S'ric wouldn't have stopped if Taeo had continued to beg. He liked the gasp, though. The minor resistance, the way his little thief seemed so helpless – and he was – caught between the tree and S'ric. So much smaller than the large wolf that had caught him. He especially liked the sound of his name. The panic, the surprise.
The faint scent of tears mingling with the thicker, headier smell of sex.
When Taeo started to glow, S'ric took note but he was far too interested in fucking Taeo to really stop and consider what that might mean. It hadn't happened before, not that he could recall, but he didn't think it'd mean too much now.
The werewolf did growl, low and eager between hot breaths, when his name was moaned and the attitude of his little thief changed. Gone was the tense resistance and desperate panic. Instead, Taeo was faintly glowing and... he could smell the ice cut through the tree as readily as he could see it. Such a thing might've concerned another, but it was oddly encouraging to S'ric. The clawed hand not gripping Taeo's thigh braced on the tree, over Taeo, cutting into the wood, as he put considerable force into his thrusts. Driving as much of his thick, now slick, cock up into Taeo's body as the small thief could take. Damn near hilting himself each time.
There wasn't a smooth rhythm and the tree groaned in protest every time S'ric's body surged forward, pressing Taeo back into it. Blasting hot breath against Taeo's injured shoulder, where he was tempted to take another bite, but he instead licked at it to taste him again while fucking him. So many ways to sate himself on the thief...
The rutting was rough, the coppery twang of blood mingling with the musk of sex, as S'ric's thrusts slowed until he finally emptied himself, buried, in Taeo. There was a long, low growl as his large frame shuddered, trapping Taeo against the tree – impale as he was – even once S'ric was fully done. He liked lingering there, with his thief caught, and saw no reason to immediately grant him any sort of relief.