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Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]

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Thánatos

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PostSubject: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 12:27 pm


STOP!

This roleplay is rated NC-17 and may contain very strong sexual or offensive language and situations, strong explicit nudity, very strong gore or disturbing violence, or graphic drug abuse.

It also contains emotional and physical relationships between people of the same gender. Specifically, six men. Characters are of legal drinking age and smoking age as well as fully responsible adults capable of making their own decisions. All characters depicted are original and owned respectively by roleplayers and solely the roleplayers.

Any persons other than Hypnos or Thánatos are strongly discouraged from posting.

You are, however, welcome to lurk and enjoy. Thank you.








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Last edited by Thánatos on Tue 30 Jun 2009, 1:15 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 12:47 pm


Balance was hard to find. Between friends and lovers, work and play. Add in the fact that every once in awhile, when the moons hangs fat and swollen in the sky, you can't exactly hold onto your skin, and well, life becomes just that more unstable. It had taken awhile to adjust, and still, he was balancing.

His life, and the wolf's.

Easy for the most part, though Puffin and the others still hadn't quite gotten over the hazing of the newbie, or whatever the f*** it was they thought they were doing. But he dealt with it for the most part, and managed to keep things seperate. But sometimes he knew he was crossing boundaries, and he just wasn't sure if he cared that much.

He couldn't get away with anything at home, so whatever he thought he could sneak by now, he'd attempt. It had been hustling pool first, seedy downtown bars where you breathed in more smoke than air. Pretty face like his, and that disarming grin, just the right amount of wobble in his step. Play pool? Oh, well sure he'd give it a shot.

He knew enough to pick the out of towners, the ones who never stuck around, but even so his reputation had begun to proceed him in some places, and Cris was looking for the next kick. The sleeping around had been a constant, something that Aidan hated and Puffin knew well. He tried not to take home customers, per Kenzie's request, the woman claiming she wasn't running that sort of place. But of course that meant a lot of people were still fair game.

His neck ached, and he was sore from his and Puffin's last little romp, his alpha never failing to abuse him in the best and worst of ways. All the same it was a new moon, and the black sky was nothing but an open invitation for him. Now was the night when he felt the most free, and he was going to take advantage of that, thanks very much.

His shift had just ended, Cris sticking his head in Kenzie's office to tell her he was headed out, the woman waving a harried hand in his direction, shoo'ing him away. Shrugging bare shoulders Cris made his way down the narrow hall, sliding occasionally past other dancers, all in various states of undress. He spared a nod for one or two, and sighed when he was pulled aside by a particular blonde, Cris's eyes momentarily tracing the sun around Aidan's navel, dark against his tanned skin, obvious even in the dim, half light. The music was still loud back there, and Aidan wasted no words on his roommate, leaving him at the door to the dressing room, and coming back a moment later to press a small bottle of pills into his chest.

Aidan gave him a soft glare, and Cris rolled his eyes. He'd gotten so used to the reprimanding he didn't even need to hear it anymore. All the same, he lifted a hand to take the bottle from Aidan's fingers, shoving it into his bag without even bothering to look at the label. He'd just slip it back into Aidan's medicine cabinet at home later. The blonde didn't seem to realize, that far from being used to the pain, which now never lasted very long anyway, Cris sort of... enjoyed it.

With Aidan finished accosting him, Cris pushed his way through the doors that led to the front of the building, between one of the smaller platforms and the bar. Puffin was there behind the bar, mismatched eyes flashing in the light. Cris paused at the end of the bar, waiting only because he knew he'd be in trouble for it later if he didn't.

That had been one of the harder adjustments, this sudden entrance of someone else controlling him. And he wasn't going to pretend that everything was dandy, because he and Puffin both knew the alpha took advantage of it sometimes. Rare occasions, but ones that made it hard to hide the marks.

But there wasn't any contact this time, when Puffin moved to his end of the bar, the taller of the pair merely chucking Cris a water from the mini fridge. Cris caught the drink easily, nodding his thanks to Puffin, who just looked away. He was feeling apologetic already. That was fast. And annoying as f***. With a sigh, and chilled water in hand, Cris just wondering who else was going to force something on him, and just glad that he knew Jace wasn't there to attempt and offer him something as well. Not that Jace even pretended to care half the time.

Cris pushed his way through the front doors, and out into the gravel parking lot, the night air cool against his skin. He still hadn't bothered to put a shirt on, wearing only dark jeans and sneakers as he shuffled out across the lot to his car. One hand dug into the duffel bag slung across his shoulder, fingertips diving for the pack of cigarettes that should have been somewhere in there. The smoking wasn't a recent habit, but it pissed Puffin off, so the moments Cris could smoke were few and far between. As it was, he needed the fix.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:02 pm


Anton put a tip for cleaning woman on the nightstand and grabbed his wallet. The room key card slid into one of the empty credit card slots with ease and he folded the wallet, shoving it into the back pocket of his worn blue jeans. The door slammed open on its hinges and rocked the frame as he threw it closed, muttering curses.

Screw the pack and their rules. What did they matter anyway? No one honored a society who dumped perfectly healthy males on their own and left them in the dead of night. Anton certainly wouldn't honor their memory either. He had done fine taking care of himself before they came along, had even pushed what he thought his limits were to control himself and the fierce gray wolf that raged inside his skin. No, he didn't miss the pack or the promise of closeness with people again. f*** people. People didn't care about poor Nikolsky, abandoned as a human and then thrust into the world of lycanthropy to figure it out on his own. No one cared for sob stories anymore. You fixed your own problems and moved on.

And now he was here in the first city he had come across. It was nice, had good hang outs. The lady at the hotel he was staying at for the next night or two had been nice enough amid all the flirting and eyelash batting to tell him about the clubs and joints around. He'd relieve his stress there. Dance around for a while or talk it up with the barkeep and hear about the city drunk who refused to leave even when the bars were closing and had to be carted off every night by bored police.

Maybe he'd have a whiskey. Vodka, even.

The night rushed in when Anton opened the door out into the parking lot. He breathed in deep, coughed at smell of city smog and frowned. It was like this everywhere he went now. There were no clean places like he had become accustomed to in Russian. The air here wasn't made for his athlete lungs. Wasn't good enough. Maybe he should have gone toward the mountains.

Wolves could survive in mountains.

The sky was dark and void of the moon. Anton felt relieved and anxious all at once. His throat itched and this time not from the city air. He licked his canines, worried the tip of the right one and then clicked the metal ball of his tongue barbell against it. He exhaled sharply, biting back the howl he wanted to release. His human vocal cords would just ruin it anyway. Anton couldn't be a wolf while he was a human. Couldn't mix the two. He walked quickly in the direction of the club, or whatever it was, the lady had recommended. He needed the distraction.

The music met his ears before he spotted the club. Anton rolled his jaw, pausing for a moment, letting his ears catch the beat and sparse lyrics. It all sounded good enough. If the music was loud enough for him to catch it out here, he could only imagine the chaos within and the crashing symphony that would abuse him inside amid the grinding, swaying bodies that would swell and crash against him. The headache he'd suffer later and the aches in his body would suck.

He caught his barbell between his front teeth and sucked the saliva from it and released it.

"Worth it."

Anton'd have to walk through the parking lot to get to the entrance. There were plenty of cars, a few people milling around by the entrance, drinking and laughing. A woman was slurring something about her five-year-old and his f***-up father five hundred yards away. Anton wrinkled his nose. The smell of her sweat was sickening. He tried not to breathe through his nose unnecessarily but felt choked by the absence of constantly identifying scents. His gray eyes flicked over the rest of the parking lot and rested on a young man by his car, digging through a duffel bag. Too quickly, Anton noticed the man was shirtless.

His hands slipped into the pockets of his hooded jacket and, too quickly, he was at the man's side, hip against the car. Intrigued. Eyes roving for a moment before they looked at the man's face, Anton asked, "Not cold, ребенок?"

Wasn't he just the most suave love doctor?

Whatever, f*** subtly.








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Last edited by Thánatos on Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:04 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:03 pm


And though Cris was as aware of the goings on in the parking lot, he tried his damnedest to ignore it, the things he wouldn't hear, couldn't hear if he was normal. And of course in the back of his head he could hear his friend, muttering something about normal being all about perspective, but Cris had found it increasingly hard to buy his bullshit anymore. Yeah, okay, so what was normal to some wasn't to others. Cris was a werewolf. That was atypical by fucking definition.

He finally found his pack, dragging it to the surface, and praying the lighter was still inside, lest he resort to dumping the bag across his backseat to rifle through the contents. But no, it was still there, the hard plastic reassuring under the crinkle of the pack.

The approach of the other male was fast, but Cris had been at this a year already, and didn't flinch in the slightest, only lifting an eyebrow, bringing a cigarette to his lips and holding it there as he gave the other man a brief once over. Cris had been approached in the parking lot before, fans, stalkers, random creeps, but this was definitely one of the better looking ones.

And as often as he heard Jace muttering in Russian, the language of that last word was the only thing he could place, it's translation beyond him. He'd caught the flash of metal as the man spoke, attributing it immediately to a tongue ring, idle curiosity only wondering if he was hiding metal anywhere else.

"Warmer than you know," Cris replied, cigarette bobbing between his lips as he pulled out the lighter. He sucked in a breath, the other man's scent heavy on the air, and Cris tensed slightly, but kept his movements fluid as he lifted both hands to his cigarette to light it.

"Or maybe you do know." His eyes flashed in the sudden glow of the flame, the end of the cigarette catching, and igniting in orange. He dropped his hands, pack and lighter stashed back away, eyes not straying from the other man, even as he inhaled, even as he exhaled, smoke curling thick in the air.

He had to admit, aside from his own alpha, and a once very-drunken Aidan, Cris hadn't been approached by someone else with his... unique condition. The idea was intriguing in it's own right, and as such Cris ignored the male resting on his car like he had any right to.

Sure his pick-up line had been a bit lame, but Cris had heard worse, before. Hell, he'd still gone home with someone after hearing worse lines than that. His answer had at least been honest, the chill air not affecting Cris in the least, fully clothed or not. And aside from his temperature always running a bit higher than typical, at least for a human, he had been working, stage lights hot on his skin, and the thin sheen of sweat he'd worked up cooling rapidly.

Cris turned a little, leaning back against the hood of his car, letting the duffel bag rest to one side, pale blue eyes flickering back to the other male, the quirk of an eyebrow the only question he was really going to ask.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:05 pm


The car door was cool against his thigh, a beautiful contrast to the constant heat that raged in and on Anton’s skin. The Russian felt as if he were wearing far too much next to the half clothed young man. His skin tingled and his fingers ached to grab him and feel that smooth skin. Where Anton could feel the cool metal body of the car, he could also barely feel the edge of the heated aura around the other man, much like when you stand at the edge of a fire and can still feel the heat licking at you. Anton felt intoxicated by the promise of fire.

The lighter flared to life and the face of the man he was trying to woo was illuminated in orange. Anton ran his tongue slowly over his lips and let himself look over the man again. There was something unique in the way the body was held, a confident but reserved stance. The line of the back seemed made for arching and the hips that were half hidden in those form-fitting pants were perfect for squirming.

Anton wanted this body beneath him.

There was even eye candy on the kid’s back. The tree was huge and beautifully done, definitely inked by a skilled tattooist, and the gibbous was just as mesmerizing. Frightening, even. The words of his hopefully soon to be playmate drifted over his head, a pleasant haze of arousal already clouding his judgment and the feral world that belonged to the moon calling him even while the large rock was gone from the sky.

The shoulders on his prey tensed, awkward, as the rest of the body flowed gracefully and the man stashed away his goods. Those pale blue eyes seemed to drill holes in Anton. And they left him. Anton wasn’t quite sure if that was a dismissal or not. Something deep in him was not pleased with the idea of being dismissed and he felt his jaw ache and his chest barely begin to vibrate with a soundless growl.

But those eyes came back, an eyebrow raised, and the silent question hung in the air.

Anton watched slender fingers disturb the dark hair and the scents of the man rushed over him. They did not register with his mind quickly enough but his body surged forward without any command, grabbing the man by the wrists and somehow avoiding the cigarette as he slammed him down in the hood of the car.

The sound of unyielding metal meeting a soft body awoke Anton's mind back into the moment. He felt some guilt jab him in the side for being so rough but the animalistic side, the one leaning over the boy and pressing against the entire length of him and growling, knew the young werewolf had been through worse. Probably much worse.

The Russian wasn’t sure why he had such a violent reaction to the scent the other was giving off but he knew at least that it had excited him further. The parking lot was quiet now, whispers of humans, who had already fled at the first sign of danger, the only thing that remained.

What his companion had said just a moment earlier made sense now. “I think I do know,” Anton said, his voice gravely and low and heavy with desire. His teeth were half bared, canines exposed but it wasn’t a threatening gesture, just something showing his authority. Was this young werewolf with a pack? Anton could scent only one other person on the body beneath him. Another male werewolf. The growling returned, reverberating across his chest and up his throat, and Anton ground his hips down against the werewolf. He wanted to f*** and there was no way he was going to allow his plaything for the night have his boyfriend or pack mate to come out and stop him.

Unneeded competition. Although, Anton wouldn’t mind fighting over such a great prize if it came down to that. “Я хочу иметь секс с вами.”








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:06 pm


And whether it was paranoia, or the man's gaze really was that heavy, Cris could feel the eyes on him, roving his body, the ink that was set into his skin. He was used to being stared at, gods it was how he made his living, but something in this gaze held a tangible weight. It almost made Cris nervous, and he fought to stay relaxed, though nerves wouldn't explain away the stirrings below him stomach.

There was no answer to his question, and that just unnerved Cris all the more, as much as he tried to shrug it off, thumb flicking across the end of the cigarette again, a habitual flick of ash that hadn't even burned down yet. And that was all the movement he had time for, Cris taken by surprise, and by force as the other man slammed him back into his car. He yelped softly, gasping at the cool metal against his back, such a sharp contrast to the warm skin on him. Cris held valiantly onto his cig, lest the thing roll down the hood and burn him, but it was only instinct that kept him from dropping it, the rest of his rational mind losing itself.

"F-f***..." He muttered, words chased by a soft groan. Shit, he should have taken the pills Aidan gave him. His back cried out from the abuse, even against the calming chill of the metal.

This was so much like everytime Puffin had come over, too drunk to think, too angry to care, and marked and marred and mauled Cris throughout the night. But it wasn't like Puffin, because this guy he didn't know, didn't know how far it would go this time, didn't know if this guy would know when to stop. And somehow that wasn't enough to make Cris yell, to hope that Puffin would hear, or Aidan even. His breath was a little heavier now, the others growl vibrating in his chest, bringing a more submissive whimper to Cris' own throat.

Cris stilled himself, back arched with the curve of his hood, pale hips bared in the moonlight, but covered again by the skin of the man, the wolf, above him. He saw the flash of teeth, and tilted his head back, baring his throat. Not an offer, though Cris didn't think he could compain if the other took it as such, but submission. I am below you, and I know that. And as it became harder to deny his own heart thudding in his chest, the way he ached to press his hips upwards against the other male, Cris still hated it all the same. What had happened to him being able to choose? He couldn't do it now, so low in ranking as he was. God damn it. His jaw clenched, lips curled back, teeth bared even as his throat was.
He'd take advantage of it, Cris thinking of the man above him, they all did. And Cris would take it, and moan like the whore he was, the whore Puffin accused him of being each time they fucked. And he'd like it.

Even with the cigarette still in hand, Cris' fists clenched, the burning end close enough to his skin that he could feel it's heat over his own. The wolf was speaking, English first, then more of that low, guttural Russian. It reminded Cris again of the others, just inside the building.

"I don't know what the f*** you're saying, but people here know my alpha," Cris said, trying valiantly to keep his tone angry, and not breathy. But the threat was an empty one. People knew Puffin as much as they knew Cris slept around, and so no one would think twice about seeing the dancer sprawled out on his car. And honestly, were Puffin to suddenly burst through the doors, snarling and threatening the man above him, Cris would probably only yell back. Yeah. This would show Puffin.

"And I don't know your name, either."







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:07 pm


Anton's rumbling growl stopped and the soft moan disturbed the still night air, the vibration caressing the side of Anton's face. It was a beautiful noise. It prompted him to want to draw more from that throat, to work it until it rasped with abuse and could produce sounds no more. He could only imagine what that voice sounded like when drawn upon in pleasure. There was almost a tickle of regret in slamming such a fine body against a car hood but his instincts always did seem to get the better of him now and, as far as he was concerned, the outcome wasn't bad. He had the boy where he wanted after all and an exposed throat was always a plus.

The inner wrists of his prey were soft and the skin thinly stretched overly blue veins. Anton stroked his thumbs along them, enjoying them. Admiring, he let his eyes rake over the throat, enjoying it's length, color, and how it begged to be bitten and marked and worked between sharp teeth and soft lips. But clearly he had misjudged the boy. The werewolf didn't seem interested in him, didn't smell like he was interested.

The young werewolf stank of anger, telling him off. Anton could hear the dissatisfaction in his melodious voice. The smoke of his cigarette curled above them, floating away languidly. Long before now, Anton would have been hauled away by this one's alpha if he really cared for the boy's purity. Not that there was any purity left by the scents all over him. The musk of sex was a heady perfume on the young werewolf's throat. Faint, yet strong, when Anton pressed his nose against the pulse point, inhaling.

Anton wondered if he choose wrong. He wasn't in the business of seducing and persuading. Instead, Anton took what he wanted and left most the time. Satisfied those deep animal desires as was necessary and never thought on them again. As a human, one night stands were unthinkable but, as an animal, he became use to it. No one stayed with him. Anton was some freak or mutt by most standards. No one interested. This kid didn't seem interested either.

There was no point in explaining the Russian to the boy, no point in going beyond this with an uninterested partner. Anton didn't rape. He left that to more blood hungry fiends and perverts.

"Anton," he breathed against the sweet flesh, inhaling again to savor as if the scent coming off the werewolf was a wine to be analyzed and slowly enjoyed. There was no need for him full name, no pressing urgency or need to give such a powerful tool away. They said that once you gave your name away, you could be controlled.

Besides, the boy probably could care less. He released his wrists, pushing up on the hood to stand back on his own feet and shuffle back on the gravel, licking his lips and tasting what lingered there. It was a shame, really, that he couldn't be more charming and convincing. "And yours?"








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:08 pm


Cris could feel the pads of strong fingers at his wrists, normally already a sensitive place, now with every nerve standing on end he sank sharp teeth into a full lower lip to keep his cries at bay. Damn it, he could still put up a bit of a fight, couldn't he? He wasn't allowed with Puffin, he knew that, but with this guy?

He felt the other wolf press his face against his throat, and he tensed, then immediately forced himself to relax, readying himself for the feel of ivory points. But, the bite never came, the grip never tightened, and Cris never had to resort to calling Puffin. He did get a name, the word rolling across his neck with warm breath. The other wolf was scenting him, and Cris forced his slightly quickened breath through his nose instead, doing the same.

Anton... And that wolf's scent was just as heady and intoxicating as his own seemed to be. He suddenly sympathized with that feral nature, and that want to lose control.

And just when Cris was ready to give in, to tilt his head back further and roll his hips against Anton's, the wolf was up, and standing away. Cris blinked once, for a moment still sprawled out on his car, skin shivering against the cool night air, his heating blanket suddenly absent. He pulled himself up, not feeling the need to pull his ass from the car, merely resting sneakered feet on his front bumper to keep himself from sliding down the incline. His cigarette was beyond salvaging now, burnt nearly all the way down and haphazardly dented by a careless grip. Cris pitched it to the side then, trusting the gravel not to catch fire and knowing Kenzie would tear him a new one, had the woman seen that. Cris ran his fingers through his hair again, the gel that had held it in place during the show finally releasing it's grip. Cris had gone so far as to shove his head under one of the faucets in the bathroom before he'd changed into his street clothes, or half of them anyway.

He'd paused a moment, surveying the other were again as he considered a name to give. There was his stage name, of course, but the other wolf would probably smell the half lie before Cris had finished the word. And really, his instinct told him to just be honest, though Cris was unsure whether that was merely self-preservation, in the face of a more dominant wolf, or not.

"Cris," He said finally, feeling that if Anton had chosen to omit his last name, then maybe he had the same right. This was hardly a proper introduction anyway. Cris laid his palms flat against the hood of his car, the metal and paint slick under his skin. He was still a bit taken aback by the way Anton suddenly backed off, and couldn't help but admit that it had something partially to do with wounded pride. What, he wasn't worth fighting for? Granted, Puffin was a hell of a guy to take on, but still...

"So what brings you to our club, Anton?" He asked, sliding readily away from his earlier, nervous submission, and into a more comfortable coy curiosity.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:09 pm


Anton had never found a person's confusion attractive before but with the young werewolf it was definitely something beautiful. There hadn't been a submission and a willingness to proceed from the young man and Anton had backed off. If he had less sense, he would be the confused one. If he was more full of himself, like occasionally he came off, he'd wondered how someone could resist him. But he knew better and this wolf was with a pack. As much as Anton would like to snatch the boy and run off to pleasure him, there'd be the pack to deal with if he didn't want it. And full submission was much more to his tastes than forcing himself onto someone most of the time.

The boy transitioned gracefully from being pressed to the car to sitting on the hood. Anton liked him better pinned down but such was the sacrifice of his "no raping" code. His teasing had all but spent the cigarette that the boy had been trying to smoke which Anton thought was fine really, he had never really taken up smoking or thought it was that appealing. The smell of it was much less appealing than the werewolf. Stale and musky smoke was not exactly his idea of a beautiful scent even when swirling around a beautiful person. Animal. Whatever.

Anton crushed the discarded butt, extinguishing any life it had left. There was no chance it could just randomly catch fire on gravel but if there was any leaked oil or gasoline residue, it would ignite. Anton stared at the still smoking lump of now shredded tobacco. It was better to put it out anyway. Unnecessary, yes, but it was better that this joint didn't burn down before Anton somehow managed to snag this pup.

"Cris," Anton rolled the name in his mouth, tasting it and becoming familiar, intimate, with it. It was a nice name, easier to remember and short and slid off his tongue like Anton had known that name his whole life and practiced saying it secretly in the dead of night.

When Cris planted his hands against the hood of the car, it was hard for Anton not to want to try and slip between his legs and put his hands down next to those smooth, slender ones. It was hard not to invade the werewolf's space and convince him how much he'd like to touch him and get to know him. The pup was such a distraction, such a temptation. What would being with him be like? How did Cris make love and how was he in relationships?

Better than Anton, no doubt. Fucking kid's pack. Making seduction a difficult and possibly life-forfeiting attempt.

"You work here, Cris?" Yes, he liked the way the name sounded when he said it. He glanced at the club entrance, slowly taking in every detail and decided that his reasons for going out weren't interesting at all, completely lame. "I wanted something strong to drink and company. The lady running the hotel I'm staying at told me about this place. It sounded interesting." He shrugged a shoulder.

And he was glad he had come over. He had got to meet Cris after all, even if things weren't working out between them the way Anton wanted them to. "If you work here, are you on break right now, тюлененок?" Would it be too forward to ask Cris if he'd like to eat something and take him to a restaurant? Probably not as forward as just flipping him onto his stomach and fucking him in the parking lot. Anton tried not to drool at the mental image that thought produced.








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:11 pm


Cris felt one eyebrow lift the tiniest bit, watching as Anton crushed the life out of his cigarette for him. He really hadn't been that worried about it himself, but maybe Anton hated the smell as much as Puffin did. The wolf repeated his name then, and Cris perked faintly, head lifting, eyes sliding readily from the gravel up Anton's body.

He nodded at the question, a faint, playful grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"I do." He answered readily. Shame was for the weak. His fingertips slid across the metal of his hood, caressing the car underneath him. Not that he particularly liked it. No, it was just what got him from place to place, but Cris did rather like that part. He'd never really been one for staying in a particular place too long, he missed his old truck, and the way it sometimes didn't start in the cold, and miles of open highway.

But the bite had changed that. He'd needed help, and that had been hard enough to admit on his own. It had been harder still to ask Puffin for that assistance. But Puffin had helped, and not so grudgingly at first. Maybe he'd thought this disease and new idea of pack would help him and Cris get along better. He'd been sorely mistaken. Cris had reworked himself that night, that first moon. Everything had changed, from the way he saw the world around him to the way he ate. Physically he looked the same, maybe his hair was a little shorter, and of course the ink sprawled across his back, but he still had the little scar on his palm from riding his bike as a kid, and the one on his knuckles from the teeth of that kid who'd tried to steal that bike from him. But little memories aside, Cris wasn't the same as he was before. But that wasn't really the question. The only question in Cris's mind right now was if Anton liked this Cris. And just how pissed Puffin was going to be after this stunt.

There was another question for him to answer then, and Cris shook his head, motioning the bag still resting on the gravel.

"On my way out actually, shift's done for the night." He shook back his hair, head tilted faintly to one side as he continued to recline on his hood.

"So you were looking for a stiff drink and some company? Well, you could go all the way inside..." His gaze shifted to the doors momentarily, and then slid back to Anton. There were no more words, but his gaze said plainly that Anton could also find what he was looking for here, under the flickering glow of the street lamps. Without those teeth at his throat, and not so much as a name to go on, Cris was feeling more confident. And maybe it was the idea that he'd pushed Anton too far away, that the lycan might wander inside and find one of his pack mates, or even his fucking Alpha more to his liking, but Cris wanted him back now.

But the question had been reassuring, Anton obviously interested in what Cris' plans were now. And truth be told, he hadn't had anything concrete set aside. And were Anton to ask, well his schedule would just miraculously become clear, wouldn't it? Granted there would be hell to pay in the morning. If their earlier interaction told Cris anything, Anton would be rough, and Cris would like that, but coupled with already sore muscles from Puffin's last visit, and maybe he would keep the pills that Aidan gave him for once. But it would be worth it, wouldn't it? To bear the marks from this man?







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:17 pm


The hotel room was empty when the manager opened it, TV off and the bed sheets folded into place. The scent was strongest here, draped over everything, but the trail led out still, away. The young man took a moment to see what remained, a suitcase, money on the side table, a cellphone. The man put his backpack by the door where it would be safe. Carrying it while he searched for Anton was too much hassle. If the werewolf came back here, and obviously the man he was looking for would return here, he would see the bag and smell the scent on it. Anton wouldn't throw it out. "Danke schön, sir, thank you," he said to the bellboy who had brought him up during his break. He rummaged in his jean pocket for a moment, shinju binchotan beads sliding up his wrist before he pulled out a five dollar bill. "Sorry to take up your time." The bellboy just nodded and closed the door, making sure the digital lock kicked on, before leaving the German alone in the hall. The boy breathed in deeply and the scent led him back down the stairs and into the night. If he couldn't catch Anton at wherever the scent pooled next, he decided he would just stop and relax.

Astor Diederich. Somehow, Astor didn't think Anton would remember his name or him. The pack had decided to leave so abruptly that particular night. Cäcilia had taken his hand and led him away from where they had made camp, following their Alpha. Astor had been too exhausted from their walk the day before and sleepy from being just woken up to fight off the blind girl as she led him away. He couldn't even remember looking back to make sure everyone was following. It wasn't until the following morning, when the pack finally had gotten rest, had he noticed the absence of one annoyance to the Alpha and the too quiet atmosphere.

The scent trail stayed off to the sidewalk, occasionally winding in and out of parking signs for buildings. Astor did not feel bad for leaving the pack. If they could all readily abandon Anton then they would not miss the young red wolf, nothing more than a pup to them, if he decided to take his leave of them as he had. Cäcilia was the only person he regretted leaving behind but the blind woman would be fine. She would definitely be able to find another young werewolf to care for. Astor didn't need her anymore. He wasn't a child. The trail led on steadily and Astor let the cool night envelope him and drive away all his unnecessary thoughts.




The idea to enter the club and sit at the bar for a few hours and appreciate the dancers and guests tempted Anton for a moment. Less than half a moment. He'd much rather be here though, or out eating at a restaurant, with this Cris person. From the look he was getting, it seemed almost a guarantee that if he asked for it, Cris would go with him. Anton would like that. There was nothing better than spending time with an attractive person, especially another werewolf, and this feeling of being cautiously accepted was such a lovely sensation. Much better than his pack's outright rejection. A lot more promising, too.

"I could go inside," he agreed. There was nothing stopping him. If this was what he could find in the parking lot, then by logic, there was equally as beautiful people inside, male and female. But Anton hadn't found them first or pinned them to a car hood. He definitely had not gotten their names and kissed at their throats and the sweet taste of Cris still lingered. "I'd rather spend my night with you." Best to make it painfully obvious in chance Anton was misreading the entire situation. Good to let Cris know what he was getting into here. "Would it be too much to ask if I could treat you to dinner, Cris?" Or Cris could just make this easy and follow Anton back to his hotel and let him eat dinner there. Whether Cris had any nutritional value or not the way Anton was looking at him was a completely different story, but he wasn't much worried about that.








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:19 pm


'I'd rather spend my night with you.'

To be honest, Cris was used to those words. He'd heard them often enough, whether slurred by alcohol, obscured by smoke, or muttered against his ear while fumbling fingertips groped at his chest.

The next question was familiar as well, if worded a bit differently. Anton sounded faintly cautious, which amused Cris greatly. He'd been so forward at first. Had the mention of his pack really been that much of a deterrent? Would have been a shame, had that not been Cris' original intention.

But now that Anton was reeling, Cris wanted to pounce. He slid off the hood of his car, sneakers crunching against the gravel, slinging his bag over a thin shoulder. He turned his back to Anton, the yellowed light of the street lamps dulling the contrast of the black ink set in his pale skin.

He unlocked the car door, shoving his bag through to the back seat, looking over the open door at Anton. His lips were pursed slightly, and he gave the older wolf an appraising glance.

He nodded then, grinning, tongue showing itself momentarily, resting against a pointed canine.

"Yeah, dinner would be a bit much. Don't quite think I'd be able to keep my hands to myself for that long." His lips quirked into a quick smile, and he slid into the driver's seat, fingers sliding the key into the ignition.

"So Anton, my place, or yours?" Anton had definitely made his intentions clear, and now that space and a clear breeze had strengthened him again Cris only thought it fair to do the same. This wasn't unusual really, picking up people and giving himself over for a night. But the fact that Anton was... like him. Cris' hands clenched around his steering wheel, still watching Anton from the driver's seat.




The club was loud, which was really perfectly typical. Things were slowing down, but that never faded the bass-heavy beat that thumped through the speakers recessed into the ceiling.

There was a dishrag hanging from the back pocket of his jeans, the worn, faded denim hanging dangerously low on his hips. His tanned skin was even darker in the low lighting, dulling the blues and greens in his hair, his eyes, his arms. But the script on the back of his neck was still clear, nearly hidden by the fringe of brown hair, except when he tilted his head forward.

His fingertips ran over the necks of bottles in his speed rail, a physical inventory of the most requested ingredients. He had a bottle of water for himself, not unlike the one he'd forced onto Cris, and let himself take a swig in the free moment he had.

Taking the rag from his pocket Puffin wiped away spilled salt grains and slid the trays of colored grains back into place. This time of night rarely drew the cocktail orders.

Lately this time of night had ceased to bring anything interesting to the alpha. He only had another hour before his shift ended, and while normally that last grouping of minutes would pass by quickly, Puffin had the distinct, sinking feeling that the end of his shift was going to drag on.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:21 pm


Anton felt as though his words were being weighed. They were not satisfactory, even to him, things born from a mind that was focused on only two things for the moment. One of which was breathing and the second which was sex and how he’d manage to convince his newest acquaintance to go to a dark room with him and strip out of all his clothes and let Anton slide his fingers across every… But he was distracting himself. He was not the same humans that must have been with Cris ( and he snarled at the idea of not having first go ). He was also not the Alpha that had scented himself all over the younger man.

Cris had the right to judge him, sure. Although the wolf looked interested, there was no guarantee of anything working out between them. With someone like this who intrigued him in such a fundamental way, Anton did not want a one night stand. He was not interested in loving and leaving and the awkward post-coital silence that would ensue once they had finished with each other and both gotten what they had originally needed.

No. It was a bit far reaching and hopeful to think that Cris would want to try and be with someone like him, especially something he had just met and only knew the first name of. Anton watched Cris slide off the hood of the car with nervous anticipation. He still hadn’t said anything and Anton let him make up his mind as he figured the other man was doing. Silent, he let himself trace the tattoo on the werewolf’s back and tried not to count heart beats like they were minutes dragging on.

The white flash of teeth and the easy way Cris joked about his own self control was its own way a kind of torment. Anton had really begun to think he’d be walking into that club and finding some of the younger werewolf’s pack members. He snorted at himself, amused by how concerned he was with Cris.

His place or Cris’? Oh, there was no doubt what he wanted. Anton took shotgun, easily climbing into the seat. Sitting down should have made him as excited as it did but it did indeed. A smirk tugged at his lips and his confidence surged back. “Yours, тюлененок,” he answered, leaning over and grabbing the front of Cris’ shirt and pulling him close for a quick but deep kiss, tongue invading and sliding over sharp canines. Sinfully sweet. “Definitely better than alcohol.” Anton dutifully sat back in his seat, buckled his safety belt and smiled at his chauffeur. “Alright, I’m ready.”




Astor reached the edge of the long gravel parking. The scent of his former pack mate was freshest here. An engine roared to life on the other side of the parking lot, lights blinking on and shining bright. The car rolled out onto the main road and Astor stood and watched it leave until the sound of the engine faded away. With the smell of car exhaust, oil, and gasoline, the air smelled thickly of holy basil. The young man heaved a sigh and walked toward the club’s entrance. There was no way he was chasing after cars like some dog.

The closer he got to the club, the louder the music seemed to be. It thumped and pounded the air and the vibrations seemed to move the gravel beneath Astor’s converse. One, two, three, four steps and the door swung open easily on its hinges. The rush of music assaulted his ears brutally; the sound had seemed much more harmless outside.

The bouncer behind the counter, protected by glass as if he really needed it, glanced up at him and waved him over with one muscled and meaty hand. Astor pushed his identification and the cover fee indicated by a sign on the glass through the opening and the bouncer gave him one quick glance over, lingering on the choker. The large man took his money and nodded, pushing his ID pack though. “Go on, kid,” he said in a gruff and husky voice.

Astor tried to continue to look as confident as he had felt with the bouncer when he went into the club itself. This had to be about the second time he had ever been in a strip club and the last one he had been in was the good old Oranienburger Straße strip club in Berlin. Even at this time of night, there was a dancer on stage swaying and grinding to the thumping beat of the music. Half a dozen people were scattered about and among them was their waiter, flitting around in short shorts and all smiles for the club goers.

He ended up at the bar, away from the other clubbers and the waiter. Half turned to see the stage only out of an inane need to be aware of everything, Astor pushed the half sleeves of the white button-up shirt he wore over his black tank top and leaned an elbow on the bar. His fingers automatically stroked the grain of the wood and looking at the attractive bar tender, he smiled and said, “A Schwarzbier if you have it, danke."








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:22 pm


Cris wasn't having any thoughts about the next morning, though if he were, his plans certainly wouldn't include Anton. It wasn't that he didn't like the other wolf, no, if that were it the man wouldn't be in his car. What little he did know, he liked, but it was very little, which was the problem. And despite everything, despite every jaded curse he'd mutter, and every time he'd call anyone's attempts at romance 'trite bullshit' this isn't the way he wanted to meet someone. A late night f*** wouldn't ever turn into anything more. And that wouldn't change, even if Anton happened to be a bit of a special case.

Although, Cris never allowed himself to be the awkward one after a one-night stand. He was perfectly content with all his decisions, thanks very much. He didn't have time to live with regrets anymore, which made his relationship with Puffin a perilous one.

He saw the quick flash of teeth, what he assumed, what he told himself, was a grin at his joke. Ha. Some joke. Really, he was eager now, a sort of giddy anticipation, the car thick with the scent of the other wolf. Familiar, and yet he couldn't place it yet. And if he'd thought it was hard to stay on his side of the console then, it was nothing compared to when Anton kissed him. The wolf's tongue was slick against his own, and Cris' fingertips bit into the steering wheel, clawing at it like he could only hope he'd be able to touch Anton tonight. He wanted to drag his nails down and across that strong back, to touch the muscles that had pinned him so readily against his car.

Better than alcohol was a pleasant compliment, Cris supposed, seeing as how he had sort of derailed Anton's earlier plans. It was a sentiment he agree'd with, with kiss over too quickly for him, and the taste of the wolf still thick on his tongue, the grip of his warm fingers a residual heat against Cris' skin. He returned Anton's smile, a bit devious, and honestly a bit flustered now.

He just wondered how good that tongue would feel other places. His fingers found the key again, a gentle twist coaxing the engine to life. Cris didn't really have a lead foot, though five miles over the limit seemed a constant speed for him. Of course he was breaking even that then, in his eagerness to get Anton to his place.

The duplex that Cris and three of his pack members shared was only about a ten minute drive, shortened to seven that night by the lack of traffic, and his speed. Cris tried valiantly to keep his attentions on the road during the drive, hands never leaving the steering wheel, foot barely ever leaving the gas. Outside of the house, the street dark to either side, Cris swung a hard right into the driveway. So he was parked a little crooked, Aidan would understand if Anton stayed till the next morning. Cris had lucked out, rooming with the blonde rather than Puffin. Of course at that point, Cris thought werewolves existed only in shitty movies, and that Puffin was a doormat. One night changes a lot.





New arrivals always perked a few heads. This late at night the boys were pretty used to their regulars, and the scent of someone new was always interesting. Of course, this scent meant more, because Puffin could smell the wolf the second he'd stepped in. He kept his spot behind the bar, straightening broad shoulders and lifting his chin, as if he needed to extra height.

He watched the man wander in, surely empty of any swagger that suggested he were about to start something. But that didn't quell Puffin's suspicion in the least, though at least, in Kenzie's club, he would play nice. It was paranoia at first, filtered through thin curiosity that had drawn Puffin's gaze at first. It was the male himself that held it. Puffin was used to attractive men, he worked with them daily, and though he'd admit that a fresh face was always pleasant...

He wasn't sure he'd ever been so certain that the best looking guy in the club was a patron before. The bar rag found it's home in Puffin's back pocket once again, the brunette grinning easily from behind a pierced lip. Look, he was being charming. Kenzie should pay him more. Of course the drink order made his grin falter slightly, Puffin hating to admit he was lacking in any sort of way, even if it wasn't entirely his fault. Granted, he could deliver, but he didn't have the varied options behind the bar he'd so love.

"All I've got is the Sam Adams Black Lager," He said, bending at the waist for a moment to fish through one of the coolers below the bar, and pulling out the bottle he had to offer. He'd recognized that bit of German immediately, if only for it's link to the alcohol. But of course, if this guy was German, he was probably used to a lot better quality beer. Then again, Puffin wasn't sure how many people really came here for the quality of the drinks, as much as it may have wounded his pride. His fingers were wrapped around the neck of the bottle, silver opener flashing in his other hand as he offered his only choice.

"Bit far from home, are we?" He had to admit, the kid was cute, and he liked the accent. His own had faded over time, reappearing only after a fair few drinks, and the swearing started in. Meaning the only person to hear Puffin speak Russian lately was Cris.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:24 pm


Anton had pinned this werewolf on sight, had been ready to violate him there in that parking lot on the hood of his own car. There wasn’t anything in the car, or the kiss he stole, which was dissuading him against this following of instinct either, this total abandoning of rational thinking. In the side view mirror, the fluorescent of street lights illuminated his face in the car every few seconds as it drove ever faster, a strobe light on his features. His eyes startled him, their normally bright slate gray irises a darker color than he’d ever seen them before. He had been with women and other men, quick and easy relations that never went moved to something more when they disappeared the next morning, sometimes leaving money behind in their quick retreats for guilt in cheating on spouses or girlfriends with a pretty stranger. This was the first time he had been with a werewolf, though.

No one in the pack had been interested in him. Only the adopted son of the alpha, a German boy he couldn’t quite remember the name of, had ever really talked with him civilly. The young red wolf asked questions about Russian, tried to learn a word or two, the language awkward and halting with his accent.

Anton’s hand wandered aimlessly, fidgeting in excitement. Where to put them? They rest on his thigh, his stomach, the center console where the tapped fervently in agitation. There was so much he could have been doing. He wasn’t driving. Anton could easily unbuckle himself from his safety harness and lean over the console into Cris’ lap and explore the taste of him even more intimately. The idea was wonderful enough but he wasn’t entirely confident in the man’s driving skills and, to be safe, he stayed seated against his will.

It took no time at all though to reach the duplex, despite how long it felt to Anton’s lust addled mind. As they arrived, his thoughts were cut off, leaving the idea of jerking off and moaning like it-was-oh-so-good and calling Cris’ name to fly away and out the window. Which was just as well, Anton would have ended up abandoning the idea for the sake of survival as well. Hard to watch someone masturbate while you drive. Cris could be just that good though. Anton shouldn’t really underestimate the other werewolf. He worked at a strip club, for god’s sake.

None that was important right now though. All that mattered was Cris himself. Anton ached to touch his skin, lick his neck, nibble at his collarbone, and everything and anything else he could think of, lavishing attention on him and worshiping every crevice he could find. He bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood enough to taste it coppery and rich, and tried to calm down a bit. To think calmly and coherently. He got out of the car and looked around, avoiding looking at Cris and deciding that the walk inside would be too much. It would be too easy to push him down on the ground and f*** him there. Anton had more self control than that.

He allowed himself a quick glance, mouth watering automatically. Anton swallowed once, licked his dry lips, and asked, "Ready, Cris?"




“Das ist perfekt. A Sam Adams is fine.” Astor hadn’t really expected any more than that. Even being as general as he had been, he had doubted that the bar had held anything at all that would have suited his tastes. He wasn’t sure how different an American version of an originally German beer would even taste. There was no harm in trying and Astor was thirsty and irritated from having to track Anton to here and then missing him by mere seconds. The young werewolf felt at ease now that he sat at the bar though and beer couldn’t beat out comfort for him. He wasn’t quite sure why the hesitation and fear that had assailed him a moment ago bypassing the crowd has melted away.

The smell here at the bar was the best. Smells always had heavily influenced Astor. It wasn’t the mixing vapors of the beers, wines, champagnes, vodkas, bourbons, or whatever else this bar held on stock. Something about the club in general reminded him of home but the smell seemed to come heavy from the bar and its tender. Astor watched him with curiosity, observing the way he bent from the waist instead of at the knees and how he knew exactly where everything was. This was not some inexperienced bartender like some Astor had come across. This guy knew exactly what he was doing.

The flash of silver in the bartender’s hand caught him off guard. Astor’s finger on the bar froze, hand pressing down flat on the wood. His eyes looked warily at the opener and his skin prickled in awareness. The bartender meant no harm, he knew. There wasn’t any hostility in the way he held himself and it was just a beer opener. Astor hadn’t ever heard of anyone being assaulted with an opener. He wasn’t even hundred percent sure it was even really silver. It didn’t smell like silver. It could easily be stainless steel.

It had to be something like stainless steel. The smell suddenly placed itself in Astor’s head. This place was thick with the scent of wolves, even under the overwhelming smell of human sweat and pheromones that clogged his senses at first. His green eyes flashed up to trace his server’s beauty face, drink in those features and marvel at the hair. This man was a werewolf? He certainly didn’t look like any werewolf that Astor had known. The pack that he had left behind had not been big on piercings, hair dye, and tattoos.

Anton had been the only one with body ink and piercings that Astor had ever been around. Meeting him had led to Astor only experience with needles and ink and the tattoo under his belly button that he had gotten.

Astor’s eyes roamed around the club again. This time the waiter and the dancer stood out to him against the gaggle of humans around. Those two as well. “Ja, ich bin. I decided I wanted to travel and see the world and its schätze und wunder.” He lifted his hand, bracelets sliding down his arm, and touched his collar. Working a finger into the space it barely offered between his neck and the leather just to feel it there, he offered another small smile to his server.

Should he feel the need to be on guard with this person? There wasn’t anything that was setting him on edge. Astor decided just to be aware and careful. At the first sign of trouble, he’d be on his own as far as protecting himself. He wouldn’t get far running. Against this guy, he also had no chance. Best not to upset him, best to try and get on his good side. “Sind sie von hier aus? Ah, I mean, are you from here?”


Ja, ich bin = I am.
...schätze und wunder = ...treasures and wonders.
Sind sie von hier aus? = Are you from here?








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 03 Jun 2009, 1:28 pm


Ready? What the hell sort of question was that? Yes, no, he didn't know, damn it. He didn't care, and was surprised Anton even asked.

"So now you're asking questions?" Far cry from earlier, when Anton had slammed Cris into his car before the younger wolf could even cry out. But it wasn't an apology Cris was looking for, the brunette tugging free his keys and pushing open the car door. He swung his legs out and stood, turning to push his seat forward and grab his bag from the backseat. He glanced back up to Anton, watching him through thick lashes.

He didn't look back again though, sliding the bag through the door and slinging it over one shoulder. The strap was rough against his back, but he didn't figure he'd have to worry about it for too long, sure that soon enough the feeling of the strap would be replaced with that of his sheets. The keys were still in hand, and Cris unlocked the door, trying to move quickly, without making it apparent he was doing so.

The door swung open, and Cris stepped inside, leaving the door open for Anton. There was a set of stairs to the right of the small entry way, and it was at the third one up that Cris sat, dropping his bag to the side and pulling off his sneakers. The living room sat immediately to the left, beyond that the small dining room, backed by glass doors that opened to a yard they shared with Puffin and Jace. But Cris wasn't concerned with the layout of the house, or taking Anton for a grand tour. The only things the other wolf needed to familiarize himself with were the stairs, Cris' bed, and the door.

And his thoughts sounded a bit harsh, even to him, but he was so certain that Anton's thoughts were running a similar track, that he didn't even bother to feel guilty.




Puffin set the bottle down against the polished wood of the bar, the opener twirling twice around one long finger before he closed his hand around it. The metal was cool, that alone proof that the silver was only in color, and the thing itself was the same stainless steel that Puffin had insisted for all of his workspace. And odd request, but Kenzie knew more than she pretended to some days, and honestly the steel was cheaper, and less likely to get stolen.

Puffin saw the sudden tensing of the other man's hand, the sudden suspiscion in the gaze. Puffin's grin widened, holding up his hand, fingers outstretched. His middle finger was looped through the opener, the bulk of the thing laying against his palm, still a smooth, tanned color, unmarred by any burns.

"Bit paranoid, kid?" That made Puffin wonder. Sure he and the others were weary of that particular metal, but he'd never quite seen a reaction like that before.

"You're safe here." And he hadn't even thought about the meaning in his words before he'd said them. That brief moment of nervousness had stirred up the feelings Jace had called upon when pushing Puffin to step up, to be the leader they so required. Yukiko would have laughed outright at him. So much abuse, and bitterness, and he could still find it in him to play the worried mother hen. Feeling that it's presence was now offensive, Puffin dropped his hand, hiding the opener away underneath the counter.

Something seemed to click then, for the other wolf, something in the way he looked at Puffin, and the taller wolf's grin softened. Understanding seemed to finally have hit him, drawing that brightly colored gaze around the club again. Something in Puffin hated that it had left him, even if for just a moment.

He got the answer to his question then, Puffin's hands resting low on his side of the bar, nodding. The pleasant thing about German, he thought, other than being pleasing to the ear, was that most of the time, the words sounded sort of like their English counterparts. Schätze was lost on him, but it was paired with wonder, and Puffin could still understand the gist of what the other man was saying.

He caught sight of the faint tug of the collar, eyebrows lifting faintly in understanding. It was a similar move he'd seen before, only normally played out as a twitched of a ringed finger on the left hand.

Taken, was what that move said to Puffin. I'm taken. But Puffin had yet to decide if it was a subtle way of telling him to back off, or this man's way of telling him he was willing to play around. And that was a shame, because for the briefest second his mind likened this wolf to Cris. Puffin's fingers curled faintly, gaze slipping elsewhere, over the wolf's shoulder to Aidan, slinking between the tables and picking up the last few glasses abandoned on the tables.

He shifted his gaze back to his patron at the question, eyebrows lifting at the German, until the translation came after.

"Originally?" He asked, though it was really only a clarification, Puffin being sure that was the question. "Russia, for only months. My father was from there, but my mother was Japanese, and she hated the country, so they came overe here."

Idle chatter, small, inconsequential facts that Puffin didn't mind letting slip. He caught sight of movement just over the wolf's shoulder, someone approaching. Looking up Puffin caught sight of Aidan, tray on his hand, stacked with glasses.

The blonde was out to kill tonight, dangerously short dark shorts the only thing he had on, other than the tantalizing sway of his hips. He caught sight of Puffin, and his step faltered momentarily, meeting Puffin's gaze midway through his approach. Puffin nodded, and Aidan moved closer. Just to the right of the younger wolf, Aidan pulled a folded up wad of bills from his back pocket, and outstretched his arm over the bar. Taking the money from the blonde Puffin popped the drawer on the register under the bar, stashing the money away without bothering to count it. He trusted Aidan. The blonde was already on his way to the back, carrying the dishes in for washing. He hadn't spared a second glass at the male sitting at the bar. He'd seen the collar, and he'd seen the way Puffin looked at him, and he liked being alive.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Thu 04 Jun 2009, 7:56 pm


Anton stayed quiet after Cris’ question, keeping his explosive temper in check for both their benefits and for sake of the evening they planned on sharing. He had felt the nervous need to speak but obviously this was no time for words. The werewolf followed in after Cris, wondering if he should take the heavy looking bag that his acquaintance was carrying. It hit the floor with a dull thud and the decision was taken from him. Better not to have, Anton decide. This wasn’t a girl taking him home. Anton wouldn’t be interested in a girl who treated him like a doll or girlfriend. This, despite what Anton was interested in, was a one night thing. Sympathy and fuzzy feelings were unnecessary.

He grasped the door before it swung back to hit anything behind it and closed it as Cris sat down on the steps. Anton locked it too. No burglars interrupting thank you. If anyone decide to intrude, there would be nothing keep back Anton’s instinct to protect by killing. It was doubtful that Cris was interested in blood splatters on his carpet or bed. Better safe than sorry.

He took his cue from Cris. Take off shoes. Anton leaned against the entry way wall by the stairs and toed off his sneakers, putting his socks inside them. With the side of his bare foot, he pushed them against the wall and out of the way. Anton walked quietly over to Cris, moving in short careful steps, watching the seated man for any quick movements. Like a wolf watching prey that might escape. He knelt on the second step with his other leg stretched out behind him and grasped Cris’ chin, thumb keeping the hold firm, and jerked his head up. Anton attached himself to those succulent lips, suckling on lips and licking teeth. The taste was unbearably sweet and ten times more potent than vodka. Heat burst to life in his stomach, the self control he had displayed in the car shattering, and he became drunk with Cris’ taste and greedily sought more, other hand scrabbling for a decent hold on bare skin.

His nails dragged on the soft, creamy skin of his partner’s shoulder, leaving four thin, red lines. “Hurry up,” he growled into Cris’ mouth, breathing hard.




Astor blushed, face hot with embarrassment. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his hand, having released his collar, glancing away from the bartender in hopes that he wouldn’t notice. The young werewolf was paranoid but somehow this man made it sound as if paranoia was for the weak. The bartender’s outstretched hand was perfect, no scars to suggest ever having come in contact with silver. Astor himself had also never felt the burn of it. Being so scared of the pain, he always was overly cautious with metals and all his jewelry was custom made to be only nickel or something similar. He watched his server put the opener away without ceremony and felt ridiculous for reacting so strongly. Apologizing, he mumbled, “Es tut mir leid.”

Pain wasn’t something Astor actively sought after. He didn’t enjoy needles and he blamed that on being a sickly child. The memories of the many shots for his sicknesses and the vials of blood that had to be taken constantly for testing were too strong in his mind. It was amazing that he had gotten through his tattoo or had even convinced himself to get it. It had been worth it. The tattoo hadn’t even hurt as much as Astor thought it would. Of course, he didn’t plan on getting another one any time soon though.

Astor uncovered his face, recovered. He didn’t like appearing weak. Astor was safe here, his server said. He looked up again at the man, watching his face silently. “Ich bin sicher,” he repeated Puffin’s word, thinking on them and wondering. He had just meant this person but already they had more in common than the normal strangers that happened to meet. And here was this bartender telling him that he was safe here. There wasn’t any reason that Astor would be lied to and this man looked honest. He could believe him. Astor nodded and reached out for his glass, picking it up from the wood, taking a small drink, and putting the beer back down close to him. The werewolf turned fully in his seat to give Puffin his undivided attention. Astor nodded to himself and said,” Ja... Ich glaube, sie.”

The bartender looked over Astor’s shoulder, looking at something behind him. The noise in the club had died down, people leaving in couples, laughing and talking all the way out the door. The air was easier to breathe without their scents swirling in the air like heavy perfumes.

His server’s voice drew him back to him instead of trying to figure out what was going on in the club by sound and smell alone. Astor lifted the beer to take a long drink, listening to the older werewolf. Anton was from Russian, too. That was a strange combination though. Japanese and Russian. This bartender did have a unique look to him and beautiful features. Astor wished he looked as masculine and yet still so beautiful. His figure was so feminine compared to the man behind the counter. Usually, he didn’t care how he looked. Astor found he was attractive in his own right and people always seemed interested in his but when he compared himself to this stranger he felt inadequate.

“Sprechen sie Russisch und Japanisch? ” Astor asked, leaning his arms onto the bar, holding his elbows so his arms encircled his beer glass. “Do you speak Russian and Japanese?” His skin prickled and he noticed from the corner of his eye the blond werewolf that came forward to give the bartender, standing close on Astor’s right side to reach the tall man. Astor glanced at him, noting he only wore short shorts and was the waiter who had been among the clubbers. He left them and walked back with the dirty dishes he must have collected from the tables and Astor realized it must be late.

“Schließen? Are you closing?” Astor didn’t want to bother the bartender unnecessarily by staying if they were getting ready to go home. He liked talking to the other werewolf though. It was easy, casual, and Astor didn’t feel pressured to say anything interesting or to speak a lot. He found it tiresome to speak English for a long time. It was a easier to talk like this where he naturally spoke a lot of German in passing and translated it as well as he could into English for someone.

And this person was so laid back and interesting. And Astor was “safe here.” He smiled into another sip of his beer, trying to drink enough of it to stop the yearning for home he had been feeling earlier and so there was no wasted beer if he was going to be kicked out by this person.


Es tut mir leid. = I am sorry.
Ich bin sicher. = You’re safe here.
Ich glaube, sie. = I believe you.
Sprechen sie Russisch und Japanisch? = Do you speak Russian and Japanese?
Schließen?= Closing?








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Fri 05 Jun 2009, 4:20 am


Cris head the lock click, a thick metallic noise that lifted his gaze. His fingers were knotted in the laces of his sneakers, and Cris tugged absently, watching as Anton carefully removed his shoes and socks, and lined them up neatly by the door. Cris smirked, and kicked his own sneakers away, not caring much where they fell. The lock was an interesting touch, Cris normally the one who had to remember that. Cris wondered if Anton was being protective, or paranoid.

Feet now bare, resting against the tile of the entry way, Cris watched Anton's careful approach. He leaned back, one elbow resting on a stair at his mid back, Cris nearly laying back against the carpeted stairs. His other hand found a post in the banister, and wrapped thing fingers around it. The stair creaked faintly underneath Anton's weight, typical of this house, who groaned more than Aidan with a hangover.

His neck nearly yelled in protest of the sharp jerk, but Cris couldn't complain as soon as he felt Anton's lips on his own. A soft, eager noise escaped him, played out across Anton's mouth, pale eyelids fluttering shut. Cris could feel Anton's hands and fingers scrabbling against his skin, each brush of fingertips and palms spreading warmth across Cris' skin. He kissed Anton back just as hungrily, for a moment lost to everything but the feeling of the wolf against him. He wasn't aware that they were still on the stairs, that this would hardly be the place to go any farther. All that existed was Anton's skin against his.

The younger wolf let out a slow hiss, eyes slitting, shifting to the side to watch the scratches on his shoulder darken. At Anton's low order, Cris' eyes flicked open all the way, fixing the older lycan with a cool stare. Cris pushed against the floor, pushing himself backwards up a few stairs, till Anton was level now with his lower stomach, rather than his face. It was from there that he stood, reaching back for the hands that had groped against his skin, finally giving them purchase as Cris twined their fingers together. He tugged, wordless, and moved up the stairs, the first door across the hall leading to his bedroom.

The room itself was sparsely decorated, scattered books and CD's left out across the bookshelf, the dresser. The large bed took up most of the space, and it was there that Cris was leading Anton, kicking the bedroom door shut behind them. But Cris' mind was far from his lack of interior decorating skills, pulling Anton's hands against him, around him.





Puffin hadn't meant to insult the younger wolf, or really embarrass him. At least not to the extent that it seemed his gentle teasing had done. Sure he thought the wolf's reaction had been a bit silly, but then he supposed he had a certain appreciation for pain that most people didn't.

Not that he'd really enjoyed his first touch with silver after the turn. But it was necessary in some ways, and just thinking about it made Puffin lift a hand, side of his thumb brushing against the ring through his lip. The faint tug stung faintly, the metal always feeling warm through his skin, same for the star resting against his stomach, and the studs in his ears.

He arched a brow at the utterance of German he couldn't even begin to guess at. The tone was apologetic, but if anything that just made Puffin begin to feel like an ass.

He watched the younger man's face, lips again forming words he couldn't make sense of. Annoying, vaguely, if Puffin didn't like the sound of them so much.

The next questioned posed made a bit more sense, Puffin's guess made certain by the man's translation.

"Neither, fluently. I know a handful of words in Russian, and the girl who tried to teach me Japanese gave up and taught me to bar tend as well." He grinned a bit, reaching for a bottle in the speed rail, long fingers curling around the neck and tossing it to the air. The bottle made a few lazy rotations before Puffin caught it on the back of his hand, letting it rest there, upright for a moment, before tossing it upwards with a jerk of his wrist, grabbing it around the neck against and putting it back away.

"You could say I'm much better at this."

Puffin had caught the brief glance this man spared for Aidan, and felt vaguely triumphant that it seemed to lack some of the curiosity he was picking up when the wolf looked at him.

The already sparse crowd had thinned out considerably, and judging by the few remaining, and their near empty glasses, Puffin knew it wouldn't be much longer before this kid was the only one left. He seemed to realize it then, too, and even if there wasn't another half hour till the club actually closed, his answer would have been the same.

"There's still time left, and you'll be easier to drag out than any of those guys," Puffin said, a jerk of his head gesturing towards the line of patrons filtering drunkenly through the door. Poor Bruno was gonna have a bitch of a time finding that many cabs, if he even thought to care enough that night. Kenzie would probably be on top of it though. Hard to keep business going when your would-be regulars wrapped their car around a tree on the way home.

"And this way I can get out of cleaning up by entertaining a customer." He said, lips sliding into a wide, easy grin. Granted the bar had been a bit slow, so most of what he'd have to tidy up was already finished, the dark mahogany bar wiped down and polished in the still flickering stage lights. Everything else had found it's place, and with Aidan still doing his rounds to grab up the last of the glasses, Puffin didn't have much left to do. Other than, of course, entertain.

"I'm Puffin, by the way." And normally introductions were left undone, names made unnecessary when more often than not people came here to remain unknown, and didn't want to leave traces. But this man seemed different, and Puffin supposed, he could always just lie. All the same, he outstretched his hand with his name, the gesture one of the many things his father had drilled into his head. Not that of course the old man would probably accept it being used here. Puffin probably could have skipped it, but the idea of contact with this little wolf was growing more appealing by the second, collar or no.







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Tue 09 Jun 2009, 10:46 am


The successful markings were vivid on his skin and Anton wanted to leave more, possess more. How far he was allowed to go with wild abandon was beyond him and he wasn’t about to ask. By the end of the night, Cris would mostly be covered in scratches, hickeys, and the occasional bruise that Anton wouldn’t have meant to give. His could feel himself salivating at the thought of Cris covered in his scent and sporting all the telling signs of having slept with him. There would be nothing more rewarding than that. It didn’t matter that the marks would fade in time as Cris healed or that they would never be replaced with new ones.

For even one night, or just a few hours, Cris was his.

Anton released Cris’ shoulder, following the arm down with his questing fingers. The stairs were too uncomfortable for this. He pressed the hand against the stair beside Cris and shifted the weight on his knee, imagining how red it would be with the blood pooling there. A bed would serve Anton much better. That was only the only thought in the back of his mind and it was solely accompanied by the acute awareness of every sound that came from in front of him. Every little movement and sound was enough to send Anton headfirst into a frenzy of lust.

It was amazing how strongly he responded to Cris.

The obedience his partner showed to Anton’s simple command sent a jolt of arousal through him. These simple things made the night electric with his excitement. It could have been better, more interesting perhaps, had Cris warred against him, if he had not submitted so easily. This easy way of things was different than what he had expected, no less beautiful though. The silent power Cris held in every limb and muscle spoke that he could refuse Anton if he wanted. He had not refused him so far.

Anton needed this.

Cris’ hands disappeared from sight and suddenly the younger werewolf was crawling back and away, leaving Anton crouched on the stairs, confused. The taunt, bare stomach of his partner leveled with his face. The thoughts of finding the bed room and leaving the stairs fled from his mind. It is easy to imagine himself staying between Cris’ legs and ripping the pants from them and spreading his thighs.

Anton stood with Cris’ help. His legs were sore and aching from the position he had taken to kiss him but the heat from each finger pressing into his own was comforting. It was different from being with a human. They were cold, Anton realized. Humans couldn’t compare to something like this. This was heated and passionate. The walk to the bedroom was blissfully short. He didn’t have to wait long to be pulled eagerly into the room, the door kicked shut behind him. Anton didn’t bother locking this door, too focused on Cris. He was wonderfully unaware of the sparse decorations or the mess on the bookshelf or the plain dresser.

Instead, Cris was directing him to embrace him, holding his hands against his more slender body. Anton allowed himself to gently embrace Cris for a moment, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling the juncture. He counted the heart beats against his lips, waiting for ten and bit down carefully, nibbling and rolling the skin between his lips, sucking the blood to the surface just under his mouth. Anton let go with a soft pop, admiring the red. He stepped back and began to remove his clothing. His shirt went first, thrown at the foot of the dresser. Anton unbuttoned the top of his jeans, slid the zipper down with a word, the soft rasping of the teeth and the blood rushing in him the only sounds he could here. Pausing, he held his pants up by the opening, looking at Cris’ face. Even if he tried, there wouldn’t be any turning back now. Looping his thumbs through belt loops, he pulled down, dancing his hips side to side and letting the fabric slowly come down.

Inch by Inch.

There was no underwear to bother with.

The jeans pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them gracefully, moving to the bed with his shoulders back and his head held high, watching Cris all the while. He didn’t even break eye contact to sprawl out on the bed, legs open and arms inviting, piercings catching light to flash dully on his chest and in one particularly sensitive area. Smiling and with eyes sparkling mischievously, he said smoothly and calmly, as if they were simply going for a swim, “Your turn, ребенок.”




Astor felt like he was staring. He found himself watching the bartender intently, brow furrowed. Anton had told him that he had piercings the day the older male had convinced him to get the tattoo finally. The younger man had never seen them; they weren’t obvious like this person’s lip ring. Astor had never really bothered himself in wanting to see them. He had never been interested enough to ask. The piercings were probably under Anton’s clothing anyway and, as handsome as Anton was, Astor hadn’t wanted to see him naked. He hadn’t ever really seen any of his male pack mates naked, actually, not even his alpha and father.

Though, he had spent plenty of time with the alpha female, Cäcilia, while he had been younger, bathing with her and sleeping with her when they camped at the outskirts of cities that teemed with humans. He had never found himself attracted to her slight frame though, the build too similar to his, too soft. It had always been Chrysanthos and Konstantin and Gervasio that Astor had snuck quick glances at, admiring them. Never once was it a female human or werewolf. Maybe it was better that he hadn’t seen them naked, then.

To say his was impressed with Puffin was understating it. It must have been great to have been taught Japanese at one point and to know Russian words. Astor did not understand a lick of any language other than German and English. He would have loved the opportunity to learn others. Bar tending, though, seemed like it had definitely works out for this person. It wasn’t so important to know a language as it was to have a livelihood and earn money.

Astor took it back. To say he was amazed by Puffin was an understatement. The man was absolutely phenomenal. Astor couldn’t help but watch with astonishment and surprise at the easy trick the bartender pulled off, sparing his customer some flair. He wasn’t much better at bar tending. The bartender was brilliant at it. Astor could only nod at him.

Easier to drag out? Astor didn’t plan on having the bartender or the bouncer back at the entrance drag him out.

They’d break him.

But Astor was relieved to hear that he still had time to sit and talk with the bartender or be entertained as the taller man put it. He could gladly let himself be used as an excuse to get out of cleaning for the man, too. He smiled back at him, feeling bashful now, face dusted pink with the faintest blush. “Glad to be so helpful, then,” Astor offered, not as witty in such a companionable conversation as he usually was when he bantered with a pack mate. It wasn’t like the club needed to be cleaned though? Astor thought the place was already spotless except for the few glasses and dished that dotted the tables that the clubbers had left as they stumbled back into the night and home. Even the bar was spotless. Only the drying water trail that Astor’s sweating glass had left sat on it. He glanced down the mahogany and fetched a napkin to wipe the trail away and to wipe down the outside of his glass, not wanting to leave a mess. Astor crumbled the damp napkin and let it rest next to his beer and he took another sip as the bartender gave him his name.

He quickly set down his glass and took the offered hand, skin tingling at the completely new feel of this person. Puffin’s hands were not soft like Konstantin or Chrysanthos nor were they very calloused and rough as Astor’s father. Astor didn’t quite know how to explain them but he loved the way the palm felt on his own soft skin and the way the fingers curled around his own. He gripped Puffin’s hand firmly but gentle and gave a shallow shake, smiling. “Astor Diederich! It is great to meet you, Puffin, die Freude ist mein.”

Astor found he really didn’t want to let go of Puffin’s hand and he let the handshake linger for a few moments too long to be common, just delighting in the feel. He blushed darker and slid his hand from Puffin’s, fingers accidentally brushing along the inside of the man’s larger hand. “Sorry,” he muttered quietly, trying to look as awkwardly interested as he felt.


Die Freude ist mein. = The pleasure is mine.








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Wed 10 Jun 2009, 2:57 pm


'He looks hungry,' Cris though, Anton's fingers tracking warm lines across his skin. He felt the wolf lean in, burrowing against the curve of his neck, and Cris tilted his head faintly to the opposite side.

Dangerous really, letting a hungry animal at his throat like that. And still, when Cris felt the hot breath, the first press of waiting teeth, all he could do was tighten his grip, fingertips scraping across Anton's back in short lines as his open hands clenched to fists against the man's shoulder blades. Anton sucked at his skin, and Cris sighed, an amused grin flickering to life on his lips, Cris letting his head fall back, giving Anton all the room he needed to play.

His grin quirked a little, more playful now, head still tilted back, enjoying Anton eying the mark he'd left. Cris was only hoping it wouldn't be the last. His hands fell away, fingertips of his left hand at the mark on his neck, fingertips on the right tracing the scratches at his shoulder. His tongue ran across his lips, Cris feeling like he was the one hungering now as Anton bared enticing planes of skin.

He lifted his eyebrows, vagely impressed by Anton's little show, the sheer confidence with which he bared himself. He really didn't seem to think twice about it. Daring really, a strip tease for a stripper. Cris had had the same thing denied him before, for just that reason. He was a pro. And if Anton was so sure of himself, then Cris didn't feel the need to check his gaze, to be subtle.

Pale blue eyes roved every inch of exposed skin, every curve, every line. He saw the pinpricks of metal, and made up his mind to taste each one, to tug at the silver with a sensitive tongue and teeth.

At Anton's words, Cris taking the small sentence, and the glint in those eyes as a challenge. He had the disadvantage of already being shirtless, but that just meant he could finish this up quicker, right? And then he could press his lips to Anton's again, and start that oral inventory of the wolf's peircings.

There wasn't any music, but Cris found that times like these, he didn't need it. His body found it's own beat, and this wasn't anything like being at the club, with the stage lights heating the pole against his skin. His hips swayed from side to side, and his eyelids fluttered for a moment, hands dropping from the mars Anton had left on his skin, fingertips gliding over his chest, butting up against the waistband of his jeans. He thumbed open the button, tugging down the zipper, and pushing the now loose denim lower across his hips. Like Anton there was nothing else below them but more smooth, evenly tanned skin.

Aside from the marks Anton had left, the ink that the older wolf had already seen, distinguishing features on Cris' skin were few and far between. There were sickly, far-faded bruises at his hips and back, and a small scar at one elbow, curving slightly towards his forearm.

And as used to dancing like this, to peeling off layers in front of so many more faces, something in Anton's gaze seized his breath for a moment. Truthfully they were never fully nude on stage, but Cris had done this sort of thing plenty of times before, though the attention on him never seemed so absolute. The others were normally fumbling out of their own clothes as well. But not Anton. He was just... lying in wait.

Cris' jeans finally slid free, dropping to the carpet near Anton's, and the younger wolf crawled up across the bed. He kept his eyes on Anton's, each dip and sway of his body over top the others carefully placed. He trailed the fingertips of one hand up Anton's side, eyes half lidded as he leaned down to press their lips together. He'd start with the tongue ring.





Puffin didn't mind the staring at all. It was flattering, wasn't it? If a bit heavy, that gaze. Where he might have given sly glances before, Puffin focused solely on the man on the other side of the bar now. He watched the fingers wrapped around the beer, the skin, made paler against the dark grain of the bar. That sharp fringe of bangs that Puffin could see himself constantly pushing back, to get a better look.

Seeing this wolf naked would be something he certainly wouldn't mind, and while each word and glance send his mind reeling forward, Puffin had to glance back at that collar, and pull himself back. No, he hadn't been clear yet, and Puffin still didn't know where he stood with this little wolf. Seeing his own pack mates naked had been made mundane with the job. He'd seen far less women naked, Yukiko being the girl he caught most frequently mid-change, whether by her hatred of locks, or sheer carelessness. And while he always thought she was beautiful, seeing her without clothes hadn't shifted his view of her at all, hadn't made her any more or less attractive to him. Luckily Yukiko had about as much interest in men as Puffin did women. It certainly made their friendship all the more safe, and reliable.

And while the wolf seemed the least bit impressed by Puffin's paltry knowledge of the languages of his parents, he in turn, was impressed by the fluency with which this man spoke in two. But if that trick, that little flip and catch was enough to garner a look like that out of the man, intensely colored eyes gone wide for a moment, well Puffin was about ready to leap into a full routine.

Despite the dim lighting Puffin still caught sight of the faint color it seemed his attentions had brought to the younger wolf's features. God, place like this, the kid was more Red-Riding Hood. He'd get eaten alive, and there'd be no woodsman, and no axe to save him. Puffin was glad he'd found this kid first, he'd of hated to have to pull rank, and steal him away, but really, he'd of had no choice.

Of course, Puffin's words had been made in a joking manner. It was rare they really had to drag anyone out, and if Astor managed to get that intoxicated by just one beer, Puffin would probably volunteer, and carry him out.

He grinned at the words, lifting an eyebrow as the wolf wiped down the bar, cleaning off any water that otherwise would have dried, and marred the perfect sheen of his bar. The alpha nodded approvingly.

"More and more helpful by the second. Careful now, Kenzie'll try and shove a job on you." Of course, Puffin sure wouldn't have minded seeing that face around more. Or seeing what else would be bared by Kenzie's constantly changing costumes.

The others introduction was zealous, Puffin returning the firm shake, fingers curling around the back of the hand in his. He wasn't exactly ready to let Astor pull away either, and so he held the grip as long as the other man did, only loosing his fingers the he began to pull away. Astor's fingertips trailed over the sensitive skin of his palm, and Puffin barely suppressed the shiver than ran down his spine. He reached forward, aiming to catch Astor's fingers, pulling the wolf's hand back towards him.

He pressed his lips against Astor's knuckles, grinning up at the man, unmatched eyes steady.

"No apologies necessary." Astor's efforts paid off, awkward interest was just what Puffin was seeing. The collar meant now that Puffin might just have to deal with a pissed off boyfriend in the morning. It wouldn't be the first time.










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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Fri 12 Jun 2009, 1:47 pm


Anton almost found it sinfully satisfying to lean back on the bed and just admire the first two marks he had left. There was definitely no chance now that the older werewolf would let Cris off with just two before they finished. He planned to have a good portion of Cris' tanned skin a livid red masterpiece of love bites and scratches. It was the only real way to compliment the man's skin. The small, innocent mars brought out the passion and hunger in his eyes, made him look dangerous and wild.

It was already made up in his mind where he would attack the skin next, what he would leave untouched and what places would be targeted specifically as evidence of his presence. The collarbone called for his teeth, his rough kissing and suckling. The way it gently stood out from the shoulders and the dip of the chest made it perfect, beautiful. And it was only a lick or two away from the chest, those pert round nipples that also begged for worrying.

Let the pup's alpha see what he had done, what he would do. Anton could care less for the consequences with him. He would be proud of his handiwork, his splashes of color on this work of art.

It would be inconvenient for Cris though, his job. Wasn't his body suppose to be kept perfect for performing? If it was anything less, he might be in trouble for messing around. Anton wondered what were the best places to get away with hiding blemishes, what places he could mark. The chest was out, then, most likely. Anton didn't like that.

If they were only together for one night, what did it matter what he did? It wouldn't be his problem tomorrow if Cris kicked him out. Besides, did strippers ever really get completely naked on stage? Anton couldn't remember the last time he had payed to go to a strip bar and watched the women or the men.

For the way that Cris look at him, going over every piece of Anton's body from where he stood a few feet from the bed made Anton regret that he hadn't left the hotel earlier and seen this man preform. The werewolf might as well have been on him already. Anton could swear he felt those persistent, hot hands mapping out every inch of him and finding all his hidden sweet spots. If that was what those baby blues could do, Anton could only fantasize the magic that those long, slender hands could work.

This was a welcome change from the usual. Anton was sure there hadn't been but one time that he hadn't had a hurried and quick couple, a rump in the back room of a club made fast by the frantic knocking of other patrons in desperate need of relief. Timed explorations with people he had to pay and knew he would never see again. The last time he could remember ever taking his slow, sweet time was with a young Irish man with the softest green eyes and carpet that did match the drapes.

Foreplay too was usually skipped, most people wanting the satisfaction or sex as soon as possible. Anton liked it better like this, especially with Cris. The looks, smoldering and heavy, and the soft sounds and unchecked expressions were practically their own acts of sex, a foreplay unarguably better than a come on and the waving of a condom and a promise to be gentle or a hiss to tear you apart.

The strip tease was especially something he was not use to. The faster people could throw the clothes off, the happier they were. Anton barely dared to blink, to let even the thinnest barrier have him miss a single sway of the hips or bat of the eyelashes, long and delicate, casting shadows when they closed over beautiful blue.

And finally, Anton's patience, his waiting, and his unwavering gaze were rewarded and before him, skin glowing now that it was revealed, a miniature sun in the room, was a wonderfully bare Cris. And within less than a second, that vision was crawling up to him, above him, on him. Anton didn't bother to hide his arousal, showing his appreciation of such skill and finesse. His little playing around when he took off his clothes was nothing compared to what Cris had done.

Anton eagerly met Cris' lips, glad for the taste of him again. He couldn't get tired of it and, if anything, he wanted more. His hand moved to Cris' back, following the dip and subtle incline of the hips, smoothing the bruises he had seen there, half wondering if the alpha had caused them. He growled into their kiss, eagerly awaiting the time he would take to eradicate all traces of the other werewolf.



It was hard not to notice while he watched every move the bartender made, stared hard at his face, or watched where those eyes looked. Those eyes, mismatched in an attractively unique way, never strayed far from him for less than a heartbeat. Astor noticed that it was the buckled collar he wore, the black leather that sat comfortably on his white neck, a stark contrast, that he saw Puffin glance at the most. The bartender would look at his hands on the beer glass and his eyes would flick back up to the collar, as if he was reminding himself of something.

It was easy to forget it at first, to shrug off the glance as something accidental. His pack back home had been the same way when he had come back from a city with it, excitedly getting Chrysanthos to put it on for him. After a week or two, they'd become use to it or ignored it for the most part, figuring it nothing important but for the first day or two they had been like Puffin, looking at it constantly, and asking the strangest questions about who he had seen in the city and if he had meant anyone or slept with anyone.

It had been the strangest couple of days with a lot of Astor shouting back responses and getting frustrated, especially at his father, who seemed convinced he'd have to go hunt someone down and kill them. He had to keep reassuring everyone that he had only gone into the city and found it, loved it, and bought it. Astor had never really figured out what the big deal was or why they had asked about people he had met. Everything sort of was dropped when Anton wandered into the pack and settled in.

It bothered him now that he didn't know why they were so concerned now that he could tell Puffin was interested in it and was probably wondering about where it came from and why Astor wore it.

"I wouldn't mind a job here. Sieht Spaß." Astor would end up just cleaning all the time anyway. It suited him better than bar tending, bouncer, stripping, or waiting tables. He couldn't really do any of that sort of thing. If anything, he was only good at two things and that was singing and cleaning, which most of the time went hand-in-hand. This Kenzie person could probably rope him in for free if everyone here was as nice as Puffin. And working around and with some many other werewolves would help dissolve the homesickness he felt. He had been starting to miss sleeping together with everyone and eating with other people and playing whenever they found some place nice in the woods.

If Astor's face hadn't been red before, it was definitely exploded into full color now. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, heating the skin there. Astor kept his mouth shut, certain nothing would come out but intelligible sentences. He offered a shy smile back instead, feel hot and bothered under those steady eyes. The knuckles on his hands tingled where they'd been kissed and Astor let Puffin keep his hand this time, not bothering to pull, definitely not wanting to at all this time.

He swallowed around the lump caught in his throat and the butterflies in his stomach and tried to ask now before Puffin decided to do anything else that fried his brain. "Ich habe bemerkt...you were staring at my collar before."


Sieht Spaß. = Looks fun.
Ich habe bemerkt... = I noticed...








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Thu 18 Jun 2009, 1:04 pm


Cris had only vague ideas about Anton's intentions. The wolf hadn't seemed shy about those first two marks, and Cris could only hope he didn't waste his time with it later, either. The bruising and breaking of his skin was something Cris had gotten used to, far before Puffin's abuse had begun, and the scent of his own blood mingling with sweat and sex had become normal, typical. Cris didn't want romance, he'd hardly be picking up strangers in parking lots if that's what he were after. But still, Cris felt himself almost immediately attached to Anton, in that Anton was the sort of man Cris would have gone after on his own. Had the wolf not approached him, in Cris' mind, they still would have ended up here.

The hand at his back felt better, Cris thought, than it should have. No simple touch like that should have made him shudder like he did, muscles flexing responsively under the brush of those touches. But being with Anton seemed to make his every sense go haywire. Anton's scent was overwhelming, spicy and exotic, and each inhale bathed Cris' thoughts in it again.

There were marks here now, other than the peircings that he could see. Black ink set into the warm color of Anton's skin. Fingertips stroked the shapes of the letters on his bicep, not able to see the whole message now, but knowing enough to guess at what he couldn't see. And for a moment, he paused, finding the words ironic, and misplaced on this man. Anton had given himself over to the beast, he was as feral and wild as the wolf inside him. What was he fighting? And Cris felt bitter, because he had fought, fought the changes, the rules, fought the werewolf in him until it had nearly broken him. Anton, it seemed, had given in, and could still enjoy his life.

But this was hardly the time and place for bitterness, and Cris pushed the thoughts away, leaning in to press their lips together again, harder and more hungry than before. He pulled away, nearly breathless, gaze heavy with intention, with wants, and needs.

He couldn't stop the steady track of his eyes, and felt something faint in his chest aching. This was going to be good, he could tell already. Anton was gorgeous, and it was almost enough to make Cris that much more self conscious. He was so used to being the one that was sought after, and he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was the one chasing here. Ridiculous, really. Hadn't Anton found him? Thrown him against his car and growled guttural things against his throat?

The memory of that long line on Anton's body pressed against his made Cris nearly moan from want, from need for the heat of the friction between their skin. And now, hovering just over the wolf, with those hands at his skin, and the soft burn of silver against his tongue, Cris could close that distance between them, could press them together and really get things moving. But he held himself back, and just as he'd crawled up over Anton's body, he was now making slower progress back down. His lips made their own path, down Anton's chin and across the front of his throat, his teeth found the man's collarbone, settling playfully there for a moment before moving on. His fingertips brushed over Anton's chest, catching for a moment in the silver there, before his lips found those as well. The metal tasted sharp, softened by Anton's skin as Cris ran his tongue over the left ring first, and then moved for the right.

His hands were pressed against the sheets, tangling them around his fingers. He'd hated moving out from under Anton's hand, entirely curious about where those fingers would go, how the man would touch him. And if Anton weren't so damned interesting himself, Cris could probably just lay back, and let the wolf have his way. But as it were, Cris was having trouble containing himself, contenting himself with slow touches, and the steady mapping out of Anton's skin. He wanted to press close, to roll their hips together and touch every part of Anton that the man would allow.



The older wolf's lips twitched into a smile, one side of his mouth tilted higher than the other, the crooked grin seat easily onto his features.

"You really think you could handle it? You seem a little shy." Puffin teased, commenting on the near permanent blush he seemed to bring to Astor's cheeks. If the kid was so flustered by Puffin's usual flirting, he'd have a hell of a time when it came to meeting the other guys, some of which Puffin didn't have a handle on, like he did Jace or Aidan.

The door at the other end of the bar swung open, a few of the dancers were heading out not long after the patrons, filing past the bar. A couple waved or called out to Puffin, who turned only to flash a smile and a quick wave. Like Cris most were still in various states of undress, though shirts were present here and there, slung over shoulders or shoved in a back pocket. A familiar blonde, now wearing shorts more suitable for casual wear ducked behind the bar for a moment, fishing water bottles out of the mini-fridge to hand to the dancers with their hands out as they wandered past. Normally Puffin only let Jace behind the bar, but Aidan was a particular exception at the moment, Puffin aware that if Aidan weren't handing out the drinks Puffin would have to tear himself from Astor to do it.

Puffin enjoyed thoroughly the reaction he got from Astor, still holding onto the young man's hand, his mouth not even scant inches still from those knuckles. He kissed them again, eyelids fluttering shut to give Astor brief reprieve from his gaze. When he pulled away this time he abandoned Astor's hand to the surface of the bar, laying out the wolf's fingers against the dark wood.

He kept his gaze low at Astor's question, giving himself a moment to sort out proper words. Ah, so the pup had noticed. Well, that was fine, but the question threw Puffin for a bit of a loop. Was this some sort of a challenge? Was Astor testing Puffin? It seemed faintly out of character, not that Puffin could really say he knew the young wolf all that well. But still, it was an odd question coming from someone still blushing so heavily.

He saw Aidan from the corner of his eye, the blonde sliding out from behind the bar, trailing after the other dancers. Kenzie was no doubt still in her office, and Bruno would be watching the boys out to their cars, always last to lock up with their manager.

The bartender did lift his gaze again, and it rested on the collar for a slow second, before his eyes flickered back up to Astor's.

"Just wondering who the lucky guy is." The alpha said, grin curving his lips, the metal in his lip ring glinting in the dull light.

His head was cocked faintly to one side, and he folded his arms, resting them on the bar as he leaned a bit closer.

"You could say I'm jealous."







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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Mon 29 Jun 2009, 5:15 pm


The Irish man had nothing on Cris.

He could get use to this sort of attention and to the level of sensuality that Cris exuded. If only half of his partners could compare to this, Anton wouldn’t feel the need to seek out a new one every few days or wonder why he had picked them in the first place. He always had the worst luck. Although the Irish man had been enthusiastic and eager to please and a great find, he had been a fumbling virgin and needed constant encouragement and direction. Cris knew exactly what he was doing and he seemed to find exactly where to touch Anton, what to do to drive him crazy and up the wall with lust. Anton could never pick the right person before now but Cris seemed his perfect match physically. This wolf didn’t seem in the business of picking life partners though.

Anton couldn’t fault him. It’s not like the Russian was much to look at nor had much to offer than what was here now. After all, he’d only been in the city for a day, on the road for weeks before that. All he had to his name was what was back in the hotel room and what was in the bank account he had always put money into.

The shudder and ripple of muscles under his hand was enticing. The thought of charms that still allure chased themselves around in his head, heady with the response. It wasn’t just Cris having an effect on him. The other wolf was clearly interested as well. Though that had been obvious from how quickly they had entangled themselves in kissing and stripping off clothing after knowing each other for only a short while, the subtle reminder was nice.

Anton mimicked the exploring fingers on his body with his own hands. As Cris traced the words on Anton’s bicep, Anton did the same on the wolf’s thigh, his nail barely touching and trailing along in loopy hand writing. “That tickles,” he purred into Cris’ ear, licking the outer edge with flick of his tongue and latching onto the lobe with his teeth. He tugged gently and let go, his mouth quickly recaptured by Cris, who had only paused for a minute, motionless. Anton wondered what had distracted Cris, the tattoo clearly at fault without much thought. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he mumbled against those full lips, staring straight into those lively blue eyes, “but I’d appreciate you not thinking.”

And if Cris found that hard, Anton was more than willing to fυck him senseless.

There was no more reason to gently reprimand Cris for the slight pause in his attentions though. Soon that gaze was back in full force, sliding along Anton’s skin and admiring. Despite the lack of movement on him or the distinct lack of his thrusting into Cris or their tongues twisting together, he could let it slide if Cris was looking at him. It counted as attention anyway. God, though, if he didn’t want Cris to lie back and spread his legs and let Anton defile him regally. Anton found it hard to let Cris go quite this slow. It was a nice change of pace, yes, but he was impatient to taste Cris’ skin and kiss every crevice he could find. Letting Cris explore him while he was aching to return the favor was wearing his control down little by little. Especially when he was so wonderfully exposed and Anton was free to look but not touch as Cris took command.

Those soft, full lips kissed along his chin and his throat. Anton growled, the low rumbling noise vibrating along his throat and chest, hoping to let Cris taste the sound. He smiled at the way Cris’ teeth found his collarbone. It was a cute gesture. Anton made a mental note to return the favor though he wouldn’t have mind being marked himself. His body stiffened as the wolf’s fingers ran over his chest. The tug on his nipple ring stung slightly, the silver warm even to his heated skin. If he didn’t know better, he’d be betting that the wolf was intentionally trying to try him mad with want. With all this attention, Anton wasn’t sure how long he could hold out before he lost the will to keep control. It would be oh-so-easy to use his brute strength, flip Cris over and go for the gold but no. Anton, despite the complaining he was doing in his head, liked this just fine. He could wait.

Because it was so worth the way his nipples were laved at. “Cris,” he groaned. His hands had drifted lazily higher, refusing to stop touching the smooth skin. “Fuck. Я хочу, чтобы вы,” Anton added, inhaling deeply. The mouth that followed those fingers was heaven as well as that wicked tongue. The Russian was far from intelligible noises and incoherencies but he didn’t doubt that Cris could bring him to the point where he could only groan and gasp. His hips ached and he shifted on the mattress, his cock twitching with the movement and the healthy attention his nipples were receiving.

The thumb on his left hand found the silky soft skin just behind Cris’ ear and the rest of his fingers buried themselves in his soft hair. They massaged and stroked, tugging at random intervals. His right hand flexed on Cris’ shoulder. He hissed and decided he couldn’t wait anymore. His hand slid down to the back of Cris’ throat and squeezed it gently. “I’d really appreciate if you’d consider my request to fucking blow your mind via your cock.” Because he was starting to like the image of Cris up on his knees with his hips in front of his face. God, he needed to give something back to this beauty. “Unless you had plans you were finishing with my piercings, тюлененок.”

But if Cris was going to find the frenum piercing and examine it with his tongue instead, Anton was demanding sixty-nine.

Or permission to invade other vital regions with his tongue.



The crooked grin that touched Puffin’s face was almost as constant as the red blush that Astor couldn’t seem to keep off his own. Like everything else about Puffin, Astor found it was attractive and pleasant. When it lit the bartender’s face and revealed straight teeth and sharp canines, he wanted it to come back again and again. The expression was relaxed, comfortable, and full of amusement. It was completely at odds with Astor’s tense shoulders, shy glances, and nervous drinking. The grin seemed to tease him. Shy was a good word to describe it. Astor had never been a social butterfly but meeting new people was nice. It was just difficult to relax around this person who was so cool and sexy.

Astor's free hand stroked the edge of the bar and returned to his lap, fingers curled upward. They played with the hem of the unbuttoned white shirt, thumb and pointer twisting the smooth fabric and his pinky finger occasionally sliding against his stomach and blank tank. The half sleeves had finally ridden down. One tickled the sensitive skin of his inner elbow.

Puffin was the first to make Astor feel this flustered and shy. “Warum nicht, Puffin?” He enunciated the u and the end of Puffin’s name by accident but didn’t bother to correct himself. His captured fingers twitched in Puffin’s hand. “It’s only you…”

It was his father’s fault that he had ended up at this bar and like this. His whole life had been spent with nearly the same six people. Whenever another werewolf or pack wandered through their territory, Björn always took care of it and Cäcilia kept him close, protecting from any danger before they turned him. It wasn’t until Anton had shown up that Astor had really ever gravitated toward an unfamiliar person before. When the pack left behind the outcast, Astor had finally decided that he wanted to explore the world more and see what else was in it.

For him, all this was a learning process and all of it was new. “I’d be okay. It would be fun.” He assured Puffin. It did seem like fun and he really did enjoy cleaning. It wouldn’t matter if that was all he did. Astor would be able to be around a bunch of people like him and could gain new friends and experiences.

Astor stared at the bar as the dancers headed out. They were closing, obviously. The same blond from before handed everyone water bottles from behind the bar as they came by. The whole procession was achingly close, just a few feet away at the most. Astor wondered which one was attached to Puffin and which one would react to the way Puffin still held his hand captive for his own use. Everyone could see it. Puffin didn’t bother to let go of him. It had to be taken the wrong way. For an outsider to the situation, it couldn’t be taken any other way. Astor wasn’t even sure how he was taking it but he was favoring the spark of hope in him that Puffin was interested.

Lips touched his knuckles again and Puffin’s eyes disappeared for a moment. Astor’s heart skipped a beat. His hand was gently put back to the bar, his fingers put carefully into place. He shouldn’t have hated the abrupt loss especially when he had been thinking about which dancer would kill him for being near Puffin. He glanced at Puffin's lip, waiting for an answer, and then his gaze flicked back to Aidan who was the last one out. Astor tapped his freed fingers on the bar, nervous now. Were they alone? He hadn't heard the bouncer leave yet and Puffin wasn't ushering him out just yet. Astor threw back the last of his beer and set it back on the bar with a thumb, foam sliding along the inside and pooling at the bottom, frothy and white. "Das Bier war gut. Danke."

The skin under Astor's collar felt hot and he knew before he saw Puffin's eyes flicker back up to his own that the man had been giving it another look. He couldn't help his own eyes from watching the way Puffin's lips shaped the words he was saying a split second before he said them.

Those words shocked him back to attention. The lucky guy, the bartender had said. The metal piercing on Puffin's lip and the way it caught the light dazzled Astor for a second and he stared blankly at Puffin as his brain whirred to life. He didn't mean...? That face suddenly drew closer and Astor suddenly felt far too hot and too constricted in the leather pants he was wearing. "Jealous?" He squeaked in surprise.

For a half a second he wished there was a better story behind the collar. A lover who had given it to him to celebrate the anniversary of their first night together and then had later died some tragic death. Or even maybe that Astor had once been caught by terribly hunters in the German country side and kept as their slave and now he could never bring himself to remove it since his escape. His brain told him it was better than none of those stories were true. It dawned on Astor what all the fuss had been about when he returned home with the collar and had asked it to be put on. Like some dog, they thought he had been collared and leashed. Claimed by some random passer by who was handsome and deceiving. No wonder his father had been so ready to kill someone.

Astor rushed to explain to dispel the confusion, his cheeks now only slightly pink but his brows knit together. "There isn't a lucky guy. Es ist nicht immer auch ein Mädchen!" He didn't know why he felt it was so important to tell Puffin this or to have the werewolf understand that he was unattached. It wasn't like it was the bartender's business who or what Astor had been with and if he still was. Why was he so worked up over two simple statements. He touched the collar with both hands, fingers sliding against the leather, exploring the ring. "I got it back in Germany when I saw it in a store. I always wear it," He said in a smaller voice. It was just one of the many accessories he always wore. He never really saw a need to take it off. After all, the black went with anything.


Я хочу, чтобы вы = I want you.
тюлененок = Pup.

Warum nicht? = Why not?
Das Bier war gut. Danke. = The beer was good. Thank you.
Es ist nicht immer auch ein Mädchen! = There hasn't ever even been a girl!








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PostSubject: Re: Only the Moon Howls [Hypnos & Thánatos]   Thu 09 Jul 2009, 11:02 am



Anton's hands were hot on Cris' already warm skin, leaving him tingling all over. He was vaguely amused by Anton's words, and then quickly distracted by his touches. The touch at his thighs made him shiver, and he couldn't hold back the pleased sigh when he felt the tug on teeth on his ear. They kissed again, and Cris was sure the taste would stay with him for days, and wondered why he felt so angry about time fading his memory of it.

He grinned at the words, eyes falling shut for a moment before they flicked back up to Anton. The younger wolf smirked up at him, pink tongue sliding from between his lips, running hard across Anton's nipple, and the small barbell there before he answered.

"You'll like what I'm thinking, Anton." And maybe he was saying the name too much, but he couldn't help but like it. It was unique, and he liked the way it felt on his tongue. And maybe, part of him was hoping, that something in the way he said it would be memorable, and so even the call of his own name would make Anton think of Cris again.

The attention to his chest, and the bits of metal there obviously pleased Anton, and so pleased Cris as well, the sounds encouraging him, tongue and mouth working harder, sucking gently at the skin. The touches to his hair, his scalp, the sensitive skin behind his ear were wonderful, and Cris found his head tilted back slightly with the softest tugs, eyes closed again as he enjoyed the feeling of Anton moving against him. He felt the man's cock twitch against his skin, and knew that Anton could surely feel him as well, throbbing with want, so hard it nearly fucking hurt.

He grinned, huffing out a short, soft laugh at Anton's request, leaning his head forward to pull himself from the grip. His grin was wide, teasing, and he shook his head slowly.

"Patience, Anton. I am going to finish." Although the wolf's offer had been tempting, Cris had an objective in mind, and he was so close to the finish. After that though, he would surely give Anton all the time he needed to 'blow his mind', however the wolf intended on doing it.

He continued his slide down, knees sinking into the mattress, ass high in the air as he leaned down, setting himself between Anton's thighs. He felt a faint nervousness fluttering in the pit of his stomach, an uncommon feeling, surely brought about by Anton's own confidence, and his want to please the man.

He pressed a kiss to Anton's hip, before moving down and in, pale fingertips finding Anton's cock and Cris leaning forward to tongue the bit of metal underneath the head. Cris himself hadn't often thought about peircings there. The metal burned gently against his tongue, like something too hot to be eaten, and he wondered then, how it felt for Anton. Jesus, it had to hurt, especially there. He ran his tongue more gently across the piercing this time, and realized, with a quick thrill of fear, that it was going to be inside him. As if that weren't sensitive enough, the burn of silver...

Cris swallowed, suddenly more unnerved by the idea of sex with this man, but still unable to pull himself away. Surely it would be no different from the times Puffin hurt him during sex, when he was too rough, to senseless to properly prepare him, too callous to care, and hungry enough to want to leave marks. Cris' eyelids fluttered and he opened his mouth, slowly swallowing Anton down, the burn of silver on his tongue making him shudder and wince. And weary as he still was, more than anything, he wanted to know how it felt.









Puffin barely caught Astor's nervous gestures, the tugging at his shirt, the actions of that free hand. He was focused, nearly entirely, on what was in his grasp. Leaning forward to kiss Astor's knuckles, feeling the press of his lip ring as it was pinned between his full lips, and the skin of Astor's fingers. The soft burn was a momentary reminder. There was silver in it, just enough, and he wondered if it was a tiny enough amount that, with the added distraction of his advances, Astor was just ignorant of it. He realized he'd nearly forgotten about Astor's earlier reaction to the bottle opener, and again wondered why he'd been so skittish. But he certainly wasn't going to ask, and risk bringing attention to something that might make the wolf pull away.

He glanced up from those gently curving fingers, and met eyes that were so green they made him stop every time. The odd pronunciation of his name made his lips quirk into a faint smile, widened only by Astor's admittance. Just him, eh? Confidence surged through him, and he felt the urge to see how far he could take this tonight. This naive little pup would surely be good for at least a night's entertainment.

"I hope you don't mean that I make you nervous?" He said, managing to look slightly wounded by the words, despite all his earlier thoughts of Astor being Little Red, and Puffin himself playing perfectly the part of the Big, Bad Wolf.

It wasn't as if he intended to eat Astor. Not entirely anyways.

And for whatever reason, the young wolf seemed entirely entranced by the idea of working here at the club, even if it was just cleaning up. But Puffin supposed the allure had gotten ahold of him as well. Soon as his eighteenth birthday had rolled around, Kenzie had had his application in hand, eying the colors and ink of her newest employee.

Puffin couldn't help but notice how Astor looked decidedly away when the dancers filed out, thinking that that sort of behavior would definitely make thing awkward on the wolf if he really meant to pursue a job at the club. No one paid much attention to the pair at the bar, the other dancers if not already not personally introduced to Puffin's flirtations, had already grown used to the idea that playful banter was part of the job. Puffin was just good at what he did, and that's why he brought home nearly as much in tips as the dancers did.

Astor finally down the rest of his beer, and Puffin felt immediately the absence of the man's reason to stay. But he also felt the man's reluctance to leave.

"You're welcome." Long fingers wound their way around the now empty glass, pulling it back to his side of the bar and setting it into the sink full of soapy water.

He watched Astor's slow reactions then, and for the first time it dawned on him that the leather accessory he'd been focusing on had been just that. Something Astor liked wearing, not because of any commitment to another person, but just because he'd liked the look of the leather.

Pair that with Astor's sudden realization that his fashion statement was saying much more to people than the wolf had in mind, and Puffin couldn't help but laugh. He tried to stifle it, curling the fingers of one hand into a loose fist, pressing the backs of those fingers against his mouth to try and cover the noise. But Astor's insistence that there wasn't a guy, or a girl, if Puffin's weak translation was correct, was ridiculously amusing, and endearing in a way.

The blush had faded, but the young wolf looked only more intense, eyes bright and Puffin caught himself staring again.

"Is that so?" He asked, feigning a bit more enlightenment than he felt, eyebrows raised.

"Well, would it be forward of me to say I'm relieved?" The words were probably the least forward thing Puffin had done that night. He could hear clearly the discussion Kenzie was having on her cellphone, both sides of it in fact, along with Bruno's footsteps on the concrete steps outside the door, the starting of multiple engines, the crunch of gravel, breath, heartbeats, the whoosh of fan blades cutting the air.

Puffin did his best to let the noises fade into the background. He concentrated on Astor, the subtle shifts in his expression, the way his lips formed the words, the accent.

"Ah, and that's the story?" Puffin's arms were folded against the bar top, leaning over the lower counter on his side to put himself closer to Astor.

"It does look good, but I'm surprised no one has thought otherwise before. Maybe that sort of thing is just more common around here?" He asked, unsure then really of the customs of people in other countries, let alone other packs.







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