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Written and posted with permission from Leo_Todrius (who also provided the kickass thumbnail icon!)

You can find his profile and awesome stories here: http://leo-todrius.sofurry.com/

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Lykos - Wild Things

Chapter 02 - The eccentric family

Drake opened his eyes, feeling a sudden weight pressing on his chest. A few inches from his face, the deep grey eyes of a child were staring at him with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

The girl, who couldn't have been older than nine, started sniffing at him as if she was a dog... or a wolf. "You're one of us," she finally said, looking satisfied by her discovery.

"U-um... thanks?" Drake replied. What is she talking about?, he thought, still trying to emerge from the cocoon of his sleep. And who is she, by the way? And most importantly... Where the hell am I?

The girl was still looking at him intently. "Wyatt brought you home two days ago... Are you his new beta?" she then asked in a casual tone.

Drake's eyes widened, his heart skipping a couple of beats. A deep, soft rumble clouded his brain for a moment, the door of his memories finally reopening: the running through the woods, the broken leg, the darkness spreading through the world and inside his soul, the terrible, ruthless woman telling him he was weak...

And, of course, Wyatt. A strange, incomprehensible young man. A werewolf. Someone who had promised to change his life... And an alpha. No, his alpha. Drake could feel something unraveling in his chest, a string connecting him with Wyatt, no matter where he could be... It was like feeling two sets of heartbeats instead of just one. "Yes," he replied to the young girl with a hint of pride in his voice. "I'm one of yours." He closed his eyes for a moment, and he could almost see him: the wolf living inside and alongside him, big, strong and powerful; he was sleeping now, probably still spent from what had happened in the woods.

"I've already said that," the girl replied without changing expression. She sniffed the air a couple times more, and then made a funny face. "You breath smells weird. Here, have a candy," and without further notice she pressed a large strawberry toffee against his lips.

While munching on the candy, Drake examined the girl sitting on the bed next to him, who in turn was still staring at him in complete silence: she was wearing a long, white nightgown that gave her an eerie, ghostly air; her hair were dark, curly and fluffy, nearly reaching her backside, and there was a small pendant earring dangling from her left ear, shaped like a tiny wolf claw, of course. Hers, however - instead of being made out of bronze like Wyatt's or golden like Talia's - had the color of steel, its design a bit plainer. Her huge grey eyes didn't seem to have the need to blink. She is a kid version of her older sister... Except even creepier, Drake thought with a shudder.

The young man looked at his body: he was wearing an old grey jumpsuit he didn't recognize and what looked like a removable cast over his broken leg... which didn't actually feel broken at all, to be honest. Drake tried moving it a couple of times, and couldn't feel anything more than a slight discomfort coming from the bones that until two days ago had been snapped into two. Wow, he said to himself. Werewolves heal really fast. He took a long, deep breath, and felt the lungs expanding in his chest, dozens of different odors entering his nose along with the air. It's like I've never used my sense of smell until now...

Drake looked around, inspecting the bedroom: the furniture was simple and austere, like the cell of a convent. The bed he was lying on, a bedside table with nothing but a nightstand on, a desk with an accompanying chair, an old and bulky dresser and a couple of shelves stacked with books. A guest room?, the young man idly wondered. It certainly looked too barren and impersonal to having been occupied by someone.

Drake rested his head against the soft pillows, the sweet taste of strawberry coating his tongue like a sugary blanket. "This is the best candy I've ever eaten," he told the girl.

She looked back at him with her misty, seemingly unblinking eyes. "It's just a normal candy," she explained. "You're weird," she added after a while. "And you're hungry."

And indeed, he was. To be exact, he was starving... Which made sense, considering he hadn't eaten during the past couple of days, if the little girl was to be believed. "Huh? Y-yeah... How could you tell?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Your heartbeat changed after I gave you the candy. Also, you're drooling."

"Oh. Um... sorry." Drake rubbed the back of his left hand against the corner of his lips.

"So... How was it to be a human?" the girl suddenly asked. She had rolled on her back, and was looking at him upside down.

"Um... Pretty average, I guess?" Drake replied, taken quite aback by the question. "How is it to be a werewolf?"

"The same," she said, shrugging before sitting back on the mattress. "I'll go call Wyatt, okay?"

"O-okay..." Drake mumbled, feeling something warm and fuzzy stirring inside his soul; if he had already known how to sprout his tail, he would've wagged it. I want to see him, he thought. I want to hear him, I want to smell him, I want to taste him, I want to touch him. Never before in his life he had felt such a deep, totalizing attraction towards someone else, and the sensation was so intense that he started drooling again without even realizing it.

"Wyatt!" the little girl was shouting from the doorstep. "Your new beta woke up, and he's weird!"

"What?!" a confused mix between a scream and a burble came from the distance. "Coming!" And a couple of seconds later, Wyatt burst through the door, nearly trampling over his little sister.

The young werewolf was wearing nothing more than a simple pair of blue shorts, showing a body that was now once again slender and thin, with a light coating of blond hair on his chest; he wasn't covered in dirt like he had been two days before, but he still gave off a distinctly messy and wild vibe: his hair was scruffier than ever, suffering from what looked like the worst case of bed head in the history of mankind, and the stubble that peppered his chin and cheeks was more prominent than last time. He was still barefoot, and his toes were tipped with black claws. "Drake!" he exclaimed through the green toothbrush sticking out the side of his mouth, his lips covered in white toothpaste froth. "You weren't waking up, I was getting worried!"

His little sister frowned in disgust. "You're doing that again."

"Huh? Doing what?"

"Spitting toothpaste everywhere."

Wyatt shrugged. "Hey, you know I like the taste!" A long, pink, canine tongue emerged from his mouth, and the werewolf licked his lips clean with a growl of satisfaction. "Mmh, peppermint..." he murmured in delight, before looking back at his sister with a look of disapproval. "Why did you tell me he was acting weird, anyway? He looks perfectly fine to me."

"No, I told you he was weird. Because he is."

"That's like the pot calling the kettle black". Wyatt looked at Drake, and his expression mellowed considerably. "Just give me a minute and I'll be right back."

"Well, at least you'll get along together," the little girl told Drake after Wyatt had darted out of the room. "Since you're both weird, you know," she then added without any hint of malice.

I still don't get if that's supposed to be a compliment or not..., Drake thought with a wry smile. "So... do you think your brother is weird, then?"

The little girl looked back at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question," Drake admitted. "What about your sister, then? What do you think of her?"

She lowered her grey eyes on the floor. "You mean Nat? She's cool... But also scary, sometimes."

Only sometimes?, Drake shivered. He had met the woman in question only once, and just for a handful of minutes, but she was without a doubt the most ruthless and fierce person (or, well, werewolf) he had had the displeasure to meet.

Wyatt, still shirtless but this time without toothbrush, barged inside the room again. "Come on, Grace, go away now. Shoo!" he told his younger sister, while trying to push her out of the room. "We adults have important things to discuss."

"You aren't an adult, you still live with mom and dad!" the little girl protested, but to no avail: her brother slammed the bedroom door behind her before turning around, a predatory smile in his own shining golden eyes.

"So... who's afraid of the big bad wolf?" he teased, grinning from ear to ear with pointy wolfish fangs.

Drake beamed back at him. "Oh, I know you're bad... But you aren't particularly big." He decided to play along, even if the only thing he wanted right now was to feel Wyatt's hands all over his body; he was longing for the touch, for the physical contact, for the warmth of his alpha's body against his own. Does that depend on the fact that I'm a beta now?, he wondered. Not that he cared that much, the feelings stirring inside his body were too pleasurable to be fought.

Wyatt's smile widened again. "I'm sure that can be fixed."

The first things to change were his ears: they grew longer and furrier, with small tuft of blond hair right on the pointed tips; Wyatt growled softly, his grin becoming a feral, intense expression, while the stubble on his face flourished, coating his chin and cheeks with a short beard which, like it had a mind of its own, then grew up the sides of his mouth, encircling his lips. The werewolf's hair, in the meantime, had gone wild, becoming scruffier and thicker with impossibly bushy sideburns; it looked like the majestic mane of an adult male lion.

The changes, of course, weren't limited to his face: Wyatt grinned again while the transformation started to ripple through his body, and Drake was sure it was because of the pleasure he was feeling. His biceps and triceps emerged from under his skin, perfectly defined and powerful without being bulky; his fingers contracted and relaxed rhythmically, dirty blond fur growing over them, until black claws exploded from his fingernails with an audible pop. Wyatt licked his lips again with his long canine tongue, but this time it was a premeditate gesture, slow and sensual. "Now comes the best part...," he murmured while teasing one of his nipples with the black leathery pads on his fingertips.

That gesture alone was enough for Drake to pop a boner, straining against the gray pants of the tracksuit. The excitement was making him sweat a bit, and a big, fat drop rolled down his forehead and stopped right on the tip of his nose, but he was so fascinated and enticed by the changes his alpha was undergoing to care in the least.

Wyatt's chest ballooned, his pecs becoming firm and round with rock-hard nipples on top of them. His stomach, already flat, became sculpted like that of an underwear model; the werewolf caressed the perfect mounds of his abs with his fingertips... before one of his hands went even further, down into his pants, caressing the growing canine sheathe under the already tensed fabric. "Awwww, yes..." he murmured. "A-almost there..."

And then, with a small ripping sound like that of a wet cloth, the skin and bones of Wyatt's backside stretched and became covered in blonde fur at a breakneck speed; the tail - bushy, at least three feet long and two feet wide - wagged a couple of times in the air and then stood perfectly still, erect and proud. Wyatt panted a couple of times, then shuddered, regaining a bit of composure; he crossed his arms over his now incredible physique, stroke a pose and stared at Drake with a killer smile on his lupine face. "I don't like showing off, but the wolf loves being the center of the attention," he declared.

Drake found it nearly impossible to keep it cool, but he somehow succeeded. "I thought you said you and your wolf were one and the same," he observed with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, I may have said that," Wyatt conceded. "So? What do you think?"

"You... You are..." Drake, at a loss of words, just shook his head.

"Awesome? Irresistible? Adorable?" the werewolf suggested.

"I was going to say that you are actually big now, but let's stick with adorable," Drake replied. He patted on the bed, with an inviting smile on his face. "You should get that adorableness here, you know?"

He didn't need to say it twice: before Drake could even realize what was happening, Wyatt was already crouched over him, his hand-paws brushing against the sides of his face, his warm tongue tracing the contours of Drake's mouth. "Mmh... You taste like strawberry," Wyatt murmured in pleasure.

Drake, overwhelmed by the sensations clouding his brain, just enjoyed the feeling of being caressed, of being kissed, of being teased right to the edge again and again. "Wow..." he panted, after their lips broke contact. "That was intense..."

Wyatt grinned again. "Yeah, it wasn't that bad. I can do much better, though... Not to brag or anything."

Drake rested his head against the pillow and smiled at the wolf over him. "And that change... I mean, seeing you already transformed in the woods was one thing, but this..."

"Well, I wanted to take things slowly for once," Wyatt explained. "And I wanted you to enjoy it too, of course."

Drake could feel his cheeks becoming warm and red. "Will I... Will I be able to do that?"

"Huh?" Wyatt looked confused. "What do you mean? Of course you can! Just let your wolf come out and play."

"I think he's still asleep," Drake admitted, trying not to sound guilty. "I can feel him, but he doesn't, well, react."

Wyatt nodded, even if his face was betraying a little disappointment. "Makes sense, I bet he worked really hard to heal your broken leg. And by the way, don't get too used to this healing speed, it will tone down soon... unless, of course, there's a full moon. It's one of the advantages of being what we are."

Drake let out a brief, cheerful laugh. "You mean there are disadvantages?"

The werewolf frowned. "Dunno... Do you like chocolate? 'cause that's off limits from now on, unless you want to puke your intestines out, of course."

"Awww, but I love chocolate!" Drake replied in a joking tone. "If I had known that I would've asked you to let me die in the woods!" But then he looked up, and could see the most painfully saddened expression he had ever seen, painted with dreary colors on Wyatt's face. "N-no, I'm sorry, it w-was just a joke, I wasn't..." he backpedaled, a sudden, heavy clot covered in painful spikes appearing in his stomach.

"Don't... don't ever say something like that anymore, Drake. Please. Even if it's a joke." Wyatt didn't sound angry or mad; for a moment, he seemed incredibly frail, as if his soul was on the verge of snapping into two.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

The werewolf placed a finger over his beta's lips, silencing him. "See, that's... That's a disadvantage. Of being what we are, I mean: the bonds we forge with our packmates are so strong and intense that even the mere idea of them breaking... it can break your heart, too." He did his best to smile, though, and Drake hugged him and kissed him softly as an apology.

For some long, peaceful minutes, the two of them just lied there on the bed in silence, enveloped in a cascade of golden August sunlight streaming from the window; Drake was on his back, and Wyatt was curled up against him, his head resting on Drake's chest, the tip of his tail lazily swatting the mattress. "Lunch's almost ready, and you're hungry," the werewolf finally whispered.

"Right," Drake replied. His stomach was giving off deep, soft, long rumbles that sounded like a distant thunderstorm. "...but I really don't want to get off the bed. Not now."

"I know," Wyatt replied. "In this very moment, the only thing in this world that's important is the two of us, lying in the sunlight." He gingerly licked the hollow of Drake's neck once, before reciting in a dozy voice, "Thou, sun, art half as happy as we, in that the world's contracted thus. Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be to warm the world, that's done in warming us. Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere; this bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere."

Drake smiled, his eyes lost in the golden of the rays of light and the golden of Wyatt's irises. "Yeah... I'm in bed with a cute, handsome, romantic, poetry-quoting wolfman, why should I ever want to get up?" He raised his head, massaging Wyatt's lips with his own in a playful way, but then he felt the werewolf tensing and stiffening. "Huh? What happened?" he asked, before noticing that Wyatt's eyes were looking left, in the direction of the door.

Grace was standing on the threshold, a big and mischievous smile on her young face. "Mom says lunch is ready!" she exclaimed. "But I'll go tell her you two are busy..." and then she ran away, laughing as if it was Christmas all of a sudden.

Drake felt Wyatt's body deflating like an old balloon under his hands, losing his muscle definition and his beastly traits as the wolf went back hiding in the deep recesses of his soul. Wyatt got up from the bed, his lips contorted in a frown. "I'll go put a shirt on..." he groaned, in a voice filled with gloom.

* * * *

When Drake and Wyatt climbed downstairs, Grace was already sitting at the huge, solid oak table that dominated the dining room, her scrawny legs dangling rhythmically over the edge of a tall chair; she had a Cheshire grin on her face and she was singing at the top of her tiny lungs: "Wyatt and Drake, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

"Grace!" Wyatt growled at her, baring his now completely human teeth.

"Hey, but it's true! ...well, except the part about you two sitting in a tree."

In a way, that part is somewhat true, too... Drake thought, reliving what had happened two nights before inside his head. He had never felt that embarrassed in his entire life, as if the contents of his brain were perfectly clear and visible for the world to see. I wonder what Wyatt's mother thinks of me right now...

A tall, blond woman emerged from the kitchen, carrying with ease a colossal tray choke full of roasted meat. She was a mere inch shorter than her eldest daughter, with strong and fascinating features and a beauty mark just next to her mouth; she looked like she was in her late thirties or early forties, certainly younger than her real age, and her eyes had the same warm shade of chestnut the irises of her son also possessed. She placed the tray in the middle of the table, cleaned her hands in the simple white apron she was wearing and served a generous helping of roasted meat to her younger daughter. "No singing at the table, Grace," she said to the little girl in a quiet but stern tone; Grace immediately shut up and started eating. "No screaming at your sister, Wyatt," she continued, placing a small mountain of steamy roast in front of her second-born. Wyatt mumbled something through his teeth, but the raising of an eyebrow convinced him to sit down with a sheepish smile on his face. The woman then shifted her gaze to Drake: her stare was so deep and intense that the young man couldn't help but blushing a little. She didn't look angered or upset, though. "You. You'll sit in front of me," she said... No, she ordered, and Drake obeyed.

The woman stretched out her right hand. "Welcome to house Underhill, Drake Stapleton. My name is Cordelia, but you may call me Delia," she said in a very formal and composed tone. Not only does she know my name, but my surname too?, Drake pondered, while offering his own right hand to her with a little apprehension; her grip was strong, just like he had imagined, but he certainly wasn't expecting to feel her claws pressing against the tender skin of his wrist. Cordelia glanced down, looking a bit surprised. "He must be an easygoing type," she commented, before placing a plate full of delicious-looking meat in front of him. "Here, eat."

"T-thanks," Drake replied. He cut a small piece of roast and stuck it in his mouth; his eyes went watery and a single tear streamed down his left eye to his lips. "Oh god..." he muttered. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten..." And then he started wolfing down a slice of roast after another. "It's so tender... so juicy... it melts in the mouth... How can something this wonderful actually exist?" Before he realized it, he had already finished his first serving and had reached for a second.

Cordelia, Wyatt and Grace, meanwhile, were staring at him with undecipherable expressions on their faces. "He must've been really hungry," the woman observed.

"He said the very same thing about the candy I gave him before, I told you he's weird," Grace explained before gobbling down a huge chunk of meat.

Wyatt sighed gently, a small smile lingering on his lips. "Human taste perception must really suck, huh?"

"Really, what is this?" Drake asked, completely oblivious of the comments made over his appetite. "Is it some werewolves' secret or something?"

"It's just deer meat," Cordelia replied. "Male, three years. Wyatt caught him yesterday in the woods."

The young man looked at his alpha with a wide-eyed stare. "You did? How?!" Wyatt, who was now eating his portion, didn't even lift his eyes from the plate; he just flexed the fingers of his left hand, making his claws appear. "Oh. Yeah."

"You seem to like asking stupid questions," Grace commented, her apparently unblinking eyes fixed on his face.

"Don't be rude to our guest, Grace," Delia chided her.

"Oh, by the way, I'm... sorry for what happened, Mrs. Underhill," Drake muttered, trying to look apologetic enough.

"I said you may call me Delia," she replied. "And sorry about what, anyway?"

The young man lowered his eyes on his now empty plate. "W-well, you know... W-what me and your son were, well..."

"Oh. That. No big deal," the woman replied, scoffing at him with a casual gesture of a hand. "Just make sure to lock the door next time. Grace is still a bit too young to see two packmates bonding". Delia stared at Drake's face, and a wry smile appeared on her lips. "Don't be that surprised: we are all werewolves here. Things like that are perfectly normal for the members of our species, even those who share the same gender".

"You mean you had a sexy phase too?" Wyatt asked with a wicked grin.

His mother slowly turned to face him. "'Had'?" she replied. "Who said it's over?"

"Oh." Wyatt went wide-eyed and shook his head. "Shouldn't have asked, no, shouldn't have asked..."

"What's a sexy phase?" Grace inquired.

"I'll tell you when you're older, darling," Cordelia replied, before looking back at Drake. "Let's be serious for a moment, you and I: from now on, you will live here with us. You can use Natalia's room as you see fit; she lives with her husband now, so she won't need it anymore anyway. Your new job starts next Monday, my husband was in need of an assistant. Don't worry, I've already called your parents and explained the whole situation to them... well, except for the werewolf part, of course. You hope you don't mind I searched through your belongings for your phone number and address."

Drake stared at the woman in utter silence for a whole minute, his brain trying to process the contents of her speech and failing repeatedly. Hoping for some help, he shifted his eyes towards Wyatt, who just grinned and gave him two thumbs up. "U-um, Mrs. Underhill..."

"Delia."

"Right, Delia. I-I mean, I don't... Really, this is... this is too sudden, and I don't know if I can accept such a..."

The woman shook her head, making him fall silent. "Oh, I'm sorry, there must be some misunderstanding... I'm not giving you a choice on the matter."

"Huh?!" Drake replied, dumbfounded.

"What I'm giving you is a new home and a job, Drake. Because my stupid son..."

"Hey!" Wyatt exclaimed, a piece of meat dangling from the side of his mouth like a tongue.

"...as I was saying, because my stupid son chose you as his new beta and turned you into a werewolf, well... You can't just go back to your previous life and simply pretend nothing has happened, can you?" Her chestnut eyes, for a second, glimmered with the now familiar shade of gold. "We have secrets to protect, and the world out there is not kind nor forgiving towards the member of our species. We have to stick together, because lone wolves are easy prey... And after all, you and my stupid son seem to get along quite well." Cordelia nodded. "I know it's difficult, having your life turned upside down all of a sudden, but I'm sure you'll get used to it; we have always been very quick to adapt to changes." The woman looked at his empty plate. "So... want another serving?"

Drake shook his head, his stomach now a jumbled mess of conflicted feelings. "N-no... I'm full now," he muttered. Deep down in his soul, he could feel the wolf stirring nervously in his slumber.

* * * *

Drake closed the bathroom door behind his back; he turned the key in the lock, then checked a couple of times to be completely sure whether the door was locked or not - he didn't want for Grace to pop up at random again and telling him he was weird, after all - and sat on the edge of the bath tub with a long, sonorous sigh. He needed a moment away from Cordelia's overwhelming presence and from her daughter's unsettling, creepy stare.

As for Wyatt, well... he would've loved to stay as close to him as possible. After all, the young werewolf was the only one in that house Drake was remotely familiar with; he was his life line. At the same time, though, he was also feeling the need for some time by himself, alone with his thoughts. He still couldn't understand why he was having such intense, totalizing feelings for someone he had literally met two days before... And what was worse, those feelings were scaring him.

Hoping that hearing a familiar voice would've helped him fight the inner turmoil and confusion that were filling his insides like bubbling black tar, Drake had called his parents less than ten minutes ago; the omnipresent cheerfulness in his mother's voice, however, had made things even worse. "Who would've thought that a trip in the woods could land you a job!" she had exclaimed.

"Yeah, who would've thought that," Drake had replied in a somber tone. That wasn't certainly what he had hoped to listen. How the hell can you always be so carefree?!, he had screamed, but only inside his head.

"Oh, come on, Drake! Try at least to show a little enthusiasm!" his mother had admonished him in return. "You know how difficult is to get a job right now!"

"Yeah, but I still don't know anything about it!" he had replied, gripping the receiver in frustration. Mrs. Underhill would've probably explained it to him, but he had been too scared to ask.

"I'm sure it's a respectable and well-paid job." The happy-go-lucky demeanor of his mother had been unshakable. "Delia told me that her husband manages his own company, after all."

"Delia?!"

"Yes, she asked me to call her by her first name. She seems very nice and friendly."

"Y-yeah, kinda..."

"Anyway, Drake, you're almost twenty-three, everyone has to leave their nest and, you know, spread their wings, find their place in the world! And it's not like you're on the Moon, we're in less than two hours' distance from each other!"

"Y-yeah, maybe you're right," Drake had caved in. "It's just that it all happened so quickly, and..."

"I bet your head is still spinning, huh? But you've always been strong, Drake, I'm sure everything will be alright!" The woman had lowered her voice at that point, talking in an almost conspiratorial tone. "So... do they live in a big house?"

"U-um... I guess?" Underhill house was big, that was for sure. Even the bathroom was as big as his former bedroom, with a colossal ceramic bath tub and an equally impressive shower that looked like it could house four people with ease.

"And... do they have a daughter your age, by any chance?"

An unpleasant shudder had gone through Drake at that point. "Yes, but she's already married," he had hurriedly explained. And she's so dangerous even her vagina must have fangs and claws, he had thought. Oh, by the way, mom, I've been fucked by a male werewolf in the woods, and now - surprise! - I'm a werewolf too! And gay, probably. No, he couldn't tell her about Wyatt; and technically they hadn't had sex. Not yet, at least.

"Oh. Well, that's a pity," his mother had exclaimed. "Drake, I'm terribly sorry, but my yoga lesson starts in ten minutes, I have to go now. I'll call you as soon as possible, okay?"

"'kay. Say goodbye to dad..."

The young man stopped reminiscing about his phone call and sighed again. "I should probably do something", he said to himself. "Taking a shower, maybe. I'm sure that if Grace were here, he'd tell me I smell funny". He tentatively sniffed his armpit, but - because he was still wearing the gray tracksuit - he could only smell a faint but pungent scent of camphor and mothballs. Drake stripped down, grabbed a large towel from the nearby holder... and then froze over, the towel falling on the floor next to his bare feet, his mouth hanging limp in surprise and show.

He was staring at the full body mirror just in front of the shower, and the reflection was showing him a stranger.

Not a complete stranger, of course: it was like staring at the older brother he had never had; someone who looked like him, but bigger. Cooler. More handsome. Before the trip to the woods, Drake had desperately tried - without that much of a success - to grow a proper goatee, and now there is was, hanging proud from his chin in all its bushy glory; Drake caressed the stubble growing on his cheeks and above his upper lip with trembling hands, feeling the roughness of his beard under his fingertips. "This is... awesome..." he murmured.

Drake's hair had grown too, and now reached his shoulder in a thick cascade of chestnut brown locks; it was like he had been asleep for months, instead of a day and a half. I should probably wear it in a ponytail or something, he pondered. Because sure as hell I don't want to cut it.

Even Drake's body looked better than before; he had never been fat or too skinny, but he had never worked that hard to keep himself in shape. Now he flexed an arm tentatively, and a small but rock-hard bicep emerged like a whale rising to the surface; his chest was firmer, his stomach flatter and there was even the faintest hint of a four-pack. What was more, his body from the neck down was covered in a sparse pelt of short brown hair, the majority of which wasn't there until a couple of days ago.

"It's like... I had a growth spurt," Drake muttered, turning around to look at his body from all angles in the mirror. He looked stronger, more mature and confident... And even his penis reacted, starting to fill with blood and rising; five, six, seven inches, then seven and a half. "Shit," he exclaimed. "Even my cock is bigger!"

"Look at you, my manly and adorable beta," Wyatt, wearing only his glasses and with a manic grin plastered over his face, suddenly hugged him from behind.

Drake managed not to scream in surprise by biting his lower lip. "Wyatt!" he exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of the werewolf's grip. "What the hell are you doing here? And where are your clothes?"

Wyatt pointed at a small pile of his shirt and shorts lying on the floor next to the door. "And what I'm doing here should be obvious..." he added, his grin even wider.

Drake stopped his feeble attempts to escape from Wyatt's embrace: the werewolf, after all, was way stronger than he looked. "Yeah, but how did you get in here?! I know for sure the door was locked, and..."

Wyatt showed him his claws. "As if that ever stopped me before."

"Wait, are you saying that you can also pick locks?"

"Actually, I was trying to suggest it, but if you want me to say it out loud, yes, I can also pick locks. So what?"

"N-nothing..." I guess that was to be expected, knowing him... "A-anyway, I was thinking about taking a shower, and..."

"Great idea!" the werewolf exclaimed.

"I was thinking about taking a shower alone."

Wyatt looked at his reflection in the mirror with puppy dog eyes. "Aw, but why?"

"Because I want some time to think, okay? Now let me go and get out," Drake replied. For the first time since two days before, when he was lying in the woods with a broken leg, he could feel the blazing flame of anger burning red inside his chest.

Wyatt, however, didn't seem to care in the least. "I smell insubordination," he jested, even if his words sounded dead serious. "As your alpha, it's my duty to take care of that..."

"Wait, what do you..." And then a moan escaped from Drake's lips: Wyatt had wrapped the fingers of his left hand around his erect cock, and had started massaging it with expert movements, the pads under his rapidly shifting paw-hands adding another layer of pleasure to the touch. "W-wait, Wyatt, d-don't..."

"Stop squirming like a fish, Drake," Wyatt murmured in his ear, before licking it slowly: when in human form, he was at least four inches shorter than his beta, but now that he was letting the wolf out again, he had grown a bit taller than him. "I promise I'll make you howl in pleasure in no time..." His free hand caressed Drake's pecs and started teasing one of his nipples.

Drake's eyes rolled into the back of his head. "P-please, W-Wyatt... Let me g-go..." he pleaded, trying not to lose himself completely in the abyss of pleasure.

"Why are you still resisting?" There was something bitter in the voice of the werewolf. "You don't think I'm good enough as an alpha? Just come out already!" Drake felt Wyatt's canine, red shaft rubbing against his ass crack. "Or maybe you need a little... push?" For a moment, Drake thought that Wyatt was going to take his anal virginity... But then a jolt of hurt exploded from his shoulder, where Wyatt's fangs had just pierced his skin. The same spot of the bite that had turned him into a werewolf. "Your blood is as tasty as I remembered," he murmured. Drake felt the scarlet, warm liquid trickling down his back, pain and pleasure twirling around in his brain until they became a single entity...

And then, Wyatt bit the flesh of his own right wrist and presented the blood-spilling wound to him. "Now I want you to taste mine," he declared, his red-tinged grin looking more and more like that of a real beast. Drake, knowing well that he couldn't say no, licked the blood with his trembling tongue, a salty iron taste coating the insides of his mouth.

He liked it. And the thought scared him to death.

In the meantime, Wyatt hadn't stopped massaging his cock. Drake, amidst all the conflicting sensations frying his synapses, could still feel his balls churning and his dick spasm, unleashing a small torrent of cum that splattered all over the mirror in front of him. After the wave of pleasure had subsided, he quickly turned around and pushed a surprised Wyatt away from him. "Dude, what the hell?!" he screamed at him in fury.

The werewolf stared at him in utter bewilderment. "Don't worry, a wound like that will heal in a second..."

"Who cares about the wound! What's wrong with you?!" Drake panted, trying to fill his lungs with air. The stench of blood in his nose and his mouth was so intense that he had to suppress a retch.

Wyatt stared back at him, his eyes slowly bulging and becoming as round as coins. "I... I..." he stammered. "I'm so sorry..."

"You better be," Drake snarled at him, before his expression mellowed a bit... But only a bit. "You scared me, Wyatt. You scared me a lot. You looked like a monster... Not a human, not a wolf. A monster."

Wyatt lowered his gaze, and Drake could see his body becoming smaller, losing his beastly attributes and his muscles, reverting to his usual lithe appearance. He looked really fragile and small, like a lost kid crying for his parents. "I just wanted help you let your wolf out, and..."

"You mean... I am not good enough for you as I am now?" Drake asked, biting his lip.

But even before he could wait for an answer, Wyatt was already hugging him; and this time it was a real hug, not a gesture to assert dominance. "No, you're wonderful. And I'm an idiot... I let my instincts take over completely. But you see, I was starting to get worried because I still haven't seen your wolf, and I was afraid that maybe he doesn't think I can be a good alpha for him..."

Drake kissed him on the forehead. "You are a fantastic alpha, Wyatt. But I'm still mad at you, so promise me that you'll be patient and wait until my wolf is ready to come out and play, okay?" Wyatt nodded. "Great. Now let's take that shower, I need to wash clean the blood from my back; and we should totally do something for that mirror, too."

The two shared a long, warm, tender moment under the shower stream... Even if Drake knew that forgetting the blood-stained grin on Wyatt's face while he was being forced to cum wasn't going to be that easy.

After they had cleaned the mirror and had redressed themselves, they could hear someone knocking at the bathroom's door. "The pack is here," Cordelia said. "They're waiting for you in your room, as always."

Wyatt looked at Drake, his eyes gleaming with youthful innocence. "So? Ready to meet the others?"

(next chapter: The sound of Summer running)