Oh, Kill Me! -NSFW

Nyell fell into his bed, planting his face in his pillows. He was exhausted again, though not for the same reason as yesterday.

He closed his eyes and remembered what happened during the day.

After paying homage to his ancestors and apologizing for bringing strangers in, he called over the White Moon tribe. They came in, and Allen almost immediately turned back on his heels, barely taking a look inside. It left Nyell speechless. When he glanced over at the chief's aides for answers, they shrugged. They were as clueless as him.

'What was this for?' had been the question spiraling in his head since then.

Allen did seem to ponder over something, undescriptive lights flashing in his eyes. But whatever went through his head, he didn't share it. When Nyell asked what was wrong, he said he'd tell him later.

The 'later' never came.

Afterward, they met with the family and the friends of the missing persons. Only, Nyell didn't learn anything new. They all said the same thing: the disappearances occurred during the night while everyone was asleep. Their loved ones vanished without anyone noticing. No clue was left behind: no signs of struggles, no words of farewell…

Just nothing.

However, that part of the story didn't interest Allen much. What interested him seemed to be something else. He interrogated the family and the friends about what the people did during the day or the days before, and things like that. But the missing persons didn't do anything unusual. They had been going on with their everyday lives

After thanking them, Allen asked to meet with the warriors tasked with monitoring the village at night. The poor men and women felt awkward as they admitted not seeing or hearing anything. It was as if the missing persons had turned into ghosts.

"I feel like we're going nowhere," Nyell scoffed, depressing thoughts crashing into his mind. "Aren't shamans supposed to be highly perceptive? How come Allen hasn't found anything yet?!"

Nyell knew he was throwing daggers at the White Moon tribe chief for no reason, but that wasn't anything new. He was frustrated, so he needed to vent on someone. And who else would he vent on if not the man he had and would always hate to the core?

It wasn't because Allen saved him from a certain death today that his hatred would diminish overnight. For starters, it was the bastard's fault if his senses had grown dull and he overlooked the danger ahead. Having his destined mate so close to him threw his body in disarray; it took all of his self-control to keep himself from running away. He refused to let Allen know his presence affected him. Destined mates were bullcrap, and he wasn't about to change his mind and show others he was disturbed by Allen.

Nyell bit his lower lip.

Although they separated an hour ago or so, he could still smell the calming scent the man gave off. Whether intentionally or not, the bastard had temporarily scented him while holding him close, and his smell had mangled with Nyell's. It was all over the place, tickling his nose.

"Lavender and something I don't recognize, huh?"

Since he had never been to the sea, he couldn't recognize the fresh sea breeze scent, but he didn't hate it. They said one's destined mate's scent could be overly calming or sexually exciting, depending on the context. And damn were they right. Remembering the bastard's scent had heated up his body, now that no danger was around.

One moon is full today, isn't it?

Nyell internally whined. He hated how the two moons' cycles triggered unwanted, awkward reactions in werewolves. The moons compelled them to follow their instinct, which didn't settle well with Nyell.

To top it all, his rut was just around the corner, meaning he didn't need much to get aroused.

Nyell lowered his eyes. A tent had appeared underneath his leather pants.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, slowly sliding a hand down his abdomen to his lower body. He couldn't precisely leave it like that. It was painful.

Nyell lifted his hips to slide down his pants, freeing his member. The night's cold air made it shudder, but a warm hand soon enveloped it, slowly going up and down.

He couldn't help but remember Allen's embrace and his warm breath brushing against his neck, as well as his lower part pressing against his butt. It was the first time a man held him, and although he had acted stoic about it, it still created butterflies in his stomach.

So, that was how it felt to be hugged by someone other than his family?

The excitement built up, and Nyell's imagination slowly went awry. He thought about Allen's beautiful face and felt the urge to mess it up. He imagined the bastard kneeling at his feet, his mouth open and his tongue out. Nyell saw himself holding the man's jaw with one hand as he pressed his member inside his mouth. It went so deep inside that the tip hit the back of his throat.

In his mind, tears appeared at the corner of Allen's ethereal eyes. Yet, Nyell didn't slow down and relentlessly slammed his member inside the man's mouth. His hands gripped the man's head so he wouldn't escape, his fingers meddling with his long, whitish hair.

Nyell tightened his grip on his dick, the image in his mind so vivid he couldn't help but push his hips up and down as if to mimic what he was seeing behind his closed eyes.

Not long after came the release. Nyell saw himself pulling out his member from Allen's wet, reddish mouth. He poured his semen over his face, the thick liquid splattering on the bastard's cheeks, hanging on his long, white eyelashes. The White Moon tribe's chief was out of it, almost seeming about to beg for mercy.

A contented sigh escaped Nyell's lips, his member still pulsing from pleasure.

Then realization struck, and Nyell's face grew livid.

"Oh, kill me!"

As if hearing his pleading, someone knocked on the door. Nyell hurriedly put on his pants, wiped his hands, and got out of bed to open the door. Immediately, a lavender scent wafted inside the hut, and his face grew paler