Lycanroc crept through the woods, moving noiselessly save for the occasional rustling branch or leaf crushed beneath a paw. His head was raised ever so slightly, nose twitching, his ears perked for any signs of prey. It was definitely his least favourite part of the hunt, trying to actually find something. All sneaking and skulking, no action. He let out a slight growl, matched by the one in his stomach. It’d been a full day since he’d last caught anything, and that was one measly Pidgey. Whether it was something he was doing wrong or something in the area that’d driven off all the game, Lycanroc wasn’t certain, but he couldn’t spare the time to think about it. All he could do was keep hunting and hope he found something soon. If he did, wonderful, and if he didn’t… Well, it was best not to think about that. Suddenly, Lycanroc stopped, freezing in place save for the flicking of an ear. A faint murmur on the wind, barely perceptible but just strong enough to be picked up by his sharp ears, even if he couldn’t quite make out what it was. All he knew was that it was coming from the west. Claws snapping a branch below, Lycanroc turned, slipping through the trees towards the source of that noise. --- “I’ve had jusssst about enough of you!” As Lycanroc approached, the murmuring resolved into a voice. Specifically, a raspy, sibilant voice that seemingly couldn’t help but slip drawn-out hisses into every word that would accommodate. Definitely some kind of reptile, probably a snake. He couldn’t pin it down as male or female; reptiles tended to be tricky in that regard. “But why? What did I do?” Another voice, this one high and whiny, but distinctively male. Probably wasn’t a wild Pokémon, if the desperation in his voice was anything to judge by. More likely was he’d just been released by some coddling trainer who’d gotten tired of him. They rarely tended to last a week, and from what he was hearing, this one wasn’t going to last more than a few seconds. “What did you do?” The first voice let out a strange, warbling hiss, and Lycanroc couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be its equivalent to a laugh or if it was getting ready to attack. Knowing how the snakes he’d encountered were, it could very well have been both. “You want to know what you did?” Creeping across the forest floor, Lycanroc slipped behind a tree, pressing his back to the bark. He could hear the two talking just on the other side, just a few feet away. Certainly within eyeshot if he dared to show himself. Still, he wanted to know who he was dealing with. Taking a deep breath, he poked his head around the trunk and took in as much of the scene as he could from his hiding spot. As he’d expected, it was a snake. A hulking Arbok, thankfully angled away from him, because he was sure it was ready to sink its fangs into anything given even half a reason. “Yes?” The words sounded like whoever had spoken them was seconds away from breaking down into tears, but as he craned his neck to see over the foliage, Lycanroc could see that was inaccurate. It was a Sylveon, and judging from from the soaked fur on their face, he’d already been crying for a good while now. He looked positively tiny beneath the snake, cowering and shuddering with silent sobs, his ribbons raised up around him in some vain attempt at defence. It only took Lycanroc a second to figure out what he should do: go for the Arbok. Not out of any sense of protecting the weak and innocent, after all, Arceus knew he wasn’t a paragon of virtue. No, it was just common sense to take out another predator while their back was turned. A big meal for him, less competition, and it was doubtful the Sylveon was going to raise any complaints. The Arbok reared their head back, fangs glistening with poison and tail whipping as they prepared to strike. They never got the chance, the sound of shifting leaves their only warning before a pair of furry arms slammed into them from behind, slamming their head to the ground in a flying tackle. Stunned from the impact, all Arbok could muster in response to the attack was a frantic flail, tail slapping against the ground as they tried their best to worm their way out of their assailant’s grasp. If Lycanroc had been less experienced, it might’ve even been enough, but this wasn’t his first time dealing with a snake. He clamped his clawed hands tightly around the snake’s mouth, ensuring that its fangs would stay right in his mouth where they belonged. Lycanroc’s fangs, however, belonged elsewhere, so he sunk them straight into the snake’s neck. It didn’t take long. Even for a strong predator like Arbok, there was only so much you could do when you were pinned, and there was even less you could do when the one pinning you was biting a chunk out of the back of your neck. Tails whipped and claws flew, but in the end, Arbok was left lying still on the ground with Lycanroc’s muzzle still clamped tightly just below his head. Lycanroc slackened his jaw, teeth slipping out from between the scales of the limp snake beneath him, then raised his head to check for any other opportunists that might want to take a shot at him or swipe his kill. With blood dripping from his jowls and eyes glowing red in the dimness of the forest, he was quite a sight to behold. One would have to be brave indeed to dare challenge such a ferocious predator. Which is why it was so surprising to see the Sylveon still there, not an inch out of place, staring at him. But the shock wore off quickly. It wasn’t an exceptionally unusual response. He’d seen it in Deerling before, freezing up when they panicked, too scared to even move until they were already being ripped apart. Lycanroc was tempted to do the same here, but he was going to have more than his fill of Arbok for the time being. Instead, hunching down low over his newest meal and raising his hackles, Lycanroc bared his still-bloody teeth at the Sylveon and let out a warning growl. The Sylveon didn’t move, just kept staring, and Lycanroc noticed something. He’d tracked, hunted, and killed more Pokémon than he could count. Near every time, he’d had to look them in the eyes at least once, and he always saw the same thing right before they went dull and glassy. Fear. It was obvious, distinguishable, even comfortable in its familiarity. He knew it when he saw it. That’s what unsettled him, and why he found his hackles raised not as a show of threat, but out of apprehension. It wasn’t fear he saw in those eyes. It was admiration. “You saved me,” Sylveon whispered, voice thick with reverence. A paw inched forward towards him, and Lycanroc felt the strangest urge to step back from it. Quashing it down, he lashed out in a bite instead, teeth swishing through the air and slamming together with a snap. The message was clear, and Sylveon drew back his paw, but didn’t retreat. Ribbons twisted slowly in the air above him, not a hint of fear contained in their motions, though a fair bit of what might’ve been curiosity. Lycanroc wouldn’t consider himself a man of few words as much as a man of none. His language was the grunting, panting, and screaming of battle, and even then he preferred to be on the more silent end. But he was still fully capable of speech, even if he rarely indulged in it, and responded to the Sylveon with a single word. “Leave.” His voice was deep and guttural, barely distinguishable from the growl that preceded it. Sylveon’s face sank, his snub muzzle twisting into a frown and his once lively ribbons drooping low and dragging along the ground. Those big eyes stared at him, starting to glisten with tears, but Lycanroc was unmoved. In his position, you couldn’t afford to pity the weak; you defended what was yours or you had it taken from you. Seeing that his pleading wasn’t going to work on the wolf, Sylveon hung his head and turned, slinking off into the woods with his tail between his legs. Alone again at last, Lycanroc wasted no time tearing into his prize, ripping a chunk out of the Arbok’s body and swallowing it with barely any care given to chewing it. Lean times called for thorough measures, and he was nothing if not thorough, methodically stripping every bit of meat clinging to the snake until nothing was left but a long, white skeleton, splattered with touches of gore and surrounded by inedible entrails. Enamoured with his meal, Lycanroc didn’t even notice a pair of blue eyes staring down at him from the canopy above. --- Rumbling slightly, Lycanroc awoke, shifting around on the pile of leaves he’d heaped together as a sort of makeshift bed. After a hunt, there was precious little to do but hunt more or sleep to conserve energy, and he’d chosen the latter. He’d had the good fortune of finding an uninhabited cave, and he was making the most of the relative safety it provided before some stronger Pokémon took it from him. Crawling to his feet and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lycanroc peeked out from the mouth of the cave, only to stiffen in shock. From what little he could see of the sky through the canopy, it seemed to be midday. That, however, was not what caused him such surprise. That honour belonged to the dead Spearow lying at his feet. Reaching down, Lycanroc grabbed the bird by a wing, dangling it in the air and inspecting it. Blood stained the ruff of feathers around its neck, and the telltale marks of teeth in the back of its neck told him all he needed to know. The bird was definitely killed intentionally, but that didn’t answer the intention of why it was there. Had the Pokémon that killed it got chased off by someone else? The haze of early morning grogginess was pushed aside by the possible threat of another predator in the area. Lowering the Spearow, Lycanroc squinted out into the treeline, scanning the bushes. It didn’t take him long to notice the figure hunched between two shrubs, its pink and white fur brought into stark contrast by the green foliage. It noticed him, too, standing up as soon as it’d caught his eye. Sylveon strutted towards him with ribbons undulating through the air above, an excited look in his eye and a giddy smile plastering his muzzle. Lycanroc could even see his pink tail whipping back and forth behind him, positively overjoyed at the wolf’s presence. The smaller Pokémon came to a stop a few feet in front of him, giving him a wide berth out of what must’ve been respect, because it certainly wasn’t fear. Lycanroc was too stunned to even glare at the fairy, so he settled for just gawking at it, eyes bugged open. He jerked the Spearow in front of him, holding it out for Sylveon’s inspection, though the pink Pokémon didn’t even glance at it. “You did this?” “Yep!” Sylveon’s voice was just as cloyingly happy and excited as the rest of him. “It’s a thank you for saving me. Do you like it?” Lycanroc’s eyes shifted from Sylveon to the Spearow, then back again. His first instinct was to drop the bird and go after the fairy, tear his throat out and have a nice breakfast, but he resisted the urge. He might be able to do something with this. “Can you get more?” “Do you want me to?” Sylveon’s voice was bursting with enthusiasm, just like the rest of him. He bounced from paw to paw, eager for Lycanroc to tell him what to do. Lycanroc wasn’t the type given to relying on others, but at the same time, he wasn’t the type to waste an opportunity. It wasn’t often that you had a Pokémon at your beck and call, practically begging for you to command them. Might as well make the most of it. After all, if the little fairy got pounced and eaten while he was out running the wolf’s errands, it was no skin off his back. “Yes. Go.” The words had barely left his mouth before Sylveon turned and dashed into the woods, barrelling through the bushes and disappearing from sight. Lycanroc could hear him tearing through the underbrush, the sound gradually fading out to nothing as he gained distance. Things seemed almost serene now that the fairy was gone. After enjoying the silence for a moment, Lycanroc turned his gaze back to the Spearow clutched in his claws. A good way to start off what was sure to be an interesting day, he thought, ripping off a wing and crunching the bones between his teeth. --- Lycanroc bounded forwards on all fours, tongue lolling out and claws slicing through the grass below. In front of him, a Furret was desperately trying to hold on to the distance it had between itself and the predator behind, a distance that he was rapidly closing. Their chase weaved around trees and rocks, every turn shortening the gap between them a little more, until the Furret’s tail was less than a foot away from Lycanroc’s gnashing jaws. But then, the Furret took a turn that he didn’t expect; not left or right, but straight down, disappearing into the ground. Running towards the spot, Lycanroc got to see the last inch of the Pokémon’s furry tail slip into the conveniently placed hole. A burrow. Sticking his head into the passage, Lycanroc snapped his teeth in hopes that he could grab a hold of the Furret and yank it back out, but caught nothing but air. Nose flaring with both exertion and irritation, Lycanroc sat at the edge of the burrow, trying to catch his breath. It was ridiculous. This was the only game he’d seen all day, and it’d led him on an hour long chase only for him to come away empty-handed. It was hardly the first time something like this had happened to him, not even the twelfth, but it never got any easier to deal with. The march back to his cave was a stew of hunger and frustration, multiplying and compounding on each other until the feelings escaped him as a constant, low growl and clenched fists at his sides. If a Rhydon wanted to pick a fight with him at that moment, Lycanroc probably would’ve torn its horn off of its head and shoved it right back in the other end. As he approached the mouth of the cave, he swore that he was going to kill the next Pokémon he saw. Of course, it was hard to make good on his promise, because the next Pokémon he saw was already dead. A Pidgey, the back of its neck bloodied and marked by teeth the same way the Spearow earlier that morning had been. Behind it, three more were piled up, all killed in a similar fashion. Splatters of blood coated the rocky ground, the scent somehow managing not to attract any scavengers. That, however, was the last thing on Lycanroc’s mind. The first thing on his mind was hunger. Grabbing one of the bodies, he sunk his teeth into its middle, ripping out its belly and lapping at the wound. As Lycanroc tore into his newest meal, Sylveon slipped through the bushes, cradling something in his ribbons. Yet another Pidgey, dead as the others, but he carried it carefully as if it were only asleep. Looking up from his newest catch, Sylveon spotted Lycanroc gorging himself at the entrance to the cave. Sparing a moment to wipe a speck of blood from his snout, he padded over as quickly as he could without jostling his feathery cargo. “Hi, Lycanroc,” Sylveon said, beaming up at him with those big, blue eyes and a small smile. Lycanroc glanced back at him, only offering a grunt in response before continuing to tear into the Pidgey. Sylveon gently placed the bird in his ribbons next to the others, while Lycanroc buried his muzzle ever deeper into the guts of the one in his hands. “I had a question for you.” Lycanroc didn’t even acknowledge that Sylveon was speaking at first, but when he saw the other Pokémon’s expression, he paused. For the first time since their encounter with the Arbok, Sylveon looked nervous. His ribbons were down at his chest, fiddling with his bow, and he wouldn’t meet Lycanroc’s gaze. Maybe the fairy had finally realised exactly what kind of Pokémon he was dealing with? “Can I stay with you?” Lowering the half-eaten bird from his mouth, Lycanroc fixed Sylveon with a glare that would make most any other Pokémon turn tail and run, only exacerbated by the blood coating his snout and neck fur. Yet the only reaction it drew from Sylveon was an anxious squirming. Not anxiety at his intimidating appearance, though: anxiety at the possibility of being rejected. “Why.” Lycanroc’s tone made it sound less like a question and more like a dismission, but to Sylveon, anything short of outright rejection meant there was a possibility. “Because, I brought you all of these,” Sylveon said, pointing at the pile of bodies with a ribbon. At first, it sounded like he had to force out every word, but he quickly built up steam until they were gushing out of him in a breathless tide. “And you saved me earlier, and I really like you, and I want to be close to you!” Sylveon looked up from the ground, and Lycanroc could see the desperation in those eyes. “Please?” Lycanroc’s jaws crunched around a mouthful of feathers and bone while he considered Sylveon’s words. The fairy giving him free food was one thing, but actually sleeping in his cave was another. Then again, if he said no, he might drive the Sylveon off and lose out on a good thing. Besides, if he stopped being useful, he could always eat him. “Fine,” Lycanroc said, a speck of cartilage flying from his mouth as he spoke. The word drew a squeal of delight from Sylveon, and his ribbons flew out to encircle the wolf in a hug. Raising his hackles, Lycanroc growled as one of the things approached, his muscles tensing and claws drawing up in a way that made it very clear exactly what would happen if it touched him. Sylveon drew them back with clear reluctance, but it put only a momentary damper on his excitement. “I can’t wait to see what the inside of your cave is like, and get to sleep inside of your cave with you there, and we can talk about stuff and you can teach me how to be cool like you, and—” While Sylveon blathered on, he reached for another Pidgey. He could talk as much as he wanted, Lycanroc thought, as long as he pulled his weight. And if he didn’t… The Pidgey’s spine cracked and popped under Lycanroc’s jaws. --- It was dark this time of night, the only illumination being whatever moonlight managed to filter past the trees and through the cave entrance. That faint light was more than enough for Lycanroc to see by, and he was staring intently at the opposite side of the cave. Two eyes shined in the gloom, staring right back at him. “Stop,” Lycanroc growled. “Stop what?” Sylveon replied, sounding genuinely confused. “Looking.” “Oh! Sorry.” Sylveon’s eyes turned away, but Lycanroc’s didn’t. Not even a minute passed before he saw them glance back towards him, moonlight flashing against blue before whipping back as soon as they met his red, glowing gaze. It’d been like this for the past half hour. Once Sylveon had formed his own pile of leaves to sleep on, Lycanroc making sure that it was placed on the other side of the cave as far away from his own as possible, they’d both laid down to sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Every instinct in Lycanroc’s body told him that it was unsafe to rest with someone else there, that he needed to chase the intruder away. Only adding to his insomnia was the fact that Sylveon seemed to be having a similar problem. The fairy hadn’t shut his eyes for a moment, just stared at him. Lycanroc wasn’t sure that he’d even blinked. Even now, he was still trying to sneak glances, his attempts at stealth ruined by the gentle blue glow of his eyes. What did he want? Was he just waiting for him to fall asleep? Why? Lycanroc had no idea. It was a stand off that neither one of them was acknowledging, and he was sick of it. Five minutes. If things didn’t get better in five minutes, oh, he was gonna— “Can I sleep with you?” Sylveon’s hushed whispering flushed away Lycanroc’s anger and replaced it with confusion. It must’ve shown on his face, since the fairy rushed to add, “Not in a weird way! It’s just that, just that I…” Sylveon stopped, then let out a frustrated growl, the words for what he wanted to say not coming to him. “I want to- want to touch you. Please.” Ah, so that’s how it was. Now that was an interesting idea. Lycanroc hadn’t mated in what felt like an eternity, and that partner had been somewhat less than willing. The idea of the little Sylveon actually wanting to do something like that to him… his muzzle split into a toothy grin at the thought. “Sure,” Lycanroc said, shifting back slightly to make room on his bed. Sylveon shot to his feet, but the steps he took towards the wolf were halting, paws shaking with every stride. Lycanroc looked on with a smirk. Was the poor thing really that nervous? He couldn’t be farther from the truth. Sylveon wasn’t nervous, he was trying to contain himself, something that became clear when he failed miserably. Sprinting forward, Sylveon threw himself onto the bed, hugging his forelegs around the wolf and burying his muzzle into shock of white fur on his chest. Even having expected it, Lycanroc couldn’t help but tense up at the contact, instinctively baring his teeth as pink ears flopped against his face. “Oh, Arceus,” Sylveon mumbled, nuzzling the larger Pokémon’s chest and pressing up against him. Lycanroc could even feel him purring, the sound reverberating through their intertwined bodies. He had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant. Relaxing slightly, Lycanroc let his paws slide over to the back of the little pink ‘mon clutched around him. He ran his digits through the pure white fur there, and could feel Sylveon shudder at his touch. “I, ngh!” Sylveon tried to speak, but it morphed into a groan as he felt the tips of Lycanroc’s claws graze across his skin, just enough pressure to let him know they were there without drawing blood. Lycanroc could feel Sylveon’s hot breath against his chest, the little thing panting as if he’d just run a marathon. He’d never known anyone could get this excited just from being touched, but it was infectious. Lycanroc let out a low, rumbling growl as he slid his hands lower, coming to a stop on the fairy’s hinds. Sylveon squeaked as they clenched down around him, kneading the muscle there, claws poking into his flanks. It was uncomfortable, and his legs tensed up at the possessive grabbing and the sharp prodding, but Sylveon somehow wanted more. “Please,” Sylveon breathed, blatantly grinding his front against Lycanroc’s. The wolf could feel something poking into his belly, sliding wetly against his fur. Shifting his paws from the Sylveon’s backside to under his shoulders, Lycanroc lifted him up into the air, drawing a surprised mew from the fairy. Sure enough, the fairy’s sheath was already filling out between his legs, a string of precum connecting his half extended cock to where it’d been leaking against the wolf’s stomach. Smirking at the sight but saying nothing, Lycanroc lowered the Pokémon back to the ground in front of him, shifting a hand to the back of Sylveon’s head and shoving it between his thighs. Sylveon let out a gasp as his nose pressed up against the sheath there, slightly swollen but still concealing the wolf’s member. Instructions were unnecessary. Resting his paws on Lycanroc’s thighs, Sylveon buried his snout into Lycanroc’s sheath, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. A wonderfully potent scent filled his nostrils, earthy and reeking of the feral virility of a wolf. He couldn’t suppress a shudder, didn’t even attempt to, instead opening his mouth to lick at the outside of the sheath while his nose stayed buried inside to better huff that scent. Lycanroc let out a pleased rumble above, pressing against Sylveon’s head a little less and focusing more on rubbing his hand through the pink fur between his ears. He’d forgotten how good it could feel to have someone’s mouth down there. The feeling of that tongue lapping against him, breath pouring over his tip as it started to poke free of his sheath… he was certain that they’d need to do this more often. Sylveon didn’t seem to disagree. His nose had been shoved aside by the wolf’s emerging cock, but that only left more for his mouth to work with. So far, only a couple inches had slid free, so Sylveon was easily able to fit the whole thing into his muzzle and bury his nose into Lycanroc’s groin. He pulled in air through his nose, savouring the musky scent saturating the swath of pubic fur there, then exhaled through his mouth, hot breath washing over the steadily growing dick resting against his tongue. At the rate things were going, Sylveon could only keep his lips wrapped around the wolf’s sheath for so long before his mouth simply ran out of room. Once he felt pressure against the entrance to his throat, threatening to slip inside, Sylveon pulled off with a gasp, burying his snout in the crook of Lycanroc’s thigh while the wolf’s cock rubbed against his cheek. It was only a little over half extended, the bulge of his knot still out of sight. Not one to rest on his laurels, Sylveon slipped his head lower, shoving his nose against the thickly furred sack resting just below. He spared a moment to sniff deeply, filling his head with more of Lycanroc’s scent. It was sharper, saltier than his sheath was. Unsurprising, considering his balls had to dangle between his thighs all day while he ran around, soaked with sweat. Pulling back just enough to move his snout up, Sylveon opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across the two orbs there, feeling them shift under his touch. Lycanroc leaned back on his hands while the fairy worked busily between his thighs, tongue-bathing his balls while his cock continued to slip out of his sheath, sliding against the fairy’s bow and smearing it with saliva. Reaching forward, Lycanroc grabbed the two fluffy ears poking up from either side of his crotch with one paw, rubbing them against his dick. He could feel the last bit of his knot coaxed free from the stimulation, a spurt of pre dribbling out of his cock and smearing against the pink fur surrounding it. Lifting his head up from between his legs, Sylveon looked up at Lycanroc. His eyes were lidded with pleasure, snout smeared with sweat and spit from his work between the wolf’s thighs, but there was something else there. Something about the gleam in his eye, the way his pupils focused, it was almost… Predatory. Lycanroc didn’t even have time to let the smile drop from his face before four ribbons shot out, each one wrapping around a wrist or an ankle, pushing him down and jerking apart so he was spread eagle on the ground. Trying to yank himself out of their grip was as fruitless as trying to rip a tree out of the ground; they might have looked like they were made of cloth, but they were as strong as steel. While he struggled with his bondage, Sylveon looked down at him with an expression that was all too familiar to Lycanroc. It was one that he’d made in the past, moments before pouncing on unsuspecting prey. He’d never thought he’d be on the other end of that stare. He swore he could feel it, those eyes burning holes right through him that filled with cold dread. It made him struggle all the harder, thrashing and jerking against his restraints, but Sylveon stopped him with a single paw placed on his abdomen. He laid it down with all the grace that befit a pink, frilly Pokémon, grace that belied the immense weight behind it. It felt as if a thousand-pound boulder had been dropped onto his gut. Letting out a wheeze, Lycanroc went limp against the ribbons holding him, and the paw lifted. Satisfied that his message was received, Sylveon turned his attention back to his goal. Even after all the struggling, Lycanroc’s cock was still fully erect, lying stiff against his belly on a bed of white fur. Sylveon reached towards it with a paw, and Lycanroc flinched, but it touched down onto him with far more care than last time. Sylveon ran his pads across its surface slowly, carefully, feeling it twitch in response to his touch. “Mine,” Sylveon whispered, still gently stroking, staring at him like he was a piece of meat. Lycanroc wanted to protest, wanted to do a whole lot more than protest, wanted to show the little pink fairy exactly who belonged to who. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. All he could do was lie there and take it. Flashing him a grin with entirely too much teeth, Sylveon lowered his head, pressing the side of his snout up against the base of Lycanroc’s dick. Slowly, savouring every moment, he let his mouth drop open, his tongue slipping out until it was resting right where sheath gave way to knot. Making sure not to break eye contact, Sylveon dragged his tongue forward, running it over the slight bulge of his dormant knot and up along his shaft until it finally flicked along his head. A bead of pre smeared itself across Sylveon’s lips, drawing a shiver out of both of them for entirely different reasons. “Do you like this?” Sylveon asked. “You like this.” Sylveon hadn’t even paused before answering for him, because his answer didn’t matter. That was his opinion now. If Lycanroc said otherwise, then Sylveon would do whatever it took to change his mind, until he was screaming how much he liked it while tears ran down his cheeks. Lycanroc wanted to say exactly how much he didn’t like it, but instead, he bit his tongue. He bit it until he could taste blood. At least then it was still in his body, which he couldn’t say about the alternative. As he returned for yet another lick, Sylveon couldn’t help but marvel at the cock under him. It had to be at least as long as his leg, to say nothing of its thickness. His thoughts wandered down to that knot, large even in its uninflated state. Nuzzling against it, feeling it throb in response to his touches, he couldn’t help but wonder. How big would it get? How would it feel inside him, locking them together at the hip while he was pumped full of the wolf’s cum? A fantasy, of course. Lycanroc was far too big to even fit inside him, let alone knot him. But that wasn’t going to stop Sylveon from worshipping every inch of him. Wrapping his lips around the tip of the cock in front of him, Sylveon set a paw on either side of its base and squeezed, dragging them upward. It throbbed in his grip, and a spurt of precum splattered across his tongue. Sylveon sucked a sharp breath through his nose, surprised in the best possible way. There was so much of it! A smaller Pokémon like him would be proud to produce even half this amount, and they’d barely even gotten started. He swallowed it down, feeling the slick stuff coat every inch of his mouth before sliding down his throat. Every inch of his tongue was soaked through with that strong, masculine musk, and Sylveon was sure that he’d never get the taste out. Not that he’d want to. All he wanted to do was spend all day with his head buried here, licking, pleasuring, smelling and tasting Lycanroc, Lycanroc, Lycanroc. Smiling, Sylveon worked his paws even faster. Lycanroc let out a grunt and tried to buck his hips, but found the ribbons looped around his ankles too tight to do even that. Sylveon barely noticed, completely focused on stroking and swallowing. It didn’t matter that he could hardly keep up with the output anymore. Pre leaked out of the corners of his packed-full mouth, his cheeks bulging with liquid arousal. Lycanroc looked down at the fairy gorging himself between his thighs, not able to do a thing about it. He hated it, hated the lack of control, but couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move, couldn’t say a word in protest, couldn’t even keep his body from reacting to every one of Sylveon’s touches. Even now, his cock throbbed mindlessly into Sylveon’s maw, spurting out yet another jet of pre that oozed down over his chin. It was torture, and it had no right to feel this good. Sylveon’s eyes flicked up to his, blue eyes burning with ferocious desire, and Lycanroc turned his head away. He couldn’t bear to meet that gaze. But he felt paws touch down onto him, walking across his chest like a big, furry carpet, before one grabbed his chin and yanked his head back. He had no choice but to look, to see that that fairy towering over him like a big, pink god. Sylveon smiled at him, then pushed his snout up against Lycanroc’s, sealing their lips together and flooding the wolf’s maw with a mouthful of his own juices. Lycanroc yipped in surprise, but it was muffled into a high hum by the kiss. He could feel pre ooze from Sylveon’s mouth into his own, the fairy’s tongue working busily to shovel more of it over, stopping occasionally to wrestle with the wolf’s own. Lycanroc had never tasted his own fluids like this before. It was strangely familiar, musky, but with a slight sweetness from the fairy’s saliva. He wanted to spit it out, but with Sylveon’s muzzle blocking any avenue of escape, all he could do was let it pool in his mouth and burn its flavour into his taste buds. Apparently satisfied, Sylveon gave Lycanroc’s lips a parting lick before pulling back, admiring the mix of fluids glistening on the wolf’s muzzle in the dim light. Lycanroc turned his head to spit, but a paw grabbed his muzzle and pinned it against his chest. He strained to look up, and could see Sylveon staring down at him, his smile replaced by a look of dire intensity. “Swallow it.” Sylveon said it so flatly, so evenly, that it didn’t sound like a command at all. Somehow, that made it all the more terrifying. Lycanroc swallowed, trying his hardest to keep a straight face but finding himself grimacing at the slimy texture. Thankfully, the fairy didn’t seem to mind, judging by his uncanny, wide-eyed smile. “Good boy.” A dainty pink paw touched down on top of his head and tussled his mane, and Lycanroc’s ears flattened at the sensation. Sylveon either didn’t notice his discomfort or didn’t care, reaching around to scratch behind his ear. The pressure pinning his muzzle lightened slightly, the paw there now stroking up and down along his snout. “Such a good boy.” Lycanroc did his best to contain himself, but inside his tightly clenched muzzle, his teeth were grinding against each other and it was a struggle to keep himself from growling. Being demeaned like this, treated like he was some sort of pup, it made him want to bite, to claw, to kill. But he couldn’t do any of it. He could only lie there while this little pink nothing had his way with him. It was infuriating. Judging from the fanged grin on Sylveon’s face, he knew exactly how Lycanroc felt, and was relishing every moment of it. A paw gave his nose a parting boop before the Sylveon sidled back, finally done petting him. The relief was fleeting, as the fairy’s attention turned back to what was between his legs. Lycanroc’s erection had waned slightly, neglected as it was. Sylveon, finding this unacceptable, immediately laid into it with his mouth. That tongue flew over his length like it was a melting popsicle, down to his knot and back around to his tip over and over, sliding over every curve and into every crevice. Before long, he was fully swollen once again, dripping a steady stream of pre that Sylveon eagerly lapped up. But instead of continuing to lick at his shaft, Sylveon’s tongue started to work its way lower. It lingered on his knot for a moment, curling around it, then dipped below to lap at its underside. Lycanroc moaned, unable to contain himself as he felt the soft, wet pressure of the fairy’s tongue pushing against the root of his dick. Sylveon didn’t stop there. Dipping even lower, he slipped his tongue into the sheath there, sliding in beside the cock inside. It was tight in there, the slick skin inside squeezing against him, but it stretched readily if he pressed hard enough. Sylveon had already smelled the wolf’s sheath and tasted the residue of it on his shaft, but actually sticking his tongue inside was an entirely different experience. The taste of lupine musk was potent enough to make him gasp, drawing in even more of his scent in the process. It made his head spin, his tongue tingle, and purged everything from his mind but the need to get more of it. Lycanroc squirmed, letting out huffs and small noises that steadily grew in pitch and volume as Sylveon dug deeper into his sheath. He’d never felt anything like this before; the inside of his sheath wasn’t something that he’d bothered with, aside from the occasional cleaning, but having a tongue in there felt even better than it had on his cock. Pre drooled freely across his belly, soaking into the fur there and dripping over his sides onto the floor, totally ignored by the hyper-focused Sylveon. It only got worse as Sylveon got more and more eager, never seeming to get enough of his flavour. Lycanroc could feel his sheath starting to loosen under the fairy’s assault, his tongue slipping in deeper and with greater ease as he worked, seeming to have infinite stamina. Eventually, Sylveon could go no further, tongue reaching an internal wall that left Lycanroc’s toes curling whenever he glanced against it. “Good enough,” Sylveon murmured, squeezing the slack skin of Lycanroc’s sheath with a paw, a mixture of saliva and natural moisture that reeked of musk bubbling out in response. Lycanroc tongue lolled out of his mouth, panting from the feeling of getting licked in places he didn’t even know he had, but those words snapped him out of his reverie. Good enough for what? It didn’t seem like Sylveon was going to explain, but Lycanroc got a pretty good idea what he meant when the fairy straddled his hips, his cock rubbing against the base of the wolf’s own. “Wanna feel, wanna feel, wanna feel,” Sylveon whispered, repeating the mantra to himself over and over while he aligned the tip of his member with the lip of Lycanroc’s sheath. He couldn’t get a good view of what was going on from where he was lying, but Lycanroc could feel something wet poking around under his knot, and he couldn’t help but give a panicked jerk against the ribbons holding him. That turned out to be a bad idea. As soon as he pulled against them, they pulled back, a sharp and powerful tug that threatened to dislocate his shoulders. He let out a pained bark, but Sylveon didn’t even acknowledge it, Lycanroc’s feeble escape attempt already gone from his mind. Right now, he was an afterthought, a distraction from what Sylveon was really interested in below his waist. If he kept struggling, Lycanroc didn’t doubt that he would become separate from it. “Good boy,” Sylveon mumbled, feeling the wolf go slack in his ribbons. His tail wagged excitedly behind him while he humped away, grinding against the larger Pokémon and poking around between his legs. Lycanroc’s cock dwarfed his own by at least three or four times, which was good. He’d need all the space he could get. Finally managing to wedge the head of his erection between the wolf’s knot and sheath, Sylveon started to slide forward. A high whine forced its way out of Lycanroc as his sheath was stretched open by Sylveon’s cock, one that would sound more appropriate coming from a bitch in heat than a proud wolf like him. But he supposed right now, tied up by a domineering little fairy and getting penetrated like this, he was more like a bitch than anything else. Lycanroc forced the thoughts from his head with a growl, shaking his head. Just because he was being treated like a bitch didn’t mean he had to think like one. He held onto that thought as Sylveon forced another quarter-inch of cock into his sheath, his growl shifting into a mewl. Sylveon’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, breath rushing over it as he panted. It felt so much better than he expected. The skin of Lycanroc’s sheath stretched just enough for him to enter, then pressed down on him like it didn’t want him to leave, squishing his cock up against the wolf’s. Sylveon could hear the little noises Lycanroc made as he worked deeper, and he knew that even if he hated being tied up, hated being treated like this, the wolf loved the feeling of being penetrated like this. “Tell me how much you like this,” Sylveon shrieked, pushing another fraction of his dick into the wolf’s sheath. Halfway there. “Tell me, tell me!” Lycanroc opened his mouth, but all that came out of was a moan. The feeling of even more Sylveon cock working its way into him, stretching him open, frotting against the deepest parts of his own dick every step of the way… it was hard to even think, let alone speak. But still, he wanted— no, didn’t want to, but had to respond. “It’s—” Lycanroc started, stopping to whimper as another inch slid into him, his own cock spurting a jet of pre onto his stomach, “it’s good!” “Oh yeah?” Sylveon had managed to fit almost all of his cock inside of Lycanroc, only his knot remaining outside, butting up against the lips of his sheath insistently. “Then you won’t mind if I speed up?” He didn’t wait for an answer before rearing his hips back, drawing back out of Lycanroc’s sheath with far less difficulty than he’d had been going in. That didn’t make it feel any less intense, and Lycanroc found himself letting out a loud yelp as the fairy’s cock dragged back against his dick and inner walls. It wasn’t getting any easier, like his body couldn’t adjust to having another Pokémon shove themselves in there, and going faster only made the sensations even stronger. “Louder!” Sylveon shouted, shoving himself back inside just as roughly, apparently done taking his time to break Lycanroc in. He didn’t have a chance to disobey, a scream already tearing through his throat as that knot bumped up against his sheath. At least it covered up the sounds of fluid squelching out of his sheath, a mix of saliva and an ever-growing amount of precum that dribbled down over his balls. Sylveon let out a moan of his own, starting to thrust in earnest. Every time he pulled out, Lycanroc whimpered, and every time he thrust back in, Lycanroc yipped. He had gotten a bit more control over the sounds he made, if only in that he wasn’t shrieking anymore, but Sylveon could tell from the dripping, sticky mess he’d made of his stomach that he was still feeling everything just as strongly as before. There was only so long Sylveon could last. With the hectic pace he’d set and the crushing tightness of Lycanroc’s sheath, he found himself rapidly approaching his peak. Judging from the way his knot had swollen and the way Sylveon could feel his cock twitching inside of his sheath, Lycanroc was just as close. But Sylveon was the first to blow. With a loud keen of pleasure, he jammed himself as deeply as he could into Lycanroc’s sheath, dick pulsing wildly. Lycanroc could feel it once, twice, then a gush of wet warmth filling him up. Already filled to near capacity by the other Pokémon’s cock, he could only contain two shots of Sylveon’s seed before it started spurting back out, splattering against the underside of his knot and trickling down the insides of his thighs. Through it all, Lycanroc’s own dick throbbed over and over against his soaked belly, but he managed to hold back. He didn’t want to cum, not while the Sylveon was penetrating him, treating him like a bitch. It seemed like the only way to hang on to what dignity he had left. “Do you want my knot?” Sylveon’s words were manic even through his orgasm, on the verge of screaming. Lycanroc could think of nothing he wanted less. If he forced that knot inside, then— “Say yes!” Those ribbons tightened threateningly against him, and he knew that any other word came out of his mouth, it would be his last. “Yes!” Lycanroc hissed through his teeth. Sylveon’s hips slammed forward, his partially inflated knot barely fitting into Lycanroc’s sheath. Once it was inside, it immediately started swelling to its full size, pressing against the wolf’s cock with almost crushing pressure and preventing a single drop of the fairy’s cum from escaping. He could feel the inside of his sheath stretching out, straining to contain all of Sylveon’s orgasm. That was enough to push him over the edge. Letting out a loud howl, Lycanroc’s own knot ballooned as his dick started to shoot white cum into his belly fur. Apparently unsatisfied with fucking his sheath until he came all over himself, Sylveon grabbed a lock of his mane and tugged his head forward, pressing the wolf’s muzzle up against his still spurting cock. “Drink!” Lycanroc’s mouth parted slightly, and Sylveon forced him onto it, jamming a good third of his dick into his mouth. Thick, salty cum flooded his mouth, even worse than the mouthful of pre from earlier if only because of the sheer volume of the stuff. His mind only registered Sylveon’s command by the time his cheeks were bulging with all the seed packed into his maw, and he gulped it down desperately, trying not to focus on the texture or the familiar, masculine flavour. But there was so much of it! It was difficult to keep up, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until it started spurting back out from between his lips. Thankfully, Sylveon seemed satisfied with the amount he’d managed to swallow, and jerked his head back off of his cock. The final blasts of his orgasm splattered across his snout, dripping down across his face, nicely complimenting the mouthful of cum oozing down across his chin. “Good boy,” Sylveon whispered, his voice soft and breathy in a way that made Lycanroc’s fur stand on end. Sylveon collapsed forward onto him, burying his snout into the wolf’s neck fur, drawing a yip out of him as the fairy’s knot shifted and tugged against his sheath. As soon as Sylveon touched down onto Lycanroc’s chest, it was like the fairy had become a completely different Pokémon. Ribbons unwrapped themselves from around his limbs, instead draping themselves across him like the mundane cloth they so resembled. Their owner was not nearly as limp, his forelegs clutched tightly around Lycanroc’s chest while he nuzzled away against the wolf’s neck. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Sylveon gushed, the words muffled by the thick ruff of fur covering his face. After a few more seconds of the entirely unwanted affection, Sylveon pulled his face away from Lycanroc’s neck, looking into his red, glowing eyes. “Can we do it again soon? Pleeeease?” Sylveon’s complete about-face in behaviour left Lycanroc so stunned that all he could do was stare, mouth parted slightly. The fairy stared back, eyes eager and without a hint of malice or sarcasm, like the domineering Pokémon that’d just tied him down and fucked his sheath was gone, suddenly replaced by the same bumbling idiot that’d nearly gotten eaten just yesterday. But Lycanroc could see it now. A subtle narrowing of the pupils, a twitch of an eyelid. That other Sylveon wasn’t gone, he was dormant, lurking. Waiting for Lycanroc to say the wrong thing, to make one false move, so he could rush back. And when he did… “Fine.” Lycanroc couldn’t keep his voice from quaking. Saying that one word felt like stepping off of a cliff. Sylveon didn’t seem to care, though, letting out a squeal of delight as soon as it’d left his mouth. As four ribbons wrapped around him in a nearly crushing hug, Lycanroc didn’t struggle, didn’t sink his teeth into the fairy above him. He just laid there, feeling an all-too-familiar emotion. Obvious. Distinguishable. Fear. The fear of prey.