FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Lykos Second Skin Chapter 13 (The Road to Texas) Still... quiet... almost perfectly silent. The sun had not yet risen high enough to cross the horizon, but already its rays were bringing the first morning light to the heavens. The colors of the sunrise were surreal, and most unlike those of a sunset. There were hues few humans were ever awake early enough to see, but Fletcher saw them. A pale yellow glow filtered down between the trees, illuminating the dew kissed blades of grass. It didn't really feel like reality, it felt like something else - something between moments.

Fletcher sat in the driver's seat of Marco's Mazda, the seat partially reclined. He had been there all night. He never fell asleep. He sat in the muffled silence of the car, watching the night and then the dawn. He felt wounded, vulnerable, incomplete and adrift... but he wasn't alone, not completely.

It had taken some convincing, but Fletcher had gotten the keepers to agree to let him put Yom in the car. He'd put all the seats down and made it flat, covered it all in a blanket, gotten a pillow. Yom had been healing since the attack on the box canyon, but he still looked worn out. There were rings around his eyes and his hair was dirty and stringy. Fletcher exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, gazing out at the babbling creek meandering along the clinic's property. When he felt something move on his lap, he jumped.

"Holy shit!" Fletcher screamed, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car. Yom looked at him with groggy amber eyes.

"And here I was going to compliment you on being romantic..." Yom murmured, his voice a little hoarse.

"Sure, but I expected you to make a sound or something when you woke up." Fletcher said, looking down at him, "How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a train..." Yom replied, his brain struggling to catch up before his eyes widened in horror.

"Where are the others?" he asked, pushing himself up, grunting a bit as he felt pain in his ribs. Fletcher shook his head.

"They were taken." Fletcher answered.

"Taken? Not... killed?" Yom asked carefully.

"Not killed." Fletcher said, "We're going to get them back."

"Alright." Yom nodded, moving to scoot all the way up to the front seat, pushing the backrest into place before it clicked. He grabbed the seat belt and pulled it on.

"Just... alright? Like that?" Fletcher asked.

"Well, you're already in the driver's seat." Yom replied.

"We need supplies." Fletcher countered.

"Sure. I'll buy them. There's a market on the way out of town." Yom replied. Fletcher started to smile.

"The keepers will protest." Fletch grinned.

"Yeah, which is why you convinced them sleeping in the car was to make us feel safe or something?" Yom replied, leaning over to try and find his favorite radio station, "We can't make the boys wait forever."

"Alright." Fletcher nodded, glancing around to make sure they weren't being watched before he turned the car on and threw it into reverse, backing down the long driveway toward the street. Yom found the station he was looking for and music started to spill from the speakers, fracturing the silence. Even the side view mirrors jumped when the baseline hit.

"By the way, where are we going?" Yom asked. Fletcher turned the headlights on as the Mazda made it to the street. He pulled out in a curve before throwing it into drive, heading down the road. Fletcher's face tightened a bit, thinking about Auel and having to rely on him for the information that they so desperately needed.

"Houston, Texas." Fletcher answered, his eyes tinting amber as he focused on the path ahead.

**** Marco's ears perked as he tried to filter through the chaotic concert of noises echoing through the cement walls of the facility. It was a soup of conversations, growls, barks, screams and cries. The prisoners had been given rudimentary black shorts and tank tops for a modicum of humility, but it was clear that they were barely being treated as anything more than animals. Marco wasn't even sure the water they were being given was from a municipal supply, let alone sanitary.

Every hour or two the guards would bring a prisoner past Marco's cell. Each time they had a muzzle strapped to their face and cuffs to keep their hands and ankles close together. Marco had seen men, women, the young and the old. They had grabbed werewolves from different packs, different areas, and brought them all together. Every time Marco started

to feel like he had an idea where they were, something else would confuse him.

The complex was industrial; cement walls and floors, modular elements hastily put together... but it didn't smell like a warehouse or a factory. It smelled like a swamp. Everything smelled wet with hints of rotten wood and plant matter. Somewhere in the mix, somewhere in the facility, Marco could smell Udo's scent. It was sweeter than the others in his pack, more floral and springy. It wasn't much to go on, but at least he was safe - as safe as any of them were.

A shadow fell across Marco's cage briefly as Wes looked down at his prisoner, sizing him up for a moment before he resumed his pace. The hunter still felt uneasy about everything. They had been paid to do a job and they had done it, but now Naomi wanted them to stay on? As what, over glorified security? It felt like playing with fire. His instinct was to put the wolves down while they had a chance... but if they did that, then Futurza wouldn't part with any of their new toys.

Wes checked his watch before he reached a heavy metal door marked Observation 1. He hadn't been to this part of the facility yet, but apparently the program director called it home. The hunter turned the latch on the door until it clicked. It was a little bit of an effort to open up, but Wes stepped through and looked around at the room. It was a cavernous space, perfectly round. Oddly blue water circulated beneath the metal grates that made up the floor, coming on from two pipes with oval glass windows in them before being drawn back out by two more pipes on the other side. Wes took a moment to take it in before he slid his key card to gain access to a recessed stairwell that spiraled up to a higher level.

As he reached the top of the stairs, a door slid open with ease, opening onto an office far larger than the one Wes had been given. He stopped in the doorway, peering in with a bit of curiosity. One wall looked out into the circular room, another had monitors much like his own office, but the back wall was covered in a honeycomb of shelves, each cell with strange samples of rocks, plants, and other trinkets.

Wes had meant to ask about entering, but he stepped in, drawn toward the shelves. He'd been a hunter since he was fourteen years old, taking down countless werewolves. Most had been in their animal form, or at least a hybrid state, divorced from their humanity. A few, though, he'd connected to their normal lives. Those were the wolves that had mementos.

"Quite the collection, isn't it?" a voice asked. Wes turned, seeing a man he'd encountered only twice before. He was six foot one, his black hair slicked back and shaved clean on the sides. He looked across the room through small circular glasses expectantly, waiting for an answer. Wes couldn't pin down his age, guessing he was in his forties.

"Doctor Neer, I wish I was more versed in... whatever these are." Wes said, giving a sheepish grin. The man took a breath to steel his patience before he forced a smile, moving over.

"These are but fragments of a world that has been hidden to us." the scientist said, moving over to pick up a polished spherical crystal that almost seemed to glow with its own pearlescent white light. He rolled it around in his palm, "The chemical composition of this stone is nearly identical to common selenite, and yet it has properties we can't measure. It glows without any chemical reaction or external catalyst, and when brought near a werewolf, it brings out their inner beast."

"Moonstone." Wes replied. The doctor smiled a bit more at his recognition.

"You've encountered it before, then?" Neer asked.

"I've had it used against me... A werewolf broke one of those out and went feral so he could turn the tables. I got my scar from that attack." Wes said. Neer looked at the scar on Wes's face before nodding, reaching for another sample. It was a waxy, plump white flower with hints of green along the edges, looking almost like a flower blossom made of soap.

"There is no botanical registry for this plant. None." Doctor Neer said, "Except, perhaps, one in Homer's Odyssey." At that comment, Wes's eyes narrowed.

"That plant, from the odyssey... What was it..." Wes murmured until the pieces came together and he grinned, "The Lotus tree!"

"Exactly." Doctor Neer said with a resolute nod, "That... is but another layer of this mystery we must peel back... and that is why I need your help and the help of your hunters. That is why I asked you here today."

"Naomi mentioned a bit about animal handling already." Wes replied, crossing his arms.

"Crude, but... accurate." Neer said. Wes shook his head.

"I'll tell you what I told her. I'm not sure about any of this. It feels like you're playing with fire. My hunters aren't used to capturing wolves alive, delivering them to people who plan to keep them alive. We're hunters, we kill." Wes said. Neer looked back at his collection before he picked up another object, this time a glass vial.

"You are not the only ones that kill." Neer replied with a softer, more subdued tone, "The werewolves kill, the direwolves kill, the keepers kill."

"Dire... wolf?" Wes asked. Doctor Neer grinned.

"Oh yes, yes... There's so much you have to learn about your enemy. Their terminology, their techniques, their weapons." Doctor Neer said, "The werewolves call the bigger, more dangerous breed direwolves and they look at them with some disdain. If I am not mistaken, those are the wolves that most hunters have hunted?"

"Yeah, they're... the more dangerous ones and they're easier to hunt." Wes replied, his voice faltering as his eyes locked on the vial, "What is that? That's deadly?"

"Oh yes, quite deadly. It is the sap from the manchineel tree. In its natural form it blisters the skin, burns the eyes, and if ingested can make every swallow a nightmare no one would wish to endure. This vial contains a distilled, concentrated dose of pure agony." Doctor Neer said, placing the bottle back. Wes said nothing, staring in horror at the small container before he finally spoke.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked, uncertain. Doctor Neer turned back to look directly into Wes's eyes.

"Futurza is conducting the baseline experiments in the primary facility. They work with a scientific baseline to make sure their findings are supported and untarnished. Their technique is humanitarian, sterile, safe. This facility exists so that the research can go to the next level, so we can learn that which cannot be learned in a safe way. We need your skills to make these beasts cooperate, to keep them in check, and to clean up any... unexpected consequences." Neer said.

"I don't know how many of my people will sign up for this." Wes shook his head.

"Many of them may not... But remind them where they were before Futurza reached out with a hand of good faith? The hunters were living in the dark ages, using weapons from the last century to fight an endless war. For every werewolf you brought down, five more were created in their place. With us you stepped into this century, you brought down more beasts than ever before... and you were paid handsomely for it. To hunt your enemy, you must know your enemy." Neer said with a growing smile. Wes shifted a little bit.

"There are other risks too. The pack I brought in from Colorado, I used an ex-hunter to find them. Some of my men might... not be as enlightened as you or me." Wes said.

"Well then, we must remain vigilant. The road to enlightenment is not an easy or straight path, but I am sure you and I can reach our destination." Neer said. Wes nodded, though some small part of him felt like he very well may have made a deal with the devil. Neer smiled more, "Now... tell me, do you have any good candidates that I should interview first?"

"Interview, or experiment? I have candidates for either." Wes smiled.

**** The Outer Space gas station had been in operation for less than a year, built at the city limits of Echo Creek. The wilderness around it was untamed, stopping abruptly at the edge of the large white cement lot where carefully curated plants sprung up from beds of red bark chips. There were several lines of fuel pumps, but the true appeal of the gas station came from the state of the art convenience store that dominated the back half of the lot.

Fletcher led the way, selecting items that he handed to Yom to carry. Artyom was a little perplexed as to why he had to be the shopping cart, though he understood their purpose. Time was of the essence, but if they stocked up now, they wouldn't have to desperately search for food later. Yom also was noticing that Fletcher's choices were skewing deep into protein cravings compared to his normal fare.

The attendant paid little mind to the two college kids, used to them stocking up on snacks when they went camping. Fletcher grabbed beef jerky, buffalo jerky, salmon jerky, turkey jerky and yak jerky. He grabbed beef strips, and even canned tuna salad. A bag of wax wrapped cheeses was added to the mix, and everything was topped off by a big bag of kettle cooked jalapeno chips. Once Artyom was loaded up, Fletcher grabbed two big jugs of water that were so heavy he nearly dragged them along the floor up to the front counter.

It took a few moments to ring in, but soon the two were back outside. The sun had finally risen above the horizon, turning the sky from pale yellow to a rich and full blue. The snacks were loaded, the trunk was closed, and Fletcher took a step toward the driver's side door before stopping, his eyes falling downcast. Yom looked over before closing the gap. His right hand slid to Fletchers hip, his left resting on his shoulder.

"It'll be okay, we'll find him." Yom said, the breeze blowing through his long hair and beard. Fletch shook his head.

"I know we'll find him, nothing's going to stop us from that... but what'll happen to him? To us? Right now there are classes on campus starting with suspicious amounts of missing students. Kirstie and Omri don't even know I'm heading out on this huge adventure, and your parents won't until they see how much you're putting on the credit card. If we tell them, they'll try to stop us. Your parents might even know HOW to stop us." Fletcher said. Artyom leaned down and gave a soft nuzzle to the crook of Fletcher's neck.

"Family is important." he said simply, "But we're more than that now. We're part of a pack. We follow our Alpha. What would Marco tell us to do?" Yom asked. Fletcher smiled a little at that.

"He'd try to rescue those in need and avoid as many obstacles as possible." Fletcher replied. Yom nodded at that and patted Fletcher's hip.

"Then you have your answer." Yom replied, walking around the car to sit down on the passenger side. He yanked his seat belt to get enough strap to buckle himself in before he leaned over, looking up at Fletcher, "You coming?" he asked. Fletcher nodded quickly and climbed in, buckling himself up before the Mazda roared to life. With a few citrine flashes of the turn signal, they pulled out of the gas station and onto the road.

**** The metal pressed into Udo's shoulders, leaving waffle like patterns imprinted on his legs. He slumped forward, his blond hair falling over his face. He was too tired to try and find a better position or to try anything at all. As far as he could tell, he was in hell. There were cries, screams, growls, snarls, and a steady string of curses coming from their handlers. Udo could tell they were hunters from the contempt they held for their prisoners, but something was holding them in check, something bigger, something far more evil.

Udo fled away from the unpleasant present, heading back through the memories of his own life. He thought back to being an Omega before meeting Marco, then being turned into a werewolf during orientation weekend by an Omega, then further back to high school, to people hearing his name in attendance and laughing. What did they know? His name came from his Germanic ancestry, and it was about the only interesting thing his parents ever did... although now, even their plain and simple ways didn't seem so bad.

If he had to pick the life he had led, or being back at home with yet another football game playing in the background, his family in sports jerseys while they yelled at the screen, would he willingly march into hell? A sad smile crossed Udo's lips. Maybe it was better to love and lose than never to love at all. He wouldn't trade any of it... Marco saved him, then Udo pushed right into Marco's room and climbed into his bed to join his pack, and he'd never looked back at any of it. Udo's face filled with confidence as he looked up, peering out through his blond bangs.

Two guards escorted a female werewolf down the hall. She was muzzled, cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Udo smelled blood as she passed, but it was blood with a tinge he didn't recognize. Chemicals? Something organic? Udo focused, inhaling slowly, trying to place it before it clicked. They had drugged her with something when they injured her, and it didn't smell like anything Udo had smelled before. He doubted whatever it was had been given for pain relief.

The blond teenager inched closer to the front of the cage, looking down the hall he was in. There were three more wolves to his right, two more to his left, and the hall zig zagged either direction at the far ends. Wherever they were, they were beyond capacity. There were so many werewolves it was hard to think straight, but somewhere in the thick soup of smells and sounds, Udo could pick up the faint trace of cinnamon, orchid and wet sandalwood. Marco was there, and he was alive... but Udo knew nothing more than that.

He hunched forward, sliding his back legs under his body, repositioning to sit on his knees for a little while. He just had to hold on long enough for an opportunity to present itself. Udo knew that Marco wouldn't rest until he found a way to help all of the wolves. He had to be ready, he had to be strong, and he couldn't let the situation get to him. Udo closed his eyes, no longer thinking of the past. Instead his attentions were turned to the future.

**** The steady hum of the tires turning on the highway were hypnotic to Artyom and he was starting to hate it. He remembered childhood trips cross-country to visit relatives or check up on his father's business investments. As soon as the car hit sixty miles an hour, the tone put him right to sleep. He'd put his head down on the backseat and nothing his siblings did could wake him. It was the same when traveling by plane, hearing that drone of the engines filling the cabin... but now? That was the last thing Yom wanted to be feeling.

Yom looked over at Fletcher in the driver's seat, his eyes on the road, studying the other cars. His hands were at ten and two and his knuckles tightened any time one of the other drivers broke the rules of the road - which they seemed to do a lot. Yom thought about all the events that led up to the moment they were sharing, the mission they were on, and the unspoken fears in their hearts. Yom shifted his shoulders a little bit, bracing himself.

"I... I'm sorry." Yom said softly. Fletcher's eyebrow arched and he glanced over for a split second at Yom before returning his view to the road.

"For what?" Fletch questioned uncertainly. Yom shifted uncomfortably.

"For everything. I mean... this is all my fault." Yom replied. Fletcher's face went a little tighter before he shook his head, his earrings dangling as he moved.

"We're not going down that road again. We can't change the past. Yes, you killed me, but I got better. Yes, I was the instrument of a dark spirit that unveiled the existence of the werewolves to the world, but I got better. Sure, the secret getting out led to an evil corporation capturing our friends and loved ones and innocent people and..." Fletcher hesitated, "And we don't have an answer for that one yet, but we will."

"Still... I'm sorry." Yom repeated, "I know at the start, I competed with you. And I did kill you, but since then, our relationship has gotten much better. We've grown together. We balance each other." he said with certainty. Fletcher smiled a bit more.

"I'm the lovable scamp that's cute and adorable, and you're the big Russian powerhouse?" Fletcher asked with a big grin. Yom gave a begrudging shrug.

"More or less, although we're going to have to talk about your fangs at some point."

"I... still don't know." Fletcher sighed, "I mean, there were warning signs. I couldn't use any Keeper magic anymore. My eye sight kept fluctuating." Fletch paused and then gave a sad laugh, "Oh my god, and back in New York before we started the new semester, there were like... cougar sightings around the city, even the coffee shop where my brother worked. If it was me, if I had more missing time... I'm going to have to commit myself."

"You didn't go missing when you were staying with us at my parents' place, and you didn't go missing back on campus." Yom replied, pulling back from admitting that they had tried to keep a close eye on him after the eclipse.

"So if it wasn't me terrorizing Queens, what were all the sightings?" Fletcher asked.

"Maybe there are other cats out there, maybe one was following your scent, trying to figure out about you." Yom suggested.

"A guardian lion making sure the new kid wasn't a threat?" Fletch asked, smiling a little, "I like the sound of that more than sleep walking again." Yom gave a nod.

"We'll figure it out. Besides, could come in handy. You don't have our weaknesses." Yom said. Fletcher shook his head.

"Maybe... I'm still different though. All I wanted, from the first moment Marco showed me that he was a werewolf, was to be like him. Now I'm something else. I don't go feral in the full moons, I can gorge myself on chocolate, it's just different." Fletcher said.

"All I wanted from the moment I bit Marco was to be his one and only mate." Artyom replied, "What I got was different, but sometimes different is better. I got two other boyfriends too, amazing boyfriends." Yom replied, "Annoyingly sweet, exhaustively energetic, shockingly creative boyfriends." Yom said. Fletcher smiled more, looking out at the windshield.

The sun had sunk below the horizon and the fiery reds and oranges of sunset had faded into a dull band of gold hugging the horizon, holding back the dark navy blue of night. Yom leaned over and turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until he found a station with a strong beat to break up the harmonic tone of the tires on the road.

**** Marco felt the barrel of the gun pressed against the small of his back, jabbing when it seemed like he wasn't moving fast enough. Marco found it amazing that he could move at all with the restraints on his ankles and wrists. The muzzle was strapped tightly to his face, his breath making it hot and humid. His beard poked out around the edges, resisting being confined as much as Marco was. His eyes fluctuated, shifting from brown to amber and back again.

The Alpha's bare feet felt the cement floor... It was fresh, incredibly fresh. The few imperfections were recent, no doubt from moving the metal cages hastily down the hall. Marco's forward pace came to an abrupt stop as he felt a tightness wrap around his throat. Someone had pulled on the strap connected to the black leather collar he wore. He flashed a dark and glowering glare to the guards but they pushed him into a small room and shut the door behind him.

For the first time since arriving at the strange facility, he no longer heard the sounds of the other werewolves. He heard no cries or howls, no shouted names. The room was insulated against sound and smell. As far as Marco could tell, he was the first person to set foot in the room. The walls were painted a dark blue, the floor left untouched. Marco turned and looked, stopping dead as he saw the one black glassy wall, reflecting his own appearance back at him.

His hair was dirty, his beard ruffled. He had on only the black shorts the prisoners had, as well as the black leather cuffs and collar. The strap hung down the small of his back, dangling loose like a second tail. An electronic buzz sounded without warning and Marco's cuffs released their iron grip. He flexed his hand and reached up, grabbing at the back of his muzzle. He cut through the bindings with a quickly summoned claw, peeling the rubbery cover from his face before throwing it to the ground. When he reached for his collar, there was the crackle of a hidden speaker coming to life.

"I wouldn't go that far, not if you want this experience to be a painless one." A male voice warned. Marco looked back at the black glassy wall. He didn't like his own reflection looking back at him.

"Who are you?" Marco asked.

"You are Alpha, I am Sigma." The voice replied. It was measured, metered, almost like a performance. Marco's brow furrowed at that.

"What do you want?" Marco asked.

"You want freedom, I want answers." The voice answered.

"Are you saying you'll give me freedom if I give you answers?" Marco asked. He waited a moment, but there was no response. Marco smiled, "No, you're not making promises. You're setting up a duality."

"You are Alpha and-" The voice was interrupted.

"And you are... Sigma. A name, a voice, disembodied, a symbol. To evoke, what, fear? Respect? Confusion?" Marco asked.

"Such big words. You must get good grades at your school." Sigma replied. The voice was clinical, clean... Too clean. Any accent had been meticulously suppressed.

"What school? I graduated a few years ago." Marco said. His response was rewarded by a sharp, throbbing pain jumping through the right side of his neck. It was enough for him to drop to his knees on the cement, panting for breath. His clawed hand snapped up to pull at the source of the pain, but it froze just an inch shy of hitting the collar.

"You are a terrible liar, but you learn quickly." Sigma stated calmly.

"Every werewolf here has a shock collar on, so you can incapacitate us at will. Probably track us too. Vital signs?" Marco asked.

"You are Alpha and I am..." The voice trailed off. Marco thought about all the smart alec answers he could give, he thought about all the burning questions he could ask, but it would all come back to the circle. The voice was an interrogator, trying to build a specific rapport. Fighting at this point would just wear Marco down faster... though he had to be careful not to be too cooperative, to give anything away.

"I am Alpha, and you are Sigma." Marco replied.

"Good, good. Very well done." The voice said, although there was something false about the tinge of satisfaction in the voice. Even that seemed to be for show.

"I am Alpha, you are Sigma. I want freedom, you want answers." Marco repeated, pacing a little in the room. What he really wanted was the safety of his wolves, but he didn't want to give this Sigma any ammunition to use against him.

"How long have you been an Alpha?" Sigma asked. Marco's eyebrow twitched a little. It was a pertinent question, and how the answer could be used could have many outcomes.

"Almost a year." Marco answered, gritting his teeth at the decision.

"Did you work your way up through a pack?"

"No."

"Were you bitten by someone you knew?"

"No."

"Did you seek out other wolves to add to your pack?"

"No." Marco answered, and again there was a shock to his neck. He growled and snarled, his teeth pushing out into fangs. He turned to the glass, eyes flashing amber, "I told you the fucking truth!" he snarled.

"That may be the case... but telling me only what you believe I want to hear, in such tiny pieces, is not something that will be rewarded either." Sigma replied, "If you want this to be a painless experience, you will give me answers."

"Because you are Sigma... and I am Alpha." Marco growled, glaring at his own reflection on the black glassy wall.

**** The engine of the Mazda clicked and popped as it cooled down, the heat radiating off of the black metal hood. Fletcher leaned back in his reclined seat, Artyom next to him. They had been traveling for almost twelve hours and over six hundred miles. The sun had set and the stars were coming out, unimpeded by any local city lights. The heavens were out in full force, filling Fletcher with a feeling of wonder and terror at the same time.

Fletch only shifted a little when he felt Artyom's hand close around his. He felt Yom's strong knuckles, the metal rings on his fingers, the thickness to his nails barely holding back claws. Fletcher turned his head and looked over at his pack mate, his travel companion, and for lack of a better word, boyfriend. Fletcher tried not to define the nature of their relationship... For one, it had such a rocky start... but it wasn't just about Marco at the center of them. They had their own dynamics, their own relations, their own connection.

Yom looked at Fletcher, really taking him in. The kid had grown up so much since they had first met. He was taller, fitter, his hair longer. His confidence had taken a huge hit, his guilt was enormous, but his wisdom and thoughtfulness had grown as well. They each blamed themselves for the evil that had spread out into the world, for the destruction of the secret that had been held for so many hundreds of years... but if it hadn't been them, it would have been someone else. Demeas had been waiting for anyone, and it had been them.

Fletcher opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. Yom leaned forward and brought his lips to Fletcher's. His eyes slid shut and his mouth opened wider, feeling the tongue plunge into his mouth, tracing over his teeth before batting at his own tongue. Yom's beard was bushy, thick, and wiry. It was a lot rougher than Marco's, but that gave it its own edge. Fletch pushed tighter into the kiss, though his eyes snapped back open when he felt Yom remove the glasses from his face.

Yom's hand flicked out claws and he grabbed Fletcher by the scruff of the shirt, pulling him out of his seat and over to the passenger side. Fletch came down on a very hard, very full erection. Fletcher's heart beat faster as he decided that he wasn't just going to be along for the ride. He reached down and unzipped Yom's pants, popping the button and reaching down. Fletch broke the kiss, panting.

"You're not wearing any underwear..." He murmured.

"We were in a hurry." Yom replied before he grabbed Fletcher's head and pulled him back into a kiss, tongue tangling. Fletcher's fly was opened up, a claw cutting through the fly of his underwear to make it wider before his manhood was fished out. Yom lifted his hips, his cock sliding through his pants to press against Fletcher's.

Fletcher ground and shifted his weight, his cock gliding back and forth against Yom's. It was all improvised, but it felt like he was channeling some rhythmic dance to the beat of a song he couldn't quite hear. Yom huffed, getting hornier, growling as his ears pushed into points, his brow started to swell, and his beard grew higher up his cheeks. Yom's shirt tightened as his pecs filled out more, new hair peeking up from the collar.

"You animal... You beast." Fletcher panted hard, moving to kiss, nibble, and then bite Yom's neck. Yom growled at that and moved, humping against Fletcher like a madman. Fletcher moaned, panting harder and harder, humping faster before he felt a clawed hand wrap around their cocks, holding them together. Fletch thrust into the hand, then added his own, feeling the metal rings on Yom's fingers getting hotter from their embrace.

Yom snarled before he came down, biting into Fletcher's shoulder. Fletch hissed at the puncture, but the pain lasted only a moment until he felt an odd pleasure. His skin was warm and tingly as it knit back up, healing at an accelerated rate. Fletcher looked at Yom, his caramel colored eyes turning a true gold as his lips began pushing forward, making room for the curved tusks that were coming down from his upper jaw.

Fletcher tilted his head to one side and then the other as soft, fuzzy, full sideburns pushed out of his cheeks, billowing out in front of ears that were taking on points. He raked fingers down Yom's side even as his fingernails pushed out longer, honing to points, curving into narrow but sharp claws. They remained translucent and ivory, perhaps with just a hint of grey coloring to them. Yom shivered, feeling the claws along his ribs. They were sharper than werewolf claws, more precise, more dangerous.

The two had worked into a good rhythm with their humping, but Fletcher knew he wanted more. Despite the cramped space of the car, Fletcher lifted his hips off of Artyom's lap, sidled forward as far as he could get, and brought his pert, muscled ass cheeks down around the big wolf's cock head. Yom growled in pleasure, feeling honored. He brought his lips back to Fletcher's just as he thrust up, his shaft spearing into the tight ring of flesh waiting between those pert cheeks.

Fletcher squirmed in wonder as his ass was impaled. He felt it sliding into him like a wedge, stretching his muscles outward, probing his depths. As overwhelming as it was, though, it was also glorious. With each thrust, Yom was hitting unknown points of pleasure, sending wave after wave of joy through his body. Yom smelled Fletcher's pleasure, taking in his scent, loving the minute changes and shifts it had as they made love.

The car lurched and shook with the impact of Yom's thrusts. The windows fogged up and the air got hot and humid. It took only a few moments for the salty, musky smell of sex to permeate the vehicle, pouring out of the two so embroiled in one another's company. Fletch let out a surprised grunt as Yom hit something inside of him that triggered a wash of lust so intense he thought he'd pass out, and Yom took the sound as a signal he was in the right place.

Fletcher's eyes rolled into the back of his head as his prostate was hit time and time again by the huge, fat, full cock of his werewolf lover. He bounced with each thrust, his body nearly going limp until he gasped, throwing his head back, eyes going wide. Fletcher's cock began to throb, tiny bumps forming around the edge of it just as he came, shooting out thick ropes of cum across Artyom's shirt and beard.

Smelling the cum, even tasting it, Yom's thrusts became ragged and uneven before he let out a deafening howl. His cock pulsed deep inside Fletcher before it unleashed its bounty. Fletcher felt the thick, satisfying heat start to blossom inside of him. He collapsed suddenly onto Yom's chest, gasping for breath, his own shaft still leaking semen in the tight space between them both. Yom came for what seemed like an eternity, but he eventually lifted his tired, spent arms to wrap around Fletcher, holding him close.

The two kept panting long after their orgasms subsided, even after their supernatural attributes had sunk back beneath the surface, leaving them with their human appearances once more. Artyom wondered if that had been what they needed to decompress from the stress or to cement their bond to one another. Fletcher didn't wonder about anything. For just a moment he felt safe and loved, and he knew that holding on to that would give him the strength to get Marco and Udo back. The road to Texas was long, but nothing was going to stop them.