Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/mt, mt/mt, Consensual, Romantic, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Rape, Coercion, Gay, Fiction, Science Fiction, Furry, non-anthro, Were animal, DomSub, MaleDom, Rough, Light Bond, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Bestiality, Slow, Caution, School, Nudism,
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Kurt Smith's life should be great. His parents are high ranking werewolves in a stable happy pack. His life should be great. He's also the only werewolf in history to have been born a puppy. Kurt is all wolf, it's just that he also inconveniently has to act like a human. Oh and then he has to go and fall in love with the only known sufferer of wolf-related-dyslexia.
Kurt hated being human. Being human sucked. It was rubbish in all aspects. OK, so except maybe showers. Apart from showers being human sucked. And the ability to get blankets. So blankets, and showers. Apart from that being human sucked. And cooking ... Kurt growled and shook his head. Whatever, being a wolf was way better than being human. Kurt turned in a tight circle and sat, lanky and cross legged on the floor and stared at the television without seeing it. watching nature programs ... sometimes Kurt wondered how his parents could be his parents. And they always drove him insane.
He hated the rules by which he had to live his life. The wolf rules, now those were easy. Never turn your back on an opponent; never raise your chin to a wolf stronger than yourself; be respectful; never try and steal food unless you wanted to a be a challenger; use your nose and your ears; don't wave your tail about in season. Those rules were as easy for Kurt to manage as breathing, as familiar as his own golden tawny eyes in the mirror. It was the human rules that blew.
Attend school; be home and human for meals at least six days a week; wash more than once a week; keep up academically; spend time with humans. Don't growl, don't snarl, don't expect a human to act like a werewolf would ... The litany went on and on. Kurt could practically see the list, the reel of laws his parents laid down for him, as though they were inked on the inside of his mind. Don't bring kills into the house; don't bleed on the carpet; no turning the house; don't snap at company; pick up your clothes; don't leave paw prints in the garden; don't steal food from the neighbours; don't tell anyone. Kurt scoffed, like he ever would.
Kurt hadn't realised he was making a noise until his mother's sharp words drew him from his reverie.
"Kurt don't do that. It's beastly."
Kurt practically yelped and swallowed his tongue. He hadn't meant to grow out loud. He turned to look at his parents. Had you ever told anyone they were werewolves they would have laughed at you. Dick and Barbara Smith were normal middle aged parents dealing with an unruly teenage boy, who at eighteen should know better. No one would ever suspect that they changed into wolves in the woods, ran and howled and attended pack meetings in the nude. Sometimes Kurt could hardly believe it himself.
"Can I be excused?" he asked grimly, already knowing the answer would be negative.
"I don't think so honey," Kurt shuddered at the soppy human sentiment, "It's a school night."
"Fine." Kurt got up and turned to walk up to his room. His room, the label was so ineffectual. A closet full of clothes he never wore and never bought, books he refused to read, and a bed he didn't sleep in. Slowly the boy took the blankets from the bed and made a nest on the floor in the corner, then he looked at himself in the mirror.
Human. Human and weak. Kurt hated that his human form didn't reflect his real shape. But then, he hated being human. Black hair, not styled in any conceivable manner, pale skin drawn tight over a lanky frame with no extra flesh or muscle to speak of. Golden wolf eyes, the only thing he could be proud of. Kurt stripped, showing off to an audience of none a body with most ribs visible in the harsh light and shadows from the little desk lamp. Being human sucked. Kurt rolled his shoulders, bent, stretched and changed.
For every werewolf the Change was a crunchy, noisy, messy and painful affair. Not for Kurt. Kurt changed like the passing of water, and after a blink of unfocussed shifting a wolf stood in the space where the boys clothes were pooled. A large wolf to be sure, black as night with sunset golden eyes. Kurt grinned, flopped out a big pink tongue and licked his fangs. Everything was the way it should be. The air was scented with noise and pheromones, the open window let in the call of birds, the near-silent rustlings of tiny creatures running in terror in the night. An owl made a classic sound. Kurt's ears twitched, turned, he flicked his big brushy tail and flexed his toes, claws snagging on the carpet. He wanted to run, to run desperately. But at this time of evening, his parents, would see or hear, and it wasn't a risk Kurt was willing to take.
Kurt stepped over to his nest, turned around in a circle a couple of times, beating the blankets down with his hot feet pads, and settled into a tight ball, tail pressed across his muzzle. He slept.
Kurt had been born a wolf. Thank gods for home deliveries and a mid-wife in the pack. Babies from two werewolf parents were lucky creatures all round. They had an easier time changing, the shifts of will and temperament at puberty were not so harsh. They were generally more in touch with their wolf side, less torn. Kids from a single wolf parent had it rougher, the classic moody angsty bullshit, bitten wolves were worst, least able to hold their sanity. As the child of two high ranking werewolf parents, Kurt should have had a childhood charmed by life and nature.
Kurt had shown up ten weeks early, wolves had a much shorter gestation period, and shocked and surprised his mother, his father, the midwife and everyone else in his pack by being born a wolf. Barbara Smith had fainted to realise she had birthed a puppy. So apart from being a werewolf and having to watch who he played with and mind his behaviour from the earliest of ages, Kurt had grown up different.
Born a wolf. He hadn't had his first change to human until he was four months old, and flickered back and forth uncontrollably for weeks. The eternal puppy. Kurt spent years being what to a real wolf would be a new born pup. He lived uncomfortable in his parent's house, hated his own skin, and spent every second he could in his true form.
For some werewolves, being a wolf was a sometimes useful inconvenience. Even those who were in-touch still called it 'their wolf' or 'my wolf side.' Kurt didn't have a wolf side, he didn't have a human side either. He was a wolf often stuck with the body of a human. It was that mind-set that had forced his mother's enormous list of rules and regulations. Kurt did things the way a wolf did things. He wanted so he took. He was hungry so he ate. He was tired, he slept.
It had taken a long time for school to get anywhere close to being in the picture. Kurt hadn't learnt to read at all until he was nearly ten years old. It didn't sit well with the pack, not really. Kurt was a better wolf than his parents, let alone his contemporaries, a worse human than all of them. He was kept because of his parentage, but he did not fit into the pack's system. He was too odd to be high ranking, too strong to be a submissive, to defiant to be Omega. No one could really bully him, because Kurt, with no human instincts to get in the way, would just try and rip their throat out. It was not the easy happy existence his parents had wanted for him.
Kurt slept like a wolf, half an ear always open and listening, he didn't sleep the long, deep, dreaming sleep of his human shaped parents. It was just gone midnight when he woke again fully, and in the quiet dead end cul-de-sac of the little town in the country, just after midnight was as good as dead time. No one stirred, no one woke, no drunken students wandered the streets singing. All was silent. Well, it was silent if you were a human. Kurt stood, shaking and stretching every muscles, hen cocked his head, pricked up his ears and experienced the night.
The air was cool and damp with the promise of mist, maybe fog; there was the fresh green scent that clung to everything outside his window, spring would be here soon; the red-flashing terrified scent of animals being hunted, little things, mice and voles, birds of prey hunting in the low fields east of the woodland; the wet taste of blood in the air, metallic and sharp. And then there were the scents of the others. The woodland and the land around the cul-de-sac ran thick with the musky scent of wolves.
When the South Sea pack had first moved here, they had spent six long years buy all the houses in the cul-de-sac, as well as all the land around them, and the woodland. To have a giant house in which they all could live would have been nice, but easily noticeable by humans. This arrangement worked very well. The whole pack lived together, but not together, which suited everyone just fine. It also meant that the wood behind Kurt's house were a crisscrossed mash of scent trails, some so convoluted and overlapping that it was a like a sea of colour and aroma. It was near enough to make you slightly nose blind. But one scent overrode them all.
It should have been the scent of their alpha, he was strongest, he was their leader, kept the harmonious balance between the pack. But the strongest scent, the one than underlay all of the wolf tracks was the familiar greeny-grey scent of Kurt. Be sheer number of hours and force of will he was the one that every wolf smelt. Any visiting werewolf would be bound to think him alpha of the South Sea pack by the way the land smelt of him. Kurt was proud. He was a wolf, and his territory smelt like him.
Kurt jumped up onto his desk, bare of all things, and stood in the window. Jumping down from the second story was one of those things that had taken cunning and practice and had required him to use some human skills in overcoming natural instincts. Now it was a practised move. Kurt shifting his weight on his paws, checked the ground below and jumped, landing crouched and ready in the back garden of his parent's house. None of the back gardens were fully fenced, and Kurt sprang up and trotted directly into the forest. Once under the cover of the trees he marked a couple to show that he'd been here, cocking his leg against the bark in satisfaction and pride. Territory was territory, and with Kurt patrolling every night whether his parents knew and accepted it or not, no other wolf was going to infiltrate without his knowledge.
South Sea was by and large, a very accepting pack. They took their share of strays, those being kicked out or moved on were rare, it was a happy pack, a good family to live in. that didn't mean that their attitude to their territory was anything less than archaic. They were wolves, and the territory was guarded by those rules. Werewolves had to seek permission to enter pack grounds, those caught without that permission would be attacked. The alpha would decide if their trespass was enough to kill them. It was a life lived on old traditions, and Kurt valued that. Now he sniffed the air, swinging his shaggy head around to get a Technicolor three hundred and sixty degree map of scent in his surroundings, and set off at a quick trot, heading roughly north and roughly uphill.
Kurt had plenty of favourite places in the woods, little copses and groups of trees, groups of rocks that made good vantage points for hunting. Some were shared, places he went with other wolves, other members of the pack where they hung out and played. Some were private, little places he had found on his own and kept hidden from his pack members. Kurt loved his pack, like every wolf he needed to contact, emotional and physical; loved to play and rough and tumble with his extended family. But a lot of them didn't understand him, they didn't understand the lack of human whims. His peers felt 'in touch' with their wolf sides, loved to run and hunt to free the wolf. But all that helped them do was be more human when they changed back. Kurt didn't understand them at all.
He clipped his way through the woodland, trotting with his tail high and proud. He wasn't hunting tonight and there was no need to skulk and seep silently in the territory. He ran up the slope, black nails digging and gripping into the soft ground as he went, until panting lightly, he reached the top. This was his favourite spot. The slope ended in a flat rock which jutted at an angle out of the hillside, half surrounding by coppiced trees which sheltered the spot from the view of the town but managed to provide a vista across the empty wide open countryside. Kurt collapsed on the flat stone and panted, tongue out, legs splayed out on the ground. Now that he was alone, and in his place, he felt tired again. Kurt let his golden eyes close and then snarled at the flash of vision that bridged his mind.
Tahryn Spencer's smiling visage passed across his brain. Kurt jerked his head up and snarled at nothing. It was bad enough to have a crush on the boy, but to have to think about it when he was trying to sleep was unbearable. Kurt sighed and collapsed onto his side. It made him vulnerable, exposing his soft underbelly, but Kurt could smell that the woods were empty of threatening life, just rabbits shivering underground and trying not to be noticed. It was that period before spring when winter was over, but life hadn't quite decided to come back get. In a month, everything would be green.
The Spencer family had left their pack when their alpha had been challenged and replaced by a man they didn't like. Mr Spencer had used the timing to move up in the world, get a better job and re locate across country. He and his family had petitioned for membership of the South Sea pack, himself, three daughters and one son. Degan Canon was a good alpha, fair and reasonable, and the Spencer's had been welcomed with open arms about three weeks previously. It had not taken very long for Tahryn to keep turning up on Kurt's mind. It wasn't something he could help, nothing that he could countenance.
Tahryn was the opposite of Kurt's skinny uncared about human form. He was a god. A Greek fucking god, moved in down the road and a member of his pack. Tahryn was a head taller than Kurt, which was pretty impressive considering Kurt was nearly brushing six foot, all tan skin, buzzed blond hair, ice blue husky eyes and walls of perfect muscle. Kurt stretched out on his slab, flicking his tail. Because Tahryn came to meets and hunts, Kurt had gotten to see the nineteen year old's perfect muscle sculpted body naked on a couple of occasions. Luckily, and tactically, he hadn't been wearing human skin at the time, with the annoying uncontrollable and obvious gentalia. Now that he was free to think about Tahryn's perfect naked form Kurt allowed himself to relax, felt his cock stiffen in the cool air as he peeked from his sheath. Tahryn had eyes that smiled, he was nice to everyone he spoke to, and he was a fabulous specimen for a human. Big, strong, with muscles that made Kurt shiver and shake. He rolled, curving his spine, and bent his head to lap at his rapidly appearing cock. The pointed moist pink shaft was a good six inches long, but it was the thick and sensitive knot that Kurt wanted to focus his pleasure on. Kurt licked himself, something he couldn't do when he was human and thought about Tahryn.
What would it taken for Tahryn to be out here with him? Wolf and naked and aroused in the middle of the night, surrounded by nothing but the nature of their territory. It was not easy to guess a werewolf's sexuality, unless they were mated or they came out and told you. Naked often, at ease with their bodies and others. Many wolves were aroused after a hunt, so that couldn't be taken as a specific sign. Being gay wasn't a big thing with the South Sea pack, as long as there were enough stable breeding pairs and a good influx of new blood, preferably female, a few gay male wolves weren't a worry to the alpha. If by any fortune Tahryn was gay, well, there were better looking people than Kurt he could go for. That didn't matter so much to Kurt now as he let the fantasy of the other wolf overtake his rational mind.
Licking was suddenly not enough and Kurt remembered the last good thing about being human. Thumbs, and the ability to use them to jerk off. He shifted back smoothly, only changing position to end up lying on his back, legs splayed. Kurt grasped his human erection, which apart from the knot, was fairly similar to his normal member. A lighter pink, sort of tapered rather than traditionally flared. His hissed between his teeth as he stroked his cock, human hand soft, skin on skin. He growled as his pleasure built, tugging at the hard flesh between his legs, mind gone dizzy, vision dilated and blurred. Tahryn had a cock to go with his figure, Kurt already knew that, thick and tan-brown and heavy looking. The memory of Tahryn naked sent shivers up his spine, made his balls ache and tightened and Kurt pumped his fist hard a few times before his back arched, and his snarled out his pleasure, shooting ropes of sticky cum over his chest.
He licked his hand, pleasure sending vibrating aftershocks up his spine, and changed back without thinking about it. As a wolf, lying on his back was not comfy, and Kurt twisted until he lay on his front, paws out into front of him, softening shrinking penis nestled between his furred hind legs. Panting hard, Kurt laid his ears back against his furred skull and let his eyes drift closed, glowing tawny orbs narrowing to slits, blinking, opening, gone.
Sated, Kurt slept.
Barbara Smith yelled at her son pretty much every morning. Today was no exception. Kurt's parents had woken and come downstairs to find feathers all over the lawn, paw prints everywhere and their son, a big black wolf, grooming himself happily in the shoe-cum-laundry room that lead of the kitchen.
Kurt raised his head and cocked at ear at his mother, waves of harmless self-satisfaction rolling off him.
"Change back! This instant! You killed something in the garden again!"
Kurt shrugged. His opinions did not exactly translate into words, but a combination of ears, tail and sparkling eyes simply denied that this was true.
"I want to speak to my son." Barbara put her hand son her hips and glared. It was no use. High ranking Kurt's parents might be, his mother was no alpha female and he was stronger, they both knew it. Kurt was happy, he didn't see any reason to change that. He got up, stood four-square on the linoleum and growled.
"Kurt. Do not speak to your mother like that." Dick Smith was no more ferocious looking than his wife. In his fifties, with black hair greying stylishly at the temples, a little paunch and a wolf for a son instead of a midlife crisis.
Kurt knew better than to snap at his father. That would lead to a meeting with Degan Canon pretty quickly, and those meeting were getting less and less clam and more and more tense. Degan kept plenty of strong werewolves in the pack roster, enforcers and friends, he was secure and well liked, he did not need to worry about a coup. But Kurt was volatile, badly socialised as a human, and young. Also unattached. A strong young wolf could be a threat by proximity alone, letting others and potential challengers feel that an alpha wasn't as all powerful as he should be. A strong with a family and a mate within the pack would only ever be a strength to his pack. Kurt flattened his ears, backed down and turned his head to expose his throat to his father.
Kurt rolled his eyes, and there was moment of wavering crunchiness and morphing before he stood in front of his parents. Apart from the soles of his feet and his palms being black and brown from the ground, he was remarkably clean. It was not always the case. Kurt stood slightly stooped, turned away in deference to his father's anger, but his eyes were wide, open, and he met his father's brown eyes with a flash of defiance.
"Oh for god's sake put some clothes on boy," Kurt despaired that his mother, who frolicked about perfectly happily at meets and hunts was so concerned about nudity in her own home, "You've got school, get dressed." Kurt trudged upstairs to his room, physically resisting the urge to walk on all fours. Back in his room he pulled on clothes he didn't see and came back down.
"SHOWER!" chanted both his parents at once, in pretty much the same routine they'd been going through since he was ten and trusted to actually wash himself properly. Kurt stripped and went the bathroom. Soap was another thing that sucked about being human, and since Kurt had figured that his parents were going to make him wash regardless he had taken steps to avoid being nose blind. He had no idea how other wolves stood the scents, the cloying chemical smells and artificial aromas from conventional soaps and shower gels. Kurt bought a sandy liquid in glass jars made from soap nuts from a lady off the internet who was into all natural products. The sand and soap got him clean, and he still smelt like himself, which was a relief for any self-respecting werewolf.
Out of the shower Kurt dried off and stared at himself in the mirror. No need to shave, possibly ever by the looks of things, and Kurt had basically no interest in his appearance outside of being a wolf. He dried his hair, black, oddly cut, and not all the same length. He dried his hair roughly to stop himself from getting cold and walked to his bedroom. Kurt had no interest in clothes, except to favour wearing black. His fur was that colour, it felt natural on him. He dressed and put on shoes, his most hated type of clothing, and went back downstairs.
"Breakfast?" his mother asked, sipping tea.
"I already ate," Kurt grumbled. The wood pigeon had been fat and lazy, and therefore deeply tasty. Getting feathers stuck in his fangs was just a slight annoyance.
"Indeed." Barbara Smith raised an eyebrow at her son. Unwittingly, Kurt dressed like every slightly misunderstood, underweight teenager who listened to alternative music. Granted her son didn't listen to any music, but the image still stuck, "Have a nice day at school."
"It's college." Kurt left with that parting gambit, correcting his mother as always, and just about remember to shut the front door behind him. Not every family in the pack had kids, but there were a good dozen making their way down the road, every age from nineteen down to four. Cubs made for a happy pack. Along with not being able to read or write particularly well, Kurt did not drive, so while Tahryn Spencer and his next oldest sister and the only two other wolves his age, Koby Dean and Henry Tanner got into Tahryn's vintage blue Triumph, Kurt turned away to walk down the road. He did not miss that Koby got quickly into the back of the car, just like him that, you could practically see his ears turned back as he slid behind Tahryn. Henry and Chaska fought for shotgun, and Chaska won, but only just. Kurt unconsciously raised hackles he didn't have and stared at the car as it turned to drive past him. Henry smiled, but the flash of teeth was as good as a challenge to a wolf and Kurt growled as Tahryn pulled the car away.
South Sea pack liked to have their kids attend public school. When they were little it wasn't dangerous, before the change the cubs were just like any other child their age, except maybe a little stronger, schooled in controlling their physical presence. Some had rocky attendance during puberty when the chance made them volatile and difficult, but generally it all picked up again later on. Kurt had been home schooled until he was twelve, and his attendance had been poor since day one. School was dull, it smelt too harshly of chemicals, and it was full of stuff Kurt just didn't need to know.
He was a wolf, he could track a deer for twenty miles and kill it in five minutes. He could read changes in the weather long before meteorologists did, could survive in the wilderness for years. Algebra and English literature were not high on his list of priorities. Kurt walked to school mostly alone. Once he turned out of the cul-de-sac there were other kids, cycling or walking, or waiting for the bus. Lazy. Kurt wondered if his life looked empty to other people. Wolves were social creatures, and as far as he understood it, all the other wolf cubs got on pretty well with humans, had big social groups, lots of friends. Kurt had no friends, not one. Not even another token outcast. Kurt did not like humans, and going to college and being surrounded by them was practically torture.
The biggest problem with school was that their school had built a sixth form not long ago, and now staying there for college was de riguer. But there was no freedom. Sure there were free periods, but you had to be on the grounds for the same hours as everyone else, nine til four like a fucking bad joke. Added to that, Kurt's lack of progress in subjects like, well all of them, held him back. He was basically re sitting the same classes for the third time now. Kurt wandered into registration and slumped into his seat. It was a deliberate gesture, a lack of respect like a slap in the face that no wolf could fail to notice. Their teacher was a boring human, so Kurt's actions meant nothing. The only, sort of high point of school, at least lately, was Tahryn. As Smith and Spencer, the boys got sat next to each other in every class they shared, which weren't many, but Tahryn had been given the locker next to his, and they had sports together.
Kurt did not like sports. The gym teacher was the only wolf on faculty, and he made them toe a strict line of never winning, coming in close second despite and because of the fact that every werewolf kid including Kurt could run rings around the humans. Depressingly, because it was a Friday, the gym was exactly where he ended up, shuffling his trainers against the parquet floor, hands in the front pockets of his hoody.
"Hey Kurt!" the words were accompanied by a slap on the shoulder and Kurt span around, already snarling, every muscle tense. The fact that it was the drop dead gorgeous Tahryn standing there looking like a sex fuelled day dream only made him angrier. Did the guy know nothing at all? People who touched unsuspecting werewolves whose noses were currently useless and full of fucking wood varnish deserved to lose their hands.
"Move your fucking hand. Now." Kurt kept his voice low, but the snarl was obvious, the hard set anger in his eyes. Tahryn looked stupidly at his hand, moved it off Kurt's hoodie and then their eyes met with more or less a clang.
"Sorry." For about half a heartbeat Kurt thought he was going to have to challenge the big bronze muscle bound hunk, but the newcomer flicked his eyes down and backed off a step. It was a vaguely submissive gesture, but not an out and out retreat. "A bunch of us are going for a hunt tomorrow night. You wanna join us?"
Something inside Kurt that wasn't subject to his wolvern will thudded then, really fucking hard. It was like there was something else trying to push instincts out of the way. That had never happened before, and Kurt's instincts turned out to be stronger than the sweet and painful thudding. He jerked his chin, shoulders back, dominant.
"I hunt the woods every weekend. You might run into me." He stepped around the bigger werewolf and strode off to the other end of the gym, the hair on the back of his neck prickling when he knew he was being watched.
Tahryn Spencer cursed himself in his head as he watched the slim werewolf walk away from him, clearly bothered by his presence. That's what you got for being dyslexic in the wolf world. Tahryn was great at being social with humans, fantastic at it, after three weeks he was the most popular guy in school. But being a wolf was all about the little things, and his head-blindness often made him miss those things. He wasn't really dyslexic, not in human terms, what he suffered from was more like very very mild aspergers, his sisters just said he was lazy. Maybe he was. Whatever it was, he had been misreading small werewolf body language symbols his whole life, and now the only guy he was even remotely interested in had stalked off, clearly angry with him. He'd given up the dominant position without much thought, Kurt had been obviously on edge for his sudden approache, and Tahryn had been warned.
In the car that morning he'd asked Henry and Koby about Kurt Smith.
"Wolf boy? Why?" had been Henry's quick response.
"That's a bit harsh," Chaska, his sister, only just a year younger than him and recently eighteen had said, "He's pack just like us." A pause, "Isn't he?"
"He's a freak," Koby said, his voice sending little needling whines up Tahryn's spine, "He's way more wolf than person."
"Wolves are people." Tahryn had made his voice suitable harsh when he had responded, almost feeling Koby shy away from him the seat behind. In the three weeks since his family at moved to the South Sea pack every word Koby Dean had spoken had angered and annoyed Tahryn. The smaller boy was obviously totally smitten with him and acted like a lost puppy half the time. He wheedled and whined and was submissive as hell. Tahryn had never seen another werewolf simply roll over and show their belly at a first meeting, not unless they were backing down from a serious challenge. Now the smaller boy bugged him wherever he went. Koby's subservient attitude irked him and made his skin crawl. Not that there was anything wrong with Koby, Tahryn was sure he would make a good little house pet for some guy one day, he was nice looking, hell he downright pretty with a tiny waist a butt to die for but he just wasn't...
He just wasn't Kurt.
Tahryn had felt drawn to Kurt from the first second he had seen the big shaggy black wolf with the golden brown eyes, and he too would probably be doing his best puppy eyes at the other werewolf if Tahryn hadn't been the dominant type anyway and if Kurt wasn't so ... spikey. Somehow that defiant, dominant attitude that should have been a total turn off made Tahryn want him more. And really hard. Tahryn felt eyes watching him and turned to lock eyes with that honey shade that made his heart leap in his chest like a lovesick school kid, which was kinda what he was. Unfortunately Koby choose that moment to hang his arms around Tahryn's neck and press himself into the big werewolf's back.
The look of disgust and loathing that passed across Kurt's face made Tahryn want to throw up just from looking at him. Before he could act the other wolf snapped his gaze away, stood up and walked out of the gym without turning back. Tahryn stood for a moment in shock, then realised that the stupid little pup was slithering against his back. With a hard shrug he dumped Koby to the floor of the gym. The boy whimpered, looking hurt, instantly turning his head to show his neck in deference to Tahryn. Tahryn growled, snapped and stalked over the main basketball game. The whole exchange had taken place in thirty seconds or less, but Tahryn's brain whirled. He really was going to have to get rid of Koby properly. Even then, he might have no chance with Kurt at all.
All day he looked out for Kurt. The other werewolf's scent made a register on his senses like no one and nothing ever had before. There were trails all over the school and they stayed in his brain, a fire brand across his heart. He made sure that he was watching every time Kurt noticed him, but every time Kurt sneered it felt like getting slapped. And even that was weirdly good. A less pleasant sensation was the one he got from Koby. The damn pup was watching him constantly, never more than an arm's length away, ready to be pulled in and reeled off and hit. The neediness in him made Tahryn angrier and angrier as the day went on.
By last thing registration Tahryn was thrumming with built up tension. He desperately needed release of some sort or another. Koby's kicked puppy act made him want to break the smaller werewolf in half, Kurt's defiant anger made him want to break the slim dark haired boy in a very different way. His wolf paced his mind like a caged beast and Tahryn was a very different person from the smooth, unruffled teenager he had been when he arrived that morning. The bell went for dismissal and Tahryn snapped his eyes up to meet the honey gold gaze of Kurt. Neither of them looked away.
To his wolf, the fact that he was sitting mattered, so Tahryn stood, still locked with Kurt's eyes. He could feel his wolf rising, could scent anger and blood-lust in the air, pheromones and testosterone making his nose quiver, setting his world aflame with coloured scents. He let slip a soft growl, not having meant to do so, a saw the muscles flex in Kurt's hand and arm. His lips distorted to show his teeth, very white and very threatening to his wolf, and Kurt snarled at him. Tahryn knew he had to back down now or risk having his head taken off, but somehow couldn't break the contact.
As always, Koby had excellent timing. If there was anything in a submissive's nature that was useful at a moment like this, it was the desire to placate two stronger wolves spoiling for a fight. Koby put himself between the two werewolves, his back pressed to Tahryn's thrumming chest, making sure that his eyes were down and Kurt could see his exposed chest. The boy snarled at him, any thread trace of humanity gone, snapped his jaws and slashed out at the shorter werewolf. Koby whimpered, but the noise made Tahryn look down and Kurt strode away, trying to stop his shoulders from shaking. People muttered about 'that Kurt is fucking strange' or 'oh poor Koby' but no one said anything useful so they were dismissed.
Tahryn stroke to his car without looking where he was going. He barely gave the other three wolves time to get in before he squealed the tyres out of the lot. He drove home with the single minded determination to get there without wolfing out in the actual fucking car, ran two red lights without stopping and gunned the engine down the cul-de-sac. He dashed from the Triumph without turning off the engine, and made for the house. A trail of clothes scattered throughout the house, Tahryn emerged into the back garden as a huge sand coloured wolf and sprung into the woodlands behind the house.
Tahryn ran, letting his mind take a back seat to his wolf and the desire to just get out, run until every muscle he had burned and then tear something apart. The fact that this would be an option very soon was not lost on his wolf. He tore through the forest, feet pounding on the ground turned hard by a week without rain, whipping past trees, low hanging branches snagging and snapping in his fur, whip like ones cutting his sides. Tahryn flattened his ears and scented the air as he ran. He could smell living things with fast heartbeats, his ice blue eyes scoured the convoluted landscape in front of him and he picked a fox track leading north. Much smaller animals scattered at his approach, a cloud of birds cawing in the sky. He snapped at them anyway, long jaws closing on nothing.
He smelt the rabbits long before they were visible, so he didn't slow down, knew that his reaction were good, better than theirs, and sprang into the clearing, jaws clapping shut with a bloody crunch on the shoulders of the bunny. Tahryn didn't even stop, but tore limbs from fur and flesh from bone, not caring of his mess or his actions, until the hot ball of rage in his head cleared and his heart slowed until he could hear the sound of his own thoughts.
And the sound went; Kurt, Kurt, Kurt...
Tahryn knew he shouldn't his human mind knew he mustn't, put that didn't matter. The keenness of pain he felt, the confusion striking in his brain, the human emotions twisted with the wolf and Tahryn raised his muzzle to the sky and howled, long and high and mournful. It was still light, half four in the afternoon, but he howled anyway, for long long minutes until the ache lessened, the grip around his heart loosened, and he left his voice die. He could have imagined it, it might have been a trick, his ears at been full of the sound of his own sorrow, but he swore that he heard another wolf die out just after his own. Shaking and panting, Tahryn turned and made his way back down the hill towards his family's home.
Friday nights were pack meet nights. Meets did not always mean hunting, and Degan Canon had got his senior pack members to organise everything for an early spring barbeque. Sure it would be dark, yes they would have to wear blankets when human because it was too cold to go naked, but the whole pack didn't fit inside any one room in the house. If the pack got any larger they were going to have to remodel or something.
Most werewolves tried to look their best for pack meets, but Kurt was not in that number. He followed his father it, a crate of fizzy soft drinks on one shoulder, a bag containing three racks of pork ribs in the other hand, looking just as shabby as he did every day. His duty done with the carrying he shed his clothes without half an ounce of self-consciousness and shifted in less than ten seconds. His jaw creaked when yawned, and only then did he rub himself along his Alpha's leg as the older man stood at the barbeque.
"Well it's nice to see you too Kurt," Degan smiled with his lips closed at the young wolf and waved away Dick smith as he reached for the bag of meat Kurt had set down, "I'm fine Smith. Stop fussing. You're dad thinks I'm an old man."
The big black wolf grinned, his pink tongue lolling, ears up and happy. If you didn't know better you could almost trick yourself into thinking it a very large and friendly dog. This was Degan Canon liked to converse with the most unconventional member of his pack. As a wolf, Kurt was happy, easy to understand, his reactions predictable if dangerous. He was respectful of his alpha if not of anyone else. As a human Kurt was unmanageable. But it was the wolf on wolf situations that were becoming most troubling. Degan tried not to let his concern show, chatting to his pack-son about the food for the meet, so much required to feed forty one wolves of varying ages and tastes. The youngest was just four, there were seven kids in all who had not yet reached puberty and would stay human at all times. Degan joked about it, but he was getting older, and Kurt seemed larger every week, his wolf shape big and imposing in a way his human form was not. Sooner or later, Kurt was going to become more than a passing worry and Degan was concerned that Smith would no longer be able to hold his son in check.
Kurt sniffed his way around the big open yard. The place smelt of his alpha and his pack-family and he spent a while rubbing and rolling himself on the grass, using the textures to heighten his senses regardless of how ridiculous he looked. He slipped into the forest to relieve himself rather than mark territory and came back with his tail hail and tongue out at the scent of meat grilling. His wolfish smile snapped closed when he saw the Dean family chatting to his parents. Koby Dean took after his mother, small, wiry, shy. His father wasn't high ranking, and kept his head dipped to Dick's own dominance in the conversation. Kurt growled and snuffed, turning his back on Koby as he searched for a place to put down the bowls of potato salad he was holding. The snub did not go un-noticed.
A bark and a growl and Kurt turned to see the rich brown fur of Henry Tanner's big brother. Philip Tanner was twenty, still living at home and a loyal pack member to his alpha, despite being as yet unsettled and without a mate. Philip had aspirations. His parents were not high ranking, but he wanted to be, and stepping on pack member who annoyed him was his way of showing dominance. Kurt raised his head and flattened his ears against his skull, teeth bared. Philip's brother was clever enough not to challenge the black wolf, Philip had yet to learn this lesson. Philip snarled and lunged, but Kurt side stepped him and turned quickly, never leaving his back exposed to the other wolf.
They circled each other, and then Philip sprang and ducked to try and close his teeth on Kurt's throat. Kurt twisted, angled his head and brought his fangs down in a crushing blow on the back of Philip's neck, pinning the brown wolf to the ground. He had the older Tanner brother whimpering in a matter of moments. Kurt let him go, trod on him for good measure and then took of across the garden, yipping, tail held high at the sight of his favourite person.
Jene Camra was Degan's granddaughter, and she hugged her grandpa and handed over the pork lion she had brought with her before opening her arms for the big black wolf. Jene was easily Kurt's favourite person in the whole world. Three years his senior she was the only other pack member who didn't differentiate between the human and wolf, washed with natural soap and at least tried to understand her pack-brother. Her clothing was made of layers of organic cotton and hemp and Kurt burrowed and nuzzled into her as she sank to her knees.
"How's my favourite little brother then?" she spoke more into his fur, but Kurt felt the vibrations and understood the words and wagged his tail. "I see you started without me then." She gestured at his faintly bloody teeth, "Who'd you beat up this time?"
Kurt jerked his tail at Philip Tanner, slinking along the fence line with his tail between his legs. The brown wolf had the good sense to drop his head when he felt the golden eyes on him. Kurt took Jene's sleeve between his teeth and tugged gently, urging her to come play.
"I have to help cook first."
"Well I wanna talk too but you could always change back you know." Kurt shook his big wedge shaped head from side to side and turned around, sitting down with a huff, "Oh! Don't be like that." Jene made a small whimpering noise in her throat to get Kurt's attention, "At least stay here with me while I cook? Yeah, no more fighting."
Kurt was content as people began to show up to stay at Jene's feet, watching human shapes shed for wolves and back again. Somehow he got left minding the cubs, little chubby human hands that stroked at his fur and pulled his ears. For some reason, Kurt could forgive the cubs nearly everything. He growled if they went too far, but that was how cubs learnt, and he watched over them while they played, head on his paws.
He was almost fully relaxed, his muscles seeming to turn to liquid when a new scent reached him over the luscious aroma of cooking meat. A scent like the hot desert, spicy and warm, salty and rough. It was a soft smell, orange and gold, and Kurt hated that his first thought was to welcome the owner of that scent was a happy yip and a wagging tail. He hunkered down in his anger his thick fur bristling. The gorgeous tanned form of Tahryn Spencer dropped down beside, too close to be really polite. Kurt flattened his ears, his tail lying on the ground, a clear sign to go away. So he was shocked when a heavy smooth hand landed on his head and started stroking him. There it was again, that treacherous thud, that heat which spread through him and threatened to overwhelm his instincts. Instincts won and a heartbeat later Kurt had sunk his fangs into that hand.
He snarled at Tahryn was the young man clutched his hand, blood dripping into his shirt sleeve.
"Ow! Jesus Christ!"
"Kurt!" Jene ran to the pair, eyes wide, "What did you do?"
Kurt snarled and snapped his jaws, his eyes never leaving Tahryn's face. Tahryn was concentrating on his own pain, and not swearing in front of the kids and Kurt smirked. The two blond wolves who were Tahryn's eldest sister snapped and snarled at him but knew better than to spring and suddenly Kurt was facing off pretty much every wolf shaped member of his pack, growling and gnashing his fangs.
"ENOUGH!" Degan Canon's roar, the voice of the alpha was enough to still everyone, wolf and human alike, "Leave them be, I will talk to them." Degan handed off his apron and barbeque tongs to Smith with a nod, "Here. Now!" he he stormed into the house. Kurt kept his head up at he walked, even though other members of the pack, older than him, snarled low. Kurt didn't trust Tahryn to go behind him, so he followed the bleeding human indoors.
Degan's study was pretty normal, apart from the dog beds, with an oak desk and books shelves ranged around the walls, but with the alpha bristling with fury neither boy took much opportunity to notice their surroundings.
"Change back. Right now!" Kurt had more sense than to argue and changed fluidly to a human, but stayed crouched low.
"He touched me!" his voice was practically a bark and he snarled at Tahryn.
"Come here," the alpha's voice was suddenly soft and loving, "Let me see." He took Tahryn hand and rubbed over the already healing bite marks. They would be raised and red for a day or so, but there was no permanent damage, "Well than god for that. Kurt you forget how sharp your teeth are."
Kurt's chin jerked up. Defiance.
"I didn't forget anything. He shouldn't have sprung up on me like that."
"True, but you have to learn to be more patient." Degan was using his serious voice, standing off against Kurt, who looked like he might jump up and attack any moment.
"Why?" Kurt stood, not noticing his naked form, "He's a year older than I am. He should know how to act!"
"I'm fucking dyslexic OK?" Tahryn snapped, "I just don't see things the way you do."
Kurt narrowed his eyes and snarled.
"Oh go and fuck your chew toy."
"Why you little-!"
"BOYS!" Kurt stopped snapping to face his alpha, "You will learn to get along or so help me I will knock your skull's together so hard you'll have to share your remaining brain cells. No more of this fighting." He turned his back on them, a gesture of trust even Kurt didn't feel they'd earned, and strode from the room. Within seconds Kurt was back wearing black fur.
"Oh," Tahryn's voice followed him as the wolf left, "So it's not like we can have an actual conversation then?"
Tahryn left his new alpha's study to find the barbeque in full swing. There was no formal meeting, no council, just forty one werewolves wearing various shapes, gathered in the large garden lit by tiki torches and lights from the back of the house, eating and laughing and playing. Tahryn couldn't help it, but his eyes sought out Kurt, sitting off to one side, munching happily on a chuck of ribs, lying next to a slender pale wolf who was almost white. She ate daintily, but Kurt tore into his food like the canine he was. He looked to see Tahryn and growled. Tahryn looked away quickly, and was mugged by his sisters, now human and apart from little Isla, in various states of undress.
He shook of their concern and went to get food. He was served in a tandem combination of his own father and Dick Smith, Kurt's dad.
"Are you alright son?" to Tahryn's surprise, that was Smith speaking to him.
"No real damage."
"Just pride then," Whelan Spencer was gruff as he selected roasted chicken thighs from the griddle, "You two are going to have to sort this."
"We will father."
"Just make him back down and roll over, and then everyone can be happy." Whelan continued, seemingly oblivious to Smith's flash of anger.
"Dad..." Tahryn dipped his head and exposed his neck to Smith, to try and nullify his father's words.
"Sorry." Whelan nodded and waved his son away with the tongs. "Go play son."
Tahryn took his plate and went over to sit with Henry and the other werewolves who were about his age. His middle sister Mehran was the youngest of that little group at fifteen, Tanner's brother the eldest at twenty. He could feel Kurt watch him as he set down his plate and began to strip off. He changed fairly smoothly, putting a lot of effort into not showing any pain at the transition, and then sat down heavily as a large sandy yellow wolf. He flicked his tail and then snapped at Henri when the red-brown wolf tried to steal his chicken. It was a battle he won easily.
When they'd first moved here three weeks ago Tahryn had expected the South Sea pack to be much like his old one. He'd expected tensions to run high, to have to fight for a position amongst the younger werewolves, to work his way up from being the new wolf at the bottom. It had not been so. South Sea was the most balanced and happy pack Tahryn had ever seen, and with no more than a little growling Tahryn and is sisters had slotted well into the hierarchy of the younger set. The young unattached werewolves were like a little mini pack all their own and after refusing to take short shrift from Tanner's brother Tahryn had pretty much been the leader of the little group. The only annoying this was that he couldn't seem to get rid of Koby.
He'd finished eating, so he couldn't snap at the little dun coloured wolf for that as he rubbed himself along Tahryn's side before flopping down next to him. The body heat and the feeling so closeness was nice. Hell, they were wolves, social acceptance was what they lived for. Koby pressed his cold nose into Tahryn's neck and the submissive gesture needled at him, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. He got up roughly, which flipped Koby and dislodged his cloying gaze. Tahryn put back his ears and showed his teeth, then turned and stalked off across the yard.
Kurt had obviously not understood him when he had tried to explain in their alpha's office, but that was too surprising. Tahryn's family had never heard of anyone with wolf related dyslexia, and his father still wasn't sure if it was just laziness on his son's part. Whatever it was though, he missed things. Big gestures, teeth, belly, snarling, they were fine. It was the little things that he missed. Tahryn knew that there were whole deep and convoluted conversations going on around him if he could only look properly. But he couldn't. It was easier when he was a wolf, it got harder with more degrees of separation. Being human and talking with a wolf was a bit hit and miss, but being human and looking for those signs a werewolf in human shape gave out, those were worst. It was no wonder Kurt had snapped his hand. What the other boy had said to him in the study made his head ache.
Oh go and fuck your chew toy.
It was obvious even to him what Kurt had meant. Koby's over familiar attitude and Tahryn's lack of quickness in shrugging him off had not gone unnoticed, and Kurt obviously thought that the two of them were being all cute together. The idea made Tahryn shudder. It was cruel of him to think it, because there was nothing wrong with Koby, he should have been exactly Tahryn's type. Hell he had been Tahryn's type back home before he'd first laid eyes on the somehow intoxicating figure of Kurt Smith.
Kurt's dominance and his aggression should not have been a turn on for Tahryn, but that didn't mean that his brain or his body were actually listening to his instincts. Instincts said fight, force submission from this big black wolf, but his heart thudded double time and told him to do anything to appease those big gold brown eyes. Tahryn flopped down where he stood, in a space alone where the fence ended and the woodlands began, and felt his cock harden in his sheath as he thought about Kurt. And even that would have been bearable, except for the fact that Kurt so obviously hated him.
Tahryn had not a fucking clue what he was going to do about that.
Koby settled himself down after Tahryn had walked off, the sandy wolf looking bristly and annoyed. Koby sighed to himself. Tahryn would come around eventually, he had too. He definitely couldn't spend any more time in staring matches with Kurt Smith. Koby hated the idea of his precious pseudo-alpha getting hurt again but the black wolf. Kurt was just downright fucking weird, and everyone knew it. It had been instinct, and nothing more that had put him between the two at school that afternoon. It certainly hadn't been self-preservation and his chest still hurt from Kurt's blow. Koby shook his head and walked off to shift back, returning to the group with soda's and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
"You look like a lovesick puppy Ko," Henry joshed him, knuckling his shoulder softly. Kody sighed heavily and leant against his friend's shoulder. Despite being straight as an arrow Henry ruffled his hair and didn't try and shrug him off. That was by far and away the best thing about being a werewolf, because you needed physical contact to stay sane, it often didn't matter where you got it from. It was not something that humans understood very well. Sure, the touch of your mate was best, followed only by that of your alpha, but for Koby, resting his skull against his oldest friend was just fine.
"God I want him though," Koby lamented softly. The sandy wolf had lain down by the fence line and Koby wanted nothing more than to go over to him, press his body against the fur and see those icy blue eyes sparkle.
"You're just his type you know." It was Tahryn's oldest sister who piped up, pouring herself a coke from the bottle Koby had brought back, "You being all skinny and adorable looking."
Koby blushed crimson and hid his face in his blanket.
"Yeah that's about right," Mehran assured him, smiling around the lamb shank bone she was holding, "He'll come around no problems. Just blush more."
Koby smiled and decided to believe, at least for tonight, that he believed their comments, because in his heart he knew, that Tahryn Spencer did not like did in the way Koby wanted him too.
Kurt stayed long enough at the meet to be respectful, but after eating his fill and establishing that Jene wasn't coming running with him, he didn't feel much like hanging around. Despite what he'd eaten, his nose and mouth were still full of the scent of Tahryn, the deep spicy sweetness of him, the metallic clang of his blood. Kurt had needed Jene to steal his food to stop him from growling as the sandy wolf sat down with his friends and that little shit Koby began to play happy families with him.
Koby had bugged Kurt for almost as long as he could remember. As a kid, Kurt hadn't gotten along well with others. He was too young, his puppy form too weak, to play with the teenage wolves who were just discovering their other selves. But he was too strong and too violent for kids his own age who were still basically human. And Koby had been the worst of those. Koby Dean was born to be submissive, would whimper and whine if Kurt so much as looked at him funny, but would then play up and act all lovesick when there were no adults around. Bigger, taller and stronger than the skinny boy who looked at least a year younger than he really was, Kurt had gotten blamed for every scraped knee and tearful sniffle Koby had ever produced.
And when Koby and his wolf had collided when Koby was eighteen things had gotten worse. Kurt spent all his time as a wolf, so when Koby offered himself to the black canine in had been in that form. Kurt had stepped into the woods to find Koby waiting for him. the little dun wolf had wasted no time in rolling over for him, his shiny pink cock peeking from his shaft. The way in which he'd begged Kurt had made him snap and snarl and send Koby running, tail between his legs. That had happened a few times in the years since, but not anymore. Now Koby was carrying a torch for Tahryn and Kurt hated that he was jealous.
He stalked off into the forest by himself, following the well-worn tracks that led to the top of the first ridge. Rolling his shoulders, Kurt set of in a steady loping run, paws thudding on the hard ground. The sky was clear, the stars shone. It was chilly, but not cold enough to make his breath steam in front of him and Kurt delighted in the smooth warmth of well-trained muscles. He could do this forever. Running through the woodlands made him never want to go back. And he couldn't imagine life as a human, something as simple as a job was so not going to happen for him. He couldn't function in the human world. Not properly.
His was just over halfway to his favourite spot, slowing down to a nice gentle clip when he scented and felt someone else in the forest near him. at first he thought it was his brain playing tricks, because it wasn't a new scent, but then he heard a paw scrape against stone and knew he was being followed. There was no convenient clearing so Kurt stayed where he was, and turned to face the rising scent, so at least when Tahryn emerged he would know that he hadn't managed to creep up on Kurt.
The big sand-yellow wolf pushed through the tree a few minutes later and panted at Kurt, tongue out. Tahryn could hardly be tired, he had the stamina of his species and that sporty-athletic thing going on. The lolling tongue was a gesture of piece. Kurt flicked his tail and narrowed his eyes, but Tahryn's posture was all play. Ears up, tail waving, he pushed his front legs forwards sticking his rear in the air and yapped. Being angry at Tahryn was overridden by the desire to play and he yipped back and plunged forwards. They snapped at each other, barking and mocking snarling, each getting loose and pulling away for diving back in. By short bursts of fleeing they soon ended up at the big flat rock by the copse and both wolves collapsed onto the blessedly cool stone.
Kurt didn't care about Tahryn's presence as he panted, flicking his tail, heart hammering from their game. Neither had won or lost and that didn't matter at all. When Tahryn got up and repositioned himself to lie along Kurt's side all the big black wolf did was raise his head to rest his chin over the top of the sand coloured wolf's back. Wolf life was simple. They had played, now they rested. There were no challenges over territory or food, no one did anything stupid or disrespectful, and Kurt simply allowed himself to let go of his anger and hatred of the other wolf. For now at least.
He half growled when he felt Tahryn shift underneath him, he had been comfortable using the other young wolf as a pillow, half asleep as he was. The movement settled and Kurt snuffed and licked his muzzle. After a long minute he realised that the texture under him had changed, Tahryn's heartbeat was much louder in his ears and Kurt opened his eyes to find that he was resting his head on Tahryn's chest, the beautiful naked young man having changed forms and rolled over as Kurt half slept.
"Hey there you," Tahryn reached out for Kurt's furry head but stopped himself short, "Sorry. I know, I'm thick."
Kurt frowned. Sure Tahryn wasn't the brightest kid in the pack, but he was a long way from being dumb. Kurt told him such.
"I think you're disagreeing with me. It's hard to tell."
Kurt cocked his head, one ear swivelled down.
"Why? I told you, wolf related dyslexia. I'm crap with subtle body language."
Kurt dropped his head back down to the human's chest as he considered this. Eventually he laid his ears back and harrumphed. It was no wonder than the new wolf was rubbish at interpreting signals then. Kurt knew all about regular garden variety dyslexia, mostly because his teachers were convinced that he fell in the spectrum somewhere. He didn't, that much he knew. He could read perfectly well, but there was no knowledge useful to him that could be gleaned from books written by humans.
"This is nice." Tahryn's voice was like his scent, at least in Kurt's mind. Somehow dark and spicy and soaked in sunlight. Distinct and beautiful, like his name, with a hot tang of lust and desire, along with the calm blue river of contentment.
Desire. Kurt's nostrils flared even as his tail wagged. Desire and lust. Hot red scents that made his nose twitch. Tahryn's hand was in his fur somehow without him noticing, stroking the thick dark silk of his ruff. Desire. Kurt swivelled his head and saw that Tahryn's beautiful impressive member was swollen and thick, pointing up towards where the wolf lay against him. Kurt's mind froze. Desire; for him? But he had no idea what was going on in Tahryn's mind and now the hand was moving in his fur, over his head as though the battle was done, as though Kurt was nothing but a common house pet and Tahryn had succeeded in dominating him.
Kurt leapt up and back so quickly that he lost his foot, slipped on the edge of the rock slab and fell to land heavily with his legs twisted under him. He let out a short high yelp and got up. Then he fixed Tahryn with an angry yellow stare.
"Hey buddy are you OK?" Tahryn had gotten up, sat now with his legs dangling over the edge, cock proud and perfect resting against his ripped abdomen. God, it nearly touched his navel. Kurt tore his eyes away and bared his teeth at the man who acted like he owned him.
"Hey whoa, what did I do?"
But Kurt snarled. He had trusted an unknown wolf, how fucking stupid could he have been? Brought the boy to his favourite place and played with him as though they were friends. Now his fur and hackles raised and he let out a blood curdling growl. Things with hot blood and fast heartbeats dived back underground as quick as they could. Then he barked, gnashing his teeth, keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy. He would not back down. Kurt advanced, one step, then two, then jumped to the slap and lunged forwards, teeth closing less than inches from the sensitive, delicate areas of Tahryn's perfect naked form. Icy blue eyes wavered, and then Tahryn ran from the copse.
For about half a second Kurt thought about giving chase, but the scared look in the other boy's eyes told him that he had done enough. Tahryn was scared of him, he had won the fight. His heart began to slow in his chest, no longer hammering away like the drums of war, and as the rage cleared from his mind Kurt saw Tahryn's face again in his mind. The big blond muscle bound god had been scared of him. Scared. Not respectful or submissive, but out and out petrified of a wolf who half a minute previously had been lying content at his side. If he'd won, why did he feel so fucking rotten? He laid back his ears and snapped at himself, teeth clicking and clashing in the cool air. The boy he wanted was scared of him.
Kurt raised his face to the sky and howled out his despair at the thought that Tahryn might well never speak to him again.
Jene was far from the only one who pricked up her ears, lying happy and contented with her immediate family and her pack. The barbeque was off, some people were still eating, most lying about chatting, wolves slumped in piles of multi-coloured fur; everyone content and happy. It was a sight that made Jene Camra proud of her grandfather. No one could say that he wasn't a good alpha, a strong leader by example, that he kept peace and harmony in his circle. And it was with a head full of those happy thoughts that Jene head the howl.
Her head shot up, facing towards the woods and the hill, her ears swivelled forwards and her nostrils flared. To humans, howls were just pretty noises, or disturbing noises. To a wolf, a howl was a song, a shout, as complex and full of meaning and emotion as music. This howl made Jene want to cry and sob. There were notes of loneliness so cold she had no idea how she could hear it and keep going, never mind sing it and live. The howl affected the whole pack, made happy people sad, contented wolves became agitated and whined, whimpering in their huddles, pulling away from each. It was a howl of pain and loss and abject despair.
There was a voice in that howl, the voice of one of her pack brothers. The voice of Kurt. Even Jene, his closest, and possibly his only, friend, hadn't known that he could feel so awful. She pointed her white muzzle to the sky and replied and joined with his song, and she was not the only one. Wolf after wolf raised their heads to sing into the night, to strengthen that loneliness with their love and support, to tell the wolf who cried that he was not alone.
Eventually the notes ended and stillness and silence reigned among the wolves of the South Sea pack. After that, no one had much felt like hanging around. It was time for clearing up and putting away, changing shape and gathering clothes and each departing to their houses with hugs and goodbyes. Jene stayed behind to help her grandparents finishing putting the grill away, wearing her blanket as a poncho over her nude form for warmth if nothing else, and it was she who saw Tahryn arrived in the back garden.
Jene left the pile of dishes and ran out into the night. Tahryn was sweating, visibly shaking as he collapsed on the lawn, his tanned skinned scratched and smattered with patches of mud and blood. His golden hair was plastered to his skull, and it was easy to tell from the salt tracks down his face and the red rims of his blue eyes that he'd been crying. Jene whipped off her poncho cum blanket and wrapped the raw wool around the boy's shoulders. Thoughtlessly she made soft soothing noises in her throat, the same noises her mother had rocked her to sleep with when she was a cub and hadn't understood her wolf, or had cried for the pain of the change when it was still a torture to be gone through. Jene was not large, but she covered the body of the newcomer to the pack with her skin, knowing that the contact soothed him, and continued to half-purr soft noises to him.
It took a long time but eventually the shaking stopped, and Tahryn's breathing eased, his heart slowed to a normal rhythm, and Jene let go off him and came to kneels on the ground in front of him, their knees touching. Tahryn sniffed and dragged the back of his hand across his face, smearing tears and spit. It was not beautiful crying. Jene waited. Patience was her best quality, the type of patience that had allowed her to become friends with Kurt and stay that way. The patience that kept her in control of twenty little toddlers at the nursery where she worked.
"Thank you," Tahryn started to get up but found that his limbs shook, so he stayed where he was, "Oh my god, are you cold?"
Jene was not self-sacrificing enough to refuse the poncho back when it was offered and slipped it over her head.
"Come into the house and we'll get you warm and cleaned up." She stood and offered her hand to the big blond obviously heartbroken werewolf, "And then you can tell me what you and Kurt fought about."
Tahryn's head snapped up and he stared at her, slack jawed. It was true what her grandfather had told her, the boy really didn't know what his own body did, and as he stood Jene could well imagine many a threatened werewolf snapping at him for the powerful way her was looking at her. When his voice came, it was small and full of questions and disbelief.
"How did you know it was him?"
"Oh honey," Jene had to laugh as she lead him inside, "I've known Kurt my entire life, you really think anyone missed his call? That boy is hurting and you are too. Now come on, hot cocoa, shower and home to your parents."
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