Fantasy
The werewolf grunts and twists on the library floor, white fur brushing back softly against his skin, arms and legs pinned by invisible magic and spreading in response to another snap from the Mage standing above him. He has nowhere else to look when the man begins stripping, and wouldn't look away regardless, his struggle dying down as the man peels off piece after piece of black leather until he's naked over him. A shudder runs up his spine as he kneels and gropes the werewolf unabashedly, the familiar squirming against the hand gripping him; a jolt of high-grade lust magic has him hard and panting in moments despite his training, a few heavy dollops of pre gushing from him in response to the first, intense waves of arousal gripping him while the man pulls his clothing off.
The Mage fondles him slowly, casually, with one hand, until he's mindless under him and only held back from coming by his master's quick reflexes, teased to the point of orgasm and then denied by a lack of stimulus. He's beyond begging already and turns helplessly against the soft pelt under him, unable to move and mouthing silent nonsense pleas. Finally, his master relents, stroking him slowly through his first orgasm, neither speeding up nor allowing his pet to buck into him as he so desperately wants, drawing it out until he's half-crying and lapping helplessly against the soft hand on his cheek, uncaring that he's drooling. Aftershocks move him even when his master's hand is withdrawn and he sluggishly meets the man's hungry, invasive kiss.
It's the work of minutes once he's calmed down to get him hard again, the Mage painfully flushed and rigid above him as he finally slides smoothly over his lap and presses against his familiar's cock. A tight pinch at the base of his arousal lets him know he's been ringed by something just as the man sinks onto his hard sex, riding him like a toy. He tries again to press up against him but can't, held helpless against the floor, only able to lay back and let his lover use him. It doesn't take long for the ring to become very much necessary as the man's hands move over his own body in a shamelessly teasing display. The werewolf is unable to tear his eyes away while the man plays with his pierced dick, coaxing the etched markings on them to glow and heat inside his flesh, prompting him to orgasm against his pet's stomach and then keep going while the werewolf pleads wordlessly below him.
He finally can't hold off anymore as he comes against his own hand, trying to stifle his mewl of pleasure so his master doesn't hear-- he lasted longer this time, having revisited this particular fantasy so often since giving the man the bundle of gifts from his old home, the fine white pelt in the library among them, but has yet to actually finish it, the first parts more than sufficient to get him off.
"If you aren't going to come to me tonight, at least go see Shellie. Is no sense wasting a meal for her."
The werewolf jumps a bit, swiveling to look at his door, hand moving away from himself. It's silent for a moment.
"... Would say I 'come' to you quite often," the werewolf finally says and bites his lip, unable to resist making the terrible joke. A punitive Spark narrowly misses his bare ass and he laughs nervously, the Mage raising a brow at him.
[MORE GOES HERE?]