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OPUS

_ Chapter 1: Meeting _

_Cascade._I could barely remember what brought me to the bar. On the weekends, it was probably one of the best bars that west-side Chicago suburbs could offer in terms of night-life. Trendy twenty-somethings with geled back hair, tight jeans, and hip-hugging dresses. Financial matrix associates, or whatever the hell the young college grads could get away with calling a job nowadays. Moving phantom money from one account to another, the owner just another name in a cell. Not really my kind of crowd.

"So you just gonna stand there all night, huh?"

The girl at the bar probably got the raw end of the schedule this week; nothing but single white women and old high school buddies catching up after a long week of cable-pulling. She was pretty, with dark eyes and peach lips. Her long brown hair hugged her face on one end. On the other, it was shaved from her ear to her temple.

"Got any specials?" I asked.

"You just missed happy hour. We got your standard mix of cocktails. Wine and beer run cheaper." She ran her finger in a circular motion over the electronic screen at her navel, and then met my eyes.

"I'll do a cocktail. What's the uh...Blue Bomber?"

"Heh, our manager named that one. Blue-raspberry, grey goose, touch of pineapple. You'll like it."

I nodded. She got busy preparing the drink. I checked my watch. Arms folded at the bar, I caught my reflection in the mirror behind the barkeep's head. A few more lines under the eyes, but not bad for 30. Dirty-blond hair, slick button-down. Fit, but not anything most would chase. Beat nose, green eyes. Guess some 15 years after puberty, I could finally get a decent beard going.

"Thanks," I said as the drink slid over to me. It bubbled blue, and a wedge of pineapple danced on the rim. "Oh. Girlier than I thought."

"Better drink it quick, then. Threw in a little extra booze for you."

I fumbled for my card, which was tucked tightly into my coat's inner pocket, right next to my flask. I handed it over to the girl, and she started up my tab. Another week. I turned back around to face the bar, drink in hand. I took a sip. It was good, but definitely a little strong. Thankfully I'd planned on taking a cab back to the room anyway.

The bar was at what could maybe pass for a tenth of its capacity. People were out, sure, but the weekend would surely bring the place its power. Big windows let the sunset give everyone good mood lighting. A lot of middle-aged women, and a few kids here and there. Just trying to wind down from the mid-week slump. I could relate. A table of twenty-something girls nursed a couple of comically-sized drinks. I suddenly felt better about my own, but not much. For a moment, my eyes caught a bear of a man sitting by himself partway down the bar. A tall, half-finished beer was clutched in his hand. Fingerless gloves? Guess I didn't miss Biker Night after all. I saw his gaze shift over to me, and I quickly went back to minding my own business.

I moved to take my card back from the bartender. I barely turned around in time to be assailed by a tight-haired woman with big hoop earrings. She brushed up against my shoulder on her way to the bar, but politely excused herself.

"No no, my fault," I responded.

"Not at all. I get clumsy when I'm tipsy." Looks like I'd taken the bait. Just like I wanted. "What are you drinking?"

"Wish I could tell you. It was good, though!" She was pretty. Middle-aged, with dark skin and a blue blouse. She had big round eyes, and a cute little buzzed smirk.

"Let me give you a refill, then," I offered. Gesturing to the bartender, my new unwitting partner in the night's escapades.

"You're sweet," She said. "What's your name? You aren't local."

"Charlie. How could you tell?"

"They just usually aren't," she responded. "Plus, you're out _here_on a weeknight. Most of us avoid the place til the weekend."

"Yeah? So what brings you here, then, uh...?"

"Monica," she responded, accepting her drink. "Sister's celebrating a promotion. Good news for her, I guess."

"I'd say so. Any money's good money."

"Mmm. 'Specially when your boss is your fiance." She took a sip of her drink and squinted. Must have been strong, too. "But I should _not_have said that."

I laughed, and leaned back. This was good. "I won't tell."

"So Charlie, what brings you here tonight?"

"I'm a writer," I said. "Just looking for inspiration."

"Ohhh, my my, a writer in a dusty old bar," She swiveled her drink around with her straw. Definitely not the answer she was looking for. "You think you'll find it here?"

"Maybe. Nights like tonight, I think everyone's got a story."

"Mmm. So where're you from?"

"Down south, originally. Flyover country."

"Not a lot of stories there, huh?" She took another sip. "Well, you're bound to find one here. Chicago's a big city. Lots a people got stories."

"That's why I'm here. How about you, Monica? Do you have a story for me?" I edged closer, and she took a step back. I knew I lost this one.

"Hmm hmm. Wish I did. I uh, I have to get back to my sister and her friends," She took a few steps, and then looked back, her earrings glistening in the light of the bar. "Hope you find what you're looking for."

"And if I don't?" I ventured. "Can I come find you again?"

"You're cute. I'm waiting for my boyfriend, though. But if he doesn't show up, maybe."

She turned and walked away, leaving me to stew a bit. Had I really lost the charm that had netted me so many loose lips in the past? It was then that I noticed I was sweating. It _was_a bit warm in here. Though, it was characteristic for Chicago summers. I thought of going out on the patio to light up. Maybe offer a cigarette to someone else, see if there were other stories to be heard.

"So, you're a writer, huh?"

I almost choked on my drink. A large man had sidled up to me at the bar. He signaled for the bartender. I noticed his freshly-drained glass of beer. It was the lone guy from earlier. I gave him a once-over.

"I am."

He was big, that was for sure. But there was a deliberate, almost reserved way that he moved. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a triad of buttons hanging lose to reveal a muscular chest coarse with hair. He was about as tall as me, but significantly more robust. Dark black hair, a few flecks of gray here and there. Full beard. If it wasn't for the apparent lack of phone or whatever shoes were "in" right now, I would have placed him as just another city hipster.

"My name's Ian," He said. Direct, I liked it.

The waitress filled his glass back up. It was a dark beer, thick and likely flavorful. Not my kind of drink, though. He threw a couple dollars towards her, but I intercepted.

"On me," I offered. I could almost feel the centrifugal force of the bartender's eyeroll.

"Thanks, man."

He turned to face me. His face, which I had barely noticed in the dim light, was startlingly handsome. Obscured by his dark eyebrows and sullen expression, my eyes met with his. Two pools of ice water. I felt as if I could write something about that look alone. Something sad, something....otherworldly. He couldn't have been too much older than me, but...

"D-do you want to get a table?" I motioned away from the bar, stuttering. What was I, sixteen?

"Sure."

I followed him out to the other end of the bar. No one was dancing. The eclectic parties were all consolidated to their own tables. We found a tall one with a couple of barstools. Perfect. I took a seat, and Ian followed suit. He looked a little weird, big as he was, perched precariously on the barstool. He hunched a bit, reserved, as if he was protecting something in his hands. Just a beer, though.

"My name's Chuck, by the way." I offered. Someone needed to make the first move.

"I thought you told that woman your name was Charlie?"

"I...yeah. Wait, you overheard?"

"Hard not to. She was pretty drunk. Sorta loud. But, I guess I have good ears, heh." He motioned to his face, and offered a polite smile. His ears were nothing to write home about. Sort of a weird, angular look to them, I supposed.

"Or maybe you were eavesdropping a bit?" I met his smile.

"I...uh, well, I'm--"

I held up a hand. "It's fine. I do it all the time. Places like this inspire me. A million stories to tell."

"So you like bars, huh. Well, write about what you know, I guess. Me, I prefer diners. Coffee shops."

"I think people tell better stories in the dark," I said with a nod, and a quick sip of my drink.

"Maybe. But I think people you meet on the road, at a rest stop...They're the ones who have things to share. They don't need to be in the dark, as long as you ask nicely."

"Interesting," I commented. Was this guy just going to talk my ear off about table-side philosophy? Maybe I just had to warm him up a bit. "Well, I found you here. What brought you into the dark of the bar, here tonight?"

It was his turn to take a drink. Ian took a big gulp of the beer, some dribbling out o the side of his mouth. He brushed it away with a frayed sleeve.

"Well, it's not everyday I see Charles Penn."

"Oh, so you knew I was a writer? I have to say, I'm a little surprised. I don't get recognized by a lot of people." It was true. After my second book barely treaded water on shelves, Penn was a has-been name.

"I read a lot," He said. "_Prodigy_was good. _Paramour,_uh, well, it was a bit slow."

"Yeah, my uh...publisher thought so, too."

"Hm. So that's why you're looking for inspiration in dark bars?"

"That's the idea," I nodded. My fingers rapped on the table, and I met the man's gaze once more. He seemed eager for something. "And it's worked for me before. It's how I met my muse for Prodigy."

_"_Right. The young up-and-comer who needed a job outta college. Started doing tricks. You met him in a bar, huh?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," I said with a smirk.

"I...Hmm," He nodded.

There was another lull. I could feel his eyes on me, those soft blue daggers. He was searching me, scrying my body and my face. I finished off my drink; the loud bottomed-out slurps must have struck him from his trance. Those hungry eyes dropped their gaze to his hands.

"So....Ian, what are _you_doing here? You've probably had enough of me prattling on."

"I wish I could say. I've er, been on the road for a while now. I just stop places." He finished off his beer, a bit of foam hanging from his furred lips.

"Yeah? So we're of the same mind, then."

Now it was my turn to examine him again. He was so bold moments ago, but now cowered behind that empty mug. Maybe he needed some more liquid courage to spill whatever was on his mind. Then again, if the business taught me anything, maybe something else could sway him.

"I...I guess this place just _spoke_to me tonight. Something told me to come here, have a couple drinks, meet nightfall with a smile."

He had a way with words, I had to admit. But not with people.

"Spoke to you to find me, maybe?" I smirked.

Under the table, I allowed my hand to deftly travel to his thigh. His jeans were tight over strong legs, and he shivered at my touch. I took a risk. He had a story.

"...I think so, yeah."

The hunger was in him again, and our eyes met. He shifted in his seat, and I could figure out why. I gestured to a waitress hovering about the tables to close my tab, and left a few bucks on the table.

"You staying somewhere tonight, Ian?" I asked, briskly adjusting my shirt.

"Uh, no, not really...My bike--"

"Well, come up to my room for a bit, then. We'll figure something out."

He followed my lead, and stood up from the table. For a faint moment, he smiled, and the stern face was something else entirely. I smirked. It was time for me to do what I was best at, and get that story.

We strolled out curbside. The sun was still setting, and would be for another hour or so. These long summer nights were what I lived for. People were more active, happier, their lips a little looser. I shot a smirk to my companion, and then tried my best to wave down a cab. It wasn't a busy night at the bar, but it was still a weeknight right on the outskirts of Chicago. Cabs were hard to come by, and the streets were packed.

"Could always take my bike," Ian said.

He stepped closer to me, and then boldly put his hand on my hip, stroking tenderly with a few fingers. I turned away, and shifted my feet, trying to hide growing arousal downstairs. There was something about how he smelled too. Now that he was so close, I got momentarily lost in his earthy, masculine scent. Ian threw his other hand in the air, and waved for cab as well. A few moments later, a bright yellow car saw our slowly-arcing arms and stopped curbside. Ian removed his arm, I opened the door, and ushered him inside.

~~

My hotel was only about a mile away, but it took us a good quarter-hour to get there. To pass the time, I tried my best to chit-chat, but Ian seemed more the strong, silent type. Or maybe his mind was just on other things. I switched off on scrolling through my phone and trying to engage him, watching that chest rise and fall with each of his powerful breaths.

Eventually, we got there. I led him through the lobby, past all of the businessmen traveling solo, and parents trying to wrangle their broods together. Kids really weren't my sort of thing. I led Ian towards the elevator. He seemed to be keeping to himself, eyes focused near his feet. I wondered what his deal was; for a guy so huge and alpha, he sure was reserved. It was like there was something lurking around every corner, dark or not.

"You know what time it is?" Ian mumbled.

"Yeah, sure...uh, half-past six. Why? Got somewhere to be?" I asked.

"Nah, just....like to know. Need a new battery for my watch."

I fumbled with my key card, scanning it into the elevator. It was one of _those_kinds of hotels, where you couldn't even get beyond the lobby without a card. Nice that my publisher still dug deep in their pockets to see my interludes through, but I wasn't a fan of the sterilized atmosphere of these uppercrust hotels. Nothing really happened in them that was worth writing about.

'Well, maybe there will be tonight.'

It didn't take us much longer to get into my room. 2012. I scanned the card to the lock, and the door _ping'd_open. I held it open for Ian, and the bull of a man stepped through with a nod.

I didn't bother to hit a light. The room was bathed in evening sun, shining through the massive wall of windows directly across from the door. It was a basic sort of upper-class suite. There was a couch and a chair near us, with a large king-sized bed at the far end of the room, near the windows. It left enough space to stand on either side of the bed. One of the windows was actually a sliding-glass door, and lead out to the balcony. A work desk was near the bed, and I was sorry to say littered with a ton of different papers and notes. My idle laptop was humming a bit, stacked right on top of a draft of some half-finished chapter. One of my shirts and a tie was draped over the office chair. The small liquor cabinet had been rummaged through, and I had sorted everything accordingly.

"...Would you believe me if I said I've only been here for two days?" I asked.

Ian chuckled. He stepped deeper into the room and looked outside. The view wasn't anything to write home about, in my opinion, but it did offer a decent view of the Chicago skyline. I had to say, the time of night made it look a little more spectacular than I'd expect. Though maybe it was just the company.

I undid the first few buttons on my shirt, and made my way over to the liquor cabinet. I pulled the flask from my inner pocket, placed it near its cohorts, and then threw my jacket across the chair as well. Ian turned to me and gave me a once-over. I motioned to the alcohol, wordlessly asking Ian if he wanted a drink. He declined with a shake of his head, and I proceeded to empty the contents of my flask into a scotch glass.

"Thanks for bringing me up here, Charles," he said. "Nice to see the city from this angle. I don't get to stay in hotels much."

"Not at all, my friend." I took a sip of the drink. A pleasant, raw sting. The game was beginning. "So what sort of places do you normally stay? I know you said that you move around, hop from city-to-city."

"Mostly towns, really," he mumbled. "I dunno, a lot of camping. Stay at an old friend's place, if I can. They're hard to track down nowadays. Mostly camp, just...rough it, I guess."

"Heh. No way in hell I could do that. Ivory towers for me."

He laughed again. It was more of a grunt, but I took it at face value. Ian motioned for his jacket, reaching his hands into his pockets. For the briefest of moments, I thought he might pull out a gun, and that I'd been a sucker to all this, but he just proceeded to pull of his coat and hang it up on the rack next to my desk. He was wearing a simple v-neck underneath it all, tight enough around his torso that I couldn't help but notice everything. Broad chest, a cut midsection, even his arms bulged at the sleeves. He must have caught me looking, because he seemed to blush for a moment, and flexed a bit. The shirt strained, and our eyes met, hungry looks exchanged.

"Didn't think I'd luck out tonight," I said, stepping closer. I still held the drink in my hand. "Especially get _this_lucky."

"Same here," He said. His breath was hot on my face. "Didn't uh, didn't think you swung this way. Real lucky on my part."

"Don't really swing for either team in particular," I stated. "Most people peg me as straight. I roll with it, but labels aren't really my thing."

My free hand moved towards his chest. I felt the ripple of muscle underneath the relatively thin fabric. I couldn't help but smile. I moved lower, feeling Ian's abdominals. He huffed, washing me again in moist breath. With little hesitation, lower I traveled. A thick member was pressed tight against his jeans, heavy, and yearning for freedom.

His hands immediately went to work on my shirt, deftly prying the buttons apart. Underneath, I was wearing a gray wifebeater, but I figured it wouldn't last long. I handed Ian my drink as I shucked the shirt. With a smirk, he took a firm drink of the scotch without a flinch. The drink was placed back in my hands, and he quickly grabbed his v-neck at the bottom, and threw it off over his head. I audibly gasped as his torso came into view. Chiseled, but with a strange softness. He was exceptionally hairy, a masculine pelt of dark fur weaving across his chest and stomach. There was a curious tattoo on his left pectoral, slightly obscured by hair. It looked to be a stylized compass face, with what could have been a wolf head pointing in the "eastern" direction. Maybe something to ask him about, when the fun was over.

"Damn," I said. Another sip.

I couldn't exactly compare. Sure, I still maintained a leanness from my younger years, and I wasn't chubby per se, but there was a distinct lack of definition. Oh well, nothing to dwell on. We were both here for the moment, and I wouldn't let a little self-consciousness get in the way.

He grinned at my comment. The bulge was still straining at his jeans. I was eager to see it in the flesh, but Ian approached me instead. In a quick motion, he undid my belt and pulled it through. My pants slacked, but were being held aloft by my own dick. Another second, and they were unbuttoned, sliding around my ankles. I stepped out, only in undergarments and a pair of socks. He touched my dick, and gave it a test stroke through my briefs. I responded instantly, shivering. He moved both of his hands around my hips, and hungrily groped at my ass. The cheeks were firm, and I was startled at how strong his grip suddenly was. I bucked forward, and my dick spasmed in excitement.

"Hmm. I take it that you're a..."

"Yeah," he grunted.

Without a second thought, I shot back the rest of my drink. It stung, but it was worth it. I set the glass down on my desk and fumbled for a moment on Ian's jeans. Once unbuttoned, I undid the belt and pulled them down, like he had for me. His rock-hard dick stood jutting out proudly, thick underneath his underwear. A small spot of precum was on the tip of the soft fabric. I pulled them down too, and he adjusted his legs to discard them, all the while still groping at my ass. A finger or two pushed towards my hole, and he grazed me a bit, holding back.

Ian's cock bounced up. It was an incredible sight, at least eight inches long. Thick, a powerful vein snaking up the dorsal side of the shaft. An unkempt mane of dark pubic hair framed it against his crotch. It seemed to point at me, starving. I reached forward and gave the organ a stroke, eliciting a rough gasp from its wielder. He huffed a hot breath into my face, and before I could say another word, his lips met mine.

As we made out, my briefs dropped. I almost stumbled as they fell around my ankles. My own member was free. A fair six inches, uncut and trimmed appropriately. I gripped it, and began to get myself going a bit. I was a bit nervous, but the alcohol was making me incredibly horny. What had only been a business transaction in my mind had quickly turned into a strong desire. Ian gripped at the neck of my wifebeater. I couldn't read his body language well, but he hooked one nail around the rim of the fabric and pulled. It tore a bit, but I didn't say anything, still locked to his lips. He gripped it harder, and in one fluid motion, had torn my shirt off. The two of us stood there naked, locked into one another.

"Whoa, alright there?" I asked.

"S-sorry," he grunted. His voice seemed deeper. "I uh, got excited."

I broke away and migrated toward the bed. Now that I got a good look at him from a distance, I felt truly dwarfed. It was true that he wasn't much taller than me--only an inch or so--but he was built like a monster. A sexual machine, now all oiled up. And I'd be handling him tonight. I beckoned for him to follow, and I laid my back on the bed, one leg straight. It offered enough of a view, I was sure.

"So, how do you want to do this?"

He looked outside, to the setting sun, and then back to me.

"Now," he stated brusquely. And that was that.

Ian practically leaped onto the bed, and it creaked with the added weight. I shimmied back slightly, and my partner was upon me. He gave me a beastly kiss, saliva splattering onto my cheek. Then, as he pulled his head up and crawled forward, I was suddenly face-to-face with his large, throbbing member. It pressed against my lips, and I opened my mouth as Ian put a hand on the back of my head, coaxing me into a mouthful of dick.

He grunted and sighed in pleasure. I fought back a choking feeling, willing myself to relax. I took a deep breath, which gave me his earthy, sweaty scent. He moved more into my throat, and I accepted. Sucking dick was a skill that I'd learned in my field; when you were a lowly publishing intern, sometimes you'd have to pay your way forward while knowing your way around a cock. I sucked, working my tongue around the shaft, and closed my eyes, trying to find a rhythm and some zen in the chaos.

Ian continued to hump into my mouth, rough but not violent. It was becoming very apparent to me that whatever soft-spoken facade he took on out of the bedroom, this was a man that knew exactly what he wanted. And he would take it. He growled again, deep and guttural. I gave myself some leverage with one hand, and then started jacking myself off with the other. A few more minutes of this, and Ian suddenly pulled out of my mouth. I gasped, jaws aching.

"...Fuck," I gasped.

His knees straddled my sides, and the massive member bobbed in front of me, coated in a thick film of my own saliva and spittle. It glistened in the dimming light, almost glowing with power. I felt his incredible weight move again, and he bent down to kiss me. There was a little more ferocity, but passion as well. I returned the feral kiss as well as I could, helplessly getting drawn into his raw power.

After another few moments, I knew what was coming. I exhaled as our lips parted, and he moved down the bed. I sighed as he groped in-between my ass cheeks, prodding my hole with a demanding finger. This was happening.

"Get up, and turn around," he commanded. His voice was deeper, but there was a smoothness there too. It was a demand, but I couldn't help but oblige.

"Do you uh, need lube?" I asked, turning over and resting on my knees. I bent forward, and arched my back.

"No. You got me nice and slick, heh."

"Alright. Comdom? I have some, uh--"

"It's fine," he stated. No argument.

I nodded. I knew the risk involved, and I presumed he did as well. I wouldn't begrudge him a night of risky passion. I'd been in this situation plenty of times before, and was up-to-date on my primary protective measures. I felt the weight of the bed shift again as he approached. I took a deep breath, and braced myself. My ass was presented, ready to do its job. I gripped the top of the bedframe with both hands.

"Ohhhh...fuck!" I hissed.

There was a pressure against my hole. A blunt, hot force entered into me. I groaned, but stayed still. Resisting now would just make it worse. Ian's left hand gripped hard against my shoulder, and he pulled me towards him. The other hand was likely directing his member into me.

"Aaahhhhhhh," He sighed. "Fuck. I-I'm sorry. It's been a while."

Weird time for an apology. I exhaled as he pushed further into me. If I had to guess, it was about halfway. Ian's other hand gripped my right hip, and he began to go in a slow rocking motion, pushing himself further into my insides with every second. I was getting stretched, and stretched fast, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. In those times that a quick blowjob couldn't give me something, I was known to take a mean dick. Again, just another skill for the unscrupulous writer.

I had considered myself straight for a long time, most of my youth. Even through college, I was able to avoid all of the cliché "experimenting" that happened behind closed doors. It was women for me, when I had time for them. But when I started compromising myself for the sake of my career, I found that I actually took pleasure in bedding another man. There was challenge to it. A power dynamic.

Like right now. Ian was powerful, and from the outside perspective, maybe it looked like I was being dominated. I found a grip on the headboard, however, and took it upon myself to finish the entry. Gritting my teeth, I took a breath and pushed all the way back. Of my own volition, the gap was closed. My partner growled in a primal satisfaction, and I felt the almost-comical slap of his balls against my rear. We remained in that position for a while, and I got used to the sensation of being completely filled. I could feel the throb of his powerful dick within me, scraping against the walls of my bowels.

"Fuck," I said again. "You're incredible."

"You think?" Ian responded.

I looked back to steal a glance at the man penetrating me. His expession was dark, but he looked powerful nonetheless, every muscle flexed. Veins bulged underneath his soft body hair. He took a moment to wipe beads of sweat off of his forehead with one hand, and then resumed his grip on me.

"I'm going to go hard," He said. And then added, "Sorry. I need it."

"Alright man, do your th--AAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhooohhhhh fuck."

With one motion, he completely withdrew his dick from me. Another tense of his arms, and he drove it completely back in, wrecking me. My knees shuddered, and I almost fell down. I didn't though, and I don't think his grip would have even let me. He began hammering into my ass, a fierceness that I had never experienced. Huffing and growling, it was as if I was being fucked by the devil himself. I swayed forward and back as his ferocious rhythm kept me in line. A hand found its way to the back of my neck, and I was suddenly aware of being pushed down.

In and out, in and out. The raw pain that I was experiencing was quickly being dulled. I don't think my senses could even keep up with the timing of his thrusts. It was a constant emptiness that kept getting filled, and stretched, and filled some more. All the while, the pressure against my neck was becoming too much for me to stay in my position. I released my grip on the bedframe and was lowered onto the messy sheets of my king-size, hotel-grade bed. My ass stayed elevated, and Ian kept at his job, pounding at me.

It was sort of a relief. My arms were sore, I realized, and now I could just bury my face in the sheets as I groaned and grunted in pain. He buried the full length of himself in me once again, and then I felt the entire weight of his body on mine. His arms covered my own, and I felt his beath on the back of my head. He took a deep breath, sniffing me, and then I nearly felt the sharp prick of his teeth on my neck. A second later though, he must have withdrawn his head. There was another series of fierce thrusts, and I then felt a warmness spill into my guts.

"Rrrrrrraaaaggghhhh.....Fuck......ahhh," He roared.

His fingers dug into the globes of my ass, and he began quickly shaking his groin, his body at the mercy of his orgasm. His dick seemed to vibrate inside of me, and swell. Gooey warmth pooled inside of me, and I wasn't sure how to react. It was incredible, in a way, and also terrifying. To think such a man was inside of me, right now, uncontrollable and in an animal haze of ejaculation. He could have choked me, or snapped my neck. Instead, I felt him pull his still rock-hard dick out of me. There was a wet slurp, and I felt a few strands of semen get pulled out of my widened hole.

"Ohhhh...." I sighed. I rose to my knees and shook out my arms, which were numb from supporting my weight and then getting folded under me on the bed. Not as sore as my ass, but still...

"Are you....alright...?" Ian huffed, still panting.

I turned around to view him. His dick was still noticeably hard, now slick with his own fluids. It hung, quivering, between his legs as he moved and stood at the foot of the bed. His body was glistening with sweat, and the pungency of sex filled the room. His stance was wide, and his arms were flexed in a sort of grappling position.

"Uh, yeah, I'm...damn," I said, finding my thoughts. It was like he had fucked the sense right out of me. "That was pretty intense, is all."

"Mmm, sorry. Like I said, it's...it's been a while. Hard to control myself sometimes."

The room was darkening, the sun finding its way behind the skyline. Clouds seemed to be rolling in too, plummeting us into an earlier darkness. I sighed again, and felt some leakage from my rear. My dick was still sort of hard, forgotten about in the throes of our display. Ian was still very visibly aroused as well. I was going to hate myself, for what I suggested next.

"Well, step back up. We're both _obviously_still ready for this, and I've got to earn a good story," I gestured between our dicks, which were now pointing at one another. Then, with little fanfare, I laid on my back and pulled my legs up, exposing my hole again.

"....Alright," He huffed again, immediately drawing near. "If you're sure."

I nodded. He took that as go time, and approached me again. From his vantage, standing next to the bed, little effort was required for him to squat a bit and slide his greased-up dick back into my hole. I gasped, the feeling of being filled again strangely welcoming. With a shift, I felt the not-unfamiliar jab at my prostate, and I was filled with a moment of ecstasy. A better position for me. Ian gripped near each of my ankles, and slid himself in even further, uttering that familiar growl-like sigh.

I folded one arm behind my head, which propped me into a better position to view him pounding into me. The other hand traveled to my own dick, and I began languidly stroking it. Ian's thrusts seemed slower, a bit more controlled. At least for the time. Just as I was getting used to having his massive member slide in and out of me, he picked up the pace. Things were feeling much more numbed down there, but I could still feel the presence of his dick pushing against my bowels. A fierce, persistent sort of intrusion. The remains of his previous session were keeping things lubed up, and we were really falling into a rhythm now. I gasped out, feeling the sensation against my prostate once again.

"FUCK. Like that, man..."

Both of my hands reached for my dick, and I began to furiously jack off. I closed my eyes, arched my back, and felt the oncoming rush of my orgasm, pressure building in the extremity of my cock.

"...No. Fuck, no! T-too soon. Auuuuhhhgggg....."

What the hell? I opened my eyes, and focused on the beast of a man penetrating me. His thrusts were growing wild again, unwieldly even. His arms were shaking, and he gripped my torso. Hard. A nail or two dug into my skin, and I flinched, which made the rising pain in my guts even worse. Ian bucked, and I yelled out in shock. He was growling, sweating even more, hunched over me.

"Ian! What the fuck?! L-let me...AUGH!"

As impossible as it was, I somehow felt his dick pulse harder than usual. It felt bigger, too, a sudden stretch in my asshole. I was getting pushed to my limits, and he didn't show any sign of relenting, just bucked further into me. My prostate, overstimulated, sent a strange, sharp blast of pleasure into me, and I blew my load. Semen erupted out of my dick, coating Ian's stomach, as he was now pressing up against me. A hand made for my throat, half-caressing and half-choking me. It went without saying that I wasn't exactly enjoying what should have been one of the most potent orgasms in my life.

"S-stop. Ian, I....fuck....I..." I gasped, completely lost at what was going on. Was this how it was going to end? Strangled with some random brute's dick buried in my guts?

"No....I'm sorry. Charlie, I...fuck. You feel good, so FUCKING good. Huuuurgh, yeeaaah...."

He fell on top of me, pinning his arms over mine. His face was inches from mine, and I could feel the hot breath in my eyes. Drool flew from his mouth as he panted, splattering onto my face. His expression was a demented haze of fury and pleasure, a snarl forming on his lips. In the frenzy, he cocked his head back and rumbled, and I saw a strange scar running horizontally across his neck.

He was still inside of me, thrusting, but I didn't even have the courage to yelp in pain. Suddenly, I felt another white-hot slosh from within, and knew that he climaxed again. Then, with great force, he pulled out of me. I gasped, cool air rushing to fill the gap between our bodies as he stumbled away from the bed.

"F-fuck..." I shuddered, gasping. I reached a hand nervously down to my hole. Cum poured out of me in waves, staining the sheets beneath me. My hole was numb, stretched and abused. I pulled myself back on the bed, resting myself in a nervous sitting position against the headboard.

"GrrrrraaaaaAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!! FUCK!" Ian howled.

He stood in the middle of the room, hands covering his face. Jizz still dripped from his hanging hard-on. There was no way it could be bigger, but it looked far more imposing, somehow, swaying like a pendulum as he staggered. There was a frantic, raw power in his movements. And he was sweating profusely, almost dripping that onto the floor as well. As he stumbled around, his breath quickened, and he threw his arms back, flexing his back and exposing his chest. Another furious roar escaped his mouth, and as he took each breath, I could almost see his chest expanding. Contours of muscles knotted, and his frame grew wider. Was there more hair, as well? It was hard to tell.

I was overcome with terror.

"What the fuck is going on?!" I yelled, demanding an answer that I didn't know if I wanted. "Did you....did you fucking drug me or something? What's....happening?!"

"Ahhhh....AHHHHHHH!!! RRRAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!!" He shouted, a booming bark.

My brain couldn't fully process what I was seeing. Ian seemed to be growing taller by the second, and muscle compounded on his already-chiseled frame. He now looked like a hulking, monstrous body-builder. His posture sloped, and I saw a thick pelt of dark hair overtake him, filling in patches that his expanding frame had caused. His hands swelled to huge proportions, now razor-sharp with what appeared to be claws.

I fumbled around the bed, looking for something--my phone. If I could dial someone, then maybe I wouldn't be torn apart in this drug haze. I could call the cops, or an ambulance, and they'd take me in. Maybe I'd go in a cell, but I could explain that I'd been involuntarily drugged. Some kind of nasty hallucinogenics. I thrashed around the bedside t able, trying to scrape my phone into my hands. The combination of sudden movement and noise seemed to draw Ian's attention, though.

He turned to glower at me, and I saw his face morph. There was the sickening crack of bone as the structure of his skull changed. His jaw and nose elongated into what appeared to be a snout. Saliva flowed from his jowels, and wild-looking teeth gleamed in the moonlight from the window. Dark hair had covered his face and neck too, and his ears seemed to grow into two broad shapes at the side of his head, angular and sleek. His legs too had thickened with muscle. I saw his manhood dangling, still large and imposing, as his legs and core flexed.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!" I yelled as I saw the creature leap towards me.

My fingers closed around my phone and I tried to hit the touch screen to call someone, anyone. Instead, there was a bright light from my phone's camera and a few unexpected noises. I was momentarily blinded, but so was this monstrous form of Ian. The bed creaked under its weight, and it waved its massive head around in agitation. Slobber went flying onto me again. And then, the bed bounced, and was light again. There was a huge shuffle of noise and movement, and the door to the balcony flew open.

I went to run and grab help from wherever I could find it, but the blankets and pillows were tangled around me. I took a heavy stumble, and fell off of the bed, cracking my head on the oh-so tastefully modern tiled floor. Dazed, scared, and in a panic, I felt myself losing awareness, slipping out of consciousness. I heaved, and vomited mostly bile onto the floor. There was a shuffle across the room, and I panicked. But my limbs weren't working, brain going fuzzy. I was threatening to pass out face-first into my own throw-up, but a pair of strong hands grabbed my midsection, and hauled me into the bed.

My head hit a soft pillow, and I tried to fight it--tried to fight that sinking feeling of passing out. I saw the hairy, muscular arms retract into the darkness, and a monstrous form abscond onto the balcony and fade away.

~~

Staring into the darkness. There was hard rushes of movement, and hot breath in my face. I held my own breath, refusing to move or breathe, nearly choking myself. As I finally gave in, gasping and sputtering for air, two fiery blue embers materialized from the darkness, attached to a pair of dripping jaws. The gaping mouth stretched open, teeth gleaming in the fire, and I knew that I only had a few seconds of life left. I took a deep breath, and--

"Hhhhhhhhuuuuuuagh," I gasped, nearly choking. I woke up.

Another gasp, this one from the splitting pain in my head. I rubbed just above my forehead. The skin was tender, and there was a small lump just around my hairline. That _probably_wasn't good, but at least I woke up. No concussion, right?

I fought through the pain, pulling my eyes open and staring at the room around me. I was currently sleeping in the bed in my hotel room, blankets and sheets whirled around me like a cocoon. Must have been a very fitful night of head injury-induced sleep. I was naked, my clothes on the floor of the room. Shreds of a shirt were littered on the floor, mingled with another discarded outfit that it took me a moment to realize.

I saw _him_sleeping on my desk chair in the middle of the room, splayed out and very much human--Ian. He was naked, but there was a light blanket wrapped around his crotch and midsection. Aside from that, he looked as intimidating as ever. I suddenly remembered our sexual romp last night, and I felt a dull ache from my widened asshole. I slowly moved down to feel my ass, and noticed the crusted leavings from Ian's monstrous jizzings on the sheets beneath my rump. I hesitated to tease a finger into my hole, but when I did I found it numb and stretched, slightly gooey still. Fuck.

What the fuck happened last night to get me laid-up like this? I remembered the bar, the drinks, meeting Ian, getting fucked by him, but then everything went fuzzy. Something _wrong_happened. I searched my scrambled-up memory, and suddenly remembered the weird energy, and some other oddities. Right, I was...drugged? All of my emotions went out of whack, and I saw Ian freeze up, have a seizure or something, become a sweaty mess. And the _other_images that I remembered, I attributed them to whatever drug was still probably floating around my bloodstream. I had done some weird stuff in the past, but nothing like THAT.

He needed to get out. I wanted Ian gone. Whatever stories he might have, last night was...a mistake. It brought back all sorts of weird memories for me. Maybe my days of hooking up and reeling in good, meaty stories, they were over. I spied my phone on the night-stand, and slowly made a move to grab it, not wanting to wake Ian hunched in the middle of my room.

"Fuck," I whispered. My phone's battery was almost shot, and I had no idea where my charger was. It certainly wasn't within arm's reach in my mess of a bed.

"...What's goin' on?" Ian rasped. His eyes shot open, but he didn't really move out of his admittedly uncomfortable-looking position. "You alright?"

"Great. You're awake. Really, my coughing didn't wake you up? It was the small, quiet 'fuck'?"

"I've been awake," He said. For whatever reason, he sounded extremely hoarse. "I just didn't want to wake _you_up."

"How, uh....gracious of you," I scoffed. I sat up in bed, and put a hand to my throbbing head. "First you fuck the sense out of me, then you spike my drink with something, I don't fucking know what, and then I get my ass DROPPED as we both trip. Great, just great. Glad you at least have the decorum to not wake me up."

"Hm. So you don't remember last night, do you?"

I waved my hands in frustration. "What did I JUST SAY?! Of course I do!"

"I--fuck....I wanted to, to show you something. Show you what I actually was. Because I need to, I need to talk to someone, I just..." He was rambling. Tired, confused, and hoarse. I didn't know what to make of it. He looked kind of pathetic, sitting there.

But I also realized how in control he was of me last night, how I couldn't escape his grip when I was scared out of my mind. How he could snap my neck without breaking a sweat.

"I don't know or care what the fuck you are, but you have to leave. Now," I stated firmly.

"Just, come on Charles, you have to hear me out, I--"

"...I'm calling the cops. I need you out of here. Last night was...too much. I'm sorry," I stated. I went to my phone, unlocked it, and looked at Ian threateningly. Our eyes met.

` He sighed, somehow defeated. Holding the arms of the chair, he hefted himself up with a grunt. The blanket slid off of him, and I got another look of his full, naked body. He was muscular and hairy as ever, and his flaccid dick hung between his legs, still of good form. I cringed, but couldn't deny how rawly attracted I was to him. At least his body. I knew what he was capable of, but also knew that as rough as last night was, it was some of the most interesting and intense sex I'd ever had. At least until the weird shit started kicking in.

"Wait, what...?" He stopped. I was looking down at my phone, and saw that in the updates screen, there was something that said 'new video saved'. Wordlessly, I clicked it.

My phone chugged into activity, on its last dredges of battery power. My movie-player app came up, and a yelling growl blasted out of my phone speakers. I quickly turned the volume down, and realized this was from last night. I remembered that I had fumbled with my phone, released a blast of flash in an attempt to fight Ian back, and then I must have accidentally taken a quick video in that time. I was transfixed on the video. It was dark and grainy, but there was the distinct shape that I remembered from my hallucinations. A hulking, hairy, nude beast of a man at the end of my bed. A grossly-distorted body, huge claws, glowing blue eyes. The video captured a flash of light, which illuminated the wolf-like face, and then cut off. The video looped again, and I watched it play out once more. And then a third time. My eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

"...It happened," I said in quiet disbelief. I then shot my eyes over to Ian. He had put on his pair of briefs, and was standing there. There was guilt in his eyes, his muscular body slumped.

"Yeah, I'm uh, well..." He looked to me, and there was a soft vulnerability in his ice-blue eyes. "A werewolf, I suppose."

"Uh, alright," I said blankly. The gears started turning. My head still hurt, though, and I grimaced. "So, last night. Your 'story' that you wanted to tell me. This...?"

I pushed myself out of bad, still naked. I paced, which helped grease the gears for a moment. I found my briefs on the floor, and slipped into them as well. Ian was watching me very blatantly, and there was a slow build of arousal in his underwear. His heavy dick pressed against his waistband. I shook my head and smirked. What a maniac.

"Fuck, alright, I need a glass of water or something. My head's killing me, and now I actually have to think." I walked over and slipped on my dress shirt from the previous night, but didn't bother buttoning it. Then, grabbing a glass from the small little kitchen nook, I filled it in the sink and downed the very processed city water.

Ian sighed. "I've been through a lot. Life's complicated for people like me, and me in particular, for some reason. There are people out there _after_me, and I don't always know what to do. I don't make good decisions most of the time. I needed someone to talk to, and I think it was, well, fate or something that I recognized you in the bar last night. You're a great writer, and I've got stories to tell."

"Werewolf stories?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You said you needed a story, and I've got something good. Right?"

"Hmmm," I chewed on this idea, and drank another huge gulp of water. "Let's not get too carried away. My whole world just sort of got turned upside-down, you know? Sure, I've seen a lot of crazy shit, but nothing that I could attribute to the fucking impossible, until just now."

"You're uh, taking this surprisingly well, though," Ian said.

"Yeah, I'm still just not even sure if I'm dead or something. Maybe you actually did strangle me last night, and this is shitty hotel room is my Purgatory. Thanks for it, if so."

"I'm....I'm really sorry that things went that way," he admitted, and sagged his broad, sloping shoulders. "I had planned to transform, and reveal myself as necessary. Last night was a full moon, after all. But then, at the bar, you made a _move_on me. I wasn't expecting it, and I just lost control. When I transform, and days leading up to the full moon, I--we--my KIND, we have a tendency to get more aggressive. Especially when sex is involved."

"Hmm," I nodded.

I saw my phone charger piled in with the things at my desk. Slowly walking over to it, all the while keeping my eyes on Ian, I snagged it, and plugged it into my idle laptop. He in turn moved into the kitchen to procure a glass of water for himself. I still couldn't believe it, really, but I was open-minded. The videos weren't lying, and his story added up. Anything was possible, right...?

"And I've just been on the move for so long, alone....I mean, I've been alone a lot, and it comforts me most of the time. I like the solitude. But a few months ago, it became unbearable. I needed to find someone else who knows about me, knows about US. Because--"

"Someone_else_?" I repeated.

"Yeah. People know, not many, but they're out there. Some friendly, some...NOT. That even extends to my own kind. Maybe I'm an anomaly, searching out Unturned, but..."

"Unturned? I--nevermind. Maybe we should reconvene some other time. I need to collect my thoughts. Feels like I've got the worst hangover in my life, you know?"

"I...yeah, I understand. The morning after my Turn, it hits me like a bus." He looked down to his hands. I had only just now noticed they were caked with dirt, maybe blood. His feet too, as I circled around the room, also had a layer of dust and grime. Guess he was out running amok around the city last night.

Ian approached me, slowly at first. I tensed, not sure what he wanted. I looked at his muscular form, fatigued but still incredibly strong. He motioned to grab one of my hands, but I pulled away. A reflex. I couldn't quite bring myself to trust him yet. He took this as a sign to keep an appropriate distance.

"Charles, I feel connected to you. I know you're not in the right state of mind, and you don't trust me," it was like he was reading my mind, "...but I need someone to talk to. And I was drawn to you for a reason."

"Chuck," I said. "I prefer it."

"Noted."

"And I get it. You're lonely, and we had good sex last night. Believe me, been there. Done that. I'm not the kind of guy that gets _attached_though. You can start talking to me, sure, maybe I'll jot down a few notes. But let's get real, no one's going to believe this story. I could offer someone a thousand bucks to just say 'werewolves are real', and they'd just fucking laugh at me."

"Fine, alright. It took me a while to believe, to."

"Yeah, I don't have a _while_to work with," I said somberly. "I need to get a book out soon. I should be writing one NOW, not shooting the shit with you, to be perfectly honest."

"I...understand," he said, looking down.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," I said. "I get it now, I really do. And, for what it's worth, you seem like a good dude, and you gave me a great lay. But Ian, I don't think I'll be sticking around to hear you out. I sort of just want to forget this all happened. Maybe I just need to believe it was all a fever dream."

Ian sighed. I saw the dejection in his face. But it couldn't be helped. He turned away from me, and paced across the kitchen nook. I got a view of his firm, rounded ass. The fabric was pulled tightly over his muscular globes. God damn, every part of this dude was sculpted to be the hottest, most masculine thing imaginable.

"You can stick around for a bit, I guess," I relented. "I just need to shower, maybe get some coffee...Oh, shit!"

There was a buzzing at my desk, and I saw my phone do its usual little dance, now attached to my computer. I hurried over to see who it was, and audibly groaned in pain.

"Shit! It's my publisher. Do me a favor and keep quiet, get in the shower if you want, or something," I instructed, frantically gesturing to the bathroom.

He nodded, and swiftly inched to the bathroom. The door closed, and I picked up the phone, bending down so that it wouldn't be pulled out of the charger. I took a deep breath, and then plastered on the fakest smile I could muster. Tone would follow.

"Susanne! Good morning, beautiful," I greeted.

"Penn,"_Came the voice on the other end. She didn't sound exceptionally happy, but thankfully she wasn't yelling. Yet. _"Just my daily check-up on you."

"My favorite time of the day," I said wryly.

"Let's cut the chit-chat, sugar. What's happening? Where's my book? You got a pitch?"

"Sue, come on. These kinds of things, they take time. I told you that I was writing something as big as Prodigy, and that took me a few years to get together."

"It's almost BEEN a few years, Penn,"_she said harshly. _"I need something, and I need something quick. Gotta be able to sell yourself if you want to stay on with us. You've been blowing me off and giving me half-finished books left and right. Cut the crap, hun."

"No, this time is different, I uh...Fuck, I _do_actually have something. I just...need time to put it all together."

_"So what is it?"_She asked.

"Excuse me?"

"The idea, sugar. What can you tell me? I need to know if I'm gonna stop riding you for the next few days, fight off some of my investors and other clients."

"Uhh, alright. Werewolves. It's, it's that."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you know. The big things, in the movies, with--"

"I know what they are, Penn,"_she snorted, _"But I didn't think you were pitching me some sort of half-baked shitty_Twilight_rip-off. Really??"

"No! God no! It's not that! It's....it's a metaphor. Or maybe not, who knows. Point is, I'm talking to this guy, uh, INTERVIEWING him. About, like...it's about being gay in the 90s, closeted. A family man during the day, but sneaking away, at night, you know? For some action. With others like you. It's--"

The wheels were spinning, and I was just talking. I was making things up as I was going, but honestly, it could be a good idea.

"Alright, I think I follow,"_Susanne said, sighing through the phone. _"Sounds a lot like your first work, but hey, maybe that's a good thing. The gays are hot_right now. Maybe we'll drop the metaphor thing. NO, I'm SURE we will. But for now, do what you gotta do, write. Talk to me in a week, and I'll see about reading something you got for me."_

"Uh, s-sounds good, Sue. Appreciate you being patient. I'll uh, get right on it. Just have to talk to my guy, and we'll get going!"

"Uh-huh. Bye, Penn." And she hung up.

I heard the sound of the shower in the background, and looked behind me to see the door closed. I sighed, and took a moment to collect my thoughts, pacing about as I did. What did this all mean? And why did I have to go opening my big fucking mouth? Should have just endured another one of Susanne's rants at how I was a spoiled idiot that wasn't ever going to get his shit together. She'd been patient with me, sure, but at a price.

Maybe I should have just given up, called it a day. Fuck writing, fuck finding a new story, just move to a nice city, and ride out my_Prodigy_money, and mind my own damn business. Maybe wait and see if a studio ever decides to approach me with a movie deal--now THAT would be the life.

"Fuck," I just said with a sigh.

I couldn't do that. I wasn't the type of person to be happy with a past success, and ride on my own coattails for the rest of my life. Like it or not, I had been drawn into something big. Something big and_weird_. Regardless of this so-called werewolf aspect, Ian was a disheveled, traveling, gay homeless man. He had stories. I could de-supernatural everything he told me and spin it into something that I could use. That idea about sad 90s gay dudes was actually a stroke of genius, come to think of it.

The shower turned off, and I could hear the clatter of curtain rings from within. A squeaking wet foot-step, and then I figured Ian would be drying himself off. The guy probably hadn't had a shower in a very long time, and I guessed it was the least I could do.

A minute later, he stepped out of the bathroom, still damp and clad in the towel wrapped around his waist. He looked at me and offered a shy smile.

"Alright," I said, addressing him. "This is weird. I can't deny that this shit isn't weird. But it's _interesting._You've earned yourself my listening ears, if only for the day. I pack up and set out to L.A. tomorrow morning, anyway."

The smile he returned was broad, and genuine.

"You'll have to work with me, though. And we gotta do this the right way, I'll be editing it all accordingly. Now let's go grab some coffee or something, shit, I'm dying."

He nodded.

I began moving around the room like a madman, packing my laptop into its carrying bag and shoving a notepad and a pen in there as well. I shucked my shirt and threw on a clean undershirt, and then tried to get everything looking all nice, and matching.

"And put on some fucking clothes, already!" I barked. "You _do_know how to do that, right?"

"Uhh, yeah. Weren't you going to shower, though?" Ian dropped his towel and threw on a pair of briefs, followed by his pants.

"There's NO TIME!" I finally had my stuff together, and then started gesturing madly at Ian for him to hurry up. "Now might as well start with some basic questions. Full name? Age? Hometown?"

"Uhhhhh..." He threw on his v-neck, and that was all. "Ian Freeland, uh...forty, maybe? It's hard to keep track. And Thornville, Virginia!"

"Wait...seriously? You're that old?"

"Yeah, werewolves, we age slower than Unturned. So if I was bitten at seventeen, and it's been..."

"No time! Shit, don't get into the history of everything right now. I gotta set up, get a cup of coffee, oil the gears a bit," I slid the card key into my pocket and hefted by bag onto my shoulder.

"Haha, well, alright then. Let's do this," Ian said. He smiled at me again, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could trust him. "And Chuck....thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's move!"

I ushered us both out of the door, and it quickly locked behind us. I supposed this would be the start of a very strange relationship.