[ It is. The sensitive, sweet warmth of that mouth taking him in feels like it completes something, painfully intimate even amongst the roughness of the rest. Basch may be the one mounting Olivine, but he's as bound up in being used as the priest; and he likes it.
Then they've finished, their heaving breaths and dripping sweat and cum filling the otherwise silent space. That tongue still takes him in, and his own lathing oscillates with gentle kisses.
But there's a mournful whine, a tiny whisper of I'm sorry, because he feels the tell tale flare of pain heralding his transformation. He extricates himself best he can, easing Olivine halfway to the floor before he doubles back, hunching over.
It's the fastest this part of the transformation has ever taken him, and there's a single, warbled cry of pain as he goes down. By the time Olivine turns around, there's already a massive wolf butting into his stomach, careless of the mess adhering to his fur, ears back and tail wagging. ]
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Then they've finished, their heaving breaths and dripping sweat and cum filling the otherwise silent space. That tongue still takes him in, and his own lathing oscillates with gentle kisses.
But there's a mournful whine, a tiny whisper of I'm sorry, because he feels the tell tale flare of pain heralding his transformation. He extricates himself best he can, easing Olivine halfway to the floor before he doubles back, hunching over.
It's the fastest this part of the transformation has ever taken him, and there's a single, warbled cry of pain as he goes down. By the time Olivine turns around, there's already a massive wolf butting into his stomach, careless of the mess adhering to his fur, ears back and tail wagging. ]