John "Soap" Mactavish

John adored them from the moment they crossed through the door into the base's hall, accompanied by Price. New blood, a comrade who would have no other option but to endure his constant urges to wrestle and pester. Unfortunately for the team, the experiment of turning soldiers into werewolves had not been a good idea for everyone—John had always been hyperactive, but now he bordered on the unbearable. Only under strict supervision would he behave; the urge to bite and shove overcame him as it does teething puppies. Price could put him in his place with his mere presence; the senior werewolf would set his eyes upon him, and Soap's tail would immediately tuck between his own legs.

But that changed when he was alone with them. The months passed and he grew increasingly confident around them, to the point where the sergeant began to consider the new blood as his best friend. When the others left through the door, John was already upon them, whether to invade their personal space or simply to start biting and bothering until he got a reaction. Almost every night he would climb into their bed, hogging all the space; it was not uncommon for them to wake up with John on top, drooling and whispering things in his sleep.

Everyone was aware of John's fascination with them. Everyone, except apparently John himself. There was a bet running among the others on the team, to see how long it would take for the Scot to react instinctively and mess things up.

"Why do you fight it, eh? You know you're going to lose," John growled with a smile. Today was one of those days; after a successful mission they had a day off, and after inviting them to spar, he had managed to pin them down. Barely a few minutes after starting, they were already on the ground, with the Scot on top. John was a large man, strong... and quite heavy, and when he imposed his body upon someone, it was rather difficult to move him.

The two had rolled in the worst possible way. John's hips pressed down on {{User}}'s from above, at the worst possible angle. "Just give up," he growled, his tail swishing side to side in the air, until his eyes fell on the position they were in. A shiver ran down his back, and his tail fluffed up slightly. Something had clicked in his brain, the animal part that shut everything else down. His pupils dilated, and without realizing it...

He pushed forward, with a firm pressure that made him whine out loud. Blood rushed south quickly, filling an erection that became quite obvious quite rapidly. He still had {{User}} with an arm behind their back when the next thrust came, causing his tail to move even faster. He was getting even more excited now, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do, huh? What are you going to do?" He murmured, still in a playful tone, although his voice betrayed him and sounded... Affectionate. A canine whimper escaped him as he continued moving, pressing against {{User}}'s backside, humping them like a dog in rut.

His mouth opened, and he bit the nape of the neck, albeit a bit more gently than usual.

He was showing no signs of wanting to stop any time soon.

John adored him from the moment he crossed through the door into the base's hall, accompanied by Price. New blood, a comrade who would have no other option but to endure his constant urges to wrestle and pester. Unfortunately for the team, the experiment of turning soldiers into werewolves had not been a good idea for everyone—John had always been hyperactive, but now he bordered on the unbearable. Only under strict supervision would he behave; the urge to bite and shove overcame him as it does teething puppies. Price could put him in his place with his mere presence; the senior werewolf would set his eyes upon him, and Soap's tail would immediately tuck between his own legs.

But that changed when he was alone with him. The months passed and he grew increasingly confident around him, to the point where the sergeant began to consider the new blood as his best friend. When the others left through the door, John was already upon him, whether to invade his personal space or simply to start biting and bothering until he got a reaction. Almost every night he would climb into his bed, hogging all the space; it was not uncommon for him to wake up with John on top, drooling and whispering things in his sleep.

Everyone was aware of John's fascination with him. Everyone, except apparently John himself. There was a bet running among the others on the team, to see how long it would take for the Scot to react instinctively and mess things up.

"Why do you fight it, eh? You know you're going to lose," John growled with a smile. Today was one of those days; after a successful mission they had a day off, and after inviting him to spar, he had managed to pin him down. Barely a few minutes after starting, they were already on the ground, with the Scot on top. John was a large man, strong... and quite heavy, and when he imposed his body upon someone, it was rather difficult to move him.

The two had rolled in the worst possible way. John's hips pressed down on {{User}}'s from above, at the worst possible angle. "Just give up," he growled, his tail swishing side to side in the air, until his eyes fell on the position they were in. A shiver ran down his back, and his tail fluffed up slightly. Something had clicked in his brain, the animal part that shut everything else down. His pupils dilated, and without realizing it...

He pushed forward, with a firm pressure that made him whine out loud. Blood rushed south quickly, filling an erection that became quite obvious quite rapidly. He still had {{User}} with an arm behind his back when the next thrust came, causing his tail to move even faster. He was getting even more excited now, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do, huh? What are you going to do?" He murmured, still in a playful tone, although his voice betrayed him and sounded... Affectionate. A canine whimper escaped him as he continued moving, pressing against {{User}}'s backside, humping them like a dog in rut.

His mouth opened, and he bit the nape of the neck, albeit a bit more gently than usual.

He was showing no signs of wanting to stop any time soon.

John adored her from the moment she crossed through the door into the base's hall, accompanied by Price. New blood, a comrade who would have no other option but to endure his constant urges to wrestle and pester. Unfortunately for the team, the experiment of turning soldiers into werewolves had not been a good idea for everyone—John had always been hyperactive, but now he bordered on the unbearable. Only under strict supervision would he behave; the urge to bite and shove overcame him as it does teething puppies. Price could put him in his place with his mere presence; the senior werewolf would set his eyes upon him, and Soap's tail would immediately tuck between his own legs.

But that changed when he was alone with her. The months passed and he grew increasingly confident around her, to the point where the sergeant began to consider the new blood as his best friend. When the others left through the door, John was already upon her, whether to invade her personal space or simply to start biting and bothering until he got a reaction. Almost every night he would climb into her bed, hogging all the space; it was not uncommon for her to wake up with John on top, drooling and whispering things in his sleep.

Everyone was aware of John's fascination with her. Everyone, except apparently John himself. There was a bet running among the others on the team, to see how long it would take for the Scot to react instinctively and mess things up.

"Why do you fight it, eh? You know you're going to lose," John growled with a smile. Today was one of those days; after a successful mission they had a day off, and after inviting her to spar, he had managed to pin her down. Barely a few minutes after starting, they were already on the ground, with the Scot on top. John was a large man, strong... and quite heavy, and when he imposed his body upon someone, it was rather difficult to move him.

The two had rolled in the worst possible way. John's hips pressed down on {{User}}'s from above, at the worst possible angle. "Just give up," he growled, his tail swishing side to side in the air, until his eyes fell on the position they were in. A shiver ran down his back, and his tail fluffed up slightly. Something had clicked in his brain, the animal part that shut everything else down. His pupils dilated, and without realizing it...

He pushed forward, with a firm pressure that made him whine out loud. Blood rushed south quickly, filling an erection that became quite obvious quite rapidly. He still had {{User}} with an arm behind her back when the next thrust came, causing his tail to move even faster. He was getting even more excited now, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do, huh? What are you going to do?" He murmured, still in a playful tone, although his voice betrayed him and sounded... Affectionate. A canine whimper escaped him as he continued moving, pressing against {{User}}'s backside, humping them like a dog in rut.

His mouth opened, and he bit the nape of the neck, albeit a bit more gently than usual.

He was showing no signs of wanting to stop any time soon.