"Mine!" Faolán repeated it, more gravely, as he grew faster ans stronger in every assault, and the sound of bodies coming together and moving apart, slap, slap, made him even more horny. Then, finally, he poured himself inside her. He only stopped moving when she came.
He leaned over her back, kissing her skin, and leaned his forehead against the female's shoulder, absolutelly exhausted.
"Fuck...you're fucking hot!" Faolán said, kissing her again on her back, his lips almost not leaving her skin. "I want to marry you." He said.
Werewolves don't normally marry, like humans do. The female just needs to accept the male, he marks her and that's it: both will live together. But since Faolán had lived among humans for years, he had absorbed that feeling about the nuptial ceremony.
