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Run with him.

It was a simple request, and not the first time I'd heard it. In the two months since I became a werewolf, Gregory asked me to run with him at least a half-dozen times, always as we walked home, so that others wouldn't hear; always on a Friday, so we'd have the whole night. It was his way of helping me adapt to my new form, teaching me its power, and giving me a chance to enjoy it. After all, what good is being a werewolf if you're not allowed to run wild every so often.

The afternoons before a run were always restless. Most teachers didn't assign homework over the weekend, so I didn't have much to hold my attention. I'd browse the web for a bit, play a video game for a while, maybe listen to some music. And I'd always hurry through dinner, much to my parents' annoyance. I don't know for sure if they knew more about my "friendship" with Gregory than they were letting on, but part of me thinks they were just pleased at the fact that I'd become a better student since the two of us met. Once I was through with my food, I practically threw my plate in the sink from the kitchen table and bolted out the door. The sunlight was fading, and I didn't want to waste a second of my night.

I arrived at Gregory's house just as the sky was turning that last shade of blue before nighttime truly begins. I no longer even bothered to knock; I just walked right in to find Gregory in the living room, sitting at the chess board, pondering both sides of a game in progress.

"Who's winning?" I asked.

Gregory glanced up at me, then looked back at the board and chuckled. "When I play in this fashion, it's not to see who wins," he explained. "Rather, I play to see how long the game will last." He got up from the table. "Shall we be off?"

I smiled back at him. "Absolutely."

It was a half-hour walk to the woods where we normally had our runs. By the time we reached our destination, it had become totally dark. We smiled at each other as we took the first few steps into the forest, pulling off our shirts at the same time. One of the first things Gregory taught me during our first run was how incompatible my clothes were to my wolf form.

I slid my shoes and socks off next, and as I undid the fly to my black denim jeans, I glanced over at Gregory, who was already totally naked and in the throes of his transformation. As grotesque as it may seem to change so dramatically in such a short period of time, he made it look so beautiful.

Once I had slipped off my underwear and set my clothes beside his under a nearby tree, I flipped that little switch in the back of my mind that sets off my own transformation sequence.

If anybody tells you that the change doesn't feel as good after you've done it a few times, they're lying. Someone could distill this sensation into a powder, sell it as a drug, and bring the world to its knees, it feels so amazing. Not in just a sexual sense, either, although that's definitely an element of the euphoria. It's the rush of power overcoming your body. It's the flooding of new information into the senses, particularly smell and hearing, like you're diving into a pool where everything you can sense gets multiplied tenfold. It's the soft, fluid texture your skin develops as it gains the ability to stretch and grow and sprout fur from all angles. There's a reason a werewolf howls after he completes his transformation: it's the only way to fully express the joy, the relief, the complete happiness he feels once he's changed.

It took me a few moments to regain my bearings after changing - as it normally does - and I look back at Gregory when I'm done. He gives me a smile filled with the intentions he has for the night.

"Let's go," he says softly.

In an instant, we take off, running together, on all fours because we move faster that way. Any wildlife that happened to be awake this time of night would probably fear for its life at the hands of a natural predator, but they have nothing to fear from us. We are here only to pay tribute to the forest, by navigating it as fast as we can. We never tire or fall short of breath, even while we're running top speed, dodging the dozens of tree trunks that blur past us. The forest is several square miles in area, and the two of us are intent on exploring every square inch of it.

We run for hours, pausing only briefly to take in our surroundings for a moment. I never thought in my life that a simple forest a few miles from home could hold so much beauty. But then again, I never thought in my life that I'd ever overcome the crippling inferiority that I'd suffered for so long, or that I would ever come across someone who could love me without reservation.

Near the end of our run, we stop at a creek that bisects the woods, dipping down to take a drink.

"The school is having a spring dance in a couple of weeks," I say. We don't usually talk during our runs. We don't have a rule against it; just that Gregory feels that we can talk any time we want outside of these nights.

"And?" Gregory prods.

"I was wondering... if you'd like to go with me."

Gregory comes up to me, nuzzling his head against my neck. "It would be an honor to join you at the dance, Nick."

I look into his eyes meaningfully, giving him a lick on his lips with my long tongue. He responds in kind.

"I love you, Gregory."

The sound that Gregory makes in response is a dull growl, the lupine equivalent of a purr.

We come together in an embrace. Our sheaths rub together, arousing the organs that are housed within them, coaxing them out of hiding. It is the highest tribute we can give to our venue, to consummate our feelings for each other within the natural grace of the forest. Gregory takes me by the arm and pulls me to a nearby tree, which he leans against, his member now pointing out at a suggestive angle. My mouth waters at the sight. I straddle him, wrapping my legs around him as I line myself up with the tip of his cock. With one slow, delightful motion, I lower myself onto Gregory, and he slips easily inside.

Even though he has always been the one to enter me and not the opposite, even though I am the beneficiary of his power and not him of mine, there is no domination or superiority here. His thrusts are smooth and easy; we are in no hurry at all. My own length brushes against his furry chest, and twitches in approval. We grunt and moan in rhythm with our movements, the up and down and back and forth and in and out like a dance that we know by heart. I feel the bulge at the base of his penis begin to swell, and his thrusts grow more desperate. I respond by lowering myself down onto him even further, letting him set the pace of the final act. He grabs my hips with both hands, pulling me down frantically, allowing the knot to slip past my entrance and tie us together. A moment later, he gasps in pleasure as his seed spills into me, filling my bowels with the product of his orgasm. Not wanting to leave me unsatisfied, he emerges from his orgasmic haze quickly and turns his focus towards serving me, his muzzle and tongue wrapping around the cock that's been rubbing teasingly against his torso, sucking the organ tenderly. It doesn't take me long before my own knot swells up like an orange and I feed my juices into him, hips jerking in concert with the rhythmic pulses of my groin, throaty wails accompanying them. I collapse into his arms, and we rub noses together as we revel in the afterglow of the moment.

Soon, the sun will begin to rise and we will have to put our clothes back on and leave the forest, and I will have to return home before my parents wake up and suspect that I've left them for longer than I had promised. But for now, all that matters is the moment that Gregory and I are sharing, the moment that is the reason we run together, and a moment that I hope we never run out of.