[What happened to "hello"? "How are you"? Koby just barrels in from the cold, arms full of papers and books, which isn't an unusual state of being for him at all, but usually he pauses for at least a greeting before he launches into an explanation of all his thoughts. But he'd done his research on the moon phases here, and plotted them along with certain events -- the fireside orgy, of course, but also the initial change into a werewolf and Mihawk's disappearance and even Koby's own seal transformation.
So he goes on and on about that, laying out charts and maps and lists of various factors -- position of the moon, stars, sunrise and sunset times, where the wind was blowing and how, the currents of the river and on and on and on. He hasn't even bothered to take his shoes off, coat hanging open, sealskin wrapped around his neck like a too-big scarf.
Eventually, though, Koby runs out of breath and finishes:] -- based on all these factors you'll most likely hit a peak of wolf-like instinct just after sunset tonight, and need to find an outlet so that's...that'll be the best time to try. Make sense?
slapping a general nsfw content warning on here because it just gonna be porn
(At this point, Mihawk's completely used to the variety of ways in which Koby comes tumbling in at the end of each day. Mihawk is sprawled out in his chair, as per usual, already nursing a glass of wine. Mihawk doesn't say a word, instead just watching Koby with a faint look of affection, but listens all the same.
Koby was right though. Mihawk had been far more studious about the wolf these days, and it had been steadily growing more uncomfortable the closer it got to the full moon. Like he had a low-grade fever and the desire to sprint.)
It does. (Sliding his feet off of an ottoman, he stands up and rolls his shoulders, tipping his head to the side with an audible crunch.)
I've felt uncomfortable all day. (He's not...fond of admitting this sort of thing, but it was a necessary evil.)
My mouth hurt. (Some part of him just wanted to chew on something, and he wondered how satisfying that would be. He isn't wearing his hat, as he usually doesn't in the house, but he is in his coat. He slips that off, draping it over the back of a chair. Shortly after, he is carefully taking the books and papers from Koby, like he tends to do.)
We'll give it a go. Are you ready for it? (Whatever "it" may be.)
[Koby lets Mihawk take the papers -- he has them almost memorized at this point, and he's satisfied he won't need to cross-reference anything -- and pulls off his coat and shoes, finally. Beneath, he's wearing yet another of the sweaters they'd ostensibly bought for Mihawk, but which Koby has an almost daily habit of stealing -- burgundy, this one, the sleeves rolled up so they don't cover his hands. Koby's also figured out that if he gathers the loose fabric and knots it at one hip, the stolen sweaters don't slide off his shoulders or fit him like tents.
A problem that would be avoided if he wore his own clothes. But Koby likes Mihawk's sweaters, returning them only once the soft scent of bergamot and soil and sweat has fully left the soft fibers. At least he's wearing his own pants, right? Progress.
His entire expression turns into one of concern, though, as Mihawk mentions his discomfort. Koby quickly steps closer, rising up on his tiptoes by pure habit at this point, hands going out to cradle Mihawk's face, stroking along his jaw.] Does it still hurt? Do you need to -- hunt something, bite something before we try anything? [He doesn't want to let Mihawk out of his sight, but if he's in pain, that simply won't do.]
(Honestly, part of the reason Mihawk wore more clothes lately was purely to seduce Koby or to see Koby in them. It was a far more enticing reason than to just keep warm or whatever nonsense Koby rattled on about. The burgundy was a gorgeous color on Koby and Mihawk is distracted for a second, trying to figure the odds of convincing Koby to sleep with him before going into the whole werewolf thing.
He's staring now at Koby's shoulders, somewhat sad that the sweater wasn't sliding off a bit. He's just about to touch Koby's waist when Koby holds his face and Mihawk's eyes are inevitably forced upward. Oh-.
Mihawk blinks slowly, the loading bar in his mind chugging in over time. He is so unaccustomed to pain, he realizes with a bit of a start.)
Are you an option to bite? (He can't help it! It was right there, but on a more serious note, he sighs.)
No, I think I'll be all right. It's tolerable. It's more annoying than anything. (He bares his teeth a bit, as if to show Koby, and in his defense, his teeth have absolutely grown more into fangs, bigger and a bit too crowded for a human mouth. He does move his hands to Koby's waist after all, squeezing tightly.)
You don't need to look so worried, love. (He doesn't even realize he's said it because his mind is already kind of split to the natural instincts of a wolf, and right now, love felt far more natural to say than his usual darling. The word would normally be completely foreign on his tongue, but the wolf apparently felt otherwise.)
[Koby huffs out a little bit of a bemused, exasperated sound โ heโs relieved that Mihawkโs clearly feeling well enough to flirt (and a part of him definitely isnโt against being bitten), but heโs also worried that the actual discomfort is being downplayed. Mihawkโs incredibly strong, and itโs very hard for anything to cause him pain for an extended period of time โ but heโs also much, much more vulnerable here, in new and strange ways. Koby doesnโt know yet how intensely the wolf might affect that part of Mihawk thatโs still only human.]
If I thought it would help, maybe. [He wrinkles his nose in return at the bared teeth, and perhaps itโs pure stupidity that he isnโt the least bit frightened, but he isn't. In fact, Koby actually reaches out with his thumb, runs it along the edge of one bright, too-sharp tooth, frowning deeper at how crowded the fangs are.] Do you think itโll help? [He doesnโt mind being bitten. Mihawkโs left marks on him before โ albeit never when in wolf form โ and theyโve always veered strongly more towards pleasure than pain. Koby isnโt afraid, even now, that Mihawk could hurt him.
He is a little afraid that Mihawk is hurt โ that heโs in pain and downplaying it, or itโll get worse before they can find a way to make it better. So Koby stays on his toes, steadied by Mihawkโs hands on his waist, still frowning deeply and absently stroking his fingertips along the fur interspersed with the usual perfectly-coiffed sideburns. He registers the word -- love -- and it sends something swooping and giddy in his stomach, but the immediate issue drowns it out for the moment.] I am worried. Would it โ help to be wolf-shaped, for a little?
(When it came to Koby, Mihawk would always feel well enough to flirt or else he was probably dying. Koby might be right though. Even Mihawk isn't sure how to describe any pain or discomfort purely because it's so unfamiliar to him. He wouldn't know what a red flag of health would even look like for him.
He's silent as Koby touches his teeth, and in some odd way, even the lightest pressure does kind of help. Maybe he did need to gnaw on a bone or even a rolled-up towel.) Maybe not biting you specifically. (Loathe though he is to admit it.)
When you touch them, there is some relief. Same if I'm crushing my teeth together. (Like squeezing down on a bad tooth ache. Maybe he wouldn't hurt Koby in any sort of lethal way, but the idea of biting him in earnest and for no real good reason other than aching teeth felt a bit out of the question. He rubs his thumbs absently over Koby's hip bones, shifting his hands up and down, squeezing Koby a bit tightly.)
Maybe. (If he's being honest. His ears even flick up and his tail gives a small wag behind him. He sighs miserably.)
...Clearly, the wolf agrees. (He turns his face in toward Koby's wrist, kissing the soft spot at the base of his palm.)
Would you hate terribly if we began the night earlier than expected?
I see. [Koby's ready to seek out alternative treatments -- something to chew on, bones or sticks or his own body or, barring that, offer to cuddle up to Mihawk and rub his sore jaw for the rest of the night. But then there's the dish of that tail, the prick of those ears, and Koby smiles in spite of himself. That'll never stop being endlessly charming.]
I never hate spending time with you. Either version. [This last is said as Koby stands higher on his toes, as high as he can, fingers curling into the plush fur of Mihawk's ears.
Then he steps back, letting his sealskin slip like quicksilver into his hands, into Mihawk's. By now Koby's learned that the skin itself seems to have opinions about who touches it -- Mihawk is acceptable. Everyone else is a threat of some level. There's no urge to snatch it back, transform and leap into the water when it's Mihawk's careful hands curled into the plush fur. Just a sort of warm, settled feeling.]
I've thought it all out, too, and I don't want you to be worried about holding back. [Very sensible, matter-of-fact as Koby unbuckles and unzips his pants, pulling them off and folding them neatly. Mihawk's stolen sweater gets unknotted, falling looser around his thighs and (blessedly) slipping off a shoulder.] You're not going to hurt me, and trying to restrain yourself in the middle of...things might make it worse for you.
[Underwear next, socks, then Koby crosses back to Mihawk in just the stolen sweater. He gently reaches for Mihawk's clawed hands, squeezing tight.] I can take it. I'm not going to break. You're trying to release stress, not cause more of it. Okay?
(Endlessly charming, endlessly embarrassing...Although it's hard to feel too much of the latter with how much Mihawk liked to make Koby smile. A low rumble escapes from him, not quite a growl, almost something like a purr, but it is entirely animal. His eyes squint nearly shut at the feeling of Koby's fingers against the fur of his ears, and then Koby's leaving him and Mihawk almost whines.
Almost.
He manages to choke the noise off last second. He immediately takes the sealskin, curling it against his chest protectively. It felt wrong to call it a thing when it was Koby's soul, the closest thing to Koby's soul, but Mihawk privately had to admit to himself that it was the most cherished thing he had ever put his hands on. Even counting Yoru.
He can't help much the instinct to rise the skin and bury his face into it. Normally, he'd never be so obvious, but right now, denying any instinct was practically torture. His eyes are shut for a moment, his ears swiveling as he listens to Koby. When his eyes open back up, the yellow has extended all the way to the whites of his eyes.
Koby is stripping down and Mihawk can feel something popping inside of him. Fur is tearing through his skin across his shoulders, over his chest, and his arms. His hands completely morph into long claws, hooked somehow still delicately all the same around the skin. His face isn't quite his own anymore, nose more of a snout, fur taking up more skin than not.
He's already several inches taller, his legs bent at the calves, his hind legs formed. Seeing Koby undress, smelling more of him, seeing his exposed shoulder, and listening to his open submission and willingness almost drives Mihawk the rest of the way off the edge.)
Okay. (His voice is far deeper this close to transformation. His pants had split apart, something he'd be annoyed by later, but right now he didn't care at all. It doesn't even occur to him that Koby would be getting mostly undressed for him for this either. He's sniffing at the air, becoming more and more monster with each delicious whiff.)
Is it...(It's so much harder talking like this.) All right if- (He gestures to put the skin aside, gently. Just for now. It's the only restraint he has left.)
Hm? Oh, yes, yes of course. [Normally Koby watches the sealskin like a hawk -- he has to, considering how vulnerable he is every time it's out of his grasp. But he trusts Mihawk without question, knows that even as this long claws stretch and grow, dangerous and deadly, no harm will come to the pelt. It settles in Mihawk's hands, a liquid, living thing, and there's a faint sense of indignant loss when it's set aside, folded on the table, safe and sound.
Koby's much more preoccupied with watching the transformation. He's seen Mihawk on the other side of the change, when he's fully canine, or even when he's in the middle, like this. But this is the first time he's actually watched the slow transformation, the replacement of flesh with fur, the audible snap of bones out of one joint and into another. It brings that concerned, furrowed-brow look back, and without hesitation, without fear, Koby steps closer, close enough that he can reach out and smooth his hands along the slender canine muzzle, fingers sinking into the plush fur.]
It's all right. [There's no sound of pain, of discomfort, but he can see Mihawk holding back in every tense line of his powerful, magnificent body. Koby rises up on his toes, kisses the side of Mihawk's face, along his muzzle to his nose, dark and damp like a wolf's. In response to the holding-back, Koby doesn't hesitate at all, presses forward so Mihawk can smell him, smell his own clothes on bare skin, smell their scents coiling and twining together.]
It's okay. [Soft, snuggled close to Mihawk's mostly-canine chest, tucked under his chin.] I'm not scared of you. You don't need to fight anymore, okay? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. [Koby feels the soft rumble of Mihawk's heart, his breath, his body powerful and deadly and careful, so so careful. He curls his fingers tighter into Mihawk's fur, exhales:] You can let go. It's okay.
(It's ironic how in this moment, it's Koby's soothing calmness and gentleness that served such an efficient means of rendering an otherwise violent beast completely calm. He huffs lowly as Koby approaches him again, his hands moving over his muzzle, and Mihawk is absolutely cracking under the affection. A low whine finally does escape his throat, and it's purely canine as it does, pitched and shameless.
This time when his claws wrap around Koby, they completely dwarf his body, occupying the entirety of his back and waist. Language is gone to Mihawk then. He's too lost in the rich, decadent smell of his lover, his mate, his everything. Safe and warm within his grasp, smelling ever so sweetly just like Mihawk thanks to the sweater. Smelling like absolutely no one and nothing else but their little life together, Mihawk relishes in it on a visceral level.
So, he lets go. With a slight shake of his head, the transformation splits him the rest of the way open. A fully wolf-like head, the only tell it being Mihawk are the iconic rings in the yellows of his eyes, and the white cross mark on his chest. The rest of him truly is a blend of wolf and man, but more wolf, with just enough differences that he could be bipedal if the desire struck him, but instinctively, he's on his haunches, curling his far larger, stronger body around Koby, as if anything could take him away at any moment.
The smell of bergamot and spice is replaced with something wilder, more musky and deep, but with the ever-present cut of Mihawk's usual bergamot scent. One clawed palm slides down over Koby's ass, claws curling around his slim thigh. The other palm lays flat against Koby's back, claws snagging the material of the sweater, but not to rip or tear.
Mihawk huffs loudly, nosing against Koby's face before he's sliding his tongue out and against Koby's mouth. His tongue is big enough now that it mostly just winds up licking most of Koby's mouth. Mihawk tries again, this time just opening his jaws in Koby's face. Any other sane person would probably run for the hills. It's evident why Mihawk had been in so much pain: his mouth was filled with lethal fangs, even more than a regular wolf's. He snaps his jaws shut a second later, just barely in front of Koby's face before nudging his closed fangs against his mouth. Then he slips his tongue back out, more practiced and careful this time, and it takes no time at all before he's stuffing it inside of Koby's mouth.
Meanwhile, one of his claws between Koby's legs was rubbing up against his cunt, just- rubbing. Playing back and forth against the bend of the claw, letting his lips spread open against it. And by now, Koby no doubt would be able to feel or even see Mihawk's cock, already sliding out of its sheath, sopping and hard, and easily three times the size of any usual cock, and tapered at the tip, already leaking.)
[This is the moment where anyone else -- any sane person, really -- would immediately try to flee for the hills, faced with such an unmistakably powerful predator. Mihawk is pure muscle and sinew, claws and fangs and strength emanating from every inch of his sleek, furred body. Koby knows with every instinct -- seal and human and witch and changeling -- that there's nothing alive that could stand up to Mihawk in this form.
Yet there's no fear, no unease. Those huge clawed hands reach out and curl around his shivering, much smaller form, and all Koby can think about is how nothing in this world or their own -- no pirates, no sea beasts or monsters or pain or terror -- could touch him if Mihawk didn't allow it. He's always felt safe with Mihawk, of course, but there's a new level to it here, a full surrender that Koby didn't know was possible. It's the first time in his entire life he's felt no fear at all. No anxiety. No hypervigilance and constant awareness of his surroundings, always scoping out the best place to hide, just in case someone got violent.
Nothing can hurt him here, curled against Mihawk's muscled, furred chest, laughing softly at the slide of his (huge, soft, hot) tongue over his cheek and mouth. Koby reaches up fearlessly, strokes along Mihawk's muzzle, fingers brushing his deadly fangs before curling into the plush fur along his cheeks. The third attempt at a kiss is more successful, Mihawk's tongue pressing deep into Koby's mouth, sinuous and insistent. Koby obligingly lets it, opens his mouth as much as he can and moans around Mihawk's tongue, instinctively relaxing his throat.
The slide of that long, sleek claw up between his legs, similarly, should at least make Koby uneasy, but instead he all but purrs in satisfaction, rocking his hips and letting the smooth claw spread him open. He's throbbing, dripping with each slight movement, and Koby's ears and neck go deep red as he feels his own wetness streaking down the insides of his thighs.
When he pulls back to breathe, he sees Mihawk's cock -- huge, tapered, slick and hot to the touch. Because Koby's already touching, both hands unable to resist reaching out and stroking slowly from root to tip, teething his lower lip at the way he can practically feel Mihawk throbbing agaist his palms. He glances up, over the tops of his glasses, a slight glint of that cheeky cockiness he shows periodically.] Yeah. You've got -- a lot of tension to work though, huh? [Brat.]
(He knew it every bit as much as Mihawk knew it. Even without the usual presence of haki, Mihawk was a force to be reckoned with, and now perhaps more than ever. He had always had a complete sense of control, but what did one do with a nuclear bomb that has lost such control? Anyone would run for the hills, but not Koby. Never Koby. Koby who was, as Mihawk said, endlessly surprising.. The one person who anyone with half a sense would think would flinch the easiest, who would cower in the face of such a thing.
But no. Koby just embraced it, embraced Mihawk in every single way Mihawk came to him. From his cold, distant way of showing affection to his inane devotion to swords to the complicated dance that had been their relationship so far to this. This part of him that he hadn't even realized was starving so chronically for his lover. And now that it was happening, it felt so obvious. The wolf had to be fed just as the human did, and he had just been denying it another of its carnal instincts this entire time too. He let himself hunt and run, but he had never dreamt of this.
Which, really, is foolish. This part of him loved Koby just as much, just as fiercely, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Koby. Even maddened by the moon, Koby was right to trust Mihawk. Mihawk wouldn't let anything ruin this moment. He can sense Koby better, can sense his calmness, the genuine willingness and acceptance of the situation, and he loves him, he loves him endlessly, god, what an incredible creature.
Another low whine escapes him, pathetic in its own way, the part of Mihawk that always felt like he was crumbling to his metaphorical knees around Koby put on full display. He sinks his tongue deeper into Koby, down his throat, just slightly, no deeper than his cock usually went whenever Koby went down on him. But it's soon sliding back out because Mihawk had always been more interested in pleasuring Koby than taking pleasure from him.
He laps at Koby's throat, growling lowly. He pushed that claw up a little more, but it could only go so deep on its side. The touch to his cock his electric in this form and Mihawk's head snaps up, teeth barred, and he gives a horrifying growl, and perhaps to anyone else it might seem more of a threatening sound, but for Mihawk, it was a pure reaction.
Oh. Mihawk's eyes widen and then he huffs loudly before nipping at Koby's shoulder. His fangs are sharp enough that it likely draws blood, but not much and certainly not enough to leave a scar. It can't be helped like this. Just as soon as he has, he's latching his jaws around Koby's shoulder, locking on, and he does sink his teeth in. This time, maybe enough to scar, definitely enough to hurt, but not enough to kill. Harder than Mihawk likely would have done were he in his regular mind, but all that meant was that he was trusting Koby when Koby had said he didn't need to hold back. The wolf believed him.)
[Sometimes Koby wondered -- how had he been this trusting, this sure of Mihawk, so soon? How had the instinctive terror that had kept him alive for nineteen years released it's grip despite so much evidence to the contrary? It didn't make much logical sense -- except for a conviction that had been present since the first time Mihawk had reached out for him under the moon. Perhaps it had been there since that moment in the world before, when Koby had knelt outside a closed door and listened to the unflinching calmness of a new voice speaking to Garp, telling him in no uncertain terms what he had done and what he intended to do next.
Pirates were an easy thing to put into a box: murderers, monsters, tormentors. Koby had known that to his bones after two years with Alvida, two years he still didn't let himself think about. Yet there had been an exception: Luffy. A pirate who somehow perfectly personified everything Koby had dreamed about being for his entire life. A pirate who helped people who couldn't help themselves. It was an exception that nobody, not Helmeppo, not Garp, had seemed to understand. Until Mihawk. Until the Marine-allied Marine-killer had looked at Luffy and understood immediately what Koby had seen, and had made his choice accordingly. Now there were two exceptions to that staunch internal rule, and while Koby hadn't known what to make of that, he'd known that Dracule Mihawk was two things: a pirate who saw and respected the unique nature of Luffy, and a man who would not lie about anything he did, no matter the stakes.
The former had allowed Koby to let down his guard around Mihawk, and the latter had convinced him that whatever the motivation for their strange relationship was, Mihawk wouldn't hurt him. Mihawk was with him because he found Koby appealing, because he enjoyed their nights together, because that's what he'd said and Mihawk did not lie. Everything afterwards -- that first night falling asleep together, the first trip to the cabin, the daisies in Koby's room and the feeling of Mihawk squeezing the back of his neck and the pink pelt held so carefully in clawed hands -- had simply followed the path of that first cautious trust.
Now, even as Mihawk growls and the earth shakes, even as those deadly teeth nip at Koby's shoulder, prompting a drop of bright red blood to well up, there's no fear. Nothing but a dizzying swoop in Koby's stomach that's far closer to pleasure than pain, one that has him whimpering, shivering all over and dripping all over Mihawk's claw, curving smooth and sleek against his cunt. His hands tighten, stroking slowly over the wolf's massive cock, aching hollowly inside with how much he wants it. Mihawk's already big, and like this he's mindblowing, impossible and perfect and everything Koby didn't know he wanted.
Something else he didn't know he wanted -- that scorching hit of agony and bliss when those massive jaws clamp down on his shoulder, digging deep into his flesh, prompting blood to well up, paint Mihawk's teeth, his curled lips, soak his fur. It hurts, has an almost-sob tearing out of Koby's throat, but he knows being hurt, and there's a big difference between a blow across the face that he can't say a word against and this. This pain is something he chose, it belongs to him, nobody else got to decide on it but him. He asked, and the wolf gave it, trusting that Koby could handle it. Plus it's a visible claim, Mihawk's mark on him in a tangible way, something that'll ache and bruise and throb for days afterwards.
That thought alone makes the pain edge smoothly into pleasure, each one inflaming the other, and Koby suddenly can't stand not having Mihawk inside him somehow, his tongue or his cock or even that deadly, curving claw, he'll take anything, anything to fill him up. He's small enough in comparison to Mihawk's massive canine form that it's easy to gently pull away the clawed hand and guide the huge, slick cock between his thighs instead, nudged up against his swollen cunt.
Koby whines low in his throat, squeezing his knees together hard, keeping Mihawk's cock snugly against his drenched pussy, rocking his hips slightly to feel it slip smooth and hot against his clit. His hands curl into Mihawk's fur, so tight his knuckles go white, feeling his own blood soak the sweater. Slurring the words a bit, dizzy with need and pain and bliss:] S'all right, m'here. I-I'm here. All yours, see? M'all yours, Mihawk. Not g-going anywhere.
(They have had so many encounters together at this point that it was hard to pick the most erotic of all - but this may just be at the very top just by virtue of existing alone. It opened an entire door of possibilities and later on, Mihawk would realize what a shame it is that they haven't covered their ground more thoroughly. There was so little else to do in this place, after all.
The taste of Koby's blood might have made him turn away at any other point in his life as the result of guilt. He had never wanted to hurt Koby. But this wasn't hurting Koby in the way that others had hurt Koby. This hurt was a pact between them. An honest trust that it wouldn't go too far and that Mihawk would never really use this against Koby. After the bite, he unlatches his jaw so that he can lap up Koby's blood, a silent gesture of near-apology and honest affection. A dozen kisses.
Mihawk picks up immediately on what Koby wants. Instincts rattle through him that have him growling loudly, snapping his jaws, and trying his best to not just slam into Koby in one thrust. He almost never just fucked Koby without any proper foreplay, but this wasn't exactly their usual situation, and he could smell how much Koby wanted him, could feel his pliant his body already was.
Koby squeezing his thighs together around his cock and moving to ride it without riding it practically drives Mihawk over the edge. It's one of the hottest things Koby has ever done and all Mihawk can do is just keep growling and growling, panting loudly because holy fuck.
For a second, he lets his hips piston back and forth, fucking through Koby's thighs and rocking against the slick of his cunt. It's amazing, but it's not enough, not nearly enough. Mihawk suddenly seizes Koby again by the wait, his large claws curling around him entirely and he just whisks Koby up into the air. He stands to his full height, his fur bristling, cock swollen and upright in the air. He holds Koby as if he's lighter than air, and to Mihawk in this form, he is that light.
He lowers Koby down to grind his cunt against the tip of Mihawk's cock. Then he begins to push in, sliding Koby down inch by inch as if Koby was nothing more than a fleshlight. He goes slow enough to be careful, but doesn't stop. Doesn't stop as he pushes so deep inside of Koby that he begins to see a bit of his shape bumping up against Koby's stomach. Then Koby's completely wrapped around him with Mihawk buried as deep as possible inside of him, right to the base, and Mihawk's eyes are glittering. He holds Koby tightly, pulling him slowly off his cock, almost all the way, then he pulls him back down, careful, just to see how Koby could take it.)
[Honestly Koby's going to wake up tomorrow -- blissfully sore and bruised and satisfied, of course -- and be amazed at his own daring. Still, that isn't unusual for him. Mihawk has a way of bringing out the more risky and wild side of him, the parts that Koby hides most of the time, beneath a very upright, polite exterior. That had always been there, that urge to let go, to be completely unhinged, but tonight has the extra level of Mihawk being a literal monster. Koby's animal instincts know damn well that it's an apex predator that's got him in it's massive, deadly claws, and the thrill of it couples with how goddamn hot the situation is in a way that has Koby reduced to his basest instincts.
Mihawk had only needed to drag his long, hot tongue over Koby's neck, slide it into his mouth and Koby had firmly decided that the night wasn't ending before he had that mouth buried in his cunt, working him into a shuddering, whimpering mess. But honestly, between how soaked he already is and how slick Mihawk's huge cock is, there's really no actual need for foreplay. Besides, this is about satisfying the wolf, and the wolf would want to take Koby, knot him (breed him, something whispers in the back of his mind) and claim him before anything else.
So even though Koby could've easily gotten off just from the glide of Mihawk's hot, hard cock against his clit, would've if Mihawk hadn't scooped him off his feet, he's not that troubled by them going right to getting that same cock inside him. Mihawk's always lifted and carried him around like he weighed absolutely nothing, but there's something different about the wolf doing it -- something more wild, animal, an ease that draws a shuddery gasp from Koby. He tries to wrap his arms around Mihawk's neck, like he usually does in this position, but Mihawk's too huge now, so Koby grips at the fur of his chest instead, hooking his legs over the wolf's hips so he can keep them spread as wide as possible.
Not that Mihawk needs the help at all. The tapered tip of his cock slips inside Koby with almost no resistance, filling him up deep, just like he's used to -- and then he keeps going and logically Koby had known Mihawk was bigger in this form, but it's one thing to see it and another to have it slowly plunging into his body, deeper than he'd thought possible. Koby is barely aware of the sounds he's making -- whimpering, shuddering, almost sobbing ones, trying to draw in his breath and relax and let Mihawk in deeper and deeper and deeper. It's not painful, it's just so much, so far beyond what Koby had ever imagined and he's so full and gods and monsters and heaven and hell it's so fucking good.
Koby sobs out another gasping breath when Mihawk finally stops, comes to rest, so deep inside him that he can nearly feel that cock in his throat. One hand drops, pressing to his own shivering stomach and the sensation of feeling the shape of Mihawk inside has Koby's forehead dropping against one furry shoulder as he suddenly clamps down on the wolf's cock, squeezing tight, thighs quivering as he comes just from having Mihawk filling him up. He's still coming when the wolf's cock slides almost free, whimpering in loss, trying to work his bucking hips back down, hating being empty for even a second. Koby's still practically drenching Mihawk's cock, squirting around it, but he manages to almost snarl:] H-Harder.
[He'd said he could take it and by god he's going to.]
(As if he didn't have enough reason to be committed to Koby already. His surprising little cadet. Although there wasn't much of Mihawk's human consciousness available, he would remember this explicitly, remember the way Koby fell apart on his cock, the way that he had no problem taking Mihawk in such a carnal, inviting way where most others likely would have refused. Mihawk wouldn't be done with Koby even after this. Much like Koby, he was interested in burying his tongue inside of that cunt later on, but for right now, they both needed this to take that immediate edge off.
Koby had a way of seducing Mihawk endlessly. Mihawk wasn't really one who was often interested in sex, but oh, Koby...
Could anyone truly blame him? With how beautiful he looked split open on Mihawk's cock, human or otherwise? The way he took him so effortlessly, so gladly?
Then he's begging for Mihawk to go harder and Mihawk nearly blacks out. He thrusts relentlessly against Koby, hard and without hesitance. His cock slips in and out of Koby effortlessly, glistening more and more between Koby's own orgasm and whatever precum was steadily pumping out of Mihawk.
Then all at once, he's gripping Koby and slamming him down hard onto his cock. When he comes, it's in a hot burst, thicker and far more in quantity than it has ever been when he was human. Enough that he can feel some of it seeping out of Koby, dripping down between them. It's not until that moment that Mihawk realizes he's been growling loudly for the past few seconds, snarling, but not at Koby. Rather at anything stupid enough to be within a mile of them or so. Mihawk huffs against Koby's neck, whining lowly, mouthing again at where he had bitten him earlier.
That's about when he begins to swell inside of Koby. Mihawk nestles closer, whining even louder, because suddenly it felt like a life-or-death situation of needing to just be as close as physically possible or else. The "or else" felt unlike anything Mihawk had ever felt before. Like the worst kind of threat, worse than death, worse than torture. He wasn't a man familiar with that kind of fear, but right then, he couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of a life without Koby. A life without them- without a family, without--)
[Koby might actually black out a little when Mihawk starts moving -- or the opposite of it, white out, maybe, something like a thousand dazzling stars and the sun on the sea dancing through his head. He holds on tight, cries out and gasps and curls his hands tight into Mihawk's fur, letting the wave of pleasure rise and crest and break through him again and again. Either he's just come three times in a row or it's been one long blissful, giddy climax, Koby's not too particular about clarifying which.
And then Mihawk's pressing even deeper, and Koby's nails dig in tight, his neck throbbing and his body arching up and his voice going high and sharp and pleading as the wolf (his mate, his, all his) releases inside him. He might be a little biased after all this time, but Koby can't imagine that anything in any world feels better than Mihawk knotting him, the stretch, the burn, the fullness of it. He's nearly sobbing at how good it is, face pressed to the wolf's furry shoulder, body nearly senseless with pleasure, shuddering and quivering.
The soft, earnest whimpers rumbling through Mihawk's enormous form rouse Koby from that hazy, blissful, fucked-out place, his fingers twitching, moving, clumsily stroking at the wolf's neck, cheek, up to his ears.] S'okay. M'here. [Koby can't quite open his eyes, can't move except to shiver and pet at Mihawk's fur, moving to kiss the underside of his jaw. He nuzzles where he can hear the wolf's hear racing, breathing raspy and heavy.] I'm here, Mihawk. Not going anywhere, not ever. Never.
[It's the sort of promise Koby wouldn't have made while in a clear headspace -- except maybe he would, maybe he means it more than he fears it, finally. Maybe the sense of contentment, of stability and safety and home is worth it. Maybe he can curl his fingers into Mihawk's fur and whisper against his fur:] I love you, so, so much.
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that thread where kobes realizes he might be a furry oop >> action
[What happened to "hello"? "How are you"? Koby just barrels in from the cold, arms full of papers and books, which isn't an unusual state of being for him at all, but usually he pauses for at least a greeting before he launches into an explanation of all his thoughts. But he'd done his research on the moon phases here, and plotted them along with certain events -- the fireside orgy, of course, but also the initial change into a werewolf and Mihawk's disappearance and even Koby's own seal transformation.
So he goes on and on about that, laying out charts and maps and lists of various factors -- position of the moon, stars, sunrise and sunset times, where the wind was blowing and how, the currents of the river and on and on and on. He hasn't even bothered to take his shoes off, coat hanging open, sealskin wrapped around his neck like a too-big scarf.
Eventually, though, Koby runs out of breath and finishes:] -- based on all these factors you'll most likely hit a peak of wolf-like instinct just after sunset tonight, and need to find an outlet so that's...that'll be the best time to try. Make sense?
slapping a general nsfw content warning on here because it just gonna be porn
Koby was right though. Mihawk had been far more studious about the wolf these days, and it had been steadily growing more uncomfortable the closer it got to the full moon. Like he had a low-grade fever and the desire to sprint.)
It does. (Sliding his feet off of an ottoman, he stands up and rolls his shoulders, tipping his head to the side with an audible crunch.)
I've felt uncomfortable all day. (He's not...fond of admitting this sort of thing, but it was a necessary evil.)
My mouth hurt. (Some part of him just wanted to chew on something, and he wondered how satisfying that would be. He isn't wearing his hat, as he usually doesn't in the house, but he is in his coat. He slips that off, draping it over the back of a chair. Shortly after, he is carefully taking the books and papers from Koby, like he tends to do.)
We'll give it a go. Are you ready for it? (Whatever "it" may be.)
so! much!!! porn!!!!
A problem that would be avoided if he wore his own clothes. But Koby likes Mihawk's sweaters, returning them only once the soft scent of bergamot and soil and sweat has fully left the soft fibers. At least he's wearing his own pants, right? Progress.
His entire expression turns into one of concern, though, as Mihawk mentions his discomfort. Koby quickly steps closer, rising up on his tiptoes by pure habit at this point, hands going out to cradle Mihawk's face, stroking along his jaw.] Does it still hurt? Do you need to -- hunt something, bite something before we try anything? [He doesn't want to let Mihawk out of his sight, but if he's in pain, that simply won't do.]
foulest dirtiest explicit porn ever
He's staring now at Koby's shoulders, somewhat sad that the sweater wasn't sliding off a bit. He's just about to touch Koby's waist when Koby holds his face and Mihawk's eyes are inevitably forced upward. Oh-.
Mihawk blinks slowly, the loading bar in his mind chugging in over time. He is so unaccustomed to pain, he realizes with a bit of a start.)
Are you an option to bite? (He can't help it! It was right there, but on a more serious note, he sighs.)
No, I think I'll be all right. It's tolerable. It's more annoying than anything. (He bares his teeth a bit, as if to show Koby, and in his defense, his teeth have absolutely grown more into fangs, bigger and a bit too crowded for a human mouth. He does move his hands to Koby's waist after all, squeezing tightly.)
You don't need to look so worried, love. (He doesn't even realize he's said it because his mind is already kind of split to the natural instincts of a wolf, and right now, love felt far more natural to say than his usual darling. The word would normally be completely foreign on his tongue, but the wolf apparently felt otherwise.)
once they stop being Incredibly Soft
If I thought it would help, maybe. [He wrinkles his nose in return at the bared teeth, and perhaps itโs pure stupidity that he isnโt the least bit frightened, but he isn't. In fact, Koby actually reaches out with his thumb, runs it along the edge of one bright, too-sharp tooth, frowning deeper at how crowded the fangs are.] Do you think itโll help? [He doesnโt mind being bitten. Mihawkโs left marks on him before โ albeit never when in wolf form โ and theyโve always veered strongly more towards pleasure than pain. Koby isnโt afraid, even now, that Mihawk could hurt him.
He is a little afraid that Mihawk is hurt โ that heโs in pain and downplaying it, or itโll get worse before they can find a way to make it better. So Koby stays on his toes, steadied by Mihawkโs hands on his waist, still frowning deeply and absently stroking his fingertips along the fur interspersed with the usual perfectly-coiffed sideburns. He registers the word -- love -- and it sends something swooping and giddy in his stomach, but the immediate issue drowns it out for the moment.] I am worried. Would it โ help to be wolf-shaped, for a little?
that will Never stop
He's silent as Koby touches his teeth, and in some odd way, even the lightest pressure does kind of help. Maybe he did need to gnaw on a bone or even a rolled-up towel.) Maybe not biting you specifically. (Loathe though he is to admit it.)
When you touch them, there is some relief. Same if I'm crushing my teeth together. (Like squeezing down on a bad tooth ache. Maybe he wouldn't hurt Koby in any sort of lethal way, but the idea of biting him in earnest and for no real good reason other than aching teeth felt a bit out of the question. He rubs his thumbs absently over Koby's hip bones, shifting his hands up and down, squeezing Koby a bit tightly.)
Maybe. (If he's being honest. His ears even flick up and his tail gives a small wag behind him. He sighs miserably.)
...Clearly, the wolf agrees. (He turns his face in toward Koby's wrist, kissing the soft spot at the base of his palm.)
Would you hate terribly if we began the night earlier than expected?
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I never hate spending time with you. Either version. [This last is said as Koby stands higher on his toes, as high as he can, fingers curling into the plush fur of Mihawk's ears.
Then he steps back, letting his sealskin slip like quicksilver into his hands, into Mihawk's. By now Koby's learned that the skin itself seems to have opinions about who touches it -- Mihawk is acceptable. Everyone else is a threat of some level. There's no urge to snatch it back, transform and leap into the water when it's Mihawk's careful hands curled into the plush fur. Just a sort of warm, settled feeling.]
I've thought it all out, too, and I don't want you to be worried about holding back. [Very sensible, matter-of-fact as Koby unbuckles and unzips his pants, pulling them off and folding them neatly. Mihawk's stolen sweater gets unknotted, falling looser around his thighs and (blessedly) slipping off a shoulder.] You're not going to hurt me, and trying to restrain yourself in the middle of...things might make it worse for you.
[Underwear next, socks, then Koby crosses back to Mihawk in just the stolen sweater. He gently reaches for Mihawk's clawed hands, squeezing tight.] I can take it. I'm not going to break. You're trying to release stress, not cause more of it. Okay?
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Almost.
He manages to choke the noise off last second. He immediately takes the sealskin, curling it against his chest protectively. It felt wrong to call it a thing when it was Koby's soul, the closest thing to Koby's soul, but Mihawk privately had to admit to himself that it was the most cherished thing he had ever put his hands on. Even counting Yoru.
He can't help much the instinct to rise the skin and bury his face into it. Normally, he'd never be so obvious, but right now, denying any instinct was practically torture. His eyes are shut for a moment, his ears swiveling as he listens to Koby. When his eyes open back up, the yellow has extended all the way to the whites of his eyes.
Koby is stripping down and Mihawk can feel something popping inside of him. Fur is tearing through his skin across his shoulders, over his chest, and his arms. His hands completely morph into long claws, hooked somehow still delicately all the same around the skin. His face isn't quite his own anymore, nose more of a snout, fur taking up more skin than not.
He's already several inches taller, his legs bent at the calves, his hind legs formed. Seeing Koby undress, smelling more of him, seeing his exposed shoulder, and listening to his open submission and willingness almost drives Mihawk the rest of the way off the edge.)
Okay. (His voice is far deeper this close to transformation. His pants had split apart, something he'd be annoyed by later, but right now he didn't care at all. It doesn't even occur to him that Koby would be getting mostly undressed for him for this either. He's sniffing at the air, becoming more and more monster with each delicious whiff.)
Is it...(It's so much harder talking like this.) All right if- (He gestures to put the skin aside, gently. Just for now. It's the only restraint he has left.)
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Koby's much more preoccupied with watching the transformation. He's seen Mihawk on the other side of the change, when he's fully canine, or even when he's in the middle, like this. But this is the first time he's actually watched the slow transformation, the replacement of flesh with fur, the audible snap of bones out of one joint and into another. It brings that concerned, furrowed-brow look back, and without hesitation, without fear, Koby steps closer, close enough that he can reach out and smooth his hands along the slender canine muzzle, fingers sinking into the plush fur.]
It's all right. [There's no sound of pain, of discomfort, but he can see Mihawk holding back in every tense line of his powerful, magnificent body. Koby rises up on his toes, kisses the side of Mihawk's face, along his muzzle to his nose, dark and damp like a wolf's. In response to the holding-back, Koby doesn't hesitate at all, presses forward so Mihawk can smell him, smell his own clothes on bare skin, smell their scents coiling and twining together.]
It's okay. [Soft, snuggled close to Mihawk's mostly-canine chest, tucked under his chin.] I'm not scared of you. You don't need to fight anymore, okay? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. [Koby feels the soft rumble of Mihawk's heart, his breath, his body powerful and deadly and careful, so so careful. He curls his fingers tighter into Mihawk's fur, exhales:] You can let go. It's okay.
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This time when his claws wrap around Koby, they completely dwarf his body, occupying the entirety of his back and waist. Language is gone to Mihawk then. He's too lost in the rich, decadent smell of his lover, his mate, his everything. Safe and warm within his grasp, smelling ever so sweetly just like Mihawk thanks to the sweater. Smelling like absolutely no one and nothing else but their little life together, Mihawk relishes in it on a visceral level.
So, he lets go. With a slight shake of his head, the transformation splits him the rest of the way open. A fully wolf-like head, the only tell it being Mihawk are the iconic rings in the yellows of his eyes, and the white cross mark on his chest. The rest of him truly is a blend of wolf and man, but more wolf, with just enough differences that he could be bipedal if the desire struck him, but instinctively, he's on his haunches, curling his far larger, stronger body around Koby, as if anything could take him away at any moment.
The smell of bergamot and spice is replaced with something wilder, more musky and deep, but with the ever-present cut of Mihawk's usual bergamot scent. One clawed palm slides down over Koby's ass, claws curling around his slim thigh. The other palm lays flat against Koby's back, claws snagging the material of the sweater, but not to rip or tear.
Mihawk huffs loudly, nosing against Koby's face before he's sliding his tongue out and against Koby's mouth. His tongue is big enough now that it mostly just winds up licking most of Koby's mouth. Mihawk tries again, this time just opening his jaws in Koby's face. Any other sane person would probably run for the hills. It's evident why Mihawk had been in so much pain: his mouth was filled with lethal fangs, even more than a regular wolf's. He snaps his jaws shut a second later, just barely in front of Koby's face before nudging his closed fangs against his mouth. Then he slips his tongue back out, more practiced and careful this time, and it takes no time at all before he's stuffing it inside of Koby's mouth.
Meanwhile, one of his claws between Koby's legs was rubbing up against his cunt, just- rubbing. Playing back and forth against the bend of the claw, letting his lips spread open against it. And by now, Koby no doubt would be able to feel or even see Mihawk's cock, already sliding out of its sheath, sopping and hard, and easily three times the size of any usual cock, and tapered at the tip, already leaking.)
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Yet there's no fear, no unease. Those huge clawed hands reach out and curl around his shivering, much smaller form, and all Koby can think about is how nothing in this world or their own -- no pirates, no sea beasts or monsters or pain or terror -- could touch him if Mihawk didn't allow it. He's always felt safe with Mihawk, of course, but there's a new level to it here, a full surrender that Koby didn't know was possible. It's the first time in his entire life he's felt no fear at all. No anxiety. No hypervigilance and constant awareness of his surroundings, always scoping out the best place to hide, just in case someone got violent.
Nothing can hurt him here, curled against Mihawk's muscled, furred chest, laughing softly at the slide of his (huge, soft, hot) tongue over his cheek and mouth. Koby reaches up fearlessly, strokes along Mihawk's muzzle, fingers brushing his deadly fangs before curling into the plush fur along his cheeks. The third attempt at a kiss is more successful, Mihawk's tongue pressing deep into Koby's mouth, sinuous and insistent. Koby obligingly lets it, opens his mouth as much as he can and moans around Mihawk's tongue, instinctively relaxing his throat.
The slide of that long, sleek claw up between his legs, similarly, should at least make Koby uneasy, but instead he all but purrs in satisfaction, rocking his hips and letting the smooth claw spread him open. He's throbbing, dripping with each slight movement, and Koby's ears and neck go deep red as he feels his own wetness streaking down the insides of his thighs.
When he pulls back to breathe, he sees Mihawk's cock -- huge, tapered, slick and hot to the touch. Because Koby's already touching, both hands unable to resist reaching out and stroking slowly from root to tip, teething his lower lip at the way he can practically feel Mihawk throbbing agaist his palms. He glances up, over the tops of his glasses, a slight glint of that cheeky cockiness he shows periodically.] Yeah. You've got -- a lot of tension to work though, huh? [Brat.]
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But no. Koby just embraced it, embraced Mihawk in every single way Mihawk came to him. From his cold, distant way of showing affection to his inane devotion to swords to the complicated dance that had been their relationship so far to this. This part of him that he hadn't even realized was starving so chronically for his lover. And now that it was happening, it felt so obvious. The wolf had to be fed just as the human did, and he had just been denying it another of its carnal instincts this entire time too. He let himself hunt and run, but he had never dreamt of this.
Which, really, is foolish. This part of him loved Koby just as much, just as fiercely, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Koby. Even maddened by the moon, Koby was right to trust Mihawk. Mihawk wouldn't let anything ruin this moment. He can sense Koby better, can sense his calmness, the genuine willingness and acceptance of the situation, and he loves him, he loves him endlessly, god, what an incredible creature.
Another low whine escapes him, pathetic in its own way, the part of Mihawk that always felt like he was crumbling to his metaphorical knees around Koby put on full display. He sinks his tongue deeper into Koby, down his throat, just slightly, no deeper than his cock usually went whenever Koby went down on him. But it's soon sliding back out because Mihawk had always been more interested in pleasuring Koby than taking pleasure from him.
He laps at Koby's throat, growling lowly. He pushed that claw up a little more, but it could only go so deep on its side. The touch to his cock his electric in this form and Mihawk's head snaps up, teeth barred, and he gives a horrifying growl, and perhaps to anyone else it might seem more of a threatening sound, but for Mihawk, it was a pure reaction.
Oh. Mihawk's eyes widen and then he huffs loudly before nipping at Koby's shoulder. His fangs are sharp enough that it likely draws blood, but not much and certainly not enough to leave a scar. It can't be helped like this. Just as soon as he has, he's latching his jaws around Koby's shoulder, locking on, and he does sink his teeth in. This time, maybe enough to scar, definitely enough to hurt, but not enough to kill. Harder than Mihawk likely would have done were he in his regular mind, but all that meant was that he was trusting Koby when Koby had said he didn't need to hold back. The wolf believed him.)
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Pirates were an easy thing to put into a box: murderers, monsters, tormentors. Koby had known that to his bones after two years with Alvida, two years he still didn't let himself think about. Yet there had been an exception: Luffy. A pirate who somehow perfectly personified everything Koby had dreamed about being for his entire life. A pirate who helped people who couldn't help themselves. It was an exception that nobody, not Helmeppo, not Garp, had seemed to understand. Until Mihawk. Until the Marine-allied Marine-killer had looked at Luffy and understood immediately what Koby had seen, and had made his choice accordingly. Now there were two exceptions to that staunch internal rule, and while Koby hadn't known what to make of that, he'd known that Dracule Mihawk was two things: a pirate who saw and respected the unique nature of Luffy, and a man who would not lie about anything he did, no matter the stakes.
The former had allowed Koby to let down his guard around Mihawk, and the latter had convinced him that whatever the motivation for their strange relationship was, Mihawk wouldn't hurt him. Mihawk was with him because he found Koby appealing, because he enjoyed their nights together, because that's what he'd said and Mihawk did not lie. Everything afterwards -- that first night falling asleep together, the first trip to the cabin, the daisies in Koby's room and the feeling of Mihawk squeezing the back of his neck and the pink pelt held so carefully in clawed hands -- had simply followed the path of that first cautious trust.
Now, even as Mihawk growls and the earth shakes, even as those deadly teeth nip at Koby's shoulder, prompting a drop of bright red blood to well up, there's no fear. Nothing but a dizzying swoop in Koby's stomach that's far closer to pleasure than pain, one that has him whimpering, shivering all over and dripping all over Mihawk's claw, curving smooth and sleek against his cunt. His hands tighten, stroking slowly over the wolf's massive cock, aching hollowly inside with how much he wants it. Mihawk's already big, and like this he's mindblowing, impossible and perfect and everything Koby didn't know he wanted.
Something else he didn't know he wanted -- that scorching hit of agony and bliss when those massive jaws clamp down on his shoulder, digging deep into his flesh, prompting blood to well up, paint Mihawk's teeth, his curled lips, soak his fur. It hurts, has an almost-sob tearing out of Koby's throat, but he knows being hurt, and there's a big difference between a blow across the face that he can't say a word against and this. This pain is something he chose, it belongs to him, nobody else got to decide on it but him. He asked, and the wolf gave it, trusting that Koby could handle it. Plus it's a visible claim, Mihawk's mark on him in a tangible way, something that'll ache and bruise and throb for days afterwards.
That thought alone makes the pain edge smoothly into pleasure, each one inflaming the other, and Koby suddenly can't stand not having Mihawk inside him somehow, his tongue or his cock or even that deadly, curving claw, he'll take anything, anything to fill him up. He's small enough in comparison to Mihawk's massive canine form that it's easy to gently pull away the clawed hand and guide the huge, slick cock between his thighs instead, nudged up against his swollen cunt.
Koby whines low in his throat, squeezing his knees together hard, keeping Mihawk's cock snugly against his drenched pussy, rocking his hips slightly to feel it slip smooth and hot against his clit. His hands curl into Mihawk's fur, so tight his knuckles go white, feeling his own blood soak the sweater. Slurring the words a bit, dizzy with need and pain and bliss:] S'all right, m'here. I-I'm here. All yours, see? M'all yours, Mihawk. Not g-going anywhere.
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The taste of Koby's blood might have made him turn away at any other point in his life as the result of guilt. He had never wanted to hurt Koby. But this wasn't hurting Koby in the way that others had hurt Koby. This hurt was a pact between them. An honest trust that it wouldn't go too far and that Mihawk would never really use this against Koby. After the bite, he unlatches his jaw so that he can lap up Koby's blood, a silent gesture of near-apology and honest affection. A dozen kisses.
Mihawk picks up immediately on what Koby wants. Instincts rattle through him that have him growling loudly, snapping his jaws, and trying his best to not just slam into Koby in one thrust. He almost never just fucked Koby without any proper foreplay, but this wasn't exactly their usual situation, and he could smell how much Koby wanted him, could feel his pliant his body already was.
Koby squeezing his thighs together around his cock and moving to ride it without riding it practically drives Mihawk over the edge. It's one of the hottest things Koby has ever done and all Mihawk can do is just keep growling and growling, panting loudly because holy fuck.
For a second, he lets his hips piston back and forth, fucking through Koby's thighs and rocking against the slick of his cunt. It's amazing, but it's not enough, not nearly enough. Mihawk suddenly seizes Koby again by the wait, his large claws curling around him entirely and he just whisks Koby up into the air. He stands to his full height, his fur bristling, cock swollen and upright in the air. He holds Koby as if he's lighter than air, and to Mihawk in this form, he is that light.
He lowers Koby down to grind his cunt against the tip of Mihawk's cock. Then he begins to push in, sliding Koby down inch by inch as if Koby was nothing more than a fleshlight. He goes slow enough to be careful, but doesn't stop. Doesn't stop as he pushes so deep inside of Koby that he begins to see a bit of his shape bumping up against Koby's stomach. Then Koby's completely wrapped around him with Mihawk buried as deep as possible inside of him, right to the base, and Mihawk's eyes are glittering. He holds Koby tightly, pulling him slowly off his cock, almost all the way, then he pulls him back down, careful, just to see how Koby could take it.)
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Mihawk had only needed to drag his long, hot tongue over Koby's neck, slide it into his mouth and Koby had firmly decided that the night wasn't ending before he had that mouth buried in his cunt, working him into a shuddering, whimpering mess. But honestly, between how soaked he already is and how slick Mihawk's huge cock is, there's really no actual need for foreplay. Besides, this is about satisfying the wolf, and the wolf would want to take Koby, knot him (breed him, something whispers in the back of his mind) and claim him before anything else.
So even though Koby could've easily gotten off just from the glide of Mihawk's hot, hard cock against his clit, would've if Mihawk hadn't scooped him off his feet, he's not that troubled by them going right to getting that same cock inside him. Mihawk's always lifted and carried him around like he weighed absolutely nothing, but there's something different about the wolf doing it -- something more wild, animal, an ease that draws a shuddery gasp from Koby. He tries to wrap his arms around Mihawk's neck, like he usually does in this position, but Mihawk's too huge now, so Koby grips at the fur of his chest instead, hooking his legs over the wolf's hips so he can keep them spread as wide as possible.
Not that Mihawk needs the help at all. The tapered tip of his cock slips inside Koby with almost no resistance, filling him up deep, just like he's used to -- and then he keeps going and logically Koby had known Mihawk was bigger in this form, but it's one thing to see it and another to have it slowly plunging into his body, deeper than he'd thought possible. Koby is barely aware of the sounds he's making -- whimpering, shuddering, almost sobbing ones, trying to draw in his breath and relax and let Mihawk in deeper and deeper and deeper. It's not painful, it's just so much, so far beyond what Koby had ever imagined and he's so full and gods and monsters and heaven and hell it's so fucking good.
Koby sobs out another gasping breath when Mihawk finally stops, comes to rest, so deep inside him that he can nearly feel that cock in his throat. One hand drops, pressing to his own shivering stomach and the sensation of feeling the shape of Mihawk inside has Koby's forehead dropping against one furry shoulder as he suddenly clamps down on the wolf's cock, squeezing tight, thighs quivering as he comes just from having Mihawk filling him up. He's still coming when the wolf's cock slides almost free, whimpering in loss, trying to work his bucking hips back down, hating being empty for even a second. Koby's still practically drenching Mihawk's cock, squirting around it, but he manages to almost snarl:] H-Harder.
[He'd said he could take it and by god he's going to.]
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Koby had a way of seducing Mihawk endlessly. Mihawk wasn't really one who was often interested in sex, but oh, Koby...
Could anyone truly blame him? With how beautiful he looked split open on Mihawk's cock, human or otherwise? The way he took him so effortlessly, so gladly?
Then he's begging for Mihawk to go harder and Mihawk nearly blacks out. He thrusts relentlessly against Koby, hard and without hesitance. His cock slips in and out of Koby effortlessly, glistening more and more between Koby's own orgasm and whatever precum was steadily pumping out of Mihawk.
Then all at once, he's gripping Koby and slamming him down hard onto his cock. When he comes, it's in a hot burst, thicker and far more in quantity than it has ever been when he was human. Enough that he can feel some of it seeping out of Koby, dripping down between them. It's not until that moment that Mihawk realizes he's been growling loudly for the past few seconds, snarling, but not at Koby. Rather at anything stupid enough to be within a mile of them or so. Mihawk huffs against Koby's neck, whining lowly, mouthing again at where he had bitten him earlier.
That's about when he begins to swell inside of Koby. Mihawk nestles closer, whining even louder, because suddenly it felt like a life-or-death situation of needing to just be as close as physically possible or else. The "or else" felt unlike anything Mihawk had ever felt before. Like the worst kind of threat, worse than death, worse than torture. He wasn't a man familiar with that kind of fear, but right then, he couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of a life without Koby. A life without them- without a family, without--)
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And then Mihawk's pressing even deeper, and Koby's nails dig in tight, his neck throbbing and his body arching up and his voice going high and sharp and pleading as the wolf (his mate, his, all his) releases inside him. He might be a little biased after all this time, but Koby can't imagine that anything in any world feels better than Mihawk knotting him, the stretch, the burn, the fullness of it. He's nearly sobbing at how good it is, face pressed to the wolf's furry shoulder, body nearly senseless with pleasure, shuddering and quivering.
The soft, earnest whimpers rumbling through Mihawk's enormous form rouse Koby from that hazy, blissful, fucked-out place, his fingers twitching, moving, clumsily stroking at the wolf's neck, cheek, up to his ears.] S'okay. M'here. [Koby can't quite open his eyes, can't move except to shiver and pet at Mihawk's fur, moving to kiss the underside of his jaw. He nuzzles where he can hear the wolf's hear racing, breathing raspy and heavy.] I'm here, Mihawk. Not going anywhere, not ever. Never.
[It's the sort of promise Koby wouldn't have made while in a clear headspace -- except maybe he would, maybe he means it more than he fears it, finally. Maybe the sense of contentment, of stability and safety and home is worth it. Maybe he can curl his fingers into Mihawk's fur and whisper against his fur:] I love you, so, so much.