A White Dream
The wolf darted across the open meadow, a black shadow against the blue glow of moonlight. He slid to a halt on his big hind paws and dropped to a crouch. His chest pumped as he breathed heavily after his mad dash. His tongue lolled largely from his toothy maw and his breath billowed out warm and hot into the chilly night air. The black wolf pivoted his ears, catching the noises over his thrumming heart--a nightbird cried deep in the forest, wind whisked through the canopies of ashes and oak. He strained even harder to hear sounds of pursuit. There was nothing--he'd eluded them!
He grinned, showing cruel fangs, but his expression melted his angular features into puppish charisma. His zxpackmates were fast, but none so fast as he!
Of the generation a season younger than considered full blooded hunters, Ciar was on the edge of adulthood. His body rippled with young, tightening muscles underneath his glossy summer coat. The days had just begun to grow shorter, the shadows longer and the winds chilly at the last full moon. The crisp scent on the air suggested autumn was not far away--and this winter he would hunt alongside his pack brothers and sisters. But for now... he had none of the cares of an adult and all the prankish nature of an adolescent.
Ciar slipped deeper into the shadows of the forest, moving silently now through the thick underbrush. He crept along a dry riverbed, slid down its banks and breathed deeply the rich soil smell of the exposed earth where his claws had rended it. It excited him as did the ominous quiet around him and the lank, looming darkness of the still night.
The black wolf stalked a ways, his fur tense and senses aquiver. He felt his body move, every muscle, every tendon stretch. He could feel the hair rising at the nape of his neck, all the way down the length of his spine to his tailtip. It was good to be alive! It was good to be alone!
The excitement was almost enough to drive him mad; he needed the right place to fully give himself over.
He found it around the next dry bend. A natural cave had formed under the roots of a tree where the bank had collapsed. Ciar licked his lips and wriggled his way into the makeshift den. There was enough room for him to turn around a few times to find a comfortable position, leaning back with his tail fluffing up between his legs. He rested his hands on his stomach and sighed happily.
The closeness of the rich earth around him filled his mind with ease. He relaxed, let his breathing quiet and his mind go drift. From it vanished all the worries of what his litter-brother said about yesterdays chasing game, the scornful eye of the alpha male, the "educational" nips from the elders.
Here he was just...alone.
He grinned again as the thoughts lazed through his mind like a slow-moving stream. It rested on one he had hoped it might--an image of a white furred stranger from a distant, ice-packed land the singers told of. A clan of wolves with deep blue eyes like pools of liquid ice, pelts as thick and soft as the most magnificent winter coat, tails long, luxurious and playful enough to rival a fox. Wolves of a cold land who still liked to keep warm.
Ciar squeezed his yellow eyes shut and fell into the fantasy.
What's this? he asked, playfully to himself. She's alone, a stranger in these parts?
In his minds eye he greeted her in a meadow of morning mist. In reality, his paw trailed down to touch the base of his sheath.
The dream she-wolf looked aloof, a little scared, but strong. She refused him at first and began to trot away. He followed, his tail raised high, his head up, ears forward and alert. He caught her at the edge of the meadow, and pressed her against a tree. He buried his nose in her rough and sneezed playfully.
Her ears dropped back and her eyes widened impishly. She was not so long into adulthood, just like him! She still knew how to play. Her body tensed against him and a wicked grin cross her lean muzzle. She ducked out of his reach and raced back into the meadow.
He spun to follow, heart hammering in his chest as he caught her scent--wild, full of life and strange, intoxicating alacrity.
His hand began to massage his sheath and gently grope his balls. He groaned inwardly as his mind jumped in time.
He had the white wolf pinned--both were panting after a rollicking chase through the mist. He was on top, and when his chest pushed out to suck in a deep breath, his stomach and belly touched hers rhythmically. She felt strong under him, like a tightly coiled spring. Her scent had changed into a thick, rich texture that spoke of wild abandon and passion.
She pushed her hips up as he bore down. He felt himself harden both in his fantasy and in real life. A tiny bit of red poked out from his sheath, and grew steadily in his probing, coaxing grip.
He bit her rough playfully and she rolled underneath him, raising her tail and positioning her firm buttocks against him. She applied pressure--inviting him into her.
Ciar shivered as tiny stabs of pleasure rolled through him. He cupped his balls and used his other hand to run the length of his sheath. He held himself in his padded paw, squeezed and kneaded as his breathing sped up in time with the day-dream.
He was inside her, pushing and pumping in rhythm in the rising mist. The morning stars were fading, the world was a soft blue-yellow glow, smelled of moisture, growth, and sex. He groaned into her plush throat as the tightening ripples of passion shook him. Below him, the white wolf moaned, her breath escaping on a crystalline cloud of heat into the brisk dawn. She braced herself, claws sinking into the dewy soil. Her body rocked.
Ciar felt his knot grow in the palm of his paw. He massaged it, licking his lips and suppressing a moan. Aching waves flowed through him. He felt as though he was on fire.
He groaned and growled as his tempo quickened. He pushed his knot against her, and she braced back to accept it.
He slammed the knot into her wanting body, rocked with her as her moans broke into a long, low howl that split the still morning. He felt a tidal wave break through him, a dam breaking as his voice joined hers. He came, filling her with hot, syrupy seed.
He groaned. He pumped his penis and gripped his knot, relishing in the warm streams of pre-cum that dribbled over his paws. He played the finality of his scenario over and over in his head--Her pushing, her moaning, her warm, wet acceptance--trying to hold the sensation as long as possible--
A yelp broke his lips, half bark half howl as he gritted his teeth and erupted hot streams into the air. He held his breath, enjoying the aftermath of his lusts blazing through him. Slowly, the searing storm subsided and he collapsed, panting against the wall of the cave. It was warm now from his frenzied breath. He lay in the humid lair, breathing in the scent of sex. He licked his paws and shuddered a tiny, satisfied sigh.
Ciar closed his half lidded eyes and slipped away into another dream.