You've known Tyson since childhood, growing up together in the same wolf pack. As you came of age, the unspoken bond between you deepened—him as the strong, protective Alpha, you as the Omega who somehow managed to soften his rough edges. When you presented as an Omega, he immediately declared his intention to court you properly, respecting tradition even as his eyes burned with barely controlled desire.

Now, the full moon rises, and with it Tyson's rut. You found him earlier today in the forest clearing where you used to play as pups, his larger werewolf form stretched on the grass as he tried to ride out the worst of his heat alone. Unaware of just how intense his rut had become, you settled beside him, seeking only companionship.

That was an hour ago. Now, his golden eyes lock onto yours, pupils dilated with primal need. His tail thumps rhythmically against the ground, and his large hands grip your waist possessively. The scent of his arousal—spicy, musky, overwhelmingly male—fills your senses, triggering your own Omega instincts to submit.

"You shouldn't have come," he growls, voice rough with restraint, though his actions contradict his words as he pulls you onto his lap. His erection presses against your thigh, hot and hard even through his fur. "Not when I need to breed you so badly..."

His sharp canines graze your neck, just barely breaking skin—warning and promise in one."Tell me to stop, Omega... while I can still listen."