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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: https://leo-todrius.sofurry.com/

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Lykos - Wild Things

Chapter 04 - Where the wild things are

"I know how the birds fly, how the fishes swim, how animals run," Wyatt intoned, his naked body illuminated by the moonlight. "But there is the dragon. I cannot tell how it mounts on the winds through the clouds, and flies through heaven." He stared at Drake, standing in front of him, golden eyes peering into golden eyes. "Today, I have seen the dragon."

Drake gave him the best grin he could muster, especially considering the strange situation he was currently in; even after a week, he still wasn't that used to the bizarre dynamics of his new pack. "Another one of your poems?" He, too, was naked, the features of the wolf clearly visible on his body: furry ears, thicker hair, beard and pelt, claws, big muscles, a bushy tail... and of course a wolf sheath encasing his dick. He wasn't sporting an erection, though, at least not yet.

"Actually, that was what Confucius said after he had met Lao-tse, the founder of the Taoism," Wyatt smiled at his beta. "It seemed appropriate, considering that your name means 'dragon' and that you're still quite a mystery to me."

"I thought a drake... was a male duck," Chance panted, his long canine tongue lolling from the side of his mouth, his impressive mane of dreadlocks brushing all over his shoulders like a nest of unquiet snakes. He was on the bed, his hands and knees on the mattress and his perky ass sticking out, complemented by his cute, slender tail. Wyatt was behind him, and was fucking him doggy-style with slow yet passionate thrusts. Chance looked like he was having the time of his life, at least judging from the expression of his face... Even though this didn't stop him from talking. "And isn't that... nngh... a quote from 'Hemlock Grove' anyway?"

Wyatt growled in response and slapped him playfully on his right ass cheek. "I told you not to talk about that nonsense. Werewolves transforming as if they were direwolves... That was really stupid and offensive." The alpha then looked at Drake with a quizzical expression, his head tilted to the side, still burying his shaft deeper into his youngest beta's tail hole. "So, do you plan on joining the fun at some point? You just standing there kinda ruins the mood."

Drake scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, and let out a small, surprised yap of pain when his claws dug into his skin. Damn, I still haven't gotten used to these... "It's like that, you know... this is really weird for me. Especially, um," he gestured at the nearby armchair with his head, "because of the audience."

"Oh, don't mind me!" Kaylee cheerfully replied with a wide, fanged smile. She was sitting in said armchair with no clothes on, her ubiquitous sketchbook balanced on one of the armrests. "I'm just here to watch, really! For inspiration purposes, you know. I won't bother anyone." One of her hands, sporting small but deadly-looking claws, slithered down to the furry slit between her legs and started massaging it gently, eliciting a purr of satisfaction from her throat. "See? I can keep myself entertained. It's just that I'll feature a threesome scene in my next chapter of 'The secrets of Echo Creek' and I want to be sure to get everything right."

Drake glanced at Wyatt, who was now teasing his Chance's cock with skilled hands; the young beta was clearly being pushed over the edge, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and a small yet continuous stream of drool trickling from one the sides of his mouth down to the white sheets of Wyatt's bed. "Are we really doing this because of Kaylee's fanfiction?" he asked.

Wyatt looked at him with a slightly upset expression on his face. He didn't stop the thrusting nor the teasing when he answered him, though. "No, we're doing this because sex is fun. I mean, look at Chance," the teenage werewolf had now buried his face in the sheets, his pointy fangs biting on a mouthful of white cloth. "He's so cute and horny, how could I possibly say no to him?" The alpha looked at Drake with the innocent, child-like expression the latter had learned to recognize. "Just relax, Drake... Do what it feels natural to you. And if you don't really feel like having some fun, nobody here will force you."

Drake nodded. "Okay, you're right. I'm probably thinking too much, as always." The werewolf closed his golden eyes and started taking long, deep breaths, trying to empty his mind and focusing more on the sensations and instincts of his bestial heart, instead of the doubts and worries of his human soul. A rich cornucopia of scents titillated his sensitive nose, giving him a perfect photograph of the room even if he wasn't looking at it; the most intense odors, musky and sweaty, were obviously those of sexual arousal: the now familiar, spicy scent of wolfish precum, and the pungent, sanguineous aroma of Kaylee's estrus.

Despite the nervousness he was feeling and the awkwardness of the situation, focusing on the physical sensations at least allowed Drake to relax a bit. I shouldn't be worried, he told himself in the most soothing mental voice he could muster. They're my packmates. I love them, I trust them. I should just stop thinking and just... feeling, at least for a bit. The moans and groans coming from the two boys on the bed was seeping into his ears, and Drake could feel a pleasurable, stirring sensation coming from his groin; he opened his eyes and stared at his canine dick emerging from its sheath one inch at the time, shining slick and red under the moonlight.

"P-please, big bro, come closer..." Chance pleaded before licking his lips, a look of irrepressible desire in his eyes. "I w-want to suck your cock so bad..."

"U-um..." Drake mumbled. In the past few days, since his wolf had finally decided to grant him his power, he and Wyatt had had many sexy times together - no penetration so far, though, just handjobs and blowjobs - but as a beta he had always done the sucking; this was the first time another guy had wanted to give him head. Most of all, this was the first time for him to have sex with another member of his pack.

"Come on, Drake, he's just dying to taste your dick," Wyatt mused.

"M-mh, okay," Drake took a step forward, the pointed tip of his shaft now a couple of inches from Chance's face. I should probably say something... "Well... Enjoy your meal?" God, that was terrible.

Chance, however, didn't seem to mind at all: he just started wolfing down his cock, enveloping it with his mouth, massaging it with his palate and caressing it with his tongue; he licked the shaft from the base to the pointed tip, a huge, fat drop of precum resting on the corner of his lips like a pearl, before lowering his head to play with Drake's furry balls a bit.

"W-wow...," Drake muttered, his mouth half-opened and his hands contracting and relaxing rhythmically, the black claws appearing and disappearing in a blur.

"He's very good, isn't he?" Wyatt had hastened the rhythm of his thrusting, a hand still wrapped around his youngest beta's sensitive dick. "You should try his tailhole sometimes, it's so cozy you have no idea."

"Well, I..."

Chance looked up at Drake, his forehead glistening with sweat and a huge smile on his lips. "You're welcome inside my ass anytime, big bro," and then he resumed his efforts to make Drake cum, sucking his dick as if there was no tomorrow.

Drake growled again. He could feel the arousal overcoming his brain, his thoughts and inhibitions smoothed over and deleted; he grabbed the mane of dreadlocks in front of him with his clawed paws and started thrusting his dick in and out Chance's mouth, facefucking him. "You're such a horny little slut," he growled in a gruff, commanding voice he himself didn't recognize as his own. "Bet you want some of my wolf juice in your belly, huh? It's the perfect diet for a hungry bitch like you are, right?" Suddenly, he seemed to realize what he had just said, and his cheeks burned with red. "O-oh my God, I'm so sorry, Chance, I d-didn't..."

The young beta, in reply, let out a small, broken howl through the cock that had invaded his mouth, and sprayed a quick yet intense spray of yellow wolf cum all over the sheets. He interrupted the blowjob to pant for a few seconds, then he looked back at Drake; his golden eyes were burning so bright it was like he had a fire inside his brain. "Are you kidding me? I love being talked dirty to, big bro!" he said, basking in the blissful joy of the aftermath of his orgasm. "I can't wait until you do me in the ass!"

Behind him, Wyatt was on the verge of coming, too: a couple more thrusts, then his wolfish face widened in a manic grin, while his cock filled Chance's tailhole with warm, stringy spunk. "Come on, Chance, you still have a job to finish," he said, looking at Drake and winking at him.

"Oh, yeah, you're right!" The dreadlocked boy started sucking again with passion and ardor, and it didn't take long for the already turned on Drake to reach the climax, coating the mouth and throat of Chance with his own sperm. "I like the taste," he said, licking his lips. "It's sweet."

"Yeah, Wyatt told me that, too..." Drake replied. He bent down and kissed the other on the forehead. "Thank you... That was incredible."

"Indeed!" Drake suddenly felt Kaylee's small, perky breasts press against the side of his body, and felt a pleasurable twinge inside him. Huh, guess I still like boobs. Good to know! "Thank you, guys, that was perfect! You can't even imagine how many ideas I have for my next chapters!"

"I'm not sure if I want to know them..." Wyatt was peeling the dirty sheets from his bed; he then rolled them into a ball and simply tossed them in a corner of the room. "Now, come on, let's get some sleep. Tomorrow is your first day at work, Drake, you'll need some energies if you want to hold your own against dad."

"Oh," Drake's mouth bent in a worried expression. "Yeah..." He then looked around, confused. "You mean sleeping here? All together in the nude? Without bed sheets?"

Wyatt shrugged. "Why not? It's not a cold night, we'll keep each other warm. And besides, someone's already fallen asleep," and he pointed at Chance, rolled up on the bed, the most peaceful and satisfied expression Drake had ever seen plastered over his face (along with some leftovers of his cum). He was still in his wolf form, and every now and then one of his legs twitched like that of a sleeping dog would have. Wyatt is right, Drake thought, looking at the spent boy. He really is cute.

"Wolfpile, wolfpile!" Kaylee exclaimed, before climbing on the mattress and lying between Chance and Wyatt; Drake smiled and took his place on the right side of the bed, just under the big window.

Less than a minute later, the girl was already snoring quietly, and Wyatt turned around to face his newest beta. "I was right, you're still full of surprises," he whispered, before kissing him once on his lips. "That voice and the dirty talk... That was really unexpected. And exciting, too."

Drake lowered his eyes. "Yeah, I don't... I don't really know what happened to me all of a sudden."

"Maybe it's just your wolf's way to tell you to loosen up a bit... From what I've seen of him, he seems quite hot-blooded."

Drake nodded. "You're probably right." He yawned making Wyatt yawn too, their fangs shining under the moonlight. "I think I really need some sleep now..."

Wyatt kissed him again. "Goodnight then, my dragon," he whispered before closing his eyes. A few seconds later, Drake could feel the rhythm of his breaths slowing down.

For some minutes, Drake stare at the three sleeping packmates next to him, feeling their warmth, hearing their heartbeats, smelling the still lingering scent of arousal. That has been really awkward, he thought, conforming his own body against Wyatt's. But in a good way.

And then the sleep claimed him too, lulling into a deep blackness without dreams... except for a pair of huge golden eyes, staring at him from the middle of the darkness.

* * * *

"Awkward, but in a good way" would've probably been the perfect - and from Drake's perspective, the only - way to describe his life at Underhill house after the first month. It had been a strange, surreal experience, like living on the set of a sit-com and being the only one unable to hear the laugh track... and still, he wouldn't have changed it for anything else, because every passing day had been so fun, exciting and interesting he hadn't had much time to feel confused, sad or homesick.

His new job was a textbook example of that strangeness: during his third day at Underhill house, Drake had gathered (probably thanks to the awakening of his wolf) enough courage to ask Cordelia about his husband, who - at that time - he still hadn't seen.

"He is in New England right now," the woman had replied in her quiet yet dangerous voice, like a fire just waiting to burst out from under a coat of cinder. "For a job."

"Yes, I was kind of wondering... What exactly does your husband's job, um, entail?"

Cordelia had looked back at him with a stare she would've had reserved only for particularly big specimens of cockroach. "He find things," she had then replied in a detached tone.

"So he's like a detective?" Drake had tried, before his words had been driven back down his throat by another menacing glance.

"He find things," Delia ha repeated. "Or, to be more accurate, he does things for other people, things that usually require the specific talents our species possesses... but in general they ask him to find things for them. Not that his clients know that he is a werewolf, of course: they just think he is incredibly good at what he does," and the tone of her voice had implied that he really was.

It's clear that she loves him a lot, Drake had pondered in that moment, before shivering. Although, trying to imagine a man that someone like Cordelia would consider to be worthy of her scares me a lot... As it had turned out, though, he was quite different from his wife. That didn't mean, of course, that he wasn't just every bit as eccentric as the rest of his family.

"This will be your job today," Richard Underhill exclaimed that morning, opening the door of one of the rooms of the big warehouse that also constituted the headquarters of his company; considering that Drake was is sole employee, however, calling it "company" was probably a bit too much.

Drake peered inside at the content of the room, and his eyes went wide. "Are these... onions?" he asked. It wasn't the most bizarre thing he had seen in the warehouse - nothing could probably beat the sperm whale skeleton from a couple weeks ago - but every time Richard assigned him with a new task, there was always something unexpected involved.

Richard chuckled. Despite being at least fifty, he - just like his wife - looked at least ten years younger; he was a tall, wiry man with a well-groomed moustache and goatee that made him look a bit like Johnny Depp, and a long, straight and silky mane of black hair the he usually tied back into a ponytail (which, according to Drake, was one of the reasons Richard had taken an instant liking at him: they shared the same taste in hairstyles); much like his son, he was always sporting a smile on his face, even though his expressions were generally more good-natured. "Close, but no cigar," he replied. "Those are tulip bulbs; ten thousands of them, coming directly from the Netherlands. They were supposed to be sorted by the color of the flower, but some idiot had accidentally mixed them together." He shrugged. "Well, their loss, our gain. And with 'our' I mean yours; I'll help you in the beginning, but I want you to manage this job by yourself. I know you're ready now."

"Um... Thanks, Mr. Und... I mean, Richard," Drake replied, scratching the back of his head with nervous fingers. "But how am I supposed to tell them apart?" He grabbed two bulbs from the nearest crate. "I mean, they all seem identical to me."

"If it were that easy to distinguish them, why do you think they would have asked for our help?" Richard answered before tapping on Drake's nose with an index finger. "That's why you'll have to use this."

"My nose?" Drake replied, dumbfounded. "Richard, I'm sorry, but I don't think even the smell of a werewolf can be that sensitive."

"That's the reason why I asked my client to give me these, too," and Richard gestured towards a table in the middle of the room where six other bulbs stood, each of them marked with a small tag: "Yellow", "Red", "Pink", "Orange", "Purple" and "White". "Feel free to use them as a reference."

"Um..." Drake smelled "Red", then "White". ...crap, I don't get any difference.

"As I said, I'm going to help you sorting the... let's say the first crate. You should get the hang of it by then," Richard told him with an encouraging expression on his face.

Drake bit his lower lip. Damn, why is his smile so similar to Wyatt's? I can't disappoint him, after all he's the father of my alpha! He grabbed one random bulb from a crate, smelled it, then compared it with the odors of the labelled ones. "U-um... yellow?" he said in a dubious tone.

Richard took the bulb from his hand, gave him a quick sniff and nodded his head. "Correct... even though I bet this is just a case of beginner's luck. Let's try with the second one."

Drake smelled another bulb. "White?". Richard shook his head. "Pink, maybe?" He was starting to feel really nervous, because he still didn't have a clue on how to do the job, and most of all because he didn't want to disappoint Wyatt's father nor betray his expectations.

Richard grabbed the tulip bulb. "Drake, calm down; most importantly, take a deep breath. I know it's not an easy task, but you know what? I'm sure you're up to it. I've seen you work here in the past weeks, and I know how ready, willing and able you are... you don't have to prove me anything, okay?"

"Okay," Drake replied, a sheepish smile on his face. "Thank you, sir, that... that means a lot."

"Don't mention it. Now, the problem here is that you were trying to do the job as a human would have... but of course, a human nose is not sensitive enough for that. "I want you to bring out your wolf...." The man's smile became a little pointier as he was speaking, his beard thicker, his eyes bright yellow. "To let that nervous energy fill you and turn into a fire, to push yourself to your limits and awaken the abilities you have inside you." Richard threw the second bulb back at him. "Here, try again."

The young man nodded, feeling his fangs and claws emerge. It took him a good minute, but when he place the onion-like seed in the hands of his boss and said, "It's red," he was a hundred percent sure of his answer; and, by the time he had finished sorting out the contents of the first crate, he had only made two mistakes.

"Great job!" Richard complimented him with a pat on the back. "You're doing even better than the first time I did," the man inhaled the fragrance lingering in the room. "Every time I smell the scent of tulips, it reminds me of the time I helped solving a case of murder when I was in college, nearly thirty years ago."

"Oh. Um. Okay." That was one of the most bizarre habits of Richard: every now and then he made passing references to anecdotes of his life (without elaborating on them, even when pressed) that ranged from strange, to disturbing, to downright absurd: when he had learned how Wyatt had found Drake in the woods, for example, he had exclaimed "It's like that time I saved the life of then-president Clinton from two bears!"

"But enough with random stories from my youth!" Richard went on while reverting to his completely human form. "I don't want to waste your time. Off to work!"

After he had been left alone in the large room, Drake took another long, deep breath, letting the smell of the tulip bulbs permeate his brain. I can do this. Well, the wolf can, at least. It was like having six small lights inside his head, and every time he took a sniff to a bulb, one of them started flashing; he didn't understand at all how the wolf was able to distinguish between the different odors, but as long as he was right, trusting him was enough for Drake. Soon, the young man started moving mechanically across the room, grabbing bulbs, smelling them and placing them in the corresponding crates, his mind a crazy whirlpool of red, yellow, orange, purple white pink orange yellow purple pinkredwhitredpinkpurpleorangeyellow...

Drake jerked: someone was tapping him on the shoulder. "Drake? It's lunchtime. Come on, let's go back home."

"What?!", he exclaimed. He sniffed at the bulb in his hand (white) and then turned around to face Richard. "You mean I've been doing this..."

"For nearly four hours, yes; and I'd say you're doing a pretty good job, too. Now put the wolf to rest, you know Delia doesn't like when we don't arrive home in time for lunch." The man winked at him. "I asked her to cook some venison, I know you like it."

Drake's stomach grumbled like a distant thunderstorm, and he had to force himself not to start drooling all over the tulip bulbs: maybe because it had been the first thing he had tasted after having become a werewolf (well, strawberry toffee not included) he had developed an insane appetite for deer meat; he had even asked Wyatt he wanted to go hunting with him at least once, and his alpha had found the idea very funny. "I'm glad you want to help, but I do that sparingly. The one hunting deer is usually mom," he had said, and Drake hadn't found the thing strange in the least.

When Richard and Drake arrived home - the warehouse was only at a five minutes distance from Underhill house - there was already a giant roast in the middle of the table, and Grace was munching on a juicy piece of meat with a focused expression on her face. "Hi dad, hi Drake!" she exclaimed with her mouth full, waving a hand to greet them. "Sorry, I was hungry."

Drake waved back at her; in the past month, Grace had warmed up considerably towards him, and had started treating him like he was an older brother of sorts. She was still a bit creepy, but at least she wasn't calling him "weird" anymore.

Cordelia emerged from the kitchen and kissed her husband in a very passionate wait. She too had started treating Drake less like a nuisance and more like a member of the family, but she was still... difficult to interpret (and that was a huge understatement). "You should eat plenty," she said to him. "You'll need a lot of energies for tonight."

"Oh. Yeah." Drake could feel his stomach tightening a bit, nervousness creeping around his belly like a beast made out of icy tentacles. He stared at the serving of venison in front of him, hoping to find in the steaming hot meat the answers to questions he wasn't even sure how to formulate. "My first full moon."

Richard pointed his fork at him. "Aren't you excited, Drake?" he exclaimed.

"Well, yes, but..." Drake sighed. "Everyone keeps talking about it, about how awesome and intense it is, and I can't help feeling a bit worried, too." To be honest, he wasn't worried, he was downright scared.

Delia looked at him, and for the first time since Drake had met her, there was an almost unnoticeable shadow of concern on her face. "I can't say I really understand what are you feeling right now since I was born as a werewolf, but the full moons and the primal wolf are just a part of who we are, Drake, not something to be afraid of. And should you feel scared for some reason, tonight, consider that your pack will be there with you and for you." The smallest smile eve upturned her lips of a couple of millimetres. "If there's something my stupid son is good at, is making other people feel better."

"Can I come with you, this time?" Grace whined. "Pleeeeeeease!"

Cordelia shook her head. "Not until you turn fourteen."

"I thought you liked staying home, playing alpha with Moira's dogs," Richard added, ruffling his daughter's rebellious hair.

"Y-yes, but... I'm not a little kid anymore," Grace replied, pouting.

"You are a little kid, at least until I say otherwise," Cordelia ruled without appeal. "You're not old enough to be part of a pack anyway."

"So, I was wondering... Will Natalia be there tonight, too?" Drake asked. After their encounter in the woods when he was still a human, he hadn't seen the eldest daughter of the Underhills once.

"Well, of course she'll be there. Just like every werewolf from around here," Delia replied. "She'll be in a different part of the woods with her pack, though."

"Oh, I see. And her husband will also be there?" Just like with Cordelia, he couldn't really imagine a suitable partner for someone like Talia.

Richard frowned. "No, not really... She's married to a human, you see."

Wait, what?! The disbelief was evident on Drake's face, so much that Richard smirked at him.

"Strange, isn't it? But, well, they met each other when he saved her life, so..." His grin widened. "Come to think of it, it's exactly what happened with you and Wyatt!"

Drake's cheeks exploded with scarlet fireworks. "I... um, I..." he babbled, trying not to look in Cordelia's general direction.

"I think you'd make a great son-in-law, by the way."

"Richard, stop teasing him," Delia admonished her husband. "He still hasn't finished his first serving yet."

But... would it really be that strange, after all?, Drake pondered while chewing on a slice of venison, the skin of his face still bright pink for the embarrassment. Well, maybe marrying him would be too much, but... Wyatt is still the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. And not only him: Patrick, Angela, Chance and Kaylee, too. They are my... Family? Friends? No, there was only one word that could describe their bond. Pack. Yes. No matter what happens, I know they'll be by my side... Even tonight. The thought proved to be very comforting, and Drake started eating his meat with renewed appetite.

"So... are we going back to work now?", Drake asked Richard after they had finished lunch. Cordelia was cleaning the table, while Grace - still sporting a very offended expression - sat on the carpet, playing with some wooden figurines.

Richard took a long sip from his ginger milk tea. "No, not today. I always take half a day off before a full moon."

"But the bulbs..."

"They can wait until tomorrow." The man smiled at him. "I can hear from your heartbeat that you're still a bit nervous. Why don't you go take a nap? Wyatt will be home in a couple of hours."

"Wait." Cordelia was browsing through a thick, leather bonded book. "Before you go upstairs, there's something I want to show you." She tore off something from a page and slid it on the table to Drake; the look on her face was as unfathomable as always, but for some reason she seemed almost melancholic. "This is from when my stupid son was cute, at least."

The picture showed what looked like the most adorable wolf pup ever standing on his hind legs in the middle of the living room of Underhill house, his soft, silky fur as golden as his irises; he was staring at the camera with huge, round puppy eyes filled with tears. His pointed ears were so lowered they were plastered against his head, and his bushy tail was trying to hide between his legs like a small woodland creature in its underground burrow. "He was eight years old at the time," Cordelia explained. "They are so adorable when they are little... Then they grow up and all they can think of is running around in the woods and mating with everyone in sight." She sighed. "Well, I guess that can't be helped."

"How... how much?" Drake muttered. He was holding the photograph in his hands, and his fingers were shaking.

"Excuse me?"

"How much do you want for this picture?" The irises of the young man were blazing so much it looked like his head was going to blow up any minute now. "I'll pay. No matter how much, I'll pay!"

The tiny smile reappeared on Cordelia's lips; she pulled the picture out of Drake's finger with a quick, elegant gesture and stuck it a pocket of her apron. "The only way you can have this is by taking it from the cold, dead hands of my corpse."

"And in case you're wondering, yes, she's serious," Richard clarified, while his wife disappeared inside the kitchen.

* * * *

Drake was woken up by the sound of music. For a good minute he just lied on his bed, the eyes fixed on the white ceiling, trying to understand if the notes he was hearing were real or but an aftermath of his confused, unquiet dreams. But even after the tide of sleep had completely retreated the melody still remained, dancing in the air around him with a wild, yet refined elegance. Holding back a last, stubborn yawn trapped between his lips, Drake slithered outside the room and went downstairs, following the call of the music.

Wyatt was sitting at the piano in the corner of the living room, pounding at the white and black keys with wide, often exaggerated movements of his arms and hands; his head traced complex movements in the air - making his blond shaggy hair shake like ears of wheat under a strong wind - his eyes closed and his face a mask of rapturous bliss. The piece he was playing was noisy and chaotic, but also happy, lively and strangely exhilarating, with a certain jazz quality to it. In a sense, it's the perfect music for him. I couldn't think about something more fitting, Drake thought while standing on the threshold; he feared that taking a step in would've broken the magic.

When Wyatt had lifted his fingers from the keys and the last few notes ad vanished into thin air, Drake started clapping furiously. Wyatt stood up and gave a deep bow to his sole audience, a satisfied grin on his face. "That was Gershwin's 'Rhapsody in Blue', by the way, the single piano version. Kinda makes you want to visit New York City, right?"

Drake could feel his soul burning with unadulterated passion. Will he keep surprising me like that for the rest of my life? I hope so, I really do. Without saying anything, he grabbed the hand of his alpha and trailed him all the way back to his room; he locked the door behind him, pushed Wyatt on the bed and started making out with him with feverish ardor, his skin and lips so in need for that familiar touch there were hurting; driven only by his instincts, Drake stripped away Wyatt's t-shirt and played with his nipple, teasing them with his lips, fingers and teeth until there were turgid and rock-hard.

Wyatt lied on the bed, frequent moans of satisfaction escaping his mouth and the clear outline of an erection straining against his jeans. "I see someone missed me," he managed to pant after a while.

Drake paused his efforts in pleasing his alpha to reply. "More than any other day."

Since the beginning of September, Wyatt had started attending his classes at the nearest college, which was at a forty miles distance. "Of course, dad wanted me to go to his old college because, you know, family traditions and all of that... But I certainly couldn't go to Colorado and leave the pack behind for months at a time, so I decided against it," Wyatt had explained him once. Even if he came back every day immediately after the lessons were over, Drake still missed him terribly, but the other days he had at least his job to distract him and keep him occupied.

Wyatt, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, smiled a bit. "That's what the full moon does... It kicks our emotions into overdrive." He patted over his heart with a hand. "Come here."

Drake lied next to him, his head resting against the warm skin of his alpha's chest; he could smell the scent of his own saliva from his left nipple, and the pounding of the werewolf's heart filled his head, pulsing like ocean waves. "But really, who knew you could also play the piano?" He sighed in delight. "Is there anything you can't do, Wyatt?"

The alpha frowned. "Well, I tried cooking, once. Let's say it didn't end well for the food. And the pots." A moment of silence. "And the kitchen." He shook his head, as if he was trying to delete that memory from his brain. "But really, for a family of werewolves we are surprisingly inclined towards art. You should hear mom sing, she's a fantastic mezzo soprano. Although..."

"Although?"

Wyatt sighed. "That's one of the things I envy the most about humans: they are creative. They can take something as simple as a piece of paper and some ink and produce works of art so beautiful they can tear your heart from your chest and set it on fire. Our species, on the other hand... we are pure instinct. Sure, our feelings and sensations are stronger and deeper than those human beings can experience, but look at what they can do with their narrow and limited perception of reality! I can quote their poetry and I can play their music, but I surely as hell will never be able to craft something that wonderful by myself." His chestnut eyes were so full of anguish Drake was reminded for a moment of the small, scared puppy he had seen in that old photograph.

"Well, but... Kaylee does write her fanfiction, right? And she even draws!" he intervened, trying to console his alpha.

"Yeah, but have you ever taken a look at what she does? That's not exactly art." Wyatt fell silent, but his expression mellowed a bit. "Even though, despite the fact that she knows she'll never be good at that, she keeps trying her best with a smile on her face. That's one of the reasons why I love her, after all."

The two werewolves lied on their backs for a bit, side by side, holding hands. Drake could hear the afternoon rolling around outside the window, slow and lazy, and was starting to doze off again when a question popped up in his brain, like a mosquito that proved to be impossible to squash. "Um... Wyatt, there's something I want to ask you."

"Sure, go ahead."

Drake swallowed a mouthful of saliva that tasted and felt like concrete. "Promise me you won't get angry, okay?"

Wyatt snorted. "What do you want to know about Talia?" he asked in a dry tone.

"How do you know it's about..."

"Dude, there are only two things that are certified to make me angry: someone messing with my pack and my older sister. Well, okay, three if you count the way in which werewolves are portrayed in modern media, but I highly doubt you want to talk about that."

Drake shook his head, his brown ponytail brushing against the pillow. "No, it's... It's about Talia alright. Your parents told me she's married to a human."

A small, derisive smile made its way to Wyatt's lips, before he let out a brief laughter so fake it was uncomfortable to listen to. "Yeah, and you could say it's all thanks to me. Remember the story I told you, about how I fought her to a tie? After that, she spent most of her nights trying to vent her frustration running around in the woods without even caring where she was going, like the madwoman she is... that is, until she somehow ended up on a road skirting the forest and was run over by a truck."

"What?! And she survived that?"

"Unfortunately, yes. What's worse, she was found by a young veterinarian that brought her home and nursed her back to health without even caring that she was a werewolf, something that seems taken directly from one of those horrible and sappy supernatural romance books. And for some reason I still can't understand, my sister fell head over feet for him, even if I'm convinced she's just waiting for the perfect chance to kill him in his sleep or something," Wyatt explained. From the tone he had used, it was clear he didn't want to elaborate more on the matter, so Drake had to press him again.

"And... is he still a human? I mean, after he discovered the secret of your family, didn't you give him the same choice you gave Patrick and me?"

Wyatt shook his head. "His case was different: he had saved one of us, and we couldn't force a life or death choice on him; so he became my sister's keeper, promising to protect our secret until the day he die. To be honest, Talia did offer him the bite, but he turned her down." He looked at Drake, his eyes narrow. "So? Does that answer your question?"

Drake cleared his throat. "Technically, I still haven't asked it."

"Oh. Okay, then," Wyatt said, even though the expression on his face wasn't okay at all.

"W-well, my point is... isn't that strange? Her marrying a human, I mean. If she values strength so much, why did she choose a weak human being as her partner, and even respected his decision not to become a werewolf?"

Wyatt's body stiffened; and with a sudden, freezing cold pang in his soul Drake realized he wasn't holding his hand anymore. "The right question here is why do you even care, Drake? She's a psychotic bitch, I hate her, the end."

"No." Drake was surprised by his own boldness, but he wasn't nearly as shocked as Wyatt was: his anger and confusion radiated from his body like a wave of scorching red. "I'm sorry, the last thing I want is hurting you, but I feel I need to know everything... When you were still part of her pack, has she ever treated someone else the way she treated you? Has she ever abused of Angela, or the pups?"

Wyatt didn't talk for quite a while: he just breathed heavily, sucking air in and snorting air out. Drake was afraid he was going to receive the beating of a lifetime, but then the alpha answered in a weary, tired voice. "No. The only one she beat was me. She never abused my packmates... but she has never stopped others from doing it, either."

"And... haven't you ever found that strange? I mean, maybe there was a reason why she used to beat you; maybe she was trying to make you stronger, maybe she did care for you, even if in a completely distorted and warped way. I'm not trying to justify her, I just... want to understand, that's all." Drake looked at Wyatt, aware of the fact that persisting on the topic could even break the bond of trust between him and the alpha; and despite he found that idea to be so scary it was almost unbearable, something - his instinct, maybe? - was whispering in his ear that he was doing the right thing, both for him and for Wyatt.

The blond young man was lying on his side, now, his knees curled up to his chest in a quasi-fetal position; even though his tongue was dripping with poison when he replied, he looked frail and lost. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe, you know, she's just a fucking bitch". He sighed, a long, liquid sound that had the same color of tears. "Why are you doing this to me, Drake? I... I don't understand."

Drake opened his mouth, unsure on what to say. Because, even if you say you hate her, you and her still wear identical earrings? Because whenever you talk about her your eyes become incredibly sad, even if the rest of your body says otherwise? "...because it's all about accepting, right? You can't be the only one who accepts, you have to give something in return. And because I'm giving my whole being to you, without hiding anything, you have to do the same: your pain, your anger, your sorrow, whatever emotions you're feeling towards Talia... I'll take them inside me. We'll share the burden, so that you won't have to suffer alone."

Wyatt hugged him without saying anything, his head buried in his beta's chest. It was obvious he was trying his best not to cry, even if a couple of sniffs still escaped from his nose. Drake closed his eyes and enveloped him in his strong arms, patting him gently on the back. Even if he keeps that tough façade, inside him there's still the small, scared puppy I saw in that picture... And yet, he tries so hard to be strong, for all of us. He smiled, feeling the smaller body of his alpha conforming against his own. I should probably say something to lighten up the mood, though. "U-um..." he stuttered. "When I say that I'll take everything inside me, I mean... everything. Even, you know... that."

Wyatt looked up at him with a quizzical look in his large, watery eyes. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"W-well..." Drake scratched the back of his head, splotches of scarlet blossoming on his cheeks. "It's kind of embarrassing to say, but I'm still a virgin, you know, down there."

Despite the sadness still lingering on his face, a huge grin appeared on Wyatt's face. "You mean you want me to fuck you in the ass?" he exclaimed with the exuberant joy of a kid unwrapping his Christmas presents.

Drake glanced down. "D-don't say it like that... B-but yeah, that's what I want." In the past month, he had had anal sex with Chance - just like the dreadlocked teenage had begged him for - and one time even Patrick had asked him to mount him; and while he had enjoyed the feeling of dominance, the idea of kneeling in front of his alpha with his backside exposed, feeling Wyatt's slick cock coating his ass crack with bubbly precum and then impaling his sensitive pucker was popping up in his brain more and more frequently with every passing day. "I want to feel you inside me, and I want to be your beta, through and through... But until now I was too afraid to ask. I was hoping for you to make the first move, but so far you..."

Wyatt chuckled. He looked serene and amused once again, and Drake - despite the awkwardness of the situation - took an internal sigh of relief. "Well, there's a reason for that, of course. I mean, I've been waiting to conquer that juicy ass of yours since I lied alongside you in the woods... But something like that needs a special occasion, don't you think?"

Drake's eyes widened as the realization hit him. For a moment, a long canine tongue lolled out of his mouth. "You mean... tonight?"

"There's no better moment than a full moon to claim someone as your mate," Wyatt explained. "Well, unless the mate in question is still human, that's highly unadvised." He kissed his beta tenderly on the lips, while caressing his semi-erect cock through the fabric of his pants. "The primal form is... an experience that's really too intense to be conveyed through words. You can't even imagine how excited I am to finally see the full glory of your wolf, my dragon; after tonight, you'll be able to call yourself a true werewolf."

Drake could feel the maws of anxiety gnawing and feasting on his stomach. "Yeah, the idea still makes me kind of nervous, to be honest..."

A quiet, yet determined knocking came from the door. "It's almost time to go. Prepare yourselves," Cordelia's voice echoed from the corridor.

Wyatt kissed Drake one last time, his eyes now crystal clear and filled with innocent joy again. "Don't be silly. This is going to be a fantastic night!"

* * * *

He opened his eyes, a groan escaping from his dry, cracked lips; he looked in horror at the twilight sky, the red in the air meeting the red of his bloodshot irises. With a spasmodic rictus, his right hand clutched against the bottle of vodka lying next to him in the empty trench, only to discover that he had already emptied it hours ago.

The man sighed, feeling a foul bubble that tasted like gastric juice and iron bursting into his esophagus. Alcohol had never made things easier, but it was the only spark of comfort in his existence, the only thing the monster still hadn't claimed.

"This isn't life," he muttered in a nearly incomprehensible grumble. Not that anyone was there to listen anyway. "I'm dead, and this is Hell." And yet, he knew that was a lie... but at least it would've been better than his current existence.

"Please," he asked the monster. "Let me die... You can have this body. This is what you've always wanted, right? I don't... I don't care anymore." But the monster didn't answer, he never had. He just stood there, so close and yet so unreachable, waiting for the moment to unleash his inexhaustible hatred over the world.

The man closed his eyes, the sight of night falling hurting him... But that was nothing compared to the pain he was going to experience soon. His hand still clinging to the empty glass bottle as if it was a rosary, he took a deep breath, waiting for his body to start dying once again.

This was going to be a hellish night.

(next chapter: I am the night, color me black)