They tossed the ball, desperately ignoring the annoying surveillance cameras. The atmosphere was harmonious; smiles occasionally flickered across their faces, but they were fleeting—after all, they were in a cage, deprived of freedom.
Time ticked by.
John seemed so ordinary—slightly shorter than average, his hair a mix of blond and brown, his eyes a beautiful deep blue, which at certain angles appeared a deep tan—yet he was so special—the way he spoke, his tolerance, and the way he smiled.
The hand that touched him was so warm, with a slightly rough, gritty feel.
"Everything will be alright," this incredible man, this doctor, this soldier, told him. "I understand… I know… you can't change yourself."
In a few hours, night would fall. The wolf approached John, almost touching him.
"I don't know what will happen tonight," he said.
John raised the corners of his mouth at him, trying to smile but unable to: "I'm glad I had a friend like you in the end, even if it was short."
Anxiety, anger, regret—all sorts of emotions overwhelmed him, but fear was absent.
The wolf was sniffing him, its nose almost touching his body.
He shook his head, trying to sort out his emotions: "Well...maybe..." he tried to speak.
"What?"
"Something else, something worse, might happen tonight."
"Worse?" John frowned, asking uncertainly, "Is there anything worse than death? Or are you saying you can change me?"
"No." He murmured, "No, not that, but worse."
The wolf pricked up its ears, as if it were finally prepared for something.
"Very bad, because I find you...unexpectedly sexy."
John, the doctor, this amazing man, just stared at him blankly, his mind a complete blank, like a computer infected by a virus, crashing, restarting, running at a snail's pace.
"You said I'm sexy?" He shut his mouth after saying that, then unconsciously pursed his lips, his gaze lowered, his cheeks twitching: "Are you serious? A werewolf gay?" He couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He twitched his lips, then said with feigned seriousness, "I've seen even more unusual ones. I once knew a transgender, vegetarian vampire."
"Really?"
"Of course not." He shook his head. "Vampires don't exist." He smiled as John laughed heartily across from him.
"I just want you to understand that you're really quite something."
He sat on the bed, slowly removing his clothes to embrace the transformation, completely unconcerned about John's gaze.
"I mean, obviously you're a good cook, and probably a good hairdresser too, but whatever tonight's outcome, I won't blame you. I hope… to get to know you better."
Then, the moon rose.
Chapter Two
: The human remained motionless.
The wolf, head bowed, ears pricked, moved cautiously and warily. Tension, anxiety, ah—yes, and fear, he could smell fear. Fear is a good thing; humans should fear. They should realize that danger is everywhere, that they can be defeated, surpassed, and sometimes encounter even more powerful races. But it wasn't just fear; something even more peculiar seemed to be mixed in. The human's heart pounded, his blood boiled, and his eyes darted over the man's powerful physique.
"Incredible," the human exclaimed, "This is truly...extraordinary...damn wonder!"
He paused, his jaw snapping open to reveal sharp teeth, a low, rumbling warning emanating from his chest. The human fell silent, his heart pounding even faster. He sat there, back ramrod straight, the scent of sweat emanating from his skin, neither trembling nor flinching, nor attempting to attack. He simply sat there, silently watching him. —A truly courageous human.
He grew louder, bent his forelegs, and assumed an attacking stance.
The human stared at him with wide, mesmerized eyes for a moment, then lowered them, tilting his head to one side to expose his neck.
He leaped forward, slamming the man on the bed to the ground, his claws digging into the other's shoulder, roaring and howling face to face. The human, though stunned and his heart pounding, still met his gaze, slightly raising his head to reveal his neck once more.
This was a signal of surrender.
He buried his head in the man's neck, inhaling its scent. Warm skin concealed burning blood. He smelled fear, but not panic. He breathed heavily, feeling something slowly awakening.
Companion! Finally, a voice told him. A worthy companion. To have him, to possess him, to assert dominance.
He inhaled deeply, feeling the rising desire within him.
Not enough, the neck was far from enough. He needed a more stimulating and intense scent—the pure masculinity hidden beneath the fabric.
He raised his claws to tear at the clothing, and the man recoiled, reaching out to stop him.
Stop him?! He pushed him back, roaring again. The man stiffened at first, then touched his thick fur, gently yet firmly pushing him away.
"Let me do it myself," the man's voice was hoarse. "I'll cooperate, but… let me do it myself."
Their eyes met in the air, the man stopped moving, but his fingers dug deep into the fur, persistent yet unprovoked.
He glared at him for a moment, then tilted his head, released the man, and stood upright on his hind legs to the side. The man nodded, raised his hand, and took off his shirt, revealing sweaty, alluringly fragrant bare skin. Then, the man looked at him, openly and without shame.
He pressed down, inhaling the man's scent, rubbing his nose against his body, licking his skin with his tongue. The man suddenly pushed him away, curled up, and let out a high-pitched whimper.
He was displeased, suppressed him, his throat a gurgling warning.
"Sorry," the man said, "you're tickling me."
He paused for a moment, then pressed down on the man again, continuing to sniff and lick him. The man relaxed, lay down on the ground, letting him nibble and lick, his hands delving into his fur, feeling its smooth, slightly firm texture.
Head, neck, chest, armpits—he didn't miss any exposed part, yet greedily wanted more.
Partner. Partner. Mating. He's mine!
His nose moved to the man's crotch; he was so insatiable, needing more and more scents to fill his nostrils. When those wonderful aromas were blocked by a damn pair of jeans, he couldn't help but let out an urgent, impatient howl.
"Hey!" the man reminded him, pushing his head to the side.
He roared, his claws digging into the man's body again, pinning him to the floor.
The man stared at him intently, oblivious to the injuries, not even flinching. "Yes," he nodded helplessly, slightly raising his hips. "Yes, alright, but wait a minute. Let me do it myself."
He hesitated for a moment, then stepped back a few paces, watching the man deftly pull off his pants, throw them far away on the ground, and then lie back down, completely naked.
He smelled so good, so strong and powerful, a worthy mate.
The wolf pounced on him, sniffing him incessantly, leaving no spot untouched. As he began to mark every inch of skin he had smelled, he heard intoxicating moans and sighs escape the man's lips.
"Oh, God!" the man gasped, arching his back, his chest heaving, his hips slapping the ground, gripping his thick fur tightly. "Usually, I'd have a drink before this… but this damn isn't normal."
Companion, his brain guided him. Mating, he was mine, now. Mark him, so no one would dare come near him again.
He licked his entire body, from front to back, from head to toe, and his penis, and as the man's scent enveloped him, he let out a soft, pleasurable moan. He explored the man's body slowly and gently, marking his territory, observing his reactions, feeling the hands that lingered on his fur. When those hands touched the sensitive spot on his neck, he couldn't help but shudder, letting out a soft howl as he lowered his head to rub against the "annoying" hands. The man scratched again, and he shuddered once more. It had been years since anyone had touched him so intimately. He rubbed against the man, closed his eyes, relaxed his body, indicating that he needed more contact.
The man gently stroked him.
"You know," the man told him, "even though you are such a dangerous creature, you are truly extraordinary, unparalleled!"
He rested his head on the man's chest, his eyes half-closed, languid yet alert.
"I don't know if you can understand what I'm saying now, but thank you for not hurting me, and... if you want to continue what you were doing after you turn back, you know, in human form, you can tell me or just do it, it doesn't matter."
The moon rose to its zenith, and he desperately suppressed the instinctive urge to shake his head and howl.
John sat on the bed, watching him slowly turn around.
He stood for a moment, between John and the glass screen, chin slightly raised, shoulders tense, his body naked and slender. John met his gaze, equally naked, the wound on his shoulder glistening slightly with moisture—a mark of a wolf's recent licking. Then, John looked away and began to slowly and unabashedly examine his body, from head to toe, before returning to the previous
page.