I'm still figuring out , please don't kill me.
NSFW-ish.
For Day 1 of SNS Summer Week 2017. I wasn't drunk when I wrote this but it sure as hell seem like I was. Blaring this from my speakers while writing: It's You by Neon Bunny
They say "foxes are to wolves, as cats are to dogs".
A technically illogical statement, when foxes are obviously more related to dogs.
What a strange thing to think about when you feel teeth sinking into your flesh, enough to mark but not enough to harm and bringing in a mix of pleasure and pain followed by a momentary loss of reason but then getting distracted by such a random thought.
Why would he remember that?
And then he recalls his childhood, playing with stray cats in the neighborhood. He would rub the belly of a random cat until they would start playfully biting into his hand. He would feel the sharp prick of their fangs, the pain slowly turning into a strange tingle until it's gone and only the shallow holes in his hand are left. When the feeling is gone, he would bother the cat again until it bites him and the cycle of sensations repeat.
Sometimes, the cat would bite a little too hard and cause him to bleed. Fascination starts bubbling up in his chest, seeing the marks left by sharp teeth. A curious happiness, that the creature is actually brave enough to push the biting past playful and actually wounding him.
A moan cuts through the weird train of thought. He feels the forcefulness with which the man on top of him rides his cock, leaning down and clamping his teeth into a pale shoulder, pushing past playfulness like the cat he remembered and drawing blood. He knows the marks left by those bites would remain far longer than the ones from his youth. But this blond man is a fox not a cat, no trace of domestication in the unbridled way he moans and moves his hips.
Is he a wolf to this fox?
Then he remembers again, outside their compound where a black dog started chasing after a tabby cat. With no ill intent, he prances around the cat trying to paw at the cat's head until the tabby with its tail all flared up, would swipe at the dog, its fangs bared in annoyance.
His paws, no… his hands much more forceful than that dog are gripping at a tan waist with fingernails digging deep. He thinks himself a wolf, with nails just as sharp, Rather than voicing out in irritation, the man's moans become louder, longer, full of pleasure and he starts bouncing faster.
He looks up into the face above him, the eyes closed but he remembers the blue eyes that belong to a cat not a fox. Recalling the way they glared at him in irritation more than a few times. How the bright blue, became dark with need as they grabbed and ripped at clothes. Like the wild animals he keeps remembering.
The pain and pleasure keep on mixing, more of one than the other. He sits up and wraps his arms around his lover. This fox to his wolf, on nights where they are in need of each other. This cat to his dog, on days where they act all domestic with each other. And as both of them spill over, screaming out each other's name, he forgets the unusual thoughts. He feels spent and he leans into the other's neck, he opens his mouth and lets his teeth do the rest.