Текст книги "Cry wolf"

Автор книги: Jay Ellison

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

 

 

CRY WOLF

The Wolves of Wall Street

By

Jay Ellison

Copyright © 2014 Jay Ellison

Published by Courtesan Press

http://courtesanpress.wordpress.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be distributed, shared, resold, posted online, or reproduced

in any electronic or hard copy form.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities between actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.

This book contains adult content and is intended for a mature readership. All sexual scenarios depicted in

this book occur between consenting adults over 18 years of age.

Cover art design by Courtesan Press

***

CONTENTS

Cry Wolf by Jay Ellison

Previews & Excerpts

***

CRY WOLF

by Jay Ellison

Chapter One

The hot, longhaired man at the end of the bar was watching him again.

Kevin Sullivan finished mixing the dirty martini for the middle-aged out-of-towner in the blue business

suit and slid it down to him on a paper napkin before making his way down the bar to the stud with the

long hair. Kevin smiled because that was the way he did things in his job as barkeep at the Barracuda, one

of the more popular gay clubs in downtown Brooklyn, but it was a guarded smile, as always.

The man watching him was tall and slender, a sleek body in a tailored black suit. He had chiseled,

vaguely Euro-fine features, and long, straight black hair to his waist that he kept back in a tight ponytail.

His snug Brioni tux made Kevin think of a younger version of James Bond. It was pretty obvious that he

was moneyed and from out of town like so many of the men who frequented the club.

He certainly was a tall, cool drink of water, Kevin thought. And he smelled sweet and slightly wild. But

Kevin told himself he wasn’t in the market to pick up anyone tonight. Not tonight of all nights. It was the

first warm night of the year, and the moon was gravid and clear. It was his night to run. “What can I get

you?” he said, wiping his hands on the bar mop he kept tucked in the waistband of his dark uniform

trousers. “Martini? Shaken, not stirred?”

The man looked momentarily confused, then smiled, showing strong white teeth and incisors that were a

hair too long. My, Grandma, what big teeth you have. “Manhattan.”

“I haven’t had an order for one of those in a dog’s age.”

The man smirked in a playful, sexy and perhaps slightly dangerous way. “I’m a bit old fashioned, I’m

afraid.” He spoke in a soft, lilting British voice. “What does the young crowd drink these days?”

“Julius Orange, the Latte, Odyssey Number Ten. I can make you anything you want.”

“What if what I want isn’t on the menu?”

Is he flirting with me? Kevin wondered. “Try me.”

The man with the ponytail gave him a sly look. “I might just do that, young man. But for now a Manhattan

will do.”

Kevin’s cock twitched in his pants. “Manhattan it is,” he said as he reached for the whiskey, sweet

vermouth and bitters.

The Barracuda was pretty laid back on the weekdays, but on Friday night it turned into one huge pickup,

mostly randy undergrads from CUNY or closeted businessmen from uptown looking to cheat on their

wives. The place was low and packed tonight, the lighting intimate and slightly lurid. The poorer students

were drinking on the edges of the room, the guys with money to burn sitting down by the stage where a

number of handsome, well-muscled, oiled male strippers were strutting their stuff onstage. Synthpop and

house music beat at the walls of the club like the wings of giant, invisible moths.

Kevin delivered Ponytail’s drink, two cherries in it. Kevin didn’t know why he’d done that; in the

Barracuda, two cherries or olives meant a guy was interested. He shouldn’t be doing that, he chastised

himself, not tonight of all nights.

Ponytail sipped his cocktail, sucking a cherry playfully between two fingers, his eyes never leaving Kevin

for a moment. “I expect you see your share of trouble in a place like this.”

Kevin started mopping the bar, not bothered by Ponytail’s obvious advances. Most guys thought he was

cute, and he got at least one or two propositions in a night. He was inured to it all. If he’d wanted to get

offended by every guy who’d ever leered at his ass, he wouldn’t have been able to hold down this job for

going on seven years now. “Not really. The regulars are pretty well-behaved. Sometimes the mucky

mucks get rowdy, but only when they get too much drink in them.”

“Mucky mucks?”

“I think you Brits call them Lord Mucks? The execs and CEOs.”

“Ah,” said Ponytail. “And what do you do with the mucky mucks who get out of hand?”

“I show them the door.”

Ponytail looked impressed. “You don’t call a bouncer?”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

It was one of the reasons the club owner, Jolene, had hired him in the first place. Seven years ago he’d

been just like one of these young undergrads working his way through college. Back then, he’d had a lot

more misdirected anger and hadn’t minded busting up a few troublesome customers. Even now, when he

wasn’t tending bar, he often walked the floor, keeping an eye on the dancers. Two years ago he broke a

man’s arm in two places when he tried forcing himself on one of Jolene’s boys. After that, most folks had

come to respect that the dancers in the Barracuda were here to be seen, not touched.

Kevin wasn’t much to look at, he knew, but Jolene said he had “mad ninja skills” when it came to taking

out the trash. He was tall and lithe, with good reflexes. He was a pacifist by nature, but having grown up

in Brooklyn, he knew how to fight when he had to.

Ponytail was watching him again. He was definitely interested, and any other night, Kevin would have

taken him home, banged him good, bought him breakfast, and then explained in no uncertain terms that he

wasn’t into committed relationships. But tonight was not a good night for company. It was almost two

weeks since he’d last let the wolf off its leash, and he knew that if he didn’t let it run soon, he’d risk

shifting in front of a human.

“A man gets pushed into a corner, he comes out fightin’,” slurred Ron, a local barfly and permanent

fixture in the club. By day, he was an exec with two ex-wives, alimony, child support and chronic

depression. By night, he was a drunken philosopher and straight man who only felt safe in a downtown

gay bar.

Kevin smiled at Ron and started polishing some glasses.

“The weekends here must be interesting,” Ponytail persisted.

“I don’t work weekends anymore. I have an assistant now,” Kevin said, referring to Allison, his protégé.

“So your weekends are free, then?” Ponytail inquired.

Kevin didn’t answer. Normally, he wasn’t a grumpy type of person, but something about the man was

putting him on guard. He made the wolf within pace nervously back and forth within its mental cage. His

teeth felt sharper in his mouth, there was a hollow, almost painful, emptiness in the pit of his belly, and he

felt uncomfortably aroused. The heat in the room was stifling him and he knew he needed to get away

soon. Tonight. Drive into the mountains, let the wolf off its leash. It was time. He’d done a lot for Jolene

this past week, taken extra shifts, broken up a potentially bad fight; she’d understand if he needed to get

away early.

Kevin wasn’t usually so straightforward, but the wolf was growing, making him bolder, more aggressive.

He turned to the man with the ponytail and said, “Are you a narc?”

The man’s eyebrows jumped. He met Kevin’s eyes head on—a clear, focused hazel that seemed, for just a

moment, to lighten, then darken once more. A trick of the light, perhaps. “No. Just making conversation.

You look lonely, young man.”

“Well, I’m not,” Kevin said defensively, making a mental note to avoid the guy next time he showed up in

the club, maybe switch with Allison. Let Allison take care of him. She was bubbly, friendly, and vapid.

Thankfully, at that moment, a couple sat down at the far end of the bar. Kevin headed that way to take their

orders. Along the way, he smelled too much alcohol on Ron and decided to cut him off. By the time he’d

served the couple their drinks, Ponytail had gone.

Just as well. He picked up his phone and texted Allison about taking over his shift a little earlier than

usual. He told her he wasn’t feeling well, that he might be coming down with something. She texted him

back, telling him no problem, she was on her way. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Ron was

slurring into his empty whiskey glass. “You get that, kid? There’s just a time for things, that’s all. A time

for everything under the sun…”

“Yeah, Ron, I get you,” Kevin said as he took Ron’s car keys and hung them on the pegboard behind the

bar. He understood Ron all too well even as a trickle of nervous energy crawled down his spine, tensing

his muscles. Ten minutes later, as Allison breezed in the door, he found himself sighing with relief. The

city was stifling him and he needed to get away. He needed to run before he completely lost control.

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, he thought as he loosened his bowtie and quickly headed into

the back. Unless, of course, you were not a man at all.

***

Chapter Two

As soon as Kevin got back to his flat he started packing an overnight bag. He threw things haphazardly

into the duffle, making an unholy mess of things. He knew he was going too fast, that he was too full of

adrenaline and excitement. He told himself to slow down. He didn’t want any accidents on the road.

“Going to the mountains?” his sister Hannah asked, stepping into his room. She was wearing a pajama top

and shorts, her long, dark blonde hair hanging in ribbons across her shoulders. She was twenty-two now,

majoring in law at CUNY. Kevin had practically raised her by himself, and he always felt a little guilty

about leaving her alone in the city.

“Yeah, sis,” he told her, trying to neaten the mess he’d made. “But I’ll have Burt look in while I’m gone.”

Burt was their super, who lived across the hall. He often looked in on Hannah when Kevin was at work.

Their building was a surprisingly tight-knit community, even for New York City.

Hannah plopped down on the bed beside his duffle and started arranging his clothes neatly. “Kev, I’m not

a fucking baby, you know. Besides, Matthew’s coming over this weekend to help me study, should I need

anyone to protect me.” She rolled her eyes dramatically at that.

“Good. Though I’m not so sure he’s a good influence on you, given your potty mouth of late.”

Hannah gave him a hard look—or as hard as she was capable of with her watery pale blue eyes fixed

somewhere other than his face. “Fuck you, big bro. I had a potty mouth long before Matthew. You know

that.”

For a moment, Kevin feared there would be an argument. Then they both burst into laughter. Kevin leaned

forward and kissed his sister’s forehead, shushing her long bangs out of the way. “I know, sis. But can’t

you just let your big brother worry about you?”

Hannah gave him a tight hug. “Only if you let me worry back. What do you do up there in the mountains? I

know it’s not fishing. You’re no good at that.”

“Hiking, sleeping…nothing that would interest you,” he lied.

She grinned mischievously. “I think it’s where you keep your porn stash, but whatever.” She hugged him

again and he tweaked her nose.

“I’ll be back by Sunday night. Don’t get in trouble, Hannah Banana.”

“That’s me—trouble-free.” She got up to leave the room, trailing her fingers across the wall to guide

herself. Hannah getting in trouble was highly unlikely, he knew. She had dreams of being a famous

attorney someday and was a serious study horse. She wanted to prove a person’s disability didn’t define

them. Besides, if Matthew was showing up, Hannah wasn’t going to be going anywhere. They’d been

dating for four years now and Matthew was fiercely protective of his girlfriend.

Ten minutes later, he was heading for the door, the duffle over one shoulder. “I’ll have my cell turned on

all weekend,” he called to Hannah. “And there’s beef stew in the fridge. You just need to heat it up

slow!”

“Got it!” she called back. “And I hate you!”

“Why?”

“You eat so much and never gain a pound!”

Kevin grinned. “Don’t burn it!”

“I won’t!”

“And don’t let Matthew eat it all!”

“Yes, Mom!”

Less than an hour later, he was well on his way up to the Poconos. It was a two hour drive on the back

roads, but serene and scenic once he got past Jersey City. It wasn’t long before he hit the mountains and

the road became steep and winding, the dense green pines and blue firs closing in on both sides of the

highway. He drove with the windows down even though it was hot and humid, almost the height of

summer, and his old secondhand Jeep did, in fact, have AC. He wanted to breathe in the piney, wild forest

air as the sun slowly sank beyond the mountains and he wended his way up to his boss’s cabin.

Jolene had won the place in her divorce settlement. She hated the country but had kept it out of spite. She

knew her ex loved it and was huge on hunting. Jolene had been lending it to Kevin for years, one of the

many reasons he liked his job at the Barracuda. It wasn’t much, little better than a hunting shack, but once

every two weeks or so, Kevin called it home for a weekend. It was private and tucked away, didn’t even

have electricity, just a generator in a shed in the back. Jolene rarely ever visited it, but she was happy to

lend it to Kevin because it kept the local troublemakers from ransacking the place for valuables like

copper fixtures, a common problem in the area. It looked as tranquil as a forest postcard when he pulled

the Jeep up the final stretch of gravel road and cut the engine. “Or like something you’d see in one of those

teen slasher movies before it all goes to hell,” he joked with a wry smile—except he wasn’t worried

about being surprised by a mutant redneck wielding an ax like in all those movies. After all, he was more

a monster than anything that could be living in these woods.

The cabin was rustic, made of all hand-cut, redwood logs, with pine and elm trees abutting it on both

sides. Little of the surrounding forest had been cleared away. Behind the cabin was the shed, then the

dock and, finally, a quaint little fishing hole with some wild trout in it, a rowboat tied to a pylon. Kevin

had never used the boat or been out on the water. He had no interest in fishing, though he did consider

himself a formidable hunter.

He felt the hum of unspent energy as he got out, listened for a moment to the busy birdsong in the treetops

—a sound so very different from the constant, angry roar of the big city—and then hurried up the creaking,

plank wood porch stairs, letting himself in with the key Jolene had given him. He didn’t bother turning the

power on just yet; he could struggle with the old, rusty 2-cylinder generator on his return from his run.

Run, he thought, his mouth virtually watering with anticipation. Hunt. Feed. The most primal of thoughts

filled him with a nervous, ravenously hungry energy.

He threw his duffle bag on the cot in the corner and immediately shucked his clothes off, throwing them in

every direction and kicking away his shoes. The cool, slightly musty air tickled his naked skin as he

disrobed. He sniffed the air, found it good, shook himself all over like he was casting away his city life,

then he was out the door and racing into the forest just as fast as he could.

He bounded nimbly over fallen trees, forest brush, and huge, jagged rocks thrust up from the ancient

Pennsylvanian bedrock. He ran, his feet barely touching the ground. He leaped a nearby stream with no

effort at all, lading easily on all fours, then took off again into the forest, breathing hard in and out,

muscles bunching and working, mind racing and yet strangely sedate in his present, almost meditative,

state. He felt comfortable, alive. His humanity sloughed off with every step he took and the wolf came

awake. He scattered birds and small animals in his wake. And somewhere along the way, he shifted.

***

Chapter Three

Kevin was fourteen years old when the wolf came to him the first time. He was making out with a boy

named Josh when he felt the first crackling, electrical twinges of the change washing over him.

Josh was the definitive jock. He played basketball and every girl in their freshman class had a major

crush on him. Ironically, Kevin never looked twice at him. He just wasn’t into jocks, period. He was tall

and slender and redheaded pale. Other than the occasional soccer game for PE, he hated playing sports.

He liked reading and playing video games with his small circle of friends. He liked animals and going to

the zoo. He didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up, but he wanted it to be something

spectacular—a doctor or lawyer.

Then Josh passed him a note one day in English, and Kevin’s whole world changed. The note read, I

know what you are. Meet me behind the bleachers at 3:30.

Kevin threw it away. But at quarter after three, he found himself plodding across the football field, his

shoes and the cuffs of his jeans wet from the rain that had fallen that afternoon. Josh was waiting for him.

He was alone, no one lying in wait, which made Kevin feel somewhat better. “Is this a joke?” Kevin said

anyway, because you never knew. “If it is, it’s not funny.”

“No joke,” Josh said. He had a couple beers stashed in his knapsack, which he pulled out and opened. He

gave one to Kevin. “I like you. But I don’t want them finding out, is all.”

“Who?” Kevin said, accepting the beer like it wasn’t his first.

Josh shrugged. “Everyone.”He drank down a sip. “You wanna go to the movies or something?”

Kevin shrugged too. “Can’t. I have to pick up my sister, walk her home.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She goes to a special school for the blind.”

“Oh.” Josh nodded. “How about Saturday?”

That weekend, in the darkened movie theater, Kevin kissed a boy for the first time. It was a nice kiss,

warm, not too sloppy. It was swiftly followed by many more weekends, and many more kisses. That

summer, after school let out, Kevin and Josh went to Youth Camp in the hopes of finding some alone time

away from parents and teachers. When they could get away from the counselors and daily activities, they

spent their time making out in the woods.

One night, after they’d snuck away from their cabins and met up in a clearing outside camp, they laid

down together in the leaf litter, kissing and touching, and Josh said, “You taste really good, you know

that? But your eyes look funny in the dark.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” Josh touched Kevin discreetly between the legs for the first time, gently squeezing his balls.

Kevin lurched from the sudden, unfamiliar sensation and sat up. Josh looked worried and said, “Hey,

man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Kevin said. He’d liked how it felt, actually. It made him feel more alive than he’d

ever been. The forest looked brighter, lit in shades of bright grey, and the air was alive with scents so

powerful he could taste them in the back of his throat: the decomposing leaves, the cool, damp earth, the

sap of trees and musky scent of animals. He could smell the thin sheen of sweat on Josh’s skin, the

coppery tang of blood underneath it. He realized he wanted to kiss Josh’s skin, his blood.

When Josh pulled him down for yet another kiss, Kevin nibbled his bottom lip, followed through with a

quick, sharp bite to the side of Josh’s neck. Josh moaned as a little blood trickled loose.

He was half afraid that Josh would tell him to fuck off, but Josh seemed to like it, and Kevin did too. He

sniffed along Josh’s hair and neck. He licked at the tiny wound he had made. The scent of Josh’s blood

burned coolly in the back of his throat. He kissed Josh, and they made out while they fumbled with each

other’s pants.

Kevin licked along the other boy’s lower belly, licked and snuffled along Josh’s skin until Josh was stiff

and almost bursting with arousal. They rolled over, blowing each other and giggling like idiots. It was the

most fun Kevin had ever had since sneaking out of the house with Hannah to see a horror movie at the

local cinema when they were younger.

Afterward, Josh got redressed and hurried back to camp. He said the woods were too spooky to sleep in

at night. Kevin stayed. He didn’t think they were scary; he thought they were beautiful and full of life and

energy. He didn’t want to go back yet. A few drops of Josh’s blood had fallen to the damp earth from the

place where Kevin had kissed him. He could smell it. When Josh was out of sight, Kevin carefully licked

the earth where they had fallen.

He shivered all over as the wolf took him over, quickly and efficiently. He’d seen enough werewolf

movies to know what was happening, but this wasn’t anything like those horror movies that he and Hannah

had seen late at night. It didn’t hurt. It was like a rush of adrenaline. He felt fear, triumph, and sudden,

overwhelming…freedom. In seconds he shimmered from a young man to a four-legged animal, his russet

fur glinting in the moonlight.

He was hungry, ravenous. Soon he was racing with wild abandon through the woods, his heart pumping,

his human thoughts a low, steady murmur in the back of his brain. He knew who he was and he knew he

had no wish to hurt anyone, but also knew he was a wolf, and the wolf needed to hunt. He bounded easily

over rocks and deadfalls. He splashed through streams, the icy water soothing his fever and soaking his

plush, reddish pelt. His feet barely seemed to touch the earth. He felt less like he was running and more

like he was flying. His energy was boundless; he felt he could run all night long.

And he did, gobbling up whatever prey fell into his path—squirrels and chipmunks, snakes and frogs. He

drank from a nearby riverbed, then ran again. His hunger to be free seemed insatiable.

Come morning, he woke on the outskirts of camp, muddy and naked, lying behind a rotted log. Thankfully,

he was up before anyone else and was able to sneak back to his cabin without being seen. He thought

about what he was, but it didn’t seem awful, just another part of him that needed to be accepted, like being

gay. And it wasn’t the last time the wolf visited him, though he never told anyone about the wolf—not his

parents, not Hannah, though he told her everything else.

He came to accept what he thought of as the wolf’s visits. The wolf was not something to be feared,

exactly, though certainly respected. He supposed it was similar to how Hannah felt about her disability. It

was as much a part of her as anything else. After his first shift at age fourteen, Kevin became rapidly

obsessed with lycanthropy. He read all the books, saw all the movies. He studied every “real life”

account he could find.

He didn’t find much that helped him, though. The wolf didn’t walk only during the full moon like in the

movies—it could appear almost anytime. Silver and wolfsbane seemed to have no effect on him. He

didn’t know what, if anything, could kill him, but he wasn’t big on finding out. The only thing he knew for

certain was that the wolf wasn’t his enemy, though it did require time off the leash.

Over the years that followed, he and the wolf learned to compromise and coexist. It let him live his human

life, but if he didn’t let it run at least a couple times during the month, it became wilder, more demanding,

more difficult to control. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Hannah—after their parents died when

he was eighteen and Hannah twelve, she was all the family he had left—so he took pains to give it space

and let it run.

The job at the Barracuda became a godsend. Jolene was a great boss, the best he’d ever had. He was a

good barkeep, watched after her dancers, did her favors all over the place, and in return, she lent him the

cabin and time off when he requested it, though she had no idea what he did with that time. No one did.

Hannah thought he had his porn stashed up here; Jolene figured he had a married boyfriend he was hiding.

Both of them were wrong.

How do you explain to your boss, your friends, and your kid sister that you change into a wolf a couple of

times a month? How do you tell your lovers?

The wolf made him stronger, faster, more intuit. But in return, he had to respect its boundaries. He had to

run his life around it. A career was out of the question. He knew there was no job he could take where he

could make his own hours. He couldn’t be a doctor or lawyer. He would never do better than the

Barracuda, and sometime during his second semester of college, he got practical and dropped out. It hurt

to give up, to give in, but he managed. He knew he wanted more out of life than to be a barkeep forever,

but he didn’t know what that was or how to get it.

It hurt more to know he would be alone for the rest of his life. He never told Josh, or any other lover he

ever had, about the wolf. They wouldn’t understand. They’d figure he was a freak. But not telling them left

him feeling like a liar, like he was deceiving them. He had this huge secret, this massive, private part of

his life, and he couldn’t share it with the one he loved. There were boys in high school, of course, and

during his college stint, he’d been with a few guys, though he never let things get too serious. He made it

just about sex. The emotionally-distant relationships he developed never lasted for very long.

No, he thought even as he cut soundlessly through the trees and leapt effortlessly over ravines, the forest

skirting by him in a dark green blur, he couldn’t trust his heart to anyone. His heart, like the rest of him,

belonged to the wolf. The wolf was all. The wolf was all he would ever be.

His lungs, brain and body filled with the lush wildness of the evening forest. He loved the woods and he

loved to run. In a way, it was his lover. He let it fill his senses to overwhelming, until the aching, haunting

loneliness inside him subsided once more to a low and almost imperceptible murmur. In the twenty-eight

years of his life he had never met another werewolf. He was likely the only one of his kind, maybe the last

werewolf on planet earth. He could never allow himself to fall in love. It just wasn’t in the cards for him.

Then he met the black wolf, and everything changed.

***

Chapter Four

He was digging out a family of chipmunks from under a large, flat rock when he picked up the intruder’s

scent. Forgoing the prey, he breathed in the new, musky, male scent and bolted into the trees. The

intruder’s trail was warm, recent, and unfamiliar. There were coyote in this forest, but this didn’t quite fit

that scent. It was interesting enough to draw him on until he reached what looked like a small clearing

with a creek running through it.

The sun was almost completely down, the light soft and purple. The canopy of the forest made the

shadows long. But despite these things, he recognized the figure standing on the opposite side of the creek.

The wolf was huge, shaggy, bigger than he was, almost the size of a Shetland pony, and all black except

for its glaring yellow eyes. It watched him steadily from atop a deadfall, head down, tail carried low.

Obviously, it was wary, wondering the same things as he: Was he a threat? What would come of this

encounter?

Kevin felt his heart thudding thick and heavy against his furry chest. He sniffed the air. The wolf smelled

like wolf, but also like a man. Could it be like him? Could it be…another werewolf? Throwing caution to

the wind, he took a few tentative steps forward and saw the wolf tense. He stopped and lowered his head,

instinctively flattening his ears. He hoped by appearing submissive, the wolf would let him get closer. He

hoped it wouldn’t run. He couldn’t bear to see something so beautiful run away, not after believing he was

the only one of his kind for so long.

It let him approach. When the creek was all that separated them, it leaped down off the rotted log and

jumped the small ravine, then trotted bravely toward him, eyes keen, ears pointing forward. Kevin hadn’t

expected that and cringed as the bigger wolf loomed over him, sniffing him from head to tail. It was a

huge, older than he, powerful. He sensed that immediately.

An alpha.

The wolf barked at him. The sound startled him, and for a moment he was offended, but then he

recognized the sound as friendly, even welcoming. The wolf was inviting him to run with it. The wolf

took off into the deep woods, and Kevin followed. He raced after it, covering the ground in long strides,

keeping the black wolf in front of him at all times.

The black wolf led him on and on and they chased each other through the trees, up and down gales, over

creeks and rocky outcroppings. Kevin huffed and puffed but managed to keep up until the end, when the

wolf disappeared down a long, woody embankment where he knew a fast-moving river ran.

Kevin trotted through the trees, seeking his new companion among the foliage, but it was nowhere to be

found. He finally stopped at the edge of the riverbank where a gorgeous, naked man waited for him.

It was the British man from the bar, the one with the long hair. Ponytail. He was absolutely breathtaking,

like some fae who belonged to the deep woods. A matting of dark hair peppered his well-muscled chest

and a soft pelt glistened at his loins. Spray from the river made his pale flesh gleam almost golden in the

moonlight. He had heavy balls and a thick, partially erect cock that lay softly against the fur of his groin.

He had the same beautiful, simmering golden eyes as the wolf. He was waiting for Kevin on the banks of

the river, a hand outstretched as he beckoned.

Kevin immediately called the wolf back and shifted back to his human form. The feel of it was like a

tense, cramped muscle letting go. Normally, he was a very modest person, even for being a werewolf, but

seeing another of his kind trumped any embarrassment he might have had in being naked before this

beautiful man. He climbed carefully down the spongy riverbank so he could take the hand of the strange

man.

The man looked him over, licking his lips in obvious hunger. The lascivious look he offered was both