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LYKOS

Third Age

Chapter 10

(Torikkusuta)

One of the many reasons Marco had rarely pulled all-nighters was the fact that he didn't seem to be as good at it as anyone else his age. After talking to the EMTs, then the police, and then his parents on the phone, Marco was bone tired. He felt clammy and like there was a sheen of sweat along his scalp that was most decidedly not the sexy kind. The main lights in the dorm room had been turned off, leaving just the rope lights strung up under the red wood shelves near the ceiling to fill the room with a soft glow. Duncan was off to one side of the bed, his eyes barely managing to stay open. Udo moved around on bare feet to dispose of the tea bags and the paper cups they'd used.

Marco felt like he should have predicted something like this, that they should have taken more precautions... but he'd already said the words and heard the counterpoints. They couldn't assign keepers to every student; and they didn't have enough information to go on yet. All they knew was that Doctor Woods had gotten Rodrigo stabilized. Somewhere across the room there was a soft click before Marco was engulfed by the breeze of his box fan and ensnared by the steady white noise it produced. Marco closed his eyes, feeling better as the fan compensated for his clamminess. Fletcher smiled softly from where he had turned it on and aimed it at the bed.

"It's time to sleep... And to sleep in." Fletcher said to Marco. Marco nodded, feeling as if he'd never been more ready to agree to anything in his life. He backed up to the mattress and relaxed just enough to fall back with a flop, although he was only half as high up in the bed as he wanted to be. To his relief, Marco felt Yom's hands slip under his shoulders and he slid up effortlessly into the center of the bed.

"Thanks, my love." Marco said. Yom gave a growling grunt of satisfaction and gave Marco a gentle kiss on the lips before he slipped down into the crevice between Marco and Duncan. Fletcher ensured the fan was properly pointed before he pulled off his beanie, shaking his hair loose before he gave a running pounce into the bed, nearly overshooting and hitting the wall the bed was pushed up against. Marco groaned at that, eyes scrunched before he chuckled a little, feeling Fletcher settle into the doggy pile. Udo remained standing, smiling as he looked at the other four. He sent out a few text messages on his phone to modify the orientation schedule for the next day before he moved over and climbed onto the far side next to Fletcher, scooting over almost all the way before he reached over to the nightstand and pressed the remote to the rope lights.

With a click, the room was plunged into relative darkness. The creamy white light was gone, leaving only narrow slats of the orange haze that the campus lamp posts produced. Marco exhaled slowly, listening to the white noise of the fan, feeling the warmth of the bodies against him and his own heat. He still felt clammy and like he didn't quite belong in his own skin, but he knew that'd get better after rest. They knew Rodrigo was stable and Beck was with him, the other students had been warned and keepers had moved in to patrol. He had done his part and he'd been in the right place at the right time to help save another life.

The sensations around Marco were so welcoming and it was another reminder just how lucky he was... He was in a dorm room with a perfect view, in bed with four amazing men that loved him unconditionally. The fan was perfect, even the smell was perfect. Marco slowly inhaled, breathing in the scent of his pack before he exhaled again slowly. Little by little his thoughts became fuzzier and more diffuse, taking up less of his brain power as they melted away. Fragments of his day played around in the back of his mind, mixing with other pieces from here and there, but rising out of all of it was the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Marco heard the waves lapping on the beach, a rustling of wind through the trees. He could smell the salty surf and he could feel a distant thunder rumbling... but it wasn't home, it wasn't Hawaii, not quite. It smelled like the forest, like fall. The leaves Marco heard rustling in the wind were deciduous and as he opened his eyes in the dream, he saw them turning from verdant green to rich shades of red, gold and orange. The sweet earthy wind was blowing through his hair and rippling through his beard. Wherever he was, the only drawback was that it was colder than he was used to. Marco rolled over in his sleep, sliding one leg over Artyom's to let it rest in the space between. Yom murmured happily in his own rest, enjoying the touch and reciprocating by pressing back.

In his dream, Marco was moving through a forest. He was ducking under vines and climbing over branches. He tried to slip over one particularly large log, only to get stuck halfway straddling it. The wood was firm and dense, but comfortably warm to the touch. Marco rocked back and forth on it to try and get momentum to slide off, but the pressure against his groin felt so tantalizingly good. After all, it was just a dream, wasn't it? Marco started to press his lap against the tree limb, grinding and rubbing, moving his hips back and forth, completely unaware that he was humping Artyom's leg in the midst of their slumber.

Yom murmured happily in his own sleep, aware of the heat and pressure and presence, his nostrils flared with Marco's scent. He breathed in and out, deeper and harder, managing to return the favor by humping back. It only took a quarter turn of his waist until Marco's erection was pressing against his own. The two ground and humped, rubbing and shifting until Yom's glowing amber eyes snapped open, his ears pressing to points, his panting breath passing over sharpened teeth. He looked around and then at Marco.

Artyom thought about waking his lover up, but he'd been through so much... and if this was how he needed to unwind, how could he do anything but help? Yom flicked his hand, his claw emerging from his pointer finger before he reached down and cut the button from Marco's boxers. His lover's thick, fat brown cock popped through the open fly almost immediately. Yom grinned to himself before he reached to tug his own boxers lower, revealing a furry brown sheath with the pointed head of a red wolf cock peeking out of it. Yom lifted his hips, letting Marco's meaty shaft rub against his sheath.

With just a few gentle rubs, Yom's golden eyes rolled into the back of his head. Each thrust of Marco's hips coaxed more and more of the werewolf's wet member out of his sheath. Yom slunk lower in bed, letting Marco's manhood glide against his pre soaked shaft. Even in the nearly non-existent light of the bedroom, Yom watched as Marco's cock got stickier and wetter and slicker, coated with his virile juices. He tried not to growl loud enough to wake anyone, but he did slide one clawed hand over Marco's ass, giving his cheek a squeeze before pulling him in tighter.

Marco moaned in his sleep, humping more eagerly, feeling the heat and friction building. In his dream the forest had grown a lot more fertile, the colorful leaves getting more plentiful and the vines growing thick and pliant. There was a musky earthiness in the air like the scent of a rainforest caught between the constant battle of life and decay. The rain was falling around Marco, collecting in the grooves and seams of the tree, his cock sliding along a particularly mossy groove.

It was completely self-indulgent, even absurd to be humping a tree, but Marco knew there was no logic in a dream. He ran his cock back and forth along that groove, feeling like each thrust was making his cock longer and thicker and fatter. His balls slapped against the hardwood, swelling a little from the abuse. The sweet wind rippled through his beard, making it billow and fill out, feeling fuller than it had since he was a werewolf. Marco groaned louder and louder, his fingers digging into the tree - quite literally as his fingernails darkened into claws.

Without waking, Marco's back arched, his body went rigid, and his shaft unleashed a thick, sticky torrent of pearl colored cum. It splashed across Yom's hairy stomach and hairier groin, landing in thick webs across the hair and glistening where it touched his skin. Yom almost had to bite his tongue to keep from howling before his own cock suddenly ejected a fountain of yellowed werewolf sperm across his stomach, chest and into his beard. He came hard and fast, growling perversely before he used his other arm to pull Marco closer, bringing his lover's body to his until they were groin to groin, stomach to stomach and beard to beard.

Yom gave Marco a gentle kiss, well aware he was getting his musky cum in his beard. With an incredibly satisfied grin, Yom closed his eyes and held his lover close, still achingly hard from the idea that he was marinating Marco in his sperm. They might not be married yet, but Marco was every bit Artyom's husband in his mind. The other three men adjusted their positions gradually, the puppy pile closing in a little tighter, so everyone was close enough to touch. The bed was full, warm and incredibly cozy, smelling even more manly than it had a few minutes before.

****

Auel tried to rub the sleep from his hazel eyes as he followed after Ren, her footsteps echoing on the linoleum tile of the police station. He remembered half a dozen times he'd gone on the hunt in the middle of the night and hadn't felt the weight of the hours like this. Maybe he really was getting older, his thirtieth birthday looming on the horizon. He brushed a stray strand of his blond hair out of his face, looking up as the security gate buzzed and clicked, unlocking. Ren hadn't even slowed down, moving with a confidence that it would retract in time to pose no obstacle. Auel was even more impressed as she turned towards the evidence locker, knowing precisely where it was. Auel tried to speed up, catching up just as Ren stepped through the door.

"You're the special liaison the mayor sent over?" The junior police officer asked, his brown sideburns well-groomed and his face looking fresh despite the late hour. Ren gave a nod of her head to his question, though the colored plastic badge clipped to her red and black shirt indicated as much.

"I was told the weapon was made of crystal?" Ren asked. The officer nodded, moving over to key his code into the evidence locker. The stack of drawers clicked as the electrical lock unfastened inside.

"That's the real stand out part. Attacks aren't uncommon for a college campus, even with knives, but a crystal knife?" he asked.

"Attacks may be common on other college campuses, not here." Ren replied, "Please show me the weapon." she said. The officer nodded and moved to open the top drawer, although as he did, his brow furrowed in confusion. He looked the drawer over before closing it and trying the next one, looking even more agitated. He moved down to the third. Whatever sleepiness Auel had been fighting off had evaporated in an icy flame.

"Show us the top drawer again." he said with steely determination. The officer swallowed with mounting anxiety as he closed the middle drawer and slid the top one open.

"It's supposed to be right here. They must have taken it for testing or something, but no one checked it out. We bagged and tagged it right on the scene." the officer said. Auel stepped closer, looking at the drawer himself, seeing a plastic bag filled with a very familiar, vibrant red powder. The particles were finer than any sand grains, and yet they clumped together like miniature sand dunes made of crimson.

"Is that what we used during the eclipse?" Auel asked under his breath to Ren. She stepped forward and looked at the plastic bag.

"Officer, how long was the crystal blade?" she asked. The officer moved over to the nearest computer and pulled up the file on it, including pictures taken at the scene.

"Seven and a half inches." he replied. Ren looked at the bag, using her hand as a crude sort of measure before she looked over at the computer screen, then back at the bag. She inhaled slowly, her honey-colored eyes contemplative. She lifted the bag and watched the powder inside shift and settle. Most dust would have clung to the lining of the bag itself, drawn in by the inherent static electricity. The powder shifted only in relation to itself.

"The blade was a rare form of Selenite, blood moonstone. Something destabilized it and it deteriorated." Ren said. The officer seemed to shrink a bit in his uniform.

"So much for checking for fingerprints..." he muttered. Auel shook his head, having moved over to study the picture on the computer.

"There wouldn't have been fingerprints on the blade, just the hilt of the knife that broke off when he held it in the victim." Auel said. One of Ren's eyebrows arched with intrigue.

"Forensic analysis?" She asked, pleased by his intuition.

"I've never used a crystal knife before, but crystals are repeating molecular structures with shear planes and everything. The knife would have been perfectly fine going straight in and out, but it snapped off where the blade met the hilt, and it did it with a slight angle. There was torque put on it, like someone trying to get away while it was still inside them."

"I can compare that to the medical report when it comes in from the hospital, that's a good idea..." The officer said, moving to one of the other terminals in the room to take notes. Ren remained where she was, looking at the bag of red powder, a strange look on her face.

"What is it?" Auel asked under his breath. Ren gave a pained, weary smile.

"I never thought in my life I'd see this much blood moonstone." she admitted, "When the Yashin Family's keeper gave me the powder you used during the eclipse, he had to make me swear that it would be only for Artyom and Marco. It was used up during the dark ages to hide werewolves from inquisitions and persecutions. This bag contains enough powder to save twenty wolves, maybe even twice that many." Ren whispered.

"If they were still hiding?" Auel asked. Ren's expression quirked a little as she reminded herself of the current state of affairs.

"If they were still hiding." Ren confirmed. "It isn't as if I could take it anyhow, it's police evidence and we have to keep the order."

"Might be harder than keeping the secret." Auel smiled. Ren nearly rolled her eyes.

"The truth is always harder than keeping the secret." she murmured, gesturing back to the computer, "So you think the attacker was holding the weapon in the wound long enough for it to snap off?" she asked.

"You've never heard of anything like this?" Auel questioned with concern.

"As far as I knew, the world's supply of blood moonstone had been depleted during the dark ages." she replied. Auel's brow furrowed.

"Then someone figured out how to make more." he murmured softly, looking at the photograph of the blade on the screen.

****

Somewhere in the back of Marco's mind, he was aware of how much the atmosphere could change in the Wooton Commissary. At night it was a bustling all you can eat buffet packed to the brim with students refueling after their day of learning. During lunch time it was a fast paced, critically acclaimed à la carte experience attended not only by the students but various city officials that wanted a good meal. Breakfast, meanwhile, was generally calm and laid back where food had been offered but most of the staff were behind the scenes getting ready for lunch. Even the main lights were off, leaving the illumination in the kitchen to come from the warming lamps and drink machine displays instead.

A loud, wet growling came from Marco's stomach as he moved along the counter, filling a large bowl halfway up with hearty, perfectly moist oatmeal. He added some sugar and cinnamon, then some brown sugar before heading over to the milk machine. Careful not to spill, the island of oatmeal was surrounded by a dairy moat before the island steadily started to sink into the creamy sea. Marco licked his lips with anticipation and returned the bowl to his tray, but once more his stomach growled loudly. Marco's brow furrowed a bit.

He'd slept well, better than he had expected to after the late night and everything he'd seen with Rodrigo. He'd taken an alternate route to get to the commissary just so he wouldn't have to walk by where it happened so soon... but usually stress made him less hungry, not more. Then again, one could hardly argue with a determined stomach. Marco weaved through some of the other students, making a pass down what he dubbed the 'classic breakfast' lane to add some sausage, bacon and scrambled eggs to his tray on a second plate. He topped the eggs with some sweet chili sauce from a bottle next to the ketchup before finishing off at the drink table with a mug of hot tea.

The commissary had a long, narrow eating area that had a creek side view and a larger dining room area that looked out towards the university center and the red square. Marco had always favored the creek view side, but the idea of eating while looking out at where Rigo had been hurt seemed even harder to fathom. Marco moved over to his customary spot three windows down, sitting down to face downstream. A light misty fog wafted up from the waters that had retained more heat than the surrounding air, adding a sense of mystery to the view. Marco dipped his spoon into his sweet chili eggs and took a bite, starting to hear the rise and fall of the ocean waves as the wind rustled through fall leaves.

"Everything's been squared away with the kiddos." Fletcher said as he sat down across from Marco, looking far too bright eyed and bushy tailed after the late night they had. Marco's eyes narrowed a little as he looked at Fletcher, particularly how he was wearing his glasses again. Marco tilted his head.

"You feeling okay?" Marco asked. Fletcher paused with a bowl of rainbow-colored cereal halfway to his lips.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he asked. Marco tapped his temple, indicating the glasses. Fletcher started to reach up to his own face with his free hand before realization dawned and he grinned, biting down on the cereal, crunching a few bites before he continued, "Still a little fuzzy in the mornings when I'm sleepy, plus I think I was inspired by Beck. His glasses are just glass, and he pulls it off." Fletcher shrugged.

"I've always liked them on you." Marco said, "Though I've always liked everything about you." Marco said with a bit more of a perverse grin. Fletcher grinned and waggled his eyebrows a bit at the flirtation. Marco licked his lips before polishing off his sausage, moving on to the bacon. Fletcher continued to eat as well, though he watched Marco.

"Are you feeling okay?" Fletcher asked. Marco looked up before giving his boyfriend a sheepish grin, reaching to hold his teacup.

"Better than I should be, maybe?" Marco considered, "It helps that Rigo's stable, but I slept fine, I am eating fine... In fact, I'm still starving." Marco added, deciding to dip his spoon into his oatmeal, bringing it to his mouth. A moan left his lips. The oats were still warm, the milk was still a bit cool and incredibly sweet. It was like honey and batter and comfort in his mouth before he swallowed it down.

"Maybe that's why it's okay." Fletcher shrugged, "You were in the right place at the right time and he's going to be fine." Fletch smiled. Marco considered that, although his attention was reluctantly pulled away from his food again.

"I guess so, but it sort of reminded me of how I 'met' Artyom. If I hadn't been right there and right then, he might have died." Marco said. Fletcher inhaled, bobbing his head a little.

"I guess that cements your place in the universe my friend. Fate has a very tricky sense of humor." Fletcher had always been a fast and frenetic eater, used to finishing well before the rest of his pack. As he opened his mouth to tell Marco his plans for the day, however, he looked up to see Marco tipping back his bowl, slurping up the last of the sugar milk, getting several drops of the pearly white liquid in his dark beard. Not only had Marco eaten twice as much as usual, he'd done it in record time. Fletcher gave a bemused sort of grin, "You want to walk back to the dorm together? I was gonna see if Silas and I can beat Fort Castle." he asked. Marco shook his head.

"You go ahead, I think I'm going to go for seconds. They had something called Chapattis and I think I want to give it a try." Marco said. Fletcher gave a slow nod at that, a little concerned that Marco might be trying to eat his feelings, but it was just one day after a pretty startling event. Fletcher gave Marco a bigger smile.

"If you need anything, and I mean anything, just give me a call, okay?" Fletcher asked. Marco gave a soft laugh at that.

"I'm okay, really. Just make sure Silas doesn't take out more of his own teammates than he does the enemy, okay?" Marco asked. Fletcher groaned.

"I swear he does it on purpose, it's always at the last moment and it's never anything that can be repeated." Fletcher sighed, scooting his chair back with his butt before standing up. He leaned over the table to kiss Marco's cheek before he grabbed his tray and carried it away. Marco licked the last of the sweet milk from his lips before he stood back up, returning to the kitchen area to get more food.

****

To an outside observer, Beck Barlow was practically a living sculpture. He was taller and leaner than anyone else in town and even the way he draped an arm over the top of the vending machine as he studied his choices seemed to make a flowing curvature up, out, and down. Rigo couldn't help but smile as he looked out of the hospital room and down the hall at his... boyfriend? Had it really happened so quickly? Had it just fallen into place? He'd spent all of high school hoping and wishing and then... Rigo's face faltered a little as his perspective turned inwards. He barely looked up in time to see Beck's jaw drop in shock.

"You're awake!" he said with glee, setting his can of coffee on the specimen tray before rushing back to the awkward chair he'd been sitting in all night. Rigo gave a soft smile.

"I'm more awake than I thought I'd be." he admitted.

"Must be that Tanuki magic of yours." Beck said, although as he looked at Rodrigo, he could only describe his expression as a thundercloud suddenly bursting.

"I don't have my magic. I can't feel it. It's not there!" Rigo exclaimed, starting to breathe faster, "I'm never this awake. I'm always drowsy and tired and want to be comfortable."

"It's going to be okay, you're alive, that's the important part my dude!" Beck said, taking Rigo's hand in both of his and giving it a squeeze. Rigo tried to control himself, his breathing slowing down again. The vital signs monitor started to relax a little, the spike of heart rate returning to safer levels. Beck seemed to want to double down on the reassurance, but Rigo was shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed.

"I couldn't even see the guy, he stayed in the shadows the whole time. He just jammed the knife in me and then wouldn't let go until... until it broke." Rigo said. Beck's eyes widened a bit as he lowered his head to peek over the rim of his colored glasses.

"The knife broke off in you?" He asked. Rigo nodded weakly.

"And then Marco found me, and I made him pull it out of me, and before you say anything, I made him do it because it felt like it was poison or something." Rigo clarified before horror crossed his face again, "Maybe it was poisoned. Maybe that's what messed up my magic..." he whispered.

"Or maybe you got stabbed and all your energy is going into healing. Even if it's not, that's where all your energy SHOULD be going." Beck said seriously. Rigo forced a smile before looking at Beck.

"And you stayed here all night in that awful chair?" Rigo asked.

"Using that wall mounted sharps container as a pillow, absolutely." Beck replied with a confident nod. Rigo glanced over towards the specimen table.

"Is that canned coffee?" he asked.

"Yeah, you want some?" Beck asked. Rigo seemed to frown a little.

"Normally I would..." he admitted to himself.

****

A steady, even hum came from the motors powering the carousel of tray shelves that made up one wall of the commissary's interior. Students dropped off trays and dirty dishes only to have them spirited away around the edge and disappear entirely. Marco felt a slight pang of guilt as he lifted three trays loaded down with five plates, three bowls and three empty cups. The steady sound of the carousel changed in pitch ever so slightly under the new load, but the evidence of Marco's abundant breakfast continued along the wall before disappearing around the corner.

"Did Fletcher leave you with his dirty dishes?" Yom's voice came as he approached, backlit by the silver morning light coming through the front windows of the building. Marco turned to smile at Artyom's presence, though the words he had said finally caught up to him.

"Nah, I just was hungrier than usual. If you haven't gotten your food yet I don't think they've finished putting everything away, we could go get some together." Marco smiled.

"I just came to walk you back." Yom smiled. Marco looked at him a little suspiciously.

"You woke up and we were gone, and you felt guilty for not protecting me?" Marco asked. Yom's lips curled a little.

"Viyebnutsa..." Yom muttered under his breath, "Am I that easy to read?" he asked. Marco only smiled, looking at Artyom. He'd gotten a bit more raggedy over the last year. His hair was longer, his beard was unkempt and claimed more of his cheek bones. He was broad shouldered, muscled, and incredibly masculine. Marco moved over and leaned to give him a kiss, their lips meeting and parting in an instant, allowing their tongues to begin wrestling without hesitation.

Muffled by the kiss, Artyom murmured in surprise. It was rare that Marco returned his passion so openly and fully, let alone in a public place. Yom's eyes fluttered closed as he made out with Marco, their lips making mild slurping noises as they met and retreated in a flurry of oral battles, only to have Artyom gasp suddenly as he felt Marco's fingers close firmly around his half hard member. Marco gave a slight growl of pleasure, feeling Yom rise to full attention.

"I could get used to this whole living-on-campus without classes thing. Gives us a lot more free time." Marco whispered. Yom obediently nodded.

"We can fill it however you want." Yom muttered. Marco leaned closer again, his black beard pressing up against Artyom's brown one, their bodies touching.

"I want to fill you." Marco said. Yom nearly yelped in delight before he took Marco's hand and started pulling him toward the entrance. Marco closed the gap and came up beside Yom. The door to the commissary swung open with more force than Marco had intended, enough that the aluminum frame shuddered as it hit the limit of its rotation. Marco winced a little in surprise, wondering if they'd recently lubricated it. Yom didn't care, starting to pull Marco in the direction of their dorm. As he did, the wind picked up and Marco heard the crackle of dead leaves skidding and dancing across the wide cement pathway.

Marco turned his head, looking down the path to the street beyond, the small parking lot on the other side, and then the woodlands. There were a lot of evergreens but there were some deciduous trees as well, clinging on to the dried out and desiccated leaves that had once held the prism of fall's colors. Marco thought of his dream of the ocean and the forest, of the wilderness all around, how it had embraced him and his fertility.

"Not that way..." Marco told Yom before giving him a tug. To Artyom's surprise, Marco had more than enough strength to counter his inertia and he was soon following in his Alpha's footsteps, exactly as he had always wanted to. As Yom followed after Marco, it was becoming harder not to notice the changes. He was moving with purpose, with confidence, with lust... His scent was different as well - still Marco but with a slight bamboo like tang. It didn't take long for them to cross the street and navigate past the last of the university buildings, leaving the sharp edged cement parking lots in favor of the uneven, un-curated wilderness beyond.

"I love you so much..." Yom moaned, filling his lungs with Marco's scents, "I want you to fuck my brains out." he begged. Marco turned with a mischievous grin.

"Do you have any left? I better fuck you even harder this time." Marco said. Yom panted happily, a wet spot starting to form in the crotch of his pants.

As they made it far enough away that the last glimpses of campus became obscured through the trees, Marco started to peel off his clothes. As his shirt slipped off, Yom was surprised by how much Marco had changed in the course of one day; his pecs were a bit fuller, his stomach a little rounder. The hair was darker across his chest and the dark patches under his arms were much thicker. As Marco unfastened his pants, however, it became clear that something drastic had changed.

"Yelda..." He muttered softly to himself, seeing the gratuitous bulge in Marco's boxers. It wasn't just his cock, although that seemed impressive enough from the way the stretchy material hugged the meat snake. No, what seemed particularly out of place was just how big Marco's balls were. Marco kicked his shoes off, letting his boxers fall to the ground, turning to face Artyom. Yom stood slack jawed for a moment, petrified by the man of his dreams. He'd seen Marco grow from the scrawny Hawaiian boy that had saved his life to the big and burly Alpha of a campus werewolf pack, but now he was looking like something else entirely... and Yom craved it all.

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk?" Marco asked.

"No, my Alpha." Yom replied with a grin, flicking his fingers to manifest his claws, using them to tear at his own clothing. He shrugged off the thick black jacket and clawed at the shirt beneath, tugging it off to reveal his well-toned, well-muscled torso. His shoes barely slipped off before the claws extended from his toes, and a trail of distinctly fur-like hair crept up from the waistband of his pants, ensnaring his navel even as Yom's ears rose into sharp points. Marco watched with great admiration as Yom's wild side emerged. Marco even moved around to the side to watch as his boyfriend dropped his pants, revealing that his meaty ass cheeks were pulling apart to make room for a tail to emerge. Brown fur erupted from the length as it filled in, though the tip took on a tinge of silvery gray coloring.

Normally Marco would have been content to watch, admiring his lover, but his cock ached with impatience and his blood ran hot. Marco advanced, putting a hand on Yom's back and another on his waist, pushing him forward. Yom dropped onto all fours, his head turning, his grin full of sharp and wicked fangs as his face struggled to contain them in a proto-muzzle. As Yom lifted his hindquarters up, his tail flicked free to reveal his undulating, pulsating dark hole. It throbbed just above furry brown balls and a long, curved, dripping werewolf cock. Yom writhed, his back arching, his clawed fingers digging into the dirt. Marco had no doubt that if he had the power without the full moon, Yom would have gone feral right then and there.

Marco stepped up behind Yom, tracing a hand across his hairy ass cheek... but it wasn't Yom's exterior that he needed right now. Marco reached down to his own cock, lifting it up off his swollen balls. Marco was a bit surprised how heavy it was compared to normal, as if the meat was denser and thicker than it had been. He hadn't even stopped to consider how much higher up it had been thanks to the baseball sized balls his cock had been using as a shelf. Marco wasn't thinking of much of anything other than his need to fuck his lover.

Barely able to close his fingers around his girth, Marco gave himself a few strokes of his rod. His caramel-colored flesh responded by surging outward in length and thickness, prying his hand apart as he soon reached eight inches, then ten, then twelve in length. Precum began to glisten and collect at the tip of his shaft like aloe leaking from a freshly snapped vine. Marco smeared it across Yom's tailhole, eliciting a half-howl from his lover. Urged on by Yom's need and his own overwhelming lusts, Marco began pushing his shaft into his lover's ass, feeling the hot darkness enveloping his meat inch by inch.

Sex had always been good in the pack, but something about their forest encounter felt like it was going to the next level. Marco threw his head back, moaning loudly as his fingers dug into Yom's ass cheek and the breeze blew through his beard. Marco slowed to a stop and held himself there, feeling Artyom's heart beating through the flesh around his cock. Marco felt every pulse, every flex, every contour. He then began to pull back, almost all the way out, teasing Yom with it before he suddenly thrust in hard and deep.

Yom snarled, saliva flicking from his fangs, his eyes burning like hot embers in a fire. He dug in deeper, his claws caked in dirt and scraping against rock. Marco began to thrust back and forth, in and out, building up a rhythm and momentum. Yom tilted his head, trying to get it downwind as much as possible to inhale Marco's scent again; cinnamon, orchid... and bamboo. There was no denying it, Marco's scent had taken on a new element, and it was getting stronger with every thrust.

Pleasure and lust washed over Marco's face as he felt himself getting into the groove. His hips swung like a pendulum keeping perfect time, and between his legs his balls were the extension of that effort. They swayed forward and back, forward and back. They were starting to bristle with a dusty grayish-black coating of hair, coming in patchy at first before spreading outward. The human flesh was engulfed entirely in moments, making it harder to see that the pouch itself was swelling larger as well. They descended lower and lower between Marco's legs, rounding out fuller.

Drool leaked from Yom's lips, feeling as if his mind really was becoming saturated by the pleasures of love making. Somewhere at the edge of his senses, though, he could sense something in the air. It smelled like ozone and petrichor, otherworldly and comforting at the same time. Marco's eyes were clenched shut as he fucked Artyom's ass, unaware that the fingers he used to anchor himself to his partner were darkening and thickening as his fingernails stretched out into new claws. They were not the claws of a werewolf; they were not weapons so much as tools.

Yom's pleasure intensified as he felt his tailhole getting stretched wider even as he was penetrated deeper and deeper with each thrust. Marco was so big, and he was getting bigger! It was a thought too complex for Marco to process as he kept going at it, filling his chest with the cool, crisp winter air. Every breath filled Marco's chest fuller, but every exhalation did not deplete it. The size Marco had lost had returned, but not exactly in the shape he'd maintained as a werewolf. His pecs were still soft, his stomach a bit rounded, his arms growing thicker. Each ounce of extra mass just gave him more to swing as he fucked Artyom deeper still.

Marco's head was tipped back, his scalp tingling as his hair grew longer. The follicles had become hyper stimulated, producing centimeter after centimeter of new growth. Not to be outdone, Marco's face soon erupted in what felt like fire. He gasped deeply as his mustache began to thicken, the dark wiry hairs creeping down over his upper lip. Each hair seemed to get thicker, frizzier and fuller. The terminal length that he'd achieved after losing his lycanthropy began to look more like a starting point as an inch of wavy black hair emerged from his jaw, then another, then a third.

With every thrust, Marco was growing larger and hairier. The dark patch on his chest filled in fully, the skin disappearing beneath it. His beard bulked outward as it grew longer, two faint streaks of lighter grayish-black coloring trickling down on either side of center. More hair bristled across Marco's decidedly thicker ass cheeks and even his legs grew darker. The growth and change seemed to be taking a lot out of Marco as dark circles started to appear around his eyes, looking somewhere between being tired and as if he'd put on his own eyeliner.

Once again, Marco took in an involuntary gasp of breath, but this time it wasn't because he felt so good. It was as if his senses had somehow rewired themselves and Marco smelled something he hadn't smelled in several months; leather, almond and sandalwood with just a hint of pine. It was Artyom's musk, his scent, his aroma - an aroma that no human could smell. Marco's eyes snapped open, but they were no longer brown. They crackled with a potent violet hue. The electricity seemed to arc and jolt through his body, his ears taking on fuzzy points as grayish black fur sprouted across the backsides. His mouth filled with sharper teeth, his back cracked and popped as it broadened and new muscles formed, but all of it came to a sudden focus behind him.

Marco groaned suddenly as he fell forward, landing on Artyom, unable to stop himself from fucking him raw. Yom's movements became uncertain and unsteady, but even he couldn't help but continue. He tried to look back, moaning and gasping as he saw something rising up behind Marco, stretching out taller and fuller and bigger by the second. Marco had grown a tail, and it wasn't just any tail. It was thick and round, striped black and gray, and it was getting bigger and bigger and bigger, just like Marco. Yom's eyes glazed over as he looked at Marco's huge, thick, striped beard. He whimpered in pleasure as he pressed his back against Marco's firm, thick, growing belly.

"Fuck... Fuck me... Yes... FUCK!" Yom howled before he suddenly pushed off the ground, maneuvering himself over. Marco cursed under his breath at the sudden change in position, but he gasped as one of Yom's clawed feet slipped over his shoulder and bent his leg to use as an anchor as he pulled himself around. Yom roared in pleasure until he was able to sling his other leg across Marco's other shoulder, now turned well enough to face his lover. Yom looked up in absolute stunned awe, blown away by the transformation Marco had undergone.

While it had felt like an eternity, the two had only been making love for a few minutes. In that time Marco had bulked up to nearly three hundred pounds of muscle, fat and meat. Yom couldn't tell if his new belly was muscle, fat, or both but it was almost entirely hidden from view by Marco's thick, bushy, faintly striped navel length beard. The black hair he'd cut short after their time in Texas had grown back to his shoulders and two pointed furry ears stuck out from the top of his head. Even as Marco continued to fuck Artyom, the tip of his nose turned black as his face popped and deformed, pressing forward and pushing into a short muzzle.

The dark rings around Marco's eyes became more apparent as gray fur sprouted across the skin between them and the upper edge of his beard, giving him a bandit-like mask. The thick striped tail behind him was nearly as big around as Artyom's waist was, but none of that was as impressive as the pillar of flesh disappearing into Yom's ass.

Yom wasn't exactly in a position to do math, but he was well aware that Marco had wedged at least as much cock into him as he'd managed as a werewolf Alpha, but Yom's hind quarters were at least six or seven inches away from his waist. Yom's breaths were coming short and ragged, filled with too much cock to be able to breathe. Even his own wolf meat was slapping himself between his hairy pecs, drooling copious amounts of pre that was getting milkier and saltier by the second.

"I've still got two brain cells left, you better hurry up and give me all that cum..." Yom growled. Somewhat aware of how much he had changed, but entirely overwhelmed by the pleasure of it, the mere act of Artyom begging was enough for Marco to come crashing over the edge. He threw his head back, dug his claws into Yom's hips and roared with pleasure. Yom gasped, having to latch his legs onto Marco's shoulders harder as he felt the sudden flood inside his intestines. Marco's load was hot, thick and plentiful to say the least. In moments they could hear the wet, sticky overflow dribbling out of Yom's ass onto the desiccated leaves of the forest floor below.

Once more the air filled with Artyom's scent, this time as painfully powerful jets of semen shot up and over the werewolf, splattering across the rocks and branches around them. Yom gasped and spasmed, flailing like a rag doll anchored around Marco's meat. As Yom flailed, he could feel his butt resting on a warm, firm, furry pillow. Marco, however, felt the weight of Yom's backside resting on his now surprisingly large ballsack. Both men would have undoubtedly been content to remain in that condition for some time, though the sounds Yom were making started to change. He ran a clawed hand over his own stomach as he felt his firm muscles being stretched and distended as the volume of cum continued to increase inside of him.

Worried that he might hurt Yom, Marco started to draw himself back, even as Yom whimpered and protested. To Marco's surprise, there was a lot more to pull out than he'd first thought. It took another few seconds until he popped free. To Yom's relief, he felt a quick, hot, gooey flood of cum start pouring down his lap, coating his cock and stomach. He felt it run down his ribs in rivulets before dripping to the ground beneath him. Yom looked up at Marco with doting eyes, feeling as if his life's purpose had been truly achieved. Marco breathed heavily, his brain reluctantly starting to process again.

Marco looked down at his huge cock and balls, his clawed hands, even his furry belly. He clenched his ass cheeks, eliciting a swinging response from the fluffy tail behind him. The afterglow was still there, the pleasure of the experience, even a sort of greedy desire to go right back to the dorm and share his new abilities with the rest of his pack... but part of him thought back to the attack, to Rigo begging Marco to pull out the knife. He remembered the burn of the static shock that had come off the blade when he'd removed it. Realization finally dawned on Marco that he'd stepped in to save someone's life and once again he had transformed as a result, but this time he hadn't become a werewolf. It was clear that the next lesson he had to learn in college was how to be a Tanuki.