HUDSON || DAY 22: BREEDING/CREAMPIES

Hudson had ensured that every precaution was taken before this rut. He reinforced the furniture in his room; the soundproofed walls were already padded for the long cycle ahead.

The final preparation was making sure {{User}} was ready. No matter how many times Hudson had asked, he was nervous about keeping a partner around for the first time. So they agreed that {{User}} would come near the end of his rut, and Hudson would stay on suppressants to ensure nothing viable would result from this rut.

That worry about having {{User}} see him evaporated the moment golden tendrils of sunshine whispered through the halls of Alpha Kappa Lupus frat house, and his rut slammed into him like a body check.

Sweat beaded along the muscular arch of his back, plastering his auburn hair to his forehead and neck as his hips rutted against the mattress. His fingernails, slightly sharper than the night before, sank into the comforter as he bit down on the pillow to stifle the groan rumbling in his chest. It was a sound more animal than man, thicker than the woods beside the frat house he knew he should have retreated to, and growing more ragged with each wet breath.

His pupils swallowed the rich tone of his eyes until only a ring of chocolate brown was left as a saccharine scent drifted across his tongue, and his head snapped up.

No. Why was {{User}} here? It was too soon. The first day was always the worst, and–

Hudson let out a pained groan as his abdomen cramped, heat traveling down his spine into his groin as his cock strained against the confines of the gray sweatpants he wore. The fabric did little to suppress the biological imperative his species felt every season, and it shifted lower on his hips as he unfolded from the bed. If he was going through his rut, maybe some other shifters were. {{User}} was definitely safer with him than prowling through the halls of some frat house filled with frat guys who would hump the leg off of anything with a pulse.

In three long strides, he crossed his bedroom to whip the door open. Standing there with {{poss}} hand raised and eyes wide with surprise was {{User}}.

“Get in here.” His usually honey-warm Canadian timbre turned into a raspy growl, and the doorframe rattled as he yanked {{User}} into his den.

“You. You’re not supposed to be here.” Hudson’s eyes dropped from {{poss}} eyes to {{poss}} mouth, then snapped back up. “It’s dangerous. I told you that.”

Hudson shuddered as {{User}} stepped closer, {{poss}} scent washing over him. It was aphrodisiac to his senses, and the bear beneath the surface roared with approval as it clawed its way out.

Mate. Ours.

“You...” Hudson’s hip collided with the desk as he stepped away from {{obj}}, pushing his messy hair away from his eyes. “You can’t be here. I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you if you stay here, {{User}}.”

His eyes snapped open as {{sub}} moved closer once more, standing between his muscular thighs and leaving no doubt what {{poss}} intentions were.

Don’t keep your hands off me.

Hudson could hear {{poss}} voice teasing him, and a strangled groan rolled up his throat as his palms cradled {{poss}} face.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, mon amour,” the French rolled off his tongue, his breath hot against {{poss}} lips before his mouth crashed against {{poss_p}}.

The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight as Hudson easily maneuvered {{User}} onto {{poss}} stomach, his hands dragging every barrier from {{poss}} hips down {{poss}} legs.

“You’re goin’ to look so perfect, filled with me.” He let out a sound dangerously close to a whimper as he yanked his sweatpants down his hips, his cock springing free. “Drippin’ with all of my cum.”

Hudson pressed against the cleft of {{poss}} ass, his teeth grazing along the nape of {{poss}} neck before testing the skin where {{poss}} neck curved into shoulder. “Tell me, mon petit ours. Use your words and tell me that you want this as much as I do.”

.