Moments
"Moments" By Kyvr
I had been living in the small forest town of Old Haven for four months, and the closest I had come to a friend was a werewolf, and even he was not too friendly at first.
I met him the first time when the sun was going down, I was returning to my rented house from a long walk in the woods when he ran right past me ahead on the trial. Being rational, I thought it was a large dog, and since I liked dogs and had nothing else to do, I pursued him through the heavy bush. I stumbled, crashed, and swore through the thick branches and dried leaves until I found refuge in a small clearing, lit dimly with the lowering orange sun. There he was hunched over with his light gray-furred back to me; I could hardly hear the sounds of satisfied growls and the crunching of small bones. His tail shot up in alarm as I took one single step towards him, and he whipped around and revealed his true height, becoming a large tower of fur and muscle. Taking a defensive stance on his two legs, and clutching something small and bloody with white fur in one of his paw-hands, he roared at me, the intruder. Despite the cold shaft of fear spiraling up through my stomach I held my ground in total disbelief. Blood and bone fragments flew with the force of his roar from his maw, splattering on my face. He only needed to give me a single swipe with his free paw-hand to get rid of me, but instead he bounded away into the woods.
In a confused daze I made my way back to the trail, absent minded as I split out some of the blood and bone that had landed into my gapping mouth. I got home, didn't bother locking the door, skipped dinner, and went straight to bed.
***
Over the past few weeks I mentioned nothing of the incident to anyone, since the average age in Old Haven was sixty and news of a werewolf would have caused a string of heart attacks, simply because they would be laughing too hard at me as I told my story. Instead I tried as hard as I could to concentrate on staking books and filling out orders for various Readers' Digest books at the small main strip book store in the town. I couldn't get the image of the great beast out of my mind, and soon I found myself wandering into the woods to see him again.
I would not be disappointed, as over the days I would go into the woods, and always seem to find him. I would see him running through the forest, pausing by a stream to take a drink, but most of the time I would see him sitting down, his back to a tree and his legs brought up close to him. His head always sagging down, he looked so sad, so lonely. I soon started seeing him for the beautiful creature he was, and realized that the only reason I could always seem to find him was because he was letting me. We would always do the same thing: not speak a word and keep our distance, he would seem to ignore me and I would stare at him, taking in all his features, his soft gray fur, his thick body, his large, fluffy tail, the white on his paws, ears, and muzzle. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I would get a glimpse of his bright yellow eyes, and they would always seem to be avoiding me.
One day as the sun had lowered and the moon poked through the thick clouds, it took me longer than usual to find him. It was not until night had fully fallen that I found him, crouched on a lone rock jutting out of a wide stream. Just as I found a comforting tree to lead on, he let out a long, mournful howl to the sky. Watching his whole body tense as he sang sent chills through me, and his low howl seemed to vibrate through my soul. How I wished I had the courage to step out of my hiding spot, cross the stream, and embrace him. Why was he so sad? So sad that his howls reverberated with such sorrow that I had to bite my hand to keep myself from sobbing.
I looked back up with wet eyes to see that he was staring at me, his yellow eyes shining through the blackness. Everything froze, and the world was silent, the sound of the constant water was nothing to the sound of our breathing. For that one moment I believed he was going to come to me, to let me help him in any way I could. I could see in his eyes, his soul, that he wanted to.
With an angry growl the moment was broken, and he spurned away from me. I reached out, and tried to call out to him, but my voice cracked as he bounded away at supernatural speed.
The beautiful forest was barren to me. Nothing but the sounds of running water and dried leaves.
The echoes of his howl had died out.
***
That same night an elderly hiker was murdered. Slashed and gutted to death. His body found face up in a ditch near the woods.
I don't know if it was the terrible rejection or doubt that made me close the store for that day, probably both. Had I seen something that wasn't there? Was I admiring a ruthless killer, who for some reason, hadn't killed me, despite the numerous opportunities he had?
It was not until I finally picked up the local newspaper that I discovered that my fears were unfounded. The front page article revealed that the old man had been slashed and gutted with a slashing weapon, much like a knife. Why would my werewolf use a knife, when his claws and fangs would do a much better job? It wasn't him. Beyond the tangible reasons, I knew in my gut it wasn't him.
Going into the forest that night wasn't easy, the constant patrols of dogs and men with flashlights would turn me back home if they found me, if not suspect me of being the Slasher himself. That was another thing I had to keep in mind: there was a killer out here. Despite it all, I went in, I had to find him.
It was still the late afternoon when I stumbled into the small clearing where we first met, and before I knew it he was standing right in front of me in full furry glory, his arms crossed, yellow eyes narrowed. The forest whistled with the cool wind that brushed his fur, his stare not breaking from mine.
"I didn't do it," were the first words he ever said to me, his words muffled by his muzzle but still low and loud. I opened my mouth to respond, but was still amazed he had talked. He blinked once and said, "You know I didn't do it do you?"
"Yes," I managed.
He broke his stare and uncrossed his arms, and looked around the forest in disbelief. "How could I've been so blind, so deaf," he mumbled to himself, "someone killing in my territory..."
I licked my lips and stepped forward. I had to know something, to confirm that he was innocent. "Have you ever killed anyone?"
The question knocked him out of his mumbling, and he resumed his narrow stare at me, except this time there was no emotion, only a dead certainty. When he said, "Yes" in such a dead-pan tone that sent a sudden fear through me, I backed up until I had run into a tree.
He advanced on me, raising his large, furry arms and putting them on each side of my head, his claws playing with the bark underneath them. He lowered his head until his muzzle was only inches away from my mouth. I could feel his constant, heavy, warm breath flowing down my chin and neck.
"It was you," he rumbled, "you distracted me." His claws dug deeper into the bark, pieces of it landing on my shoulders. "Why couldn't you leave me alone?"
I had a werewolf angry at me, no where to run, I could have started sobbing for my life, pleaded for it, that would have made sense because even though I was a pretty big guy myself I had no chance of taking him on. Despite this I found myself growing angry at him. As pathetic as it could have looked I straightened my self up, did my best to reach up and brush my shoulders clean, and gave him a hard stare.
"You knew I was there the whole time," I said slowly, "You wanted me there, even though you tried to ignore me." His face softened as the truth of my words sunk in.
"And now you come to me again, why?" He does not answer. His grip on the tree loosens and he casts his eyes down. "I'm here, you're here, now are you going to ask for what you want from me, or are you just wasting my time." By the time the words came out of my mouth, I wished I didn't say them as a shudder of pain rippled through his body.
His eyes, wet and large, looked back up at me. "I'm not a murderer," he said weakly.
I wanted to embrace him right there and then, but I stood my ground. "I believe you." His body relaxed a little and I let myself put a hand on his shoulder.
I was just in the middle of saying, "I'm sorry" when he kissed me.
Between mouth and muzzle it was awkward as hell, but as the heat of our lips connected we shared a collective moan of elation. In that eternal moment something flared within me, a rumbling being that seemed to have been hiding in my stomach and spread out throughout my body, and into his. This energy, unseen but felt, almost engulfed us when he suddenly broke the kiss.
Both of us were dazed as if we were hit by a tidal wave. As I refocused I saw him backing up way from me, shaking his head slowly, holding his paw-hands between us. I could hardly hear the weak "No," that came out of his lips. Those lips through which we just shared eternity with.
I stepped forward, confused, and he lunged back, tears swelling in his eyes, claws at the ready. "No," he yelled, chocking back sobs, "I can't....you're....no....I can't do that to you..."
He reluctantly lunged away from me and he bounded into the woods. I stood frozen for several heartbeats. I fell to my knees. I grabbed a nearby stone.
"Godfuckingdammitmotherfunker!!!!!," I yelled into the forest as I threw anything I found in the direction that he fled from me. Abandoned me.
I was careless to whomever or whatever would hear me as I roared, tearing up the clearing, bashing my fists against the trees and the ground, yelling "WHY?!!!!!" to the darkening sky.
My rage came to a stop as I faced the tree where he pinned me, his claw marks still fresh in the bark. Tracing them with the edge of my fingertips, I let the tears flow. I sank down to the ground and hugged the tree.
The heat of our embrace lingered on the bark.
***
I didn't know or care when I pulled myself together and headed back home. It was dark, and I cursed myself for not having the foresight of bringing a flashlight. I crashed through the bush, following the direction of far away street lights.
The cold feeling in my stomach made me sob from time to time, but I focused my mind on the dark path I was following, my feet making impressions in the mud. I was so focused that I hardly heard the quiet tinkle of metal on metal.
I turned around just in time to see a flash of silver flying towards me. I had turned at the right time, as the whole blade of a butcher's knife plunged into my left shoulder, the tip of the blade sticking out the other side.
I had no time to cry out in pain as I stumbled and faced my attacker. Dressed in a beat-up jean coverall with a plaid shirt, a set of kitchen knives dangling on strings from his belt, and a leather bag with two eye holes covering his head, I suddenly wondered if I had been transported into a bad horror movie.
The Slasher wasted no time in yanking a fish scaling knife from his belt and lunging at me, pinning me to the ground. I swore he was smaller than me, but it must have been exhaustion and injury that made me weak. I struggled, managing to get a single hand on the wrist of his knife-wielding hand. Despite my desperate efforts the thin, sharp blade inched its way till it was kissing the flesh of my neck.
They say before you die, you life flashes before your eyes.
I didn't see my life, as in some cheesy film reel, I found myself again pressed up against the tree, my hands exploring soft, gray and white fur, my lips hot with his. I felt the flare that we both had lit.
Here I was, facing my tragic death, and all I could think about was that kiss. That kiss worth dying for.
Suddenly I was not afraid. Death was no problem anymore, as the kiss was all I needed. Everything froze, the blade just cutting the thin flesh of my throat, the one eye of the slasher dancing insanely in the random light. All I needed to do was lift him off me, and it was so easy. What I managed to do however, was much more that what I intended.
With great force his body flew off me and crashed head first into a nearby trunk. The resounding crack of his skull filled the forest. His body sagged to the forest floor.
For several heartbeats my arms stayed raised as they did to pull him off, then I winced in pain as my left shoulder screamed, aggravated with my struggles. I managed to raise myself up when I saw him.
He had just bounded onto the trail, eyes full and alarmed, chest heaving with excursion. His fur was mattered and wet with sweat. He looked down on me and reached out with his paw-hand, but took it back as several beams of light came shining from the path and the sounds of men calling out rendered the rest of the forest silent. With a sorry glance, he bounded away before I had the chance to yell "Get out of here!"
***
After getting my shoulder all patched up I spend several hours until the early mourning talking to the police. They explained to me how the Slasher was some rich kid spending some time with his not-so-rich grandparents. He had taken a whole bunch of LSD, among other things, and decided that killing them was the best way to get back to his lifestyle. Apparently he never gave up the drugs, and every time he did he assumed the persona of the Slasher. How so much like a werewolf I had thought to myself.
Even the police were skeptical about how I could manage to throw a full grown teenager ten feet back with enough force to crack open his head. I just shrugged my shoulders (painfully) and suggested it must have been adrenaline. After the interrogation I was driven back home, and I went immediately to bed, despite my growling stomach.
The attack seemed to have no effect on me, my dreams were filled with furry embraces, growls, and howls. I woke up in the early night to an empty bedroom. Still not in the mood for eating, I switched on the bed light, opened the window to let the breeze in, and tried to read a random magazine to drown my thoughts. It wasn't long before I heard the distinct sound of claws climbing up the side of my house.
I put the magazine down, my heart pounding with excitement and surprise, then I realized that I was only wearing a pair of underwear and a tank top. Why did it matter? I thought, he walks around naked. So I waited, watching the window as two clawed paw-hands grasped the window sill and a wolf head popped up between them.
He was just going to lunge himself in when one of his paw-hands slipped and the wolf head quickly vanished from my view. I heard a whole mess of frantic clawing as his claws slipped on wet shingles, and a low growl saying "Fuck", before he took a single lunge into the window. Unceremoniously he dropped head first, his furry body tumbling in, legs spread and waving about as he landed. I got a good view of the ample plumbing between his legs before he flipped himself up. Standing, he quickly padded his ruffled fur straight and dignified. A look of absolute embarrassment showing on his muzzled face, ears flattened down.
"You could have knocked on the door," I suggested as he stepped closer to my bed. He ignored me, and kneeled down so we were eye to eye. His paw-hands were inches away from my whole body, only sheets dividing us. Cautiously, he looked into my eyes, love and fear dancing in his yellow orbs.
"I owe you something," he said, looking at my bandaged shoulder. He reached over delicately with his claws and started undoing the bandage. I don't fully know why, but I trusted him explicitly. With some deft cutting of his claws, and ripping the bandage from the drying wound, he cradled my arm in his caring paw-hands. With no hesitation he dipped down and started licking the wound with his long, pink tongue.
Now at this point I would have thought I would be overjoyed if his tongue was licking any part of my body, but as he licked up and down the wound it actually started to burn and itch a little. I hissed in pain as the wound slowly healed up at a rapid rate. He reached with his muzzle to the back of my shoulder to lick up the exit wound.
After a few quiet moments of feeling my shoulder heal, I flexed it, testing the joint. The doctor had said that I would be lucky if I regain more than half of my mobility with the shoulder, now it was good as new.
"What other tricks do you have?" I asked.
"More than you know," he said, a slight smile played on his muzzle, but he quickly corrected himself, and moved to get up, to create distance between us. I was too quick for him. I grabbed the nearest wrist and gripped it.
He could have probably ripped my arm off, but instead it was enough to stop him. He put his other paw-hand on top of mine, and was beginning to say something, when I interrupted him, "You owe me something else."
With his paw-hands still lying with mine he sobbed, looking away from me. "You don't understand," he said.
"Then make me."
"NO!!!" he yelled, but he still didn't break our weak connection, his claws digging into the flesh of my hand and the bed covers. After a few more quiet seconds he knew he wasn't going to get out of this without an explanation.
"I thought you were one in a thousand," he began, "just one of those rare, but not unheard of, people who could love my people for what they were. I'm lonely, and desperate. Honestly, I thought I could use you as a quick fuck." His eyes darted around, avoiding me as he admitted it.
"But when we kissed," his paw-hand clutched my hand harder, "I felt it, you felt it to. That flame inside you, like there is a flame inside me. I found out that you were not one of a thousand, you were one of a million." He looked me straight in the eyes, as if I knew what he was talking about. I was still confused and shook my head, urging him to go on.
"My people are secretly hunted, by one danger or another. While I would not give up my nature for anything in the world, I have suffered too much. Too many of my people, people I loved, were killed, taken away from me. My whole pack, taken away from me from those who hate us. Even though I killed them all, splattered their blood, howled in victory over their dead bodies, those that I love are gone."
I never thought that I would see a werewolf cry, but there he was sobbing, his tears mingling with the fur of his face, splattering against the bed sheets. I let him cry before he continued.
"I love you," he admitted, lifting his head to meet my eyes, "and even though you and I could be together and be happy, it's nothing in the end. They'll come and take you away, or take me away, and we will suffer. Don't you see? I can make you into what I am, a werewolf, one of my people. The wolf is strong in you, demanding to get out, but if I let it out of you and love you, in the end there is only going to be pain, and I will be all alone..."
I was so stunned that I loosened my grip, and he slowly removed his paw-hands from my grasp. Straightening and keeping in his tears, he walked back towards the window. I looked down at my empty hand and I felt the tug of emptiness in my stomach. I felt the pain he had to go through, and the pain we would have go through for our love. Was it worth it?
"Yes," I said to my empty hand, and the word made him stop in his tracks.
I got up from the bed and walked over to him. He recoiled, this time letting out a threatening growl to keep me back. It didn't work.
"You know what I was thinking when that maniac was going to kill me?", the question confused him, and he tilted his head in the way only canines could.
"I thought of you and me, and what we shared. That one moment of happiness. When I realized that, at least, I had that one moment of happiness, I was ready to die. That moment is something you and I could only have, and no one could take it away from us. Don't you see? We both can be beaten and killed, we both could suffer for a long time, and it wouldn't matter. We have the few, but precious, moments that we keep us going and can never be taken away from us. They will even be with us after we die. That's why we live, we all know were going to die, but what we should be looking for is those precious things that we can take with us."
I knew I was babbling, but I could see he was making some sense of it. He stepped closer and I took the opportunity to embrace him. He fur mingled with my flesh and thin fabric, our hands explored each other and grabbing tight. My mouth was near enough to his ear and I whispered, "What we have here is a reason to live and die."
The embrace become almost too warm, too comforting, too close, but we both loved it. The pain and sorrow was gone, replaced with an unheard elation that filled our bodies, our hearts beating slowly, our hot breath traveling down each others backs, and, as a reminder of what was to come, our members hardening to each others body.
It was the feeling of his hard, hot shaft resting against mind that shook us both out of our embrace, and we both separated enough to look down between us. My cock was ready to burst out of the confines of its thin, white fabric prison, a damp wet spot where the head laid. When I laid eyes on his cock I did not make any effort to hold back the gasp of surprise. Nested and covered in a patch of white fur, his strikingly red member flared against our bodies. The head of it was human-like, the knob being a little thicker, but at the base of the shaft, where the thick foreskin was pulled back, a large, fleshy knot had formed at the base.
After a few moments of staring at each others members, which really communicated our inner most desires, I looked back up with him to exchange a slight smile.
"You can't exactly hide that thing can you?" I said, playing around.
With one paw-hand on one of my butt cheeks and the other on the small of my back, he slowly pushed me towards the bed. "Yah, I hate white, shows everything," he teased.
The back of my legs met with my bed, but I didn't go down like he wanted me to. He groaned in disappointment, and I chuckled. "I don't know if I want to do this, I hardly know you."
"That's right," he said smiling a toothy smile, "we don't even know each other's names."
"I'm Daniel," I said.
"I'm Ulric, nice to meet you," he said as he squeezed my entrapped cock with a quick paw-hand. I moaned and fell on the bed face up. "I think we know enough about each other now."
"I do to," I said weakly.
He lunges on top of me, fur engulfing my body; he licked the inside of my opened mouth. He grabbed the sides of my tank top and ripped it apart in one smooth motion. "Man, your hairy," he joked as he ran his paw-hands through my chest hair, traveling down playing around with the curly strands till he followed the treasure trail that disappeared into my underwear.
The look on his face was priceless, his tongue hanging out the side, his eyes wandering over my body, his ears perked up and at attention. I loved it, the feel of his paw-hands on my body, the closeness of his fur and musk, but soon I was overwhelmed with a strange sensation starting in my crotch. The heat from it was unlike anything I ever felt, and I lurched upward as I felt bolts of lightning traveling through my body.
Ulric had just ripped off my underwear and gave my raging cock a big doggy lick before he realized what was happening. He lifted his body off of mine just enough to allow me enough room to thrash about as I changed. He watch eagerly as night black fur trickled out of my pores in layers, muscles thickened and mutated to new proportions, my hands develop paw-pads and my very own claws, and my cock growing in length and width, oozing out juices as it developed its large, hard knot at the base.
The change felt like the ultimate release. Now I knew, as my body and soul did, that I was always meant to be this shape, the shape of primal power. It only felt natural when my tail, covered in black, grew out, and finally a thick muzzle erupted out of my face. Finally this is what I was, the shell was cast aside and the true form emerged, liberated by our connection.
The heat of my transformation died down as I let the cool breeze from the window cool me down. Slowly I got to know my new body, the looking and feeling the fur all over me, black with a white patch on the chest. The shining emerald eyes revealing more on the night, my ears hearing the distant sounds of the land, and my nose-my nose!-God what a sensation to smell everything! But I didn't need to smell everything, because what dominated my nose was him: Ulric. God his musk! Trees and leaves, sweat and pinecones. In my reveling I had forgotten he was there.
Letting out a bark I hugged him, our fur mingling with each other. Now, finally, we kiss, our muzzles fitting together, our tongues dancing. The flare that is our connection builds within us, and it so painful when we let each other go. I look into his eyes, his beautiful yellow eyes.
"You are so fucking hot," he says between breaths.
"So are you."
My arms around him I drop us both back onto the bed. With a few quick licks to the face he travels down my body, nibbling a nipple as he travels down, resting his muzzle against my new and improved cock. He puts his paw-hands underneath my legs and lifts them up, revealing the full glory of my privates to him. With one broad swipe, he licks my tail hole, all the way through my ball sack and up my member. I growl and dig my claws into the sheets, ripping them apart as the sensations over take me. I loose count of how many times he licks me, but I know what he wants. It's what I want too.
Soon my hole was wet enough, and Ulric looked at me only to find my face pleading and horny, with my tongue handing out and slobbering all over the bed sheet. Carefully he guides his cock to my hole, and I urge myself to relax as the red hot shaft probes me, sliding deeper and making the connection with both desires. I hold myself against squeezing too soon, I want it so desperately. Sliding in, I don't stop him until he is deep enough so that he can lie down on top of me and be face to face. The sheer pleasure of the shaft grazing my pleasure spot makes me growl and shut my eyes. When I open them it is to his face, looking down to me, tongue slobbering all over the place.
Flattening my ears back and curling back my lips I snarl at him, he snarls back and grinds his hips into my eyes. We continue snarling at each other as he pounds me, his shaft grazing my prostate and causing a build up of lustful energy in my lower stomach that finally overwhelms me.
The world becomes a sea of flesh, fur, and sweat as the sensations of our love making overwhelm us. We forget everything but each other, the flare becomes the torch becomes the fire becomes the inferno. Light and darkness mingle with each other to create energy, primal energy that is pent up and released in full liquid glory, limitless plateaus are reached as growls become desperate whines. The primal energy disperses, forging in its wake the connection of body and soul.
I open my eyes to find myself panting and limp. My cock has softened and retreated into its black-furred foreskin, my cum covers my chest in thick wads, being absorbed into my fur. Ulric lies next to me, sharing the sweat of our effort, panting and licking the wound in my neck he made when he latched on during our wondrous orgasm. I move slightly, to suddenly whimper in fleeting pleasure as I feel Ulric knot holding us together. Ulric gives me a lick on the ear, and I lick back.
Suddenly my stomach lets out a loud growl.
"What was that?" Ulric asked, his muzzle tickling my ear hairs.
"I haven't eaten in a day."
"When were done here will go hunt some rabbit down, you've had nothing like it."
Just as the thought of going out hunt in this tired state crossed my mind I felt a sudden surge of energy that made the prospect more likely. Thanks to the famous werewolf constitution.
"Hey, Ulric..." I whispered.
"Yes."
"Was it worth dying for?"
There was a long silence as we laid there, listening to the sounds of the night, smelling each others musk, feeling that all-too physical connection between us soften.
"Yes, it was."
That night the howls that reverberated throughout the forest were not so sorrowful.