Got my claws in you

Chapter 77- missing pieces

(Y/N) POV:

"Did you know... that the studio is soundproof? But even that... even that couldn't keep all your noises from being heard?" words a rough rasp against my skin, feeling the curved predatory smirk against the crook of my throat, words wicked and sharp, prickling with an edge that's yet to be dulled. Not quite the intensity of an all-consuming blown-out wild rut but not post-rut either.

The rasp of his words is punctuated with the harsh twist and thrust of his fingers, his other hand sprawled weighted and possessively over my front, clamping down the writhing buck of my hips, letting the pleasured sounds he wrings from me bubble past swollen lips. His ears stiff to attention and the breadth of his shoulders and torso crowding against me, body caging mine, looming into the space so there's no distance between the two of us.

"Yoongi..."

"Just like the sounds you're making now... just like the sounds you made for me in my studio. Don't have to be quiet this time though." He murmurs, voice a gravelly low rumble that I can feel soak into my skin, that unconsciously makes my back arch, eyes stinging as I tilt my head back at the rumbled growl that bubbles past fang-bitten lips as he looks at me.

Eyes obsidian with rut and lust.

If Tae's rut was anything of an indicator-it's long since been erased. Because impossibly... somehow Yoongi's rut burns through his body in strong, consuming waves that show no inclination to slowing, to stopping. If Tae had indulged in the teasing and riling and slowly toying and taunting with the pleasure between cycles, even in those moments of reprieve, Yoongi is the opposite. The lines of his body hard and muscled and unforgiving against my own softness.

Every gentleness that Yoongi's demeanour is, that's I've only ever known him for, every scrap of that is shredded and falls apart under the rough intensity of his rut that sinks into his bones and burns into his every movement. Lips skimming upwards in heated scrapes of tongue, teeth and fangs from the crook of my throat to my the corner of my lips before finally crushing his mouth to mine, fangs sinking harsh into my bottom lip and swallowing the sharp cry with the feverish sweep of his tongue against my parted lips.

"Want the others to hear?"

"What a wreck you are on my fingers... how could I deny them that? I know how and what to share."

Lips a fierce, unyielding brand against my own, only swallowing down the desperation that laces his franticness just as much as my own, tongue curling and sweeping through my mouth with the same sharp roughness his fingers do, reeling out the pleasure with a blindsided need to tug it out, a firm unrelenting to the sharp brutal roughness of his fingers.

His lips only slip away to press feverish kisses against my skin, trailing down my jaw, possessiveness in the sweep of his tongue both chasing the taste of my scent whilst leaving the brand of his own down the column of my throat before his teeth clamp at the crook of my throat, sinking into my sensitive gland. A feline hungering grin pressed to my throat, the skimming drag of fangs before his tongue sweeps over the tissue, sweeps over the crook of my neck to bury himself closer to where my scent is strongest and where he intends to lathe his on too.

The dizzying contrast to the slow cruel twists and thrusts of his fingers and the firm grinding sweeps of his thumb at my nub, the sharp sting of his teeth and fangs at my throat and the heat of his mouth sucking darker marks into skin, to the way he feels pressed to my body, keeping it pinned and at the mercy of the rut that begins to sink deeper and deeper into his skin once more.

"But then sometimes... sometimes all I want is to be selfish when it comes to you. Every sound you make is mine. Every bit of pleasure is mine to give to you. And like this... just like this you're all mine too."