Aitu licked his lips as he took in the sight. Most other males forced him to submit. For some reason, when Aitu said it, the name felt different. The wolf was warm and soft, and Dyri could feel the pounding of his heart as he rested a cheek on Aitu’s chest. “You make different noises with me than you do with others,” Aitu pointed out. He was there to take in all of their lust and abuse. This time, Dyri wanted to be knotted to Aitu more than anything. Aitu slid down Dyri’s body, pulling the nightdress off and tossing it aside. Dyri wriggled and arched his back in an attempt to make the hunter move faster. “Fill me with your pups.”
Aitu pulled back a little and looked into Dyri’s eyes. He rolled over and displayed himself for the hunter. He never demanded anything of that nature from Dyri, though, even in private the grey wolf called him Chilam and a female. The following months among the Arctic Moon tribe passed in a haze of pain, pleasure, and humiliation. He sucked at the thick muscle and pressed his tongue against it, savoring the lingering taste of mead. Hot breath panted against his face as Aitu worked Dyri over. His dark eyes promised a slow and teasing pleasure.
