and ready for breeding that the smell of your lust is rising off your skin in waves? Why else would you have crossed into the territory of an alpha in his rut…?
But humans don’t think like that, do they?
The thought pierces Koga’s mind with a sudden, harsh clarity that would have been impossible had he not already finished inside your needy cunt four times now. Humans are different. Their senses of smell are so weak, just like the rest of them.
Koga remembers, unwillingly, a time when he crossed paths with Kagome’s party while she’d been on the edge of her heat. He smelled it, and Inuyasha noticed. The mutt pulled Koga aside to warn him not to mention it to her.
“But she’s about to go into heat. She shouldn’t be out of her house, let alone traveling with you, hanyo. Or can you even smell it?”
“Shut up, of course I can! But she can’t. Believe me, I brought it up to her once and she got pissed and said I was a pervert. Humans don’t know about stuff like that.”
They…don’t know. So that meant you didn’t know. You came into his territory by accident. You don’t know you’re in heat. You don’t know he’s in his rut, and you don’t know he’s an alpha. You probably don’t even know you’re in his territory.
The demon’s movements slow and then go still, and you’re left sitting in his lap with his cock still pulsing, a stiff rod of heat in your belly. You wait a moment, wondering if he’s going to pull out, but he doesn’t. His arm is still wrapped around you and his sharp fingernails are digging into the fabric of your bodice, no doubt leaving crescent-shaped marks in your skin. Involuntarily you feel yourself rock your hips against his pelvis, a feeble attempt to get him to pull out or even just move—the sex might’ve been uncomfortable, but feeling all full and stretched and so close to satisfaction with no way to get it by yourself is unbearable.
When there’s no response, you turn around toward him to get your first good look at the man (the demon) who’s made you want things you don’t even know how to say out loud. He’s good-looking—tall, tan, with boyish good looks (that would have earned him quite a few admirers if he were a villager like you) and flat blue eyes that seem oddly unfocused. His hair is tied up in a ponytail and you have the urge to pull on it, just like he pulled on your hair a moment ago. You don’t know his name. “Demon…please. I need you,” you whisper, letting some of the urgency you’re feeling spill into your voice.
Both of his hands clamp down on your hips, securing you in place while he slams his hips up back into yours. “Mate,” he snarls, his voice drowning out your yelp of pleasure, and before your mind goes blank with lust again, a chill runs down your spine because you’re not sure if he’s correcting you…or addressing you.