Don’t hold back. Oh, but he probably should. For all he looks like a human, Matthias most certainly was not. This shape was not his natural one. He was a sharp thing, all teeth and claws, a thing meant to devour. Letting it all got would mean letting the softness of this shape bleed away around the edges, growing perhaps too edges and pointed.

All teeth and claws.

Claws that scraped over Sam’s back, pulling flesh apart in the process. Only very thin scratches that turned angry red just before blood bubbled up the surface. Very thin, precise as a scalpel. Oh, he could gash flesh, rend it open, but he didn’t want to hurt Sam.

Teeth that felt suddenly sharper, that inadvertently tore at lips and tongues until he could tase blood in his mouth. Was it Sam’s? Was it his? Some combination of both? That would be fitting.

All the years they’ve spent together, dancing around whatever feelings lurked beneath the surface, left Matthias feeling energized. Too sensitive. And, oh the way Sam claimed him, pounding in him, weight bearing down on him… He knew this couldn’t persist. The sounds of the bed creaking beneath them, their skin clapping when their bodies met with each deep, hard thrust, their panting and moaning… it all formed a symphony that, combined with the smell of Sam and sex, was making Matthias absolutely feral.

The wolf’s cock felt amazing pounding into him, stretching him open, all but battering that sweet spot hidden inside. When Matthias pried himself away from bloodied kisses, the eyes that peered up at Sam weren’t the familiar dark eyes he knew. No, they were black where they should be white and so pale they were nearly white where they should be dark.

“… so close…” he rattled out.