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The first full moon is always the hardest to deal with. Euijoo knows that, has known it for years and yet nothing, no amount of mental training, or watching the others transform, could have prepared him.
It’s painful, that's a given. His gums are bleeding as teeth sharper than any blade fight their way through. Euijoo’s human teeth are cute, little squares perfectly lined up. He’s holding them in the palm of his hand and marveling at how small they look compared to the ones trying and failing to fit in the space left behind. It’s morbid curiosity, really. Everyone advised him not to look as the changes happen but Euijoo can’t help it, he stares into the mirror as the empty gaps get filled by canines twice the size of the ones in his hand. Euijoo tries to touch them but almost makes a bigger mess. His nails, just as sharp and longer than he’s used to, scrape his top lip, drawing fresh blood. He jumps back in surprise but it's too late.
“Euijoo, open the door.” Fuma’s voice is stern and echoes loudly like the crack of a whip. Euijoo locked himself in the bathroom as soon as he felt the telltale pang in his gut and knew. He was supposed to call Fuma, promised him. But as soon as he came face to face with his yellow skin and hollow eyes, the dark red oozing from his mouth and nail beds, he couldn’t bring himself to. He should’ve known Fuma would sniff him out in a matter of minutes but Euijoo still tried to hide his shame for as long as possible. His hands are shaking, mangled from biting down on them in a desperate attempt to quiet his pained whimpers, eyes red rimmed but refusing to let the tears stream down his face.
It’s embarrassing. None of them – Fuma, Nicholas, Harua – cried when they turned. Not the first time, or the second, or the third.
“Euijoo, open the door or I’m breaking through it.” Fuma’s not angry, not really. Euijoo knows that deep down. Having someone close during the transformation helps ease the pain, speeds up the process. Euijoo knows that. So why can’t he let Fuma do this for him? Euijoo balls his hands into fists and feels the claws piercing through the tender flesh of his palms, the warm blood streaming in rivulets, falling onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Fuma must be able to smell him – sweat, grime and all.
Euijoo hears something breaking and then true to his words Fuma makes his way inside, the door handle in his hand. He lets go of it and Euijoo barely fights the urge to jump as it falls with a loud clang on the floor. Fuma kneels next to Euijoo and tries to pry his hands open, fails to. Euijoo’s far from burly. There’s an illusion of muscles due to his dancing background but no real strength. Yet, for some reason Fuma can’t stop him from digging further and making an even bigger mess on the floor.
“Euijoo,” Fuma catches his gaze and pleads before schooling his expression into something intense, domineering.
“C’mon, boy, show me your teeth.” Fuma barks and there’s no place for argument. It’s not a matter of choice. Fuma has issued a command, has bared his own teeth, and Euijoo can do nothing but obey. Before his brain has time to catch up, his jaw – still tender and bruised from distorting into something that’s able to fit his teeth – drops open. Fuma runs an appreciative finger over his chapped lips, then over the newly emerged fangs and whistles lowly. Euijoo has the decency to blush.
“That’s it. They’re coming in so nice.” Fuma keeps speaking, his voice quiet but somehow able to fill the whole room. Euijoo can’t take his eyes off him. “So big, baby. Do they hurt?” Euijoo nods dumbly. Then he shakes his head no. Fuma chuckles. They hurt but it no longer feels like a knife forcing its way into his belly. Just a dull throb. They’re all the way out, which means the next stage will start soon.
“I’m sorry.” Euijoo’s throat is dry and scratchy, he barely manages to get the words out. Fuma keeps playing with his bloody hand – the gashes left behind beginning to heal. He’s also still running his fingers through the mess in Euijoo mouth, smearing the blood everywhere, pressing his thumb to the knifelike canines. Euijoo kind of wants to bite down. So he does. Fuma’s blood tastes sweet on his tongue, even sweeter as it slides down his parched throat. He looks up at Fuma who’s watching him in amusement.
“Do you want to eat me, baby?” Euijoo doesn’t know how to answer so he bites down harder, trying to taste bone. Fuma keeps looking at him like a well trained dog who’s performing a particularly impressive trick. “I’ll take that as a yes.” he chuckles, baring his teeth at Euijoo in return. It makes something hot curl in his gut.
Euijoo can feel his ribcage starting to expand, the bones growing impossibly in size, pocking at him, trying to rip him up from the inside out. Everything aches - his chest, his hands, his gums. Euijoo wants to tear Fuma’s throat with his teeth and lap at him like a dog.
“You want to eat me, but do you want me to eat you, Euijoo?” Euijoo whimpers, chokes on the fingers in his mouth, on the blood streaming from them like sweet nectar. He wants to tear Fuma’s throat but he also wants Fuma to tear through his, needs it. Euijoo barely nods before the fingers get replaced with Fuma’s lips, with his teeth.
It’s not as much a kiss, as it is Fuma licking over sore gums, trying to get a taste of the tacky, dried blood there. And when that’s not enough, he bites down on Euijoo’s lip and sucks. Euijoo feels his feet twitching, legs trying to kick up. Before he can nail Fuma in the stomach with his knee, he’s pinned firmly to the ground. Fuma’s holding him down like it’s nothing and it makes Euijoo’s head spin.
He tries to fight back, to regain some sense of control but Fuma kisses him harder, digs his claws into his sides deeper and Euijoo gives up. He wants this. He’s tired of pretending he doesn’t. Fuma rips his clothes off and Euijoo can see his own ribs sticking out of his chest. And he still wants it, wants Fuma. It’s agonizing. His body is doing the impossible - contorting, breaking, growing extra appendages and leaving a bloody mess in the process. Euijoo needs a balm, something to get him through, something sweet, cloying.
Fuma parts his legs and flattens his tongue against his core. Euijoo wants to bite down on his hand but doesn't. He lets his voice come through - loud and needy and embarrassing. Fuma is hot like he’s running a fever. His rough, calloused hands burn against Euijoo’s thighs, his gaze is a flame – wild and all-consuming.
Euijoo keens as Fuma licks up his clit and sucks on it. He can feel Fuma’s teeth, should probably be scared but instead he shakes in pleasure. Fuma is relentless, knows just how to touch him, where to dig, where to prod until the pain fades away completely. Euijoo digs his claws into Fuma’s shoulder as he gets closer. He can feel his own bones breaking to dust, skin peeling, insides changing shape and then he’s coming. He finally lets the tears run freely and it feels so good.
Fuma emerges with a smirk from between his legs, blood dried up on his lips, his teeth. Now there's Euijoo's cum too.
“Such a handsome wolf.” He says as he licks it up and Euijoo can only shudder.