Shifting Too

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Copyright © 2005 Torquere Press, edited by Rob Knight

Credits: The Wraith King’s Bargain © Sara Bell 2005, Sleeping Bears Lie © Alex Draven 2005,

Not Pride and Ves’tacha © Sean Michael 2005, Hunted © Lorne Rodman 2005, Tigers’ Tails ©

Julia Talbot with Sean Michael 2005, Here Kitty Kitty © BA Tortuga 2005

Cover Illustration copyright © 2005 Pluto

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever

without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or

reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

ISBN: 1-933389-13-3

Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press electronic edition / August 2005

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere

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Table of Contents

Foreword by Rob Knight

4

Tigers’ Tails by Julia Talbot and Sean Michael

5

Here Kitty, Kitty: Whiskers to Tail by BA Tortuga

36

Not Pride by Sean Michael

39

Here Kitty, Kitty: Catnip by BA Tortuga

70

The Wraith King’s Bargain by Sara Bell

77

Here Kitty, Kitty: Playtime by BA Tortuga

98

Hunted by Lorne Rodman

103

Here Kitty, Kitty: The Storm by BA Tortuga

143

Sleeping Bears Lie by Alex Draven

147

Here Kitty, Kitty: Perpetual Motion by BA Tortuga

161

Ves’tacha by Sean Michael

166

Contributors

214

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Foreword Here we are again, exploring that most feral and intriguing beast -- the shapeshifter. All the magic, animal magnetism and eroticism of the first Shifting Anthology are back in Shifting Too, as we explore the darker side of shapeshifting, along with the humor inherent in the possibilities. We ask a lot of intriguing questions in this anthology. What if the shifter doesn’t want to shift, or he’s hidden his true nature from his lover? What if he’s broken in some way, or hunted? What happens when a shifter has lost control and suddenly finds himself sprouting whiskers or a tail at the most inopportune times? It was a great pleasure to once again put together a second anthology exploring this feral, magical side of our psyche. The stories here should make you hot, but they should also intrigue you, delight you, perhaps even scare you a little. At the very least, you may never look at your housecat the same way again! So turn the proverbial page and come take a walk on the wild side. You won’t be disappointed. Rob Knight, August 2005

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Tigers’ Tails Julia Talbot and Sean Michael Malik was tired. Tired in his bones. How long he had walked he did not know, but he knew the distance was more than he had ever walked before. The time passed as a blur to him, for he rarely felt the effects of it unless he lived among men, but he knew this time was different, and the terrain was markedly different from where he had lived the whole of his life. There were no more like him where he came from, and precious few tigers as well, the men hunting and hunting until it was not safe to be among them. Not safe to be a man either, for sooner or later the rest of the men would become wrinkled and old while he did not, and they would drive him away. So finally Malik left. He went in search of others like him, or failing that, more tigers. Searching for somewhere he could rest, and have a place to swim and to sleep and not worry about the men. He thought perhaps he had found his place. He hoped so, for he was truly tired, and his paw hurt from a cut he'd gotten while hunting a prickly little animal, and this place had a green and blue lagoon, and rocks, and trees to shade him. This was a good place. As soon as he woke from his nap, Malik would mark it as his own. He was tired of looking and hoping and waiting. He would stay here, and rest. ***

Someone was sleeping on the Rock that had belonged to Malani, the One who Nursed Him, the

One who Bore him.

Someone very big.

Someone very big and very loud and snory.

Still. That was not Someone Very Big's Rock. That was Malani's Rock.

Even though she had gone away down the water. Even though her roars no longer sounded here.

So Rishi gathered up all his courage -- and he was a Very Brave and Big Rishi -- and he Roared,

telling the Someone Very Big to move.

Then he ran and hid in the grasses, just in case.

The Someone stood very fast, taking up the whole rock, and roared back at him, and the roar was

Very Big too.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

He shook a little in the grass and then bared his teeth and Roared again. His Home. His.

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This is Rishi's Home!

Rishi's!

The Very Big One roared again, too, and jumped down to stalk the grass around the Rock.

Rishi stayed far away from those claws and teeth, but he would not give up his Rock. His. Rock.

His water.

His grass.

His birds.

His sky.

His trees.

Not Someone's. His.

A Very Big Someone. Very Big. But quiet. The grass stopped moving and Rishi could not even

hear the Big one breathing.

Uh-oh.

Rishi crouched down as small as he could, closing his eyes so the Someone could not see him.

Which was when the Someone sprang, knocking him down and landing squarely on top of him.

Rishi snarled and hissed and made himself Very Big, trying to startle the Someone away.

The Someone did not go away. Instead the Someone Growled very loud and pushed him until his

belly and neck were up, sitting on top of him and making his breath go out hard.

Oh. Oh, that was No Fair!

Still. The Someone was Big and Strong and HEAVY and Not Scared at all. So Rishi did what he

could.

He relaxed into the grasses and waited for the Someone to Bite or Move.

Someone bit, Very Gently, just like Malani would have when he was a cub, to teach him when he

had done something wrong, and make him be Good again.

Rishi took a deep, deep Deep breath. Oh. Good. Yes. Not Hard biting was Good and he was Sorry

-- except he wasn't really sure why...

The Very Large Someone stayed there, biting him, for a long time. A long twitchy time, making

sure he did not move, that he was very Good.

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Rishi finally mewled, asking to be up, asking nicely and oh, it was so Not Fair that he was going to lose his Rock because the other Someone was Big. One day he would be Big and he would have any Rock he wanted. The One who was Big now backed away, letting him up, letting him see. The Large Someone was a tiger, like him, only huge, and pale, with bright eyes like the sky.

He backed away, tail swishing, licking his paws, rumbling and watching. Those eyes were new.

Pretty like the butteryflies that got caught between his teeth.

Still, the Someone was Much bigger than the butteryflies.

The Someone rumbled, coming close, making him worry, but the Big one only rubbed cheeks

with him, scenting him.

He was Very Brave and did not run.

Or bite.

That was very hard, but he was a So Brave and Strong Rishi. He had even almost Hunted a Long-

Eared Bouncer.

Almost.

The Other rubbed along his neck and back, spreading the Big One's scent on him, claiming him as

family.

His purr wanted to come out, wanted to so much because he had been lonely and... not scared,

because he was Brave, but worried and nervous and wanting another to come and play and purr

and groom and nuzzle and pounce and roar.

The very tips of their noses touched, finally, and the Big One rumbled again, licking him lightly.

Those sky eyes stared at him, testing him, reading him.

He nuzzled, just a little, his purr too big to be quiet now because the Big One smelled Good and

Not Mean and those eyes were... Very Much.

Oh, that got him a nuzzle in return, full on purrs coming out of the Big One, telling him he was

Good and Brave and that the Big One was happy.

Those purrs made his belly hot and rumbly and made his claws rolls into the soft dirt.

Sky eyes blinked, looking deep into his, and a low rumble took the shape of the Big One's name.

Malik. The Very Big Someone's name was Malik. How he knew Rishi did not know, but it was

True.

Malik. Malik. M-m-m-m-m-m-malik.

It was a good name.

A Strong name.

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If Rishi knew the Very Big Someone was a Malik, then Malik must know he was Rishi.

Rishi.

Which was another very good name.

Malik must have thought Rishi was a fine name, because his whiskers got groomed and his

cheeks rubbed, and Malik nudged him toward the Rock, letting him crawl up before climbing up

and nudging him down, tail curling with his.

Oh. Oh. His Rock. Their Rock. He Purred as hard as he could, belly rubbing down into the

warmth, eyes blinking slow-slow.

Meeting new Someones?

Very Tiring.

Good, but Tiring.

***

The young one was just what he was looking for.

Malik could not believe his incredible good fortune. Rishi, for the young one's name was Rishi,

was not just a tiger. He was like Malik, though he might not know it. One like him, who accepted him so easily. He could not ask for more. Yet there was more. A pool, and rocks to call his, and abundant food. And no men. Malik purred, grooming the young one happily. Poor Rishi was most likely confused and tired and in need of simple care. So young! Malik purred louder, licking and nuzzling.

Rishi chuffed, stretching and purring back at him. The young one's eyes were the color of bright

sunshine, stripes black and beautiful, teeth strong and white.

Someone had done him a great favor in keeping this one safe, in raising Rishi to be strong and proud. Yet Rishi was not so proud that he did not accept Malik as an elder, which was good. Malik needed to be the leader, the teacher in this. He licked some more, grooming Rishi's throat and belly. Rishi wriggled, shifting away, skin rippling. Oh, Rishi was tender there, ticklish on that soft white

belly.

Chuffing, Malik set about their first lesson, which was that it was all right to play. He pounced,

rolling them right off the rock, and attacked that lush belly fur, batting at it with claws sheathed.

Rishi roared and bounced away, shaking to make that ruff fat and big, long tail held high.

Oh. The young one was good at play. It was good to see, made him very happy. Malik bounded

after, swerving suddenly and adding a burst of speed to put himself right into Rishi's path. Rishi

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jumped high, a startled sound filling the air. Those gold eyes went bright, belly bared for a moment, giving him the perfect opportunity to pounce. Pounce he did, growling low, rolling them over and over, coming to rest with Rishi on the bottom, belly bare to his flurry of licks and nibbles. Happy sounds filled the air, Rishi wriggling and playing and pushing beneath him. Those paws batted him, then wrapped around his neck as Rishi went for his throat. He evaded neatly and put his full weight down on the young one, rubbing his cheeks from chest to jaw, scenting Rishi again, reminding him who was in charge. Rishi snorted and rumbled, daring to nip his ear. Chuffing again, he bit lightly on Rishi's neck before letting the young one up and shaking the leaves and grass out of his fur. They would play more later, but his paw still hurt, and was starting to throb. He licked at it, deciding that it was all right that it hurt. It had made him stop and find Rishi. Rishi rumbled and scooted over, eyebrows lowered. The young one nudged his head over, tongue lapping at his paw, nose soft and cool against his pads. Oh. Had he been a man he might have had tears. Such concern from one who knew him so little. Lucky indeed, his find. Malik turned his paw, showing Rishi the sore and swollen pad, the cut deep and long. Rishi growled and nuzzled, fussing and licking and easing the deep itch, cleaning the wound. Groaning, Malik sank to the ground, letting Rishi care for him, knowing the care would help him heal faster. His eyes half closed, his tongue coming out. It felt so good. He was thoroughly groomed, Rishi's soft, random little purrs a balm deep within them. The kit had been scared and lonely, was so glad to have someone to lick, to pounce. Not that he could blame Rishi at all. He had been lonely himself, if not scared, and so tired. So tired. Now he had one like himself, family at least. The rest would remain to be seen. Once groomed, Malik rolled to his feet, a short bark telling Rishi to follow. It was time to test the water of their pool. Then nap. The lessons could continue after that. *** Rishi woke up long before Malik did and, after grooming himself and marking his territory, he decided to go Hunt. He was still learning about hunting -- Malani was a Very Brave Hunter, but she was fast and long and she could make the Long-Eared Hoppers stop with her eyes. It was Special Magic. He was only Rishi. He was not Special Magic Rishi.

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But!

He was Brave!

And had fine teeth and claws!

And one day? He would catch one that was still alive, too.

So there!

Ha!

He worked very hard. He searched in a tree and he walked through all the tall grass and he chased

and chased and chased a bird until he couldn't hear anything but his heart drum.

Then he stopped.

And napped.

Hard.

He woke when the sun sank behind the trees and the air was cool against him. The birds were

calling to each other as they did at dusk, telling each other where they were.

And somewhere in the far away he could hear desperate roars, roars that sounded like his new

Someone, Malik, calling his name.

Rishi frowned and lifted his head. Oh! Oh! He was coming.

Coming!

Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-alik!

Coming!

He ran as hard as he could, the grasses flying by.

The closer he got, the louder the roars got. Malik had a Very Strong Roar.

He was going so fast his feet tangled up as he tried to stop, stumbling and thudding into the

grasses near Malik's feet.

Malik was on him right away, sniffing him all over, licking him, deep rumbles sounding.

He twisted and chuffed, singing simple songs about his day, about his attempts to hunt, about the

birds and the tree and the lack of Good Food.

In return, Malik told him about waking to find him gone, and worrying that he had Gone, and how happy Malik was to see him and that they would have good food to eat that very night. He tilted his head. Go? Go Gone? No...

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He headbutted Malik, licked him. This was Home.

This whole place -- Rock and Water and Tree and Grass.

Home.

Home for Rishis and Maliks.

Purrs washed over his fur, Malik praising him, rubbing cheeks. Good Rishi, those purrs said. So

Good.

He rolled and stretched, paws batting the air. Oh, those purrs! So Good. So Good deep in his belly

and in his nose and the base of his tail!

Malik covered him, pressing down against him, rubbing and purring, showing him affection. He

rubbed and purred in return, muzzle sliding over Malik's fine soft fur, breathing the scent of

family in deep, letting it fill his inside spaces.

Shaking his ruff with those big teeth, Malik stood, rumbling and chuffing for him to follow to the

pool. They had already soaked once. Maybe Malik liked the water a lot. He bounced along

behind, batting a shiny stone as they went. The water was good, if it remembered to stay Out of

his eyes.

Malik stopped just short of the waterline and growled, nudging him to one side of the trail, pushing him into the brush, settling next to him, still and silent. Oh! He could be Still and Silent. He was very good at practicing that. Rishi pretended Very Hard that he was a Rock. Rocks were very still.

And mostly silent.

The still and silent was something Malik did very well. Even he could hardly hear Malik breathe.

Of course, if he was still and silent and like a Rock much longer? It was going to be nap time

again...

Just about the time he dozed off Malik exploded into action, the grasses parting, the Big One

almost a blur. A terrified noise sounded, and a harsh growl from Malik, and then he smelled

blood, strong and hot.

Malik had killed them a Long Legged Runner.

Oh. Oh!

Oh! Oh! OH!

Rishi roared and bounced and roared again. Oh! Such a Strong Hunter! So Big! So Brave! Look!

Food! So Good Malik!

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Once the runner stopped struggling Malik dragged it away from the water, toward their Rock. So strong. Then Malik stopped and growled, telling him to come and eat, standing back to let him eat first. He crept up, watching Malik carefully. Even Malani would growl and bite if he ate first. Soon enough, the scent of blood overwhelmed him and he pounced, tearing into the kill.

Low purrs praised him, letting him know that he was right and good, and Malik waited for him to

eat a lot before nudging him out of the way and taking a share.

His belly was full and he groomed and washed, watching the fineness that was Malik with sleepy

eyes.

When Malik was done, the carcass got dragged into the bush and hidden so they would have it

later. Then Malik came to him, letting him groom those fine whiskers and cheeks.

He purred as hard as he could, so careful around those Sky Eyes.

So Good.

So Good Malik.

So Great Hunter.

They curled together on their Rock to nap again, Malik rumbling, reminding him to wake Malik

up if he ran off again.

He lapped one of Malik's paws, head bobbing. Yes. Yes. He would not Worry Malik again.

If he could help it.

***

Malik was happy. His belly was full, he had napped and swum and played.

It had been so long. So long.

Now it was up to him to teach the young one what he was, what he could be. There was much

hope in him that Rishi would become more than a student and he more than a mentor, but if that

was not to be he could at least have someone. Someone to nap and eat and play with.

Of course, if Rishi kept snoring loud enough to make the birds startle into flight, Malik would

smother him and that would be that.

The kit was laid out flat on his back, running in his dreams, legs pumping, snores reverberating.

Malik was not sure whether to bite him or pounce on him and... well, he could not do that. Not

yet. Even though he wanted to.

So instead he jumped down off the rock he had claimed as his and went around to find the end of

Rishi's tail, nibbling it gently.

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Rishi made a waking up noise, rolling over quickly to protect that white belly and shaking his head. Then golden eyes saw him, pleasure and joy lighting them up. Oh, the young one woke so well, always happy and glad to see him. It was almost worth the snoring. Almost. They rubbed cheeks, his own quiet joy at finding Rishi overflowing into purrs like a waterfall. He cared for the young one so much already that it frightened him deep inside, for even his last human lover who he had lived with for many seasons had not made him feel so. Rishi chirruped and rumbled and called, telling him of the Dream Fields where they had hunted together, running and splashing and jumping. Oh. He licked Rishi's whiskers, praising and loving. So open and wonderful his young one. His. He was already thinking of Rishi as his. Happy purrs filled the air, Rishi vibrating with them, the infectious joy spilling into the air. Then, suddenly, they stopped, those eyes fastening onto something in the grasses, nostrils twitching violently. Malik looked, saw the tell-tale signs of a snake sliding through the tall grasses, heading toward the water. Rishi tensed, slowly stalking. Malik let Rishi go, knowing his young one needed to do this, needed for Malik to believe that Rishi could protect their home. The actions were clumsy and ill-taught, but the instinct was there, fine and sure. Rishi tracked and pounced and stomped and snarled and quite mangled the serpent, careful to avoid the sharp fangs and quick strikes. When the motions stopped, Rishi threw back his head and roared, warning that this was their Home. Malik joined in the roar, his one of pride, telling Rishi how Good he was once more, praising. Malik wondered what had happened to Rishi's dam, to leave him so untrained. But willing. So willing. Rishi came back to sit with him, cleaning the pretty face, those fine paws, the only remainder of the killing fury a sometime twitch of that long tail. Malik leaned on Rishi, not pushing, just resting, letting his rumbles vibrate through to Rishi's body. Rishi began grooming him, tongue hot and careful on his fur. The young one listened to his song, to his sounds and his heartbeat and his purrs, answering with a simple call. So much better than the snores.

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His Rishi was responsive, so very much so. Perhaps he would not have to wait so long as he feared. He would have to be careful, though, to make sure that he did not push his own desires on Rishi if they were not met and returned. Either way, he had found his place, and would stay. And not mind the snoring. *** Cold. Shiver. Growl. Shiver. Cold. Cold. Cold? Rishi shook his head and growled as a wind blew across him, making him shake. Wait. He shook again, his Rock Hard and Rough on his belly. His Bare Belly. His... Rishi opened his eyes, roaring and jumping. Someone had stolen his fur! His Claws! He Roared. And spun, searching for his Tail. His Beautiful, long Tail. The spinning sent him tumbling off his Rock, landing hard on the ground and stealing his breath

right away.

By the time his ears stopped ringing, he was him again. Fur.

Tail.

Claws.

Belly fur.

Oh.

Bad Nasty Mean Mean Mean Dream Lies!

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Malik came bounding up, sniffing him, making inquiring noises. Malik was very wet.

Rishi stomped and roared, telling his very own Malik what he had Dreamed. That it was Mean

and Bad! That he had thought his TAIL was gone!

His TAIL!

Soothing him with deep purrs, Malik told him how Very Fine his tail was, how soft and fluffy

and striped, assuring him it was still there.

Yes. Yes. His tail was Very Fine and he did Not want it to be gone. It was a good tail. A long tail.

His very own tail for Malik to nibble and chase and...

He Pouted, sitting and licking the tip carefully.

Poor Tail.

Malik sat beside him, rumbling softly, nuzzling his cheek. When he finally looked up from his

tail, after it didn't go away for a long time, he thought maybe Malik looked sad.

He chirruped and butted Malik gently. No. No, Malik. Your Rishi is Good. See? My Tail is here.

Chuffing, Malik nodded, head bobbing, and licked his whiskers. Malik purred and licked and

licked and purred and told him he was So Good Rishi.

Yes. So Good Rishi. He let the Dream Lie fade away. Instead he nipped Malik's ear and went

bouncing down toward the water, tail held high.

Come! Play!

Following more slowly, Malik came, not bouncing at all. Walking. But coming.

Rishi chased some of the buzzy bugs and then pounced a baby Long-Nose from the water. Then

he backed into the water, eyes closed tight.

A huge splash, bigger than any splash ever, got him all wet, his ears and his nose and his back

and his tail. Malik's roar sounded, echoing off the water, strong and loud and happy.

Rishi shook and shook and then stood up on his back legs, being So Tall and Scary before

splashing back down with a happy Roar. They romped and played, and Malik jumped on him and

was more Scary because Malik did not close his eyes in the water and could see better.

Oh. Oh, how Good it was with Malik home and here. He had been waiting and wanting and he

had not even known.

Malik had known and come.

His Malik was So Brave and So Smart.

Maybe Malik had been waiting and wanting too, and just needing a Rishi to make him happy

again and that was why he came.

Shifting Too - 15

Rishi nodded. Yes. Yes, that was it. Malik needed a So Good Rishi and Here one was!

He pounced Malik and licked that fine nose happily before bounding off again, his happiness too

big to be still.

His tail followed him, and so did Malik, growling Very Large and chasing him like he was prey,

which was a very good game.

Rishi ran as hard as he could, claws tearing into the ground, heart pounding.

He was far ahead when he realized that Malik was not chasing him anymore. Malik was not there

at all when he looked, and he could not hear the One's breathing. Had he run So Fast that Malik

could not catch him?

Oh. Oh. He turned and put his nose up, sniffing Hard. He knew how Malik smelled now. Malik

smelled like Home.

He followed his sniffs and found Malik, sitting in the grass, licking the sore paw that would not

heal.

Oh. Oh, Poor his Malik!

He nudged the big head out of the way, licking and lapping and loving on that paw, growling at

the soreness to scare it. Malik let him lick and growl, chirriping at him, nuzzling him softly.

Thanking him for his care.

Soon, though, Malik rose and limped back to their rocks, crawling up and stretching out, sky eyes

closing, panting gently.

Rishi paced and paced, growling and worrying and fretting and guarding his Malik's naps so the

paw would heal.

Until Malik growled at him, asking him to come and keep Malik warm. Oh! That he could do.

He leapt up and nuzzled up against the strong body, rubbing and curling his tail -- his So Good

Tail that he STILL HAD, nasty Dream Lies -- over Mailk's flank.

They would nap and in his Dream World this time he would not lose his tail. He would protect his

Malik.

So there.

Ha.

***

The paw was not going to heal.

There was something in there. It was not just a cut.

Shifting Too - 16

Malik growled low, trying not to wake Rishi. There was no way to get the thing out of his paw as a tiger. If he was simply a cat he would probably have gnawed the thing off by now and either it would start healing or he would get infected and die. As it was, it was swollen and painful, only Rishi's good care making it bearable. Quietly, as easily as he could, Malik slipped off the rock, heading for the water hole. He would need a sharp reed and water and light. Once he got far enough away from Rishi, who was undoubtedly guarding their tails in his dream, Malik thought hard about a man's body, about his own taking the shape of one, just as poor Rishi's had earlier. Poor Rishi, who had no idea what had happened to him. Malik was surprised at how much effort it took. He had not been a man in a long time, and his body had trouble shrinking to fit. Finally it worked, and he felt the tiger slide away, the man coming out, making him swallow a gasp as his hand throbbed and ached. A prickly pig's needle. With the thin skin of a man on his hand he could see it, the tip broke off and wedged beneath his hide. If he could dig that out he would start to heal. A sharp reed was easy enough to break off and clean, and soon enough he had the spine out of his hand and water in his eyes from the pain and blood running down his arm. A snarl split the air, low and harsh and buzzing with fury, a clear warning. He turned his head and saw the young one, eyes flashing, voice calling for him. Stumbling back, Malik tripped over his stupid man feet and landed hard on his bottom, making him cry out. Rishi sniffed the air, brows lowering in confusion. One step, another. Then Rishi sniffed the air again, growling low. Tiger. Think tiger. Malik tried to become himself, but between the pain and Rishi's confusion he could not make his body listen. He growled his frustration, because he could smell his own blood, and worried that it would bring night predators. Rishi took a step backward, eyes wide, nose sniffing hard enough to wrinkle the young one's muzzle. Those long teeth were bared, Rishi's upset visible. If he could only just... Malik thought very hard, finally feeling his body shift and change, sinking back into his best form, into his tiger. Rishi went perfectly still, eyes fastened on him. Not a motion. Not a sound. Poor kit. Poor Rishi. Malik began to purr, not moving any more than it took to get his paws under him, keeping the sound low and soothing. Rishi shuddered and backed up, a scared whine just sounding as the young one watched him. He rumbled low, telling Rishi it was all well, that Malik would not hurt him, that Rishi was So Good and that Malik would never, ever harm him.

Shifting Too - 17

Soft confused cries filled the air, yowls and broken noises sounding as Rishi shivered.

He could not hold back any longer. Malik went to Rishi, purring deep.

Rishi moved away, then close, then away, crying out his confusion, his worry.

Growling loud, Malik pushed Rishi down, covering the young one, teeth closing gently on Rishi's

neck. Establishing dominance. Rishi offered only the barest resistance before making a soft sound

and relaxing beneath him, panting, offering him that soft belly fur.

There. That was his Rishi. Malik purred louder, licking and nuzzling. Poor thing. A surprise like

that could not be easy.

Finally. Finally, Rishi buried that soft nose into his ruff and started purring, calling for him. Poor Rishi. It would take time to make up for this, and he would have to take it slowly, the telling Rishi that he was the same. For now, they would snuggle. Rishi nudged his paw, licking the blood away, the instinct to lap and care for him stronger than the fear.

So Good. His purrs changed from comfort to praise, his claws sliding in and out without pain for

the first time in too long.

That tongue cleaned him well, his Rishi -- and the young one was his, he knew it down through to his tail -- watched him closely. Rumbling about prickly pigs and spines and sore paws, he stretched out close, letting Rishi scent him, let his kit know he was Malik, Rishi's Malik. Rishi groomed him thoroughly, exploring his body, assuring that all was well, then Rishi curled up with him, purring loudly, apologizing for snarling and growling.

They would work the rest out later. For now he would just be happy that his paw was rid of the

sharp, and that Rishi accepted him again.

And that Rishi didn't eat him. Everything else could wait.

***

Rishi was never sleeping again.

First? He sleeps and his tail is gone.

Then?

Malik was... Not Real.

Bare. Pale.

No tail.

No claws.

Shifting Too - 18

No teeth.

No. No more napping.

No more.

Because he Liked his tail.

And Malik's tail.

A lot.

So Rishi pounced and bounced and walked and swam and blinked and blinked and blinked and

blinked.

Not Sleeping?

Was hard.

Malik slept a lot. Slept long and hard and made sleep noises that tried to drag Rishi into sleep

with him. And he wanted to go with Malik. Malik had been... Real, sleeping and waking. He had

been Real.

Everything was Good.

And he was so Sleepy...

Malik slept and then woke up and then slept. Finally Malik growled, pushing him down and

sitting on him, licking and nuzzling.

Oh.

Oh, so good.

Warm.

Rishi Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred and stretched, claws digging into the dirt.

Heavy Malik. Malik stretched out on him, keeping him down and being warm and Good.

His eyes closed, tail sliding alongside Malik's. So Good. So Real. His Malik.

Malik licked his whiskers, purring for him, making him so sleepy.

He tried to wiggle, open his eyes, wake up.

But.

Purrrrrrr Purrrr and purrrr and more. The sound made his head fuzzy, made his eyes heavy.

Shifting Too - 19

He took a deep breath and started running, bouncing in the bright sun with Malik, his Raj, chasing butteryflies that flew and were brighter than the whole Sun. ***

Rishi slept finally. Malik was worried that the kit never would again. His poor young one, so

worried, so protective of his tail.

Malik was afraid to broach the subject of his transformation, or Rishi's, for if it made Rishi this frightened, the next time might make Rishi run. Malik had gotten used to Rishi being around, had grown to love him already. So he guarded Rishi's dreams instead.

Snuggling and purring, the scent of pleasure and happiness strong around him, Rishi dreamed for

him. Those heavy paws ran and chased and... those gold eyes popped open, a happy purr

sounding, a hot tongue sliding over his paw.

He purred right back, loving the care his Rishi showed him, the open affection.

Now he could snuggle close and let his own sleep take him for a bit, let Rishi groom him. He was

groomed and loved and licked and nuzzled. His whiskers were cleaned and his eyebrows

smoothed; his ruff thoroughly explored and the tip of his tail nipped and nibbled and chased.

Malik snorted, flipping the tip of his tail just enough to make Rishi chase it.

He could hear the happy chuffs, the wind as Rishi jumped and ran and leapt and...

Oof.

One of his ears was quite firmly chomped and then Rishi chuffed, the sound proud and pleased.

Waiting until Rishi was in the release stage of chew, Malik roared, rolling them over and over

and over. Rishi's paws grabbed him, held on, those gold eyes fastened onto him as they played.

His Rishi looked at him as if he was the sun in the sky. It made him want to roar, to tell the world

how wonderful his Rishi was.

They landed in the tall, green grasses, Rishi panting beneath him. Those paws massaged his chest

and belly, claws carefully kept sheathed.

Malik closed his teeth around Rishi's throat, tongue soothing the flesh he bit. His lovely one. So

Good. Malik purred, feeling himself begin to grow hard and heavy.

Oh. Oh no.

Rishi's low purr answered his, body shifting and sliding beneath him. Rubbing.

Shifting Too - 20

Torn between rubbing back and running for fear of upsetting Rishi, Malik let Rishi choose for him. As his young one pulled him close with the barest hint of claw, Malik settled, rumbling and pressing, feeling it all the way to the tip of his tail. Golden eyes shone at him, Rishi panting and beginning to call and growl and purr out pleasure. He should have known his Rishi would take quickly to anything that felt as good as this. Malik rubbed, rocking against Rishi hard, feeling soft fur and hard muscle against him. Vibrating

beneath him, Rishi arched, twisted, head shaking on the ground restlessly.

The feeling was beginning to get urgent for him as well, and Malik moved faster, feeling Rishi's

hardness against him, making it all bigger and stronger. He bit down, marking Rishi. Claiming. Rishi stiffened and roared, the scent of need marking the air before the heat registered against him. Yes. Oh. Malik needed only moments more before his own seed burst from him, hot and wet

on Rishi's belly.

Rishi nuzzled, purring low. He could hear his young one's song -- love and pleasure and need,

singing to him, about him. Telling the birds and grasses how Rishi loved him, how he was Rishi’s

Raj and home and here and Rishi's own.

Home. Oh yes. He'd known it from the start. It would be even easier now, with this between

them, to do the rest. Malik licked and loved, purring right back.

He was home.

***

Blink.

Blink. Blink.

Sniff.

Wiggle.

Pounce!

Munch munch nibble snarf.

Blech.

Butteryflies?

Got caught in his teeth and itched.

Still...

Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle.

POUNCE.

Shifting Too - 21

Malik came out of the grass, roaring Very Loud at being woken up.

Rishi squeaked and turned and Ran.

Not that he was scared.

Because he was Brave.

But still...

The grasses behind him crackled and swished and the ground shook as Malik chased him.

Maybe a little Scared.

He headed for the trees. He could jump and climb higher and better than his Raj. And if he was

high?

Then he could drop on Malik.

PLOP.

Oh, that would be So Fun.

Sharp teeth just grazed his tail as he leapt into a tree, Malik snarling at him.

He growled back, daring to bare his teeth and shake the tree limb.

Malik paced at the base of the tree, low, constant growls sounding, tail lashing.

Rishi?

Was Nevernevernevernevernever coming down.

Never ever.

He settled down on the branch and watched, trying very hard not to make So Sorry Rishi sounds.

His Raj settled, too, stretching out under the shade of the tree, panting.

He leaned his head over the branch. Looking. Trying to see how mad his Raj was.

Not that Malik really looked angry now. Instead his Raj groomed, licking a big paw and swiping

it over his face.

He batted a leaf down, watching as it landed on Malik's paw.

A single lazy move sent the leaf flying, one side of Malik's mouth curling up.

Rishi licked his paw, thinking and watching.

Shifting Too - 22

Then he sent another leaf down.

Ignoring the leaf, Malik rolled onto his back, pale pale belly showing.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

He shivered with temptation.

No one could resist that.

That.

That belly.

He leapt with a roar, heading right for that soft, white fur.

Fur that vanished as Malik moved So Fast, rolling and catching him as he landed, pushing him

down and roaring.

Oops.

Rishi closed his eyes tight-tight and pretended he was a Rock.

It worked on birds sometimes.

Except that Malik was not a bird, and had much sharper teeth that nibbled him. Birds did not do

that.

And birds did not usually roar. Or head-butt. Or put Very Big Paws on him.

Rishi tried a little tiny purr.

Nipping, Malik grabbed his throat, but not hard. Not really.

He purred a tiny bit louder and stretched. He hadn't meant to wake Malik.

Not really.

There were butteryflies.

No one could resist butteryflies.

Relenting, Malik nuzzled his throat, licking and purring.

Oh. Oh So Good! He purred back, all the not-scared and worry dissolving.

His Raj was so good to him, praising his butteryfly hunting and his tree climbing.

Shifting Too - 23

Rishi preened and began grooming, singing about the fine sky eyes of his Raj and the thick fur of

his Raj and the long tail of his Raj and the... whiskery whiskers of his Raj.

They settled together, tails twining, Malik purring roughly, returning his touches.

The butteryflies were starting to flutter again, but his Raj's paw was Very Heavy on him.

Rishi was pretty sure that meant Stay.

Stay, and Nap, and be with Malik.

He could do that.

At least while he got the butteryfly wings out of his teeth.

***

His paw had healed. The days had passed and the prickly being out had done the job. Now it was

time for him to survey his new territory fully, something he had not done in the time since he had

come.

He left Rishi sleeping, which he felt a little guilty about as he had told Rishi never to run off

without waking him, but he would be back soon. Perhaps with some meat. That would be a nice

treat.

The territory he and Rishi had was large. Large enough that it was midday before he was even

close to circling the whole of it, and tired.

Tired and hungry. Too hungry to hunt.

Malik looked about, checking the trees. Yes. There. He thought hard about his man form,

knowing he was a better climber that way. That was one thing his young one did better than he,

the slighter body mass allowing for better climbing ability.

His man came to him more easily than the last time, his body shrinking and standing upright,

feeling oddly light. He grasped the big roots of the fruit tree he had found and shimmied up, legs

clutching the trunk, climbing until he could reach the big, juicy fruit that had his mouth watering.

It wasn't until he noticed the complete silence that he frowned.

No birds. No frogs. No songs or chirps or calls or cries.

Nothing.

He stiffened, wishing he had his tiger eyes and ears. If there was a large predator about, he didn't

know if he could change in time to fight, not in the position he was in now. He searched the trees

and grasses, looking hard.

It was only luck that exposed the tip of a white tail to him, golden eyes staring at him through the

grasses.

Shifting Too - 24

Ah. Rishi. It had to be Rishi, as he had never seen another tiger in all the time he had been there. He sighed, slipping and sliding back down the tree, two large fruits in his hands. Poor Rishi. He always caught Malik at the worst times. Rishi stayed hidden, watching him, so still, so silent. Malik sat, legs folding beneath him, knowing he would be less intimidating sitting down. Then he dug in and opened one of the fruits, making an inquiring chuff Rishi's direction. Rishi crept forward, so slow, so careful. He purred, cursing the human voice that didn't let him put as much emotion into it as he would have liked. He licked juice off his fingers, holding out a hand to Rishi and chuffing again. Rishi's nose twitched, his young one sniffing so hard the long nose wrinkled up. Switching to his human talk, Malik growled a little, low and deep. "Come Rishi. You know it is your Malik." Rishi stopped. Blinked. Chirruped back in utter surprise. Malik grinned, waggling a piece of fruit. "Come, my young one. Let me pet you." Rishi's head tilted, those golden eyes flicking between him and the fruit. The soft sounds were curious, questioning, but not aggressive, not scared. "Good. Sweet." Yes, he knew Rishi would like it better as a man than as a tiger, but he was not sure he could convince his young one to change. Not when it had scared him so when he did it by accident. Rishi crouched low, creeping toward him, sniffing. When the wet nose brushed his knee, Rishi breathed in deep, tongue flicking out for a taste. "Shhhh. See? I am your Malik. I promise." The piece of fruit in his fingers was starting to run juice, so he popped it into his mouth, humming happily. Malik licked his fingers before stroking Rishi's ears, just so he would not get that heavy fur sticky. Rishi purred softly, scenting him, licking and nuzzling, exploring his man-skin, his man-body. Those whiskers tickled. Oh, this had not happened since... well, perhaps since he was a cub. He was always a tiger with tigers and a man with men. It might have been his dam who was the last to touch him this way. He scratched harder on Rishi's ears, waiting to see the look that meant Rishi was enjoying it. For Malik knew he would. Rishi groaned, the tip of his tongue coming out, those eyes going distant and soft. A storm could come now and Rishi would not see. Rishi's heavy claws pushed into the ground, rolling and rubbing. Yes. See, young one, he thought. See that there are some advantages to being a man also. "Like that, my Rishi. Yes. Feels good, hmm?"

Shifting Too - 25

Rishi purred and chirruped, trying to answer, the sounds familiar and good to both of them.

Just scratching, he lifted the fruit he'd picked in his other hand, trying to get some energy back.

He thought he might well have to take a nap.

Rishi reached up, batting the fruit idly, claws sinking in the rind.

"Silly Rishi. It's good. Here. Taste." He popped a piece into Rishi's open mouth before his

surprised tiger could clamp down with those sharp teeth, laughing.

Rishi's face squeezed up, tongue rolling the fruit around his mouth gingerly.

He laughed even harder, watching Rishi try to negotiate the fruit. He took his own bite, and oh

the sweet, juicy taste reminded him of why he'd lived years among men.

Rishi's head tilted again, eyes fastened on his mouth. One paw lifted, landed heavy on his

shoulder as Rishi leaned in, whiskers twitching.

He had a sudden inspiration. "What? What is it you want, Rishi? You have to ask."

Rishi's eyebrows lowered, a series of cries and mews filling the air, that paw heavier and heavier.

Malik licked his lips, his nose touching Rishi's. His poor young one was trying so Hard. "You can

do it, Rishi. My So Good Rishi."

He could feel it in the paw on his shoulder becoming fingers, see the man pushing through the

tiger -- a beautiful man with eyes gold as the sun. Those eyes held his with a quiet desperation, a

mixture of panic and the need to please him.

He reached up, twining his fingers with Rishi's, holding on. Oh, he could cry. His Rishi cared for

him so well. So well. That he would do this even though it scared him so.

"Yes, my Rishi. You see? It is all right."

Rishi rested against him, heart pounding, eyes rolling. Oh, his young one, so smooth, so warm.

Little sounds poured from Rishi's mouth, scared, disbelieving little cries.

"Shhh. Sweet Rishi. I promise you are still a tiger. I promise. Hush now." He kissed Rishi's

cheeks, his chin, then his mouth, the kiss sticky sweet with fruit.

A soft peep filled his mouth, Rishi's eyes going huge. Then Rishi licked his lips, his cheeks, the

sweet distracting his young one from the fear.

"Mmmm." Yes. Yes, exactly. He'd squashed the fruit rather badly in his tension, so Malik picked

up the other, tearing it open and plucking out a piece of its flesh to press against Rishi's mouth.

Rishi's tongue came out, licking and lapping both his fingers and the fruit.

And his wrist.

Shifting Too - 26

And his arm.

"Here. Bite it, Rishi." He pressed the fruit in, let Rishi chew on it. That would really bring out the

flavor. So curious and sweet, his Rishi. So Good.

Rishi chewed and swallowed, then moved to clean his face, his fingers, tickling his sensitive skin.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrraj."

"Rishi. My Rishi." His heart was so full. He kissed Rishi again, moving his lips against his young

one's, showing him one thing that humans did right.

Rishi looked confused, fingers moving restlessly over his skin, touching him. Loving on him.

Chuffing, he bit Rishi's lower lip, just a little, proving that he could play this way as well,

knowing it would comfort.

"My So Good Rishi."

"Rrrrrraj." Rishi pushed him down, nuzzling his belly, his hip, his leg, trying to scent him.

He laughed, looking at the sky through the branches of the tree. That was probably enough for

one day for his Rishi. He would get worried soon, Malik could tell. So he thought hard of his tail

and his claws and his whiskers that seemed made for Rishi to groom, and immediately he felt

himself taking up more space, growing and stretching. And growling.

Rishi's response was joyful, the man disappearing immediately, the heavy beast that pounced him

was his beautiful One. His Rishi. Tail and all.

He chuffed, this time the sound sharp and clear. They scented each other, rubbing cheeks and

whiskers, biting tails and throats. He could hear Rishi's relief, the joy just ringing through the air,

the songs of love and need and the beauty of his tail.

Their tails curled together, and he sang his own song back. He sang of how Brave Rishi was, and

of how grateful he was that Rishi loved all of him. He pushed Rishi down and rubbed on him,

purring loudly.

Rishi preened, stretching out and offering the stark-white fur of that throat. His. His own Rishi.

Closing his teeth over that sweet throat he rubbed again, rumbling possessively. Yes. His.

Rishi panted, pushing against him, long spine rolling, hips rocking.

He needed. Needed to remind Rishi who he was, who he belonged to. And he needed to give

himself, too, because he loved his Rishi so much; Rishi just accepted him, all of him.

Soft little sounds filled the air -- begging him, wanting him, needing him everywhere. Loving

him.

All he could do was hum and purr and keep moving, want coursing through his whole body as

they rocked. Rishi's paws batted at him and he bit into the ruff at Rishi's neck, worrying it, rough with his desire. Sweet Rishi, he growled, sweet and Good.

Shifting Too - 27

Yes. Yes, yours. His name rang out again and again, thrown into the trees, into the skies and the

clouds.

Malik threw his head back and roared his pleasure as he came to the height of it, scattering birds

with the echoes. Oh, his Rishi made him proud and happy and very very tired.

Rishi's own roar was softer, following behind his like an echo.

Oh. He sank down, purring, nuzzling. They were far from their rock, but he might need to rest

first. Since he wouldn't be worrying Rishi he might just... nap.

Rishi licked his paw, cuddling in, making soft, sleep noises. Oh. Oh, yes. Nap.

They would rest together. Then they would go Home. Their territory was large enough for two,

definitely. That was all he needed to know.

***

Being Not Real was hard.

Harder than catching a Long-Legged Runner.

Harder than getting a bad itch at the base of your own tail.

Harder than Almost Anything.

Rishi growled low, batting the grasses and watching and Not Worrying. Not, because Malik said

All Was Well, but Rishi thought maybe -- just maybe -- he was supposed to be Real and Malik

should be Real, too.

Because the Not Real them had no tails.

None.

Not even a little bump of a tail.

What sort of Thing had No tail?

Not a Very Good Rishi kind of Thing.

He was almost Sure of it.

Mostly.

Basically.

Malik grumbled in his sleep, turning to his other side, paws flexing, claws sliding in and out.

Oh. And claws. His Raj had Long, Sharp, Fine Claws.

Shifting Too - 28

Whiskers, too.

And Sky-Eyes.

Well, the Sky-Eyes were always there, even if Malik was Not Real.

Rishi tilted his head.

When he was Not Real, did he have Eyes?

He stood and padded over to the Very Very Still Water, growling to scare away any Hopping

Across the Water things and Slippy Under the Water things.

He should See this.

Rishi Sat and Closed his eyes and Thought Very Very Hard. He thought about Malik's eyes and

Malik's face and Malik's mouth making sounds that were not Real but that made sounds inside

him, too. His own Raj. He would be like his own Raj. He would.

Being Not Real was Cold.

Rishi licked his poor NoClaw Paws for a moment, then leaned toward the water, looking. Oh.

Oh. He looked very...

Small.

Bare.

He opened his mouth wide-wide. Being Not-Real meant very little teeth.

His Eyes were still there, though, being His.

He heard a rustling, the padding of big feet behind him, and his Raj was there, yawning and

nuzzling him. Oh! Malik's fur tickled his Bareness.

He blinked, moving close to his Raj, the NoClaw Paws reaching out to touch.

Malik purred Loud, pushing into his touch, the thick ruff sliding and slipping on him. It must

have felt good to his Raj, because the purrs got louder, harder.

The purrs made it feel like he'd eaten too many Butteryflies and they were flying inside him,

which was silly because He'd never eaten too many Butteryflies. It must be a Not-Real feeling.

Maybe it was the Real Rishi trying to come out.

Maybe it was his Raj.

Moving to sprawl in front of him, Malik rolled to his back, presenting his belly. Oh. Soft. White.

His to touch. Sky eyes blinked at him, Malik chuffing in a sound that meant his Raj thought he

was So Good.

Shifting Too - 29

Soft fur. Belly fur. Rishi purred and called and rubbed, Malik warm and so Good against him. So

Good that he almost -- ALMOST -- forgot he was Not Real.

Rolling from side to side, Malik rubbed, encouraging him with growls and rumbles.

He chuffed, nuzzling in, purring and moving to groom his...

Phbbt.

Gack.

Oh.

Fuzzy.

Not Real Rishi mouths with No Teeth were bad for Grooming Maliks.

He sputtered and growled, tossing his head.

His Raj laughed at him, big tongue lolling out, paws waving. Oh. Not Fair.

He growled, half back to real as he landed on Malik with a thud.

Malik rolled with him, pushing him down with claws retracted, chuffing the whole while about

how beautiful he was, how Good, tail or no.

He leaned in rubbing their cheeks together. Yes. Yes, he was a So Good Rishi. A So Fine Rishi

for the Raj. Yes. Yes.

They scented for a long while, his Raj praising him for being Not Real and then being Real,

loving him and licking his whiskers.

He purred so long and loud, letting Malik know he was a So Happy Rishi. So Real. Home with

his Raj and their Rock and their sky.

Malik purred back, biting at his ruff and rumbling before putting one paw into the water to test it.

His Raj loved the water more than anything except maybe his Rishi.

Rishi closed his eyes. Tight. Waiting for the splash that was coming.

The water washed over him in a great wave as his Raj bounced in. Malik never went in backward

like his mother had shown him. Never.

His Raj?

Was Braver than the Water.

Rishi listened, leaping toward the sound of Malik's panting, the water splashing all around them.

Splashing and paddling, Malik came to him, chirruping his praise for his so Brave Rishi. Oh, his

Raj was so proud of him. He could hear it.

Shifting Too - 30

He preened, headbutting his Very Own Raj.

Their roars would frighten the whole sky.

The Scaly Swimmers and Water Hoppers, too. Which was good because even a tiger did not like

them nibbling on his toes. Even his Brave Raj squirmed when the Swimmers nibbled.

They played for a long time, until his fur was So Heavy and his head drooped.

He nudged Malik, chirruping softly, wanting the Good Sun and their Rock.

Malik growled and grabbed the scruff of his neck, pulling him out of the water like a cub,

chuffing as his feet swam frantically to keep up. Then his Raj shook Very Hard and roared,

proclaiming it a Very Good Day.

He waited until Malik was done, then he did his own Shaking and Roaring, chuffing at the

waterdrops on Malik's whiskers.

Oh yes.

Very Good Day.

***

There were times when Malik forgot he had ever lived as a human.

He had, for many years, sharing his life with a tribe, telling stories around the fire at night,

sharing a tent with his adopted family.

Malik did not miss it, really, not with Rishi to share his life. His young one was a joy, something

he thought he would never find, another of his kind.

But sometimes. Sometimes when the night was dark he wished for a fire and warm human skin to

touch, instead of fur. It made him feel guilty, for he would never ask Rishi for more than he could give, would never wish to scare or hurt him, and Malik knew that the human form intimidated his young one. So instead of waking Rishi on one of those nights, Malik slipped off to where the moon illuminated the pool, making it seem almost as bright as a fire, and let his human come up to the surface, sitting in front of the water and putting his hands on his own skin, making it enough. It would have to be. He was warm, spread, hands smoothing over his skin when heard the grasses swish, heard the soft, curious purr of his Rishi. Those eyes were wide, watching him, whiskers twitching. He almost covered himself, flushing guiltily, but stopped at the last moment, hands shaking. He did not want to teach Rishi that being nude as a human was a bad thing, not at all. So he simply let his hands fall to his sides, showing Rishi his hardness, his flushed skin and wide eyes. Rishi padded forward, purring softly, nuzzling his shoulders with that soft cheek.

Shifting Too - 31

His dear one. Malik lifted one hand, fingers sinking into Rishi's soft ruff, closing his eyes against the need to beg for a man's hands, a man's mouth. Rishi rumbled, sweet little sounds filling the air as Rishi sniffed, nostril flaring.

Malik relaxed, willing the tiger to come to the fore, surprised as anything when it would not. His

man form stayed stubbornly in place, curling up to rub against Rishi's soft underbelly.

To his shock, Rishi changed, the soft pelt becoming sweet, smooth skin. "R...r...r...raj."

Oh. Malik blinked, a smile dawning, hands sliding down Rishi's back. "Rishi."

Rishi cuddled in close, body sliding against his, his Rishi shivering, panting softly.

Holding him tight, Malik nuzzled Rishi's hair, as soft as a tiger's fur, chuffing lightly to soothe.

The feel of Rishi's skin was exquisite, smooth, fine, making him shudder with need.

Rishi moved, hands sliding over his skin, petting him.

"Rishi." It came out as a groan, a growl, and Malik arched, legs sliding along Rishi's. His cock

brushed Rishi's hip, leaving a damp trail.

"Rrraj." Rishi pressed against him, eyes watching him.

"Yes. My Rishi." Malik nipped, marking Rishi's skin, luxuriating in the taste.

"Oh!" Rishi's sound was surprised, pleased, fingers tightening on his shoulders. "Raj?"

Maybe there was something he could teach his Rishi here after all. He petted that sweet skin,

licking the mark he'd left. He rubbed some more, fingers coming up to pinch at Rishi's tiny

nipples.

Rishi's shaft filled, bumping against his belly, hot as the sun. Those nipples drew up, so tight, so

sensitive.

So good. Malik nipped and licked and loved at every bit of skin he could find, reaching down to

circle Rishi's shaft with his fingers.

Rishi leaned toward him, tongue sliding on his shoulder, the contrast from the normal rough

stroke sending a jolt through him.

There were so many things he could show. So many things he could do. Malik pushed at Rishi,

sending his young one tumbling down on his back, bending over him to lick at those tight nipples.

He could hear the soft cries, feel how Rishi rippled beneath him. Those clumsy fingers were in

his hair, shaking, petting.

He didn't want to scare Rishi, not ever, but Malik needed to taste, had to, and he slid down, nudging Rishi's cock with his chin.

Shifting Too - 32

Rishi moaned, legs spreading, sliding over the grass. The hot shaft brushed his throat, his cheek.

The scent of Rishi was wild, natural, making his mouth water. Malik licked the shaft, lips

working the head, pushing the loose skin there back, using his hand to steady it for his mouth.

"Raj..." Rishi gasped, hips rolling, panting, need pouring off his sweet young one.

"Mmmmm." Malik was just purring, opening up around Rishi and taking him in. The taste was

just as he'd imagined, sharp, perfect.

So quick, so trusting, his Rishi was moving for him, cock sliding on his tongue.

He loved Rishi so much, needed him so much, and Malik growled, urging Rishi on, hands sliding

on Rishi's heavy balls. Rishi's hands opened and closed, tugging at his hair, a roar building in the

lean chest.

Soon. Oh, please soon. Malik opened up, taking Rishi so deep, breathing in as his nose brushed

soft curls. His Rishi. His.

Salt and heat filled his lips, Rishi's roar ringing in the night.

Malik took it all, drinking Rishi in, licking away anything he might have missed before rising to

kiss Rishi hard. Rishi opened, tongue sliding, tasting, low moans sounding, vibrating his lips.

He wanted, oh, he wanted. Malik slid along the hollow of Rishi's hip, moaning at the feel of silky

skin, pushing hard toward his finish.

Rishi's hand slid down, fingers wrapping around his need, stroking.

"Rishi!" Oh, there was no more he could take. Malik roared, heat splashing out over Rishi's

fingers, sliding between their bellies. It was so big, this pleasure. It made his head swim.

Rishi wriggled down, sniffing, licking, cleaning his skin even as the aftershocks moved through

him.

He praised Rishi with deep sounds, chuffing and purring deep in his chest. He petted that shock

of wild hair, scratching lightly, showing approval. Rishi purred, nuzzled his belly, rubbing against

him. His young one was relaxed, happy in this form for the first time.

It gave him hope. Malik loved his Rishi so, wanted to be with him no matter what. But if this

need could be met, too. Oh. And he needed to teach Rishi, to make him more comfortable as a

man, because the men came closer every year.

Licking and nuzzling, Rishi worked his way up to settle in his arms, hair soft and heavy on his

bare skin.

"Love." He knew Rishi knew what love was, even if he didn't know the word. Malik held Rishi,

looking at the stars above them and stroking Rishi's soft skin. They would work through it

together. His Rishi gave him everything he needed. How could he not do the same?

Rishi purred softly and relaxed, trusting him enough to rest, to feel safe.

Shifting Too - 33

Malik would have to live up to that trust. And he would have to trust Rishi more, to know what

Malik himself needed. Maybe they both learned a lesson this night.

***

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraj!

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraj!

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraj!

Rishi ran as fast as he could, stopping to pant and cry out for Malik before picking up his burden

and running again.

He had been Chasing and Running when he saw it.

A Long-Legged Runner.

A WHOLE Long-Legged Runner!

Rishi Pounced!

Snarled!

Caught it!

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraj!

His Raj appeared out of the bushes, snarling and roaring, ready to defend him. The way his Raj

stopped, blinking, mouth hanging open was almost Funny. Almost. But not quite because Malik

starting scolding right away, grabbing the Runner and pulling it out of the open grass.

Rishi bounced along behind, telling Malik everything about his Kill.

His Kill!

His Very Own So Good Rishi Kill!

Dropping the runner, Malik snarled at him, telling him to be Very Quiet until they got the kill

where they could eat without everyone in the territory knowing there was fresh meat.

His ears went flat and he fought the urge to growl, to take his Long-Legged Runner and... And... And... Wish Malik was there. They finally got to a secluded place not far from their rock and Malik dropped the Long-Legged Runner and came to him, licking his whiskers and praising him, telling him he was So Brave and So Strong and So Fast.

Shifting Too - 34

He cleaned his Paws and Claws, rumbling to himself softly. He was So Brave.

And a Hunter.

A Real Hunter.

So There.

Ha.

Rumbling, his Raj agreed, backing away to let him have the first feed off of their meal. The first

taste of his first Kill.

Rishi went over to the Kill, looking at it before finding the choice bits and walking them over to

Malik, offering them with a soft purr.

That was the Very Best thing he could have done. He could tell by the way Malik purred and

praised, licking his whiskers before taking the meat and lying down to eat.

It made the ache in his belly gone and he pounced his Kill, eating happily.

His Kill. His and his Raj's!

When he had eaten so much that his belly was Too Full, he looked over. His Raj watched him

through half closed eyes, the Sky color shining with pride. For him.

He nudged the kill under the Tall Grasses, saving it and being a Good Rishi, before bounding

over to get his Nuzzles.

He got nuzzles and licks and cheek rubbing, Malik chuffing and batting at his neck. He was

Beautiful Rishi and Strong Rishi and his Raj was Proud Malik.

Oh. Oh, yes. He Purrrrrrrrrred, rolling and offering his Raj his soft belly.

Malik nibbled his belly, purring, making him vibrate. He was Loved and Needed and Malik was

so happy they had Found each other.

Rishi chuffed. Yes. Loved and Needed and Malik's Very Own Rishi Who Hunted.

They wandered toward their rock, full bellies demanding a nap. His Raj just kept rubbing on him,

twining tails.

Rishi leapt up on the Rock, circling, waiting for his Raj to take his own place. This Rock was too

big for just one tiger. It needed two.

It was a good thing his Raj had come along, even if he had been scared at first. And even if he

was Not Real sometimes. Because his Malik? Was just the right size.

Shifting Too - 35

Here Kitty, Kitty: Whiskers to Tail BA Tortuga Jax shifted, scratching his nose. Damn it, the stupid thing itched. He scratched again, wincing as his whiskers caught on his fingers, and painfully. Whiskers... Shit. Jax got up, scratching his back just above his butt, heading for the bathroom and the mirror. Yup. Whiskers. On one side. Damned if it wasn't getting worse. Good thing Adam didn't let him out in public much, the way he lost control. Bad thing was he needed deodorant and toothpaste. "Adam? You going to the grocery store today, hon?" Adam sort of grunted, head bent over the drawing table, the sound of the pencil scratching not even stuttering. Grinning, Jax wandered over that way, collapsing bonelessly on the floor at Adam's feet, rubbing his damned itchy whiskers against one leg. "Well, we'll need to sometime." "Need to what, pretty?" Adam reached down, fingers stroking his head, his neck. "You're whiskery. Tickles." "No shit. Get groceries. We need to get stuff." He lost the thread somewhere in the purrs, lifting his chin to let Adam scratch beneath. "Okay. We can do that. We'll go late, yeah? When the place isn't busy. Get cream..." Adam's pencil dropped, fingers moving to love on him, find each and every single spot. Oh. Oh, good man. So good. Jax oozed a little, arms wrapping around Adam's waist, head in Adam's lap. His purrs got louder and louder and his ear got, well. Itchy. Jax sighed. "I just lost the ear, didn't I?" "Uh-huh." Adam scratched it, chuckling softly. "Relax, pretty. Stress makes it worse, remember. Your Aunt Kathy said so." "Then I won't think about going out." He had to, though, being cooped up all the time wasn't good for him either, and poor Adam needed to let him run off some steam and chase a bird or two. He arched his back as Adam scratched his ear, his muscles just drawing up all the way down to his ass. Mmmm. Damn that felt good. "You can change tonight, late; we'll go to the park. There's trees." Adam's voice was rich, happy, vibrating all the way down to his tail. Tail. Shifting Too - 36

Damnit. "Yeah? Okay. And then we can come home on the subway and watch bums for you to draw." Give and take. That was what it was about. "Sounds good." Oh. Oh. Those fingers found the base of his tail and shorted him right out. Just sort of climbing Adam and the chair, Jax nodded, licking at Adam's chin, his lips. That was right up there with a good blowjob, the whole tail scratching thing. Uhn. "Mmm... here, kitty kitty." Adam leaned back, head tilting for his tongue. "Sexy bastard." It took him like two seconds to climb the rest of the way up and straddle Adam's lap. After they'd broken the second chair they'd gotten Adam one of those fancy ergonomic pod things. So comfy for nappage. Jax kissed Adam's mouth, hands sinking into Adam's hair. Adam moaned, the sound almost tickling. Opening up, Adam sucked on his tongue, fingers constantly scratching. He had the best man on the planet. Rubbing, Jax panted, licking Adam's lips, his teeth. He started touching, too, remembering he had hands. Look ma, opposable thumbs and no claws. "Mmm..." Adam's body was familiar and right, shoulders tapering down into lean hips, dark hair sprinkled over the pale skin of the flat belly. Pale as cream. Mmm... Cream. He almost bent to taste, but he was too happy where he was. Kissing. He did pet that milk pale belly, though, just letting his fingers hang on the trail of hair. That got him a purr, deep and low and just pretty. Adam did pretty good at that, for a human. "Tasty." Adam was tasty. Jax nipped at one ear. "Pretty, too. Love having you around, hon." He purred, too, wiggling to get more of that scratch right there. "Of course you do. No one understands your... habits like I do." Those dark eyes just danced. "Nope. No one would. Just you." Sometimes he didn't even get it. Thank goodness Adam and Aunt Kathy talked. A lot. Licking down the side of Adam's neck, he slipped his fingers down to Adam's waistband. Adam arched, rubbing up against him, hands starting to pull him down, rub them together. He moaned, the sound a little growly, but oh. Cool. The ear had gone away. He could feel Adam's fingers tracing the outside edge of his very human one. "Love you, pretty. Stop thinking. Just stop and feel." "'Kay." He could do that. Especially when he was getting his hand down Adam's pants, getting hold of that short, wide cock. He loved the feel of it, all tight and good, life pulsing in the big vein. "Uhn." The sound was all desire, thick and rich and all man. "Yeah, pretty. Right like that." "You're something, Adam. So good." He bit a little, just letting his teeth scrape, then rubbing his

Shifting Too - 37

cheek against the bite, scenting.

"Hungry beast." The tease was fond, needy, the swallow against his lips telling.

"Always." He stroked a little harder, then a little softer, varying the pace. He wiggled some more,

finding purchase on Adam's thigh and huffing out a happy sigh.

"Mmhmm." Adam moved them, rocked them together, the chair shifting, creaking.

Growling, he pushed harder, his fingers tightening as he pulled. "Love you."

"I love you, pretty. Tail to whiskers." That hand landed at the base of his tail again, rubbing and

scratching and making him arch.

Biting his lip to stifle a yowl, Jax rubbed and pulled and pulled and rubbed, just looking to get

them off. Needing to smell Adam as he came.

"Oh. Oh, Jax. Pretty. Soon. Soon, love." Adam's cries got louder, sharper.

"Uh huh. Need. I can't. Damn." He was gonna come so good. Especially when Adam touched the

base of his tail right there. Right there. Oh, fuck. He squeezed Adam's cock tight, hips rocking hard as he shot. Adam followed along, jerking and throbbing and rocking, seed spraying over his fingers. "Oh." He licked his fingers clean as soon as Adam was done, moaning at the taste even as he went all mushy. "Oh, hon. That's way better than deodorant and toothpaste." "Uh... thanks?" Adam grinned, held him. "You're something else."

Jax purred, flicking the end of his tail up to tease Adam's chin. "Yup. Thank goodness you don't

mind."

Adam chuckled, blew air at the tip of his tail, sending shivers through him. "Not a bit, fuzzy."

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten so darned lucky. Jax rubbed the whiskers that had popped out on

the other side against Adam's cheek. He was just happy as anything that he had.

Shifting Too - 38

Not Pride Sean Michael The woods near the cities smelled... off. Not like the strong loamy earth smell of the deep forest.

Still, Syl had to admit he liked the touches of civilization that the town of Sufring afforded. And

the fact that there was no Pride here. He didn't belong to any Pride and never would. He had no

desire to either bow to an Alpha or put up with the crap of being one himself.

He was a free spirit.

A loose cat.

His was the purrrrfect life.

So he was understandably concerned when the Beast picked up the scent of Others on the air. He

sniffed, followed the smells, growling low as the Others were elusive, moving away from him,

teasing him. He followed their scent to a motel at the edge of town.

Batting down the instinct to batter down the door, he knocked.

"What do you want?" The voice was low and soft, the door not opening. "We don't want trouble."

"Then you'd better open the door," he growled. Dammit, if the Prides thought they could encroach

on all the free places left in the world...

A low growl answered him. "Go away."

"Who is it, Nat?" Another voice, softer, sleepy.

"No one important, love. He's going away."

He growled menacingly, the Beast growing impatient. "I said open it."

There were some low whispers, then the door cracked and a gold eye peered out. "What do you

want?"

The scent hit him hard, pure male, sex, sweet, hot. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand

on end. "Let me in. Our business is best kept off the streets."

"No. I'll meet you in another room. This one is mine." The male was slender, almost vibrating

with worry, with tension.

Oh, that was it.

With a snarl, he pushed open the door, sending the man stumbling back. He left the door open

behind him in case there were more than two and he needed to get out in a hurry.

Shifting Too - 39

Gold eyes flashed and the man snapped at him, the beast just under control. "I'm not causing any

harm."

Syl growled low, in warning, eyes sweeping the room. "Where's the others?" He knew there were

more than one, he'd heard this one talking and he could smell it, could smell the scent of at least

two of them on the air, though it was strange, unlike any two he'd ever scented.

"Others?" The room looked empty, even the clothes lying about were all obviously for the same

man -- jeans and sweaters in greens and blues.

He growled again, scenting the air, his instincts telling him no matter how different there was at

least one more here.

The man growled back, thin cheeked and pale, the long, pitch-black hair ruffled and on end.

If he wasn't so riled up, Sylvan would have been enjoying the pretty boy, but he kept expecting

someone to come slinking out of the shadows, ready to cut him down. The reek of Pride was all

over the room and it made him leery.

"What're you doing here? There's no Pride here."

"We... I'm not looking for a Pride. I'm traveling. Needed to rest. We're not Pride."

"We?" he asked, pouncing on the slip. He knew it.

"Me." The man shivered, pacing a little.

He slowly moved around the young one, for this one was younger than him, there was no doubt

of it. "Oh, no. You definitely said 'we'."

"Did I?" The young one shifted away, rumbling in warning.

He nodded, purring. Oh, he was beginning to enjoy this game. Might even enjoy being pounced.

He took a step out of the slow circle he'd been traveling, nose back in the air. "I see that you and

your companion like games. Hide and seek has always been one of my favorites." He headed

slowly toward the beds in the middle of the room. "Here kitty, kitty."

A low fierce growl sounded, the young one moving so fast to intercept him. "You leave him

alone."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you aren't alone, after all."

"Nat..." He blinked as an exact double of the young one before him slid from under the bed.

"Make him go away."

Oh my. He looked them up and down. "All right. So there's two of you." He was purring softly,

unable to help himself. They were hot. Very hot. "What's your business?"

The second one draped himself over the first, four golden eyes watching him warily. "We don’t

have any."

Shifting Too - 40

"None."

"We're just resting."

"For a while."

"Yes, just a while. We're..."

"Tired. Tired of running."

He was torn between turned on at the sight of them and worried at what they might be running

from. "What's chasing you? What are you leading here?" He liked it here. He didn't want to have

to retreat or fight to keep his access to the town.

"No one." They spoke together, cheeks nuzzling together.

"We were part of a Pride."

"But they wanted to separate us."

"And we won't be separated."

"So we left and we're looking."

"For a place."

He tilted his head. Oh, they were adorable. Why would you want to separate them? He bet they

were a lot of fun together. "So no one's following you? You're sure?"

Two heads bobbed, eyes bright. "We're sure."

"Well then. I suppose that's all right." He walked slowly around them, purring softly.

They cuddled together, twined together. "Will you go now? We don't want to fight."

"Oh, I don't want to fight either." He looked around. "This is a pretty lousy place. You interested

in staying somewhere a little more... homey?"

Oh, they were so young, so pretty. "Homey?"

The second one cuddled closer. "Nat?"

"Yes, love?"

"Is he safe?"

"I don't know, love."

"Oh."

Shifting Too - 41

He moved right in front of them, leaning in to share scent with them. "I'm Sylvan."

"Nat."

"Cris."

Nostrils flared, the twins rubbing each other, their scent heady.

Oh, they were slinky, sexy. He wanted them. It had been a long time since he'd had one of his

own. Eyes half closing, he rubbed his cheeks along theirs, purring. The answering purrs vibrated

through him, settling in his balls and starting a burn.

He pulled back just far enough to look into one set of golden eyes and then the other. Damn, they

were sexy. "My place isn't that far from here. It's nice. Set up for one of us instead of a human."

He could feel the ripple of want move through them both. "For one of us?"

"The moon's filling."

"Yes."

"We'll have to hunt."

"Yes."

He nodded. "I know, I can feel it, too. My place backs onto the forest. It's easy to come and go

without being seen. There's no boxbeds, there's a carpet tree. It's nice. You could come stay with me." Maybe it was that full moon pulling on him, making him eager to be among his kind, to mate. The first young one -- Nat -- nodded and then his brother started grabbing bags and stuffing clothes and toiletries into them, dark hair hiding the thin face.

He licked his lips, bouncing on his legs, watching Cris move, watching Nat watch Cris move. "So

you two together together?"

Nat's eyes flashed. "Do you have a problem with that?" Cris leaned up and nuzzled Nat's

shoulder, purring softly.

He purred at the sight of them. "No. I want in. Have you got a problem with that?"

"We don't know you."

"We don't know your scent."

"We can't say yes."

"We won't say no."

Oh, their voices twined together, all purrs and rumbles and sex.

Shifting Too - 42

"Well as long as it's not a no, you can still come and stay with me. Long as you know I'm looking.

The two of you make me purr, make the Beast want out."

Cris smiled, eyes flirting and hot, and Nat nodded. "It's not a no."

"Come on then, let's get moving." They didn't have far to go, but he could hear the wind picking

up, knew the weather could turn nasty and cold with little warning and he wanted to be home,

wanted to feed one hunger if he couldn't feed the other.

It didn't take them long before there were two men in jeans and white sweaters with blue

backpacks following him, moving as one.

He nodded to them and led them out of the motel room. "You two paid up?"

"For two"

"More days."

They nodded.

"Until the moon calls."

"All right, drop the keys at the desk, and we'll get out of here. A storm's coming in."

He waited until they'd taken care of the keys and then lead them down the street, toward the forest

and his home.

***

Nathaniel was worried.

A storm was coming. The moon was waxing. Cris was hungry and scared and fretting.

And then there was the new one.

Sylvan.

Strong.

Fine.

Sure.

Hungry.

"Nat?" Cris whispered and nudged him. "Should we run? I could distract him and find you?"

He met Cris' eyes. "I'm not sure we should, love. There's a storm coming."

Sylvan turned, dark eyes seeming to see right into him. "Come on, it isn't far. I've got fresh meat

in the cold hold."

Shifting Too - 43

Cris' belly rumbled, eyes going feral. "Meat? Really?" They moved together, faster, nostrils flaring. Syl laughed, the sound husky and not mean. "Yeah, really." The muscled body in front of them moved faster, Sylvan picking up speed. They paced him, the sound of Cris' heart loud in Nat’s ears, matching his own, the temptation to change strong. The house they entered was at the end of a quiet block, each building a good way from its neighbor and backing onto the woods. There were trees in the front yard as well, affording privacy. It was warm when they went in and smelled strongly of Sylvan, of the Beast, strong and male and good. Cris was shivering, head moving to catch each scent. "Nat... This is a good place." His hand was taken, nuzzled and licked. "Very good." Sylvan turned and smiled, nodded. "It is. Home. I'll give you the two second tour. Head's this door here. Kitchen's across from it here. And the rest of the rooms I converted into one large room. There's a fireplace, a large window looking out on the forest, pillows and comforters, a tree big enough to stretch out on." "Oh..." Nat was vibrating -- was going to vibrate apart. He'd been so strong, so long for his Cristian. "It sounds perfect." Cris nodded, touches looking to soothe his shakes. "Oh. Oh, so tired. My Nat is so tired." "So feeding first and then napping in front of the fire while the storm rages? I have to tell you it sounds perfect even before there are extra bodies to curl up with." Sylvan led the way into the kitchen, opening the cold box and taking out a large shank of meat. Cris was stripping them down, the Beast riding his heels, wanting free, wanting fed. He roared low as his paws hit the ground, whiskers trembling. Sylvan was there ahead of him, tearing a chunk off the meat before retreating to a corner, leaving over half the meat for him and Cris. Sylvan didn't seem worried about them, ignoring them in favor of tearing his food to pieces. Cris let Nat eat first, pacing and rumbling and watching, assuring he could eat in peace. In return, he left the best parts for his twin, the most tender bits, guarding the long, sleek back as Cris fed. Sylvan finished eating before they did, giving them a wide berth as he went around them and drank at a bowl that seemed to be replenished from outside. Then the big golden cat sat and began grooming. They fed well, then moved together to a protected corner. His twin began grooming him, tongue moving over his fur, soothing him as they tried to relax. He buried his muzzle in Cris' shoulder, rubbing carefully, joining their scents.

Shifting Too - 44

Sylvan changed, the dark eyes remaining the same as Beast became man, the golden hair that cascaded down over tanned skin the same color as the Beast's fur. "Come to the fire when you're ready." They groomed and rested and played together a long time, enjoying the feeling of being full and fed. Finally the storm hit, the wind howling and the temperature dropping and they padded into the large room at the back of the house, searching for the fire. The entire back wall was actually a large window, making the room feel as if it opened to the forest. One side wall held a large fireplace in which a fire was blazing. In front of that lay a nest of blankets and pillows, Sylvan lying curled in the middle of them. The golden head raised from where it rested on two big paws, eyes watching them a moment before Sylvan relaxed back down again. They leapt up onto the pillows, Cris rolling playfully, snuggling into the warmth. He watched for a moment, resisting that pretty belly, before he pounced, landing on his twin with a happy purr. One of Sylvan's eyes opened again, the big cat seeming to watch them with amusement before Sylvan rolled casually, stretching out against them. Cris leaned over, touched his nose against Sylvan's, purring softly. Syvan's purr answered Cris, the gold cat's tongue sliding briefly over Cris' muzzle. Nat draped himself over Cris, staking his claim, nuzzling his twin's neck. Chuffing, Sylvan raised his head and licked his muzzle as well. Mmm... smelled good. Nat purred quietly, curling around Cris, tail landing on Sylvan. Sylvan's purr fit well with theirs, twined in with theirs like smoke sliding through the air. Cris relaxed, going boneless between them, eyes blinking as they watched the fire. It was warm and cozy and good. They were warm and safe, fed and groomed, Sylvan adding his heat and scent to them without threatening them. Nat laid his head down, purring, cuddling into the pillows. Let the storm come. *** He woke up with a purr, pushing into Nat's chest, nuzzling, tongue dragging along the soft fur there. Yes. Good brother. Good. Warm. His Nat. His happiness. His mate and protector and home.

Shifting Too - 45

His Pride.

He purred louder, still mostly asleep, rubbing into Nat's warmth, back into...

Cris' eyes popped open and he snarled, pouncing out of the pillows, heart pounding, roaring his

fury.

The other Beast leapt to his feet as well, roaring back, snarling at him in return. Black eyes

glittered in golden fur. Nat snapped at the other, rolling down to headbutt him, purring loud and

hard, tongue sliding over his fur.

Comforting him.

Oh. Oh, right. Right.

Yes.

Okay.

Cris shook his head and snorted softly. They were at the other's house.

The other, Sylvan, snorted and slowly changed, the man wearing a sardonic look. "Do you always

treat your hosts so?"

Cris backed away, hiding behind his brother. Nat changed, hands gentle in his fur. "He was just

scared. We're sorry."

Sylvan's look had turned to a frown. "He's awfully skittish. What happened to him?"

"Someone hurt him. He's fine now." He leaned into Nat's hands, not listening anymore. He was

fine. Nat was fine. They were free and happy and it was good.

He purred low. Very good.

Sylvan's growl was low, angry. "Prides are nasty, treacherous."

Nat stroked his head. "Someone wanted him as their own, someone stronger than me. I took him

and ran as soon as I could."

Sylvan's growls increased. "You said no one followed."

No one did. No one would. The one who had hurt him was dead.

Cris morphed and stood. "We should go, Nat."

"If I had one such as he, I would follow when he ran. You may stay here, but not if Pride follows

you. I will not have Pride here. Will not."

"The Pride will not follow us." Nat's voice rang with truth, with admiration and respect for him.

Shifting Too - 46

"We'll go." He tugged Nat's hand.

"If Pride truly does not follow, you may stay." The black eyes glittered. "There is a storm outside

and the moon is soon full. Stay and run with me through the forests once the hunger is upon us."

"The Pride will not follow us. We will stay."

"But."

"No, love. We will stay."

"Nat."

His cheeks were taken in warm hands, tilting his face for a deep, strong kiss, Nathaniel melting

him.

Loving him.

A deep, low purring slid around them. "Beautiful."

Nat lifted his head, slowly lapping at his lips. "He is."

"You both are," purred the other, slowly circling them, heat in those black eyes.

Nat's arms wrapped around him, petting him. Protecting him.

Sylvan scented them and then backed off. "I won't separate you. Won't ask one to do anything

both can't do."

There was the scent of truth there and he purred, meeting Sylvan's shiny eyes. "Thank you."

He and Nat stepped closer to the fire, to the male. Sylvan reached out, touching their cheeks with

warm fingers. They nuzzled together, his tongue sliding out to taste. Purring, Sylvan's eyes half

closed.

They moved together, slowly exploring Sylvan's hands, Sylvan's skin, Nathaniel holding him

close the entire time.

Sylvan purred for them. "Oh, boys... don't start something you aren't going to finish. It would be a

terrible tease."

"We need to know you."

"You smell good."

"Strong."

"Rich."

"We want to know you."

Shifting Too - 47

"Wonderful," purred Sylvan. "Just what I want as well."

They moved toward the pillows, Nat cradling him in warm arms, Sylvan settling beside them.

"Such beauty. I can understand why one would want you, but I cannot understand why they

would not want both."

"My Cris is sweet as honey. The Alpha did not share."

"He did not so much not want both, he did not want us to be together."

Nat nodded behind him. "He wanted us both, separately."

Cris shook his head. "We are not separate."

"No, love. We are not."

"No. No you are not. You are mates -- anyone who looks can see." Sylvan spoke simply.

"Yes." Their voices purred together and they undulated slowly. "Yes..."

Sylvan's hand reached out, sliding softly over their skin, his and Nat's. Oh, warm. He purred,

rubbing his cheek on the pillows, wordlessly asking for more.

"I would like to kiss you," murmured Sylvan. "To taste you both."

He blinked slowly, rubbing back against Nat as he tilted his face up for a kiss. Sylvan purred and

leaned forward, lips pressing against his. A slow rush of heat filled him, something deep in the pit

of his belly that burned and his lips parted, asking for more.

Sylvan's purr filled his mouth along with the hot tongue. Air, not his brother's breathing into him.

Sylvan's tongue wasn't as sweet as Nat's, but the musk and power made him purr, made him open

wide and search for more flavors, more heat.

Sylvan kissed him deeply, but then pulled away, turning to drink from Nat's mouth as well. Cris

felt Nat's shaft jerk against him, heard the sweet, low rumble of pleasure behind him. Oh. Nat felt

it, too -- that heat, that burn.

Sylvan moaned and looked at him and Nat. "Oh, you are both so sweet. Hot."

"Do we..."

"Taste the same?"

"Nat and."

"Cris?"

Sylvan purred and shook his head. "At first you do, but deeper you do not."

"No?" They spoke together, Nat's hand dragging up along his belly and making him gasp.

Shifting Too - 48

"No. You are sweeter, your brother spicy." Sylvan smiled. "Now remind me again who is who

and I will always be able to tell you apart."

Nathaniel chuckled softly. "Should we tell, love?"

He giggled, leaning up to accept his mate's kiss. "No. We should make him guess."

"Oh, that isn't fair. You look as alike as two peas and I can hardly be blamed for not knowing

which is Nathaniel and which Cristian!" Sylvan was pouting, though the black eyes shimmered

with sex and happiness.

"He likes green beans and I like carrots, does that help?" Cris laughed and stretched, rubbing

happily.

"I like to sleep high and he likes to bury himself in the pillows." Nat's voice teased from behind

him.

"No." The pout was growing as Sylvan's hands stroked over them.

He purred happily, rocking and nuzzling into the touches. "He has a pretty pout, Nat."

"Yes, love. He does."

"Aha! You are Cristian and the spicy one is Nathaniel." Sylvan grinned at them, kept touching

them. "Cris and Nat, if one is familiar, yes? And you may call me Syl."

"Sssssssssyl." He liked that. It made his tongue tingle.

Nat chuckled, pushing closer and vibrating him with deep purrs.

"Yes. It rhymes with ssssexy." Syl gave him a wink. "And sssslinky. Which works well as you

both are."

He rolled his eyes playfully and leaned in to nuzzle and smell, his brother's mouth sharp-toothed

on his shoulder.

Syl purred for him, nuzzling back, rubbing their cheeks together, joining their scents. "You and

your mate are very sexy. I want you both."

"Yes?" He let his hands slide down Syl's belly, moaning at the smooth warmth. "You make us

hot."

"Make us burn."

Cris nodded. "Yes. Burn. Deep inside."

"I feel it, too. It has been very hard to ignore, very hard not to pounce and take you and your

mate."

Shifting Too - 49

He gasped as Nat's mouth moved down, tickling and licking and oh... He leaned forward, licking at Syl's skin. Syl purred for him and pressed close so that the vibrations shook him. "Mmm... sexy kitties." The black eyes flashed and his mouth was taken, Syl's tongue pushing in. Cris melted, hands burying in the fine, gold hair. He whimpered as Nat's tongue swiped across his lower back, making his legs part. Syl's cock grew hard against his belly, a large, burning brand. He wrapped one leg around Syl's, scooting until they could rub together, Nat's tongue driving him wild, wetting him for his mate's prick. Syl's purrs grew wilder, feral. "What's he doing to you?" He tossed his head. "Lick... licking me. Opening me. Getting me ready for his cock." He cried out and arched as Nat spread him wider. A shudder moved through Syl and one of Syl's hands slid down along his back until Syl's fingers touched his opening, Nat's tongue. A long moan came from Syl. He could feel Nat, licking them both now, hear the low needy growl from his mate. Syl moved faster against him, harder, mouth on his neck now, licking and sucking his skin. Nat moved up along his body, hands baring his nape for sharp teeth as his mate's cock pushed in deep. They all moved together, bodies slapping, two sets of teeth worrying his skin. Oh, it was fine. The heat, the pleasure. The scents. The pressure. Cris twisted and rocked, body and hands moving against hot skin, mouth open and crying out his need. Syl's hands twisted with Nat's on his hips, the two of them moving him back and forth. Oh. Good. So good. So big. He gasped and arched impossibly, clenching around Nat's heat as he came, toes curling. Syl roared as his scent spread up from between them and Syl jerked hard against him. Syl's scent joined his, sharp and not yet familiar. Nat followed soon after, growling into his hair, marking him deep within. Yes. Yes, very good. Cris relaxed, purring from his toes to his nose. Syl purred as well, licking at the mark left on his neck, hand reaching back to touch Nat. Nat's hand reached out, slid between him and Syl, then brought a slick hand to his lips for him to feed on. He took the long fingers with a purr, licking and sucking happily. Still purring, Syl licked at Nat's hand as well, helping him clean it, tasting them together. He lapped at Syl's tongue, chuffing at the pleasure and the heat inside him. Syl moaned. "Oh, the two of you are a distraction. A temptation. I'm so glad you came along." "Mmm... Are we distracting? Cris and me? We just want to rest, to play, to feel." "Yes, those sound like good things." Syl nuzzled and leaned past him to kiss Nat.

Shifting Too - 50

Nat moaned, pressing against him, pressing him between them. "Hot. Oh... Hot."

Syl moaned. "How do either of you get anything done but each other?"

"Mmm... we like to hunt. I cook. Nat makes clothes, blankets." He licked at their lips. "What do

you do?"

"Hunt. I bring furs in, cure them, make coats and mitts and hats and scarves and boots for the

humans."

Nat drew in a breath, eyes shining. "Yes? I know how to work with those, to make those."

Sylvan purred. "Wonderful. We are well-matched then in more than just sex."

He blinked up, making his eyes wide-wide. "We have sex?" His Nathaniel's laughter tickled deep

within him.

Sylvan laughed. "Well that's what I call it..."

He nodded, giggling and gasping as Nat slid from him and morphed, fur warm on his skin.

"Mmm... such a pretty cat." Sylvan reached past him again, scratching Nat's neck. Nat stretched,

purred loudly, muscles rippling under the black pelt.

"He is most fine." Cris nodded, fingers working Nat's ears and making those gold eyes cross with

bliss.

Sylvan nodded, leaning in closer to scent Nat. "I will be able to tell you both apart by scent alone

when the Beast is upon us."

"Are you so sure? We're very close." He nuzzled his twin, fingers digging in the soft fur.

"Is that a challenge?" Sylvan changed, turning into the beautiful golden-furred leopard with dark,

glittering eyes.

He was licked and then Nat was, the big muzzle scenting them both.

Cris let the Beast have him, rolling with Nat, the two of them spinning and spinning and rubbing

together before separating.

There.

See if Sylvan could tell who was who.

Sylvan advanced on them and began to scent them, starting with Nat and then moving to him

before going back to Nat. They were sniffed and groomed for long moments, Sylvan purring and

then he morphed. "Cris," Syl said, rubbing his neck. "And this is Nat."

He and Nat morphed as one, his eyes met Nat's, shocked. "No one."

Shifting Too - 51

"No one ever has."

"Told us apart . Not even."

"Not even our dam."

Sylvan purred. "There are differences though. Subtle and soft and very, very good."

"Very good?" They moved toward Syl as one, curling around him, purring and cuddling.

Thanking.

"Yes, very good. If you were exactly the same, it would grow boring very quickly, but you are

not and the differences are delightful." Syl wrapped them in his arms, sliding against them.

They all bundled in the blankets, Nat and him each taking a shoulder to rest upon, six legs all

tangled.

Syl purred, the sounds quiet, restful. "Nap, my beautiful boys. Tonight the storm will have passed

and we can go hunt together."

His hand curled with Nat's over Syl's belly. Nat's eyes were drooping and before he knew it, they

were dreaming together, chasing the clouds.

***

Sylvan ran full out, chasing the buck toward Nat and Cris.

He'd never hunted with another before and really, he was testing the two black cats. On his own,

he would have chosen a doe, or a sick buck, but with three of them, they should be able to bring

down bigger game.

It felt great to run flat out, the new snow cold and wet beneath his paws, the wind noisy in his

ears, hunger pushing him hard. This close to the full moon and hunting became more than just a

way to feed yourself, it became necessary deep inside.

They rounded a corner and he could see Nat and Cris ahead. It was time to take the buck down.

The twins were identical black streaks, moving to intercept the buck, to startle it and nip at the

long legs.

Beautiful.

His instinct to stop and watch warred with the instinct to hunt, but this close to the moon, the

hunger was great and he continued the chase with them, giving them both a chance to work at the

buck before making a leap at the animal's throat.

The buck went down in a flurry of hooves, one dark body rolling away from a kick as the other's

claws ripped into its side.

Shifting Too - 52

The kill was quick, merciful and soon he was lapping at the blood that poured from the neck, letting Nat and Cris feed first. He wasn't Alpha and, despite the hunger that always chased him at near full moon, he wasn't as hungry as they were. Cris waited for Nat, purring his thanks as a tender bit was offered to the younger twin. So ritualized, so set within the pack structure, even though they were free. He shook his head, joining them after the first few bites instead of waiting as an inferior in the pack would. They were not a pack, there was no Pride here. They would eat together. The twins fed deep, then began playing in the snow, leaping into the trees and pouncing one another, bounding through the fresh snow. Chuffing, he watched as he groomed, cleaning the blood from his muzzle, from his paws. Biding his time to make his move and join them. His opening came as they rolled together in the snow and he pounced, landing hard. Cris rolled and Nat swiped at his legs, the two moving as one, leading him on a merry chase. Chuffing happily, he played with them, running after first one and then the other and finally winding up at the bottom of a pile as they pounced him. Together they were heavy enough to hold him down, give him a good, long nuzzling before bounding away, tails held high. He sprang up and chased them down again, pouncing... Nat and licking thoroughly. Nat nuzzled him, lapping his muzzle and distracting him long enough for Cris to send him flying over the snow. He rolled with Cris, laughing, fighting and holding the black beast. Cris chuffed and struggled, head falling back with a soft purr as he settled on Cris' lean mass. He started grooming Cris, licking the black muzzle clean, joining their scents. Raising his head, he searched for Nat, vocalizing his need for them to be together. Nat bounced over, nuzzling them both, headbutting gently and rubbing against them. He licked and scented. Yes, that was better, that was right and good. He began to purr. Cris and Nat's purrs wrapped around him, happy and low and growing more and more familiar. He could get used to hunting like this, could get used to the warm, vibrating bodies purring alongside him. They rubbed and scented and snuggled until Cris started chasing the falling snowflakes, batting at them with his paws and making his twin vibrate with laughter. It was time to go, to return home and nap and mate before the moon's fullness stole their reason. Cris and Nathaniel followed him home, stopping to play or pounce or roll periodically. Distracting and temping, that's what they were, for he found himself playing with them, chasing one black tail or the other. By the time they reached the house they were all damp and chilled and purring, eyes shining. They went in through the swinging door and settled in front of the fire, lapping and cleaning each other. Finally they were all dry and clean and warm, purring and rolling lazily before the fire, paws batting idly.

Shifting Too - 53

He nuzzled Nat's belly, licking the soft, vulnerable underside. Nat stretched and purred, legs moving into the air. He slowly nosed his way down along Nat's underbelly, drawn by the dark, musky scent of Nat's genitals. Nat slowed his motions, Cris licking and lapping at Nat's jaw and whiskers. Syl sniffed, the balls, the large phallus and then began to lick, adding his own scent to the heated musk. Nat whimpered and shook, tail swishing in slow, large arcs. He nuzzled and purred, muzzle roughly sliding along the hot, vulnerable flesh. Rough shudders shook Nat and Cris rumbled, tongue lapping at the wet, dark tip of that hard shaft. He lapped at Nat's shaft, too, tongue sliding along Cris'. Cris purred for him, body slinky and sliding against his own. He licked Cris' muzzle, cat kisses, before going back to making Nat writhe. Hot and heady, the spicy scent of Nat's need filled his nose, the short, sharp sounds of need filling the air. He made his way down to Nat's hole, licking at it, pulling the flavor of the deep musk into himself. Syl smelled the musk and salt of Nat as he shot, spraying Cris' face with seed. Purring, he licked Cris' face clean. Cris nuzzled close, purring and pushing into him and rubbing. He rolled with Cris, belly to belly and rubbing. Cris tangled their legs together, almost whining with need, tail held out. He didn't need any more invitation than that. Growling low, he mounted Cris. Cris yowled, hips rocking back into his, back rippling beneath him. Their coupling was wild and fierce, feral. Claws and heat and Cris held him deep, body jerking violently beneath him. Growling, he leaned in and bit Cris' nape as he came. The dark beast stiffened beneath him, hips jerking so quickly as the scent of male pleasure filled the air. He purred, licking the wound where his teeth had sunk into Cris' nape. Cris relaxed, purring softly, lapping his paw where it rested on the ground. It was good, sharing the hunt and mating with others, with these two. He purred loudly. Nathaniel curled around them, muzzle nuzzling in between them, snuffling and sniffing. He licked the black muzzles, taking Nathanial’s taste into himself again and leaving his own behind. With a soft roar, he put his paw over the other black beast. Nat relaxed, gold eyes closing, tongue peeking out. Yes, indeed. It was very good. Soon, the moon would call to them again and the Beast would own them, but tonight they curled together and napped. ***

Shifting Too - 54

Nat worked the leather carefully, fingers stretching and tanning it until it became supple, fine, buttery soft. Cris was at his feet, purring, sleeping, pelt soft and warm under his toes. Their scent was sinking into the wood, into the cushions, Syl's home so slowly becoming theirs, too. It frightened him, thrilled him.

Cris? It just comforted.

Speak of the devil, the front door opened and closed, bringing a gust of cold air in along with Syl.

The man stamped his boots on the mat before calling out. "It's me."

Cris opened one eye, tail thumping lazily in greeting. The fact that Cris didn't panic, didn't jump,

proved to Nat that they were in a good space.

"Hello, Syl. There is tea in the kitchen."

"No hot chocolate?" He could hear the pout in Syl's voice, the man's clothes hit the floor with a

soft shush.

"I could make some. I like chocolate." He purred and stretched, muscles rippling.

Syl's eyes watched him, a soft purr sounding. "Please."

He nodded, feeling that purr like a caress, and he went to heat cream, the scent of the milk

making Cris shift and chirrup.

Syl went to the big freezer and opened it up, pulling out the coffee can they kept the money in. He

added a wad of bills to it. "Sales were good today."

"Good. I have three pieces finished. Cris made three new shirts for you. Your old ones were

torn."

"They were?" Syl gave him a heated look. "Now how did that happen?"

He growled low, cock filling as he licked his lips. "Tree branches?"

Syl laughed, the sound husky, almost the same as he made when the Beast was upon him. "I don't

think so."

Nat poured three cups of chocolate, drawn closer. "Wild attacking birds?"

"In winter?" Syl leaned against the big chest freezer, giving him an excellent view of the slowly

filling cock.

He nodded, vibrating a little where he stood. He could smell Syl. The need. The pleasure.

"I don't think it was..." Syl frowned. "What were we talking about?" he asked, voice husky.

"Making love." Nat purred as he stepped closer, nuzzled Syl's jaw. Syl's purrs joined his own,

cheek rubbing along his, sharing their scents.

Shifting Too - 55

Oh, they had never... not without Cris between them. He shivered, tongue flicking out to taste, to caress. Syl purred, standing close, but still, letting him lead in this. He set his cup aside, hot fingers sliding up along Syl's belly, teasing and touching, learning. Syl moaned, head going back, offering him the long neck as Syl's hands settled on his hips, opening and closing. He groaned, nuzzling, licking, moaning at the flavor of Syl on his tongue.

"Kiss me, Nat," begged Syl, voice rough.

Nat blinked up, pushed up onto his toes and took a long, deep kiss, just diving into Syl. Syl's

hands slid around his back, pulling him up against the lean body, mouth opening and letting him

in. Oh. He purred, rubbing, legs wrapping around Syl's strength, their bodies dragging together. Syl leaned back against the freezer, taking his weight, hands finding his ass. Syl's fingernails scratched along his skin, a purr filling his mouth. He met Syl's eyes, wanting, needing to feel, to taste. Syl growled and his hands went under Nat's ass, carrying him out into the main room where they went down into the piles of cushions and blankets. It was luscious, to move, to rock, to feel Syl atop him, so hot. Syl's teeth slid along his neck, the Beast so near the surface. He arched, panting, yowling softly. "Need."

Growling, Syl turned him, body sliding down until Syl was licking at his entrance, making him

wet. Oh. Oh, he arched, body shuddering, entire focus on his ass, the fingers spreading him. Syl's

tongue pushed into his body, licking and tasting, purrs vibrating inside him.

Cris came up, nuzzling and purring. Eyes lit up. "Pretty. So pretty."

Syl purred into him again, fucking him with his tongue, so hot and soft. He began to tremble,

need and want and heat battling within him.

Syl's tongue disappeared, two thumbs pushing into him instead.

Nat grunted, head tossing. Cris watched, tongue flicking out to lick those parted lips. "Is he hot

for you?"

"He is," hissed Syl, turning to take Cris' mouth.

Cris cried out, pushing his hard cock against Nat's belly, the shaft burning hot, wet-tipped.

Then Syl's hands were spreading him open again and Syl's cock, hard, hot and leaking like Cris'

pushed into him.

Yes. Yes. He nodded, impaling himself, pushing back. Syl moaned, the sound vibrating with

purrs.

"I need your mouth, Nat. Please." Cris whimpered.

"Yes, love. Yes." He reached back, tugged Cris around, mouth dropping over the eager cock.

Shifting Too - 56

"Oh. You are beautiful together." Syl's words were followed by a thrust, the long cock sliding away and then filling him again. Cris matched Syl's rhythm, the heat growing sharper, his body full and empty and then full again. Syl's mouth found the nape of his neck, teeth sharp against his skin, Syl's breath heating him. The sensation made him ache, made him buck. Made him growl. Syl's hand wrapped around his cock, tugging in time. His growls grew deeper, head bobbing over Cris' cock, swallowing hard. Syl moved faster, harder, pushing his body, making it rock. Cris cried out, cock jumping, filling his mouth with heat, with salt. "You made him come," purred Syl, moving even faster.

It was what he was made for. What he lived for.

"Your turn," whispered Syl, shifting, finding that point inside him with the long cock and

brushing past it.

His head snapped back, a deep cry filling the air. Syl kept thrusting, kept sliding past his gland,

hand insistent on his cock. He couldn't hold it in, couldn't stop it, simply spent, growling out his

pleasure.

Syl roared; heat filled him.

He slumped forward, panting, eyes rolling. Syl came down with him, loose and long over his

back, warm, breath panting against his neck. Cris morphed, purring and licking, nudging and

nuzzling them.

"That's exactly what this moment needs," murmured Syl, cock sliding from Nat's body. Then Syl

morphed as well, heavy and warm, soft above him.

He purred, fingers burying into soft pelts, scritching. Purring sounded beneath and above him,

vibrated right through him.

He couldn't hold his form a second longer, his own purr joining his mates’.

***

Running.

He was running.

Reddick was chasing him, eyes glowing, claws digging into the dirt. Reddick was stronger, faster,

Alpha, and Reddick wanted him.

Would take him. Hurt him. Again.

Shifting Too - 57

Cris couldn't find breath to call for his twin, his Nat, to help him, save him, protect him.

Please.

He howled, running faster, harder, heart beating hard enough to tear from his chest, getting lost in

the twists and turns of the now unfamiliar streets.

A new growl sounded and there was a nip to his shoulder, a tail thumping hard against his haunches. Cris whimpered, shook, pressed closer to the newcomer. Don't let him have me, please. There was another nip to his shoulder and then skin against him, hands digging into his fur. "Wake up, Cris."

Cris' eyes popped open, a cry echoing, not answered by Nat. Where was Nat?

Syl was there, in human form, fingers sliding through his fur. "It was a nightmare, Cris. You're

safe, yeah?"

Oh. Oh. A dream.

A memory.

Over.

He pressed close, rubbing, surrounding himself with Syl's scent.

Syl purred softly, kept petting, stroking, easing.

He licked Syl's chest, jaw, slowly losing his form, becoming human. "Sssssyl."

"Hey, Cris." Syl's fingers kept moving on him, sliding slowly over his skin now. "You okay?"

He nodded, lifting his face for a kiss. "Bad dream. Thank you."

Syl's mouth pressed against his own, along with the long body, golden hair falling around them as

Syl leaned over him.

Oh. Hot. Good.

He arched up, rubbing, belly moving against Syl's. Syl's hands started moving with purpose,

fingers sliding down along his spine, rubbing his ass. He nodded, twisting, demanding more.

Harder. Deeper.

Syl growled softly, fingers starting to dig in, encouraging his blood to warm, to rise to the

surface.

The last of the dream slipped away, his hunger replacing fear. "Syl. So good." He licked and

nuzzled, filling himself with the scent, the flavor of their lover.

"Want you," Syl told him. "By my fur, I always seem to want you and Nat."

Shifting Too - 58

"Mmhmm. You smell so good. So right." Like theirs.

"Yes, like home." Syl buried his face in Cris' neck scenting and licking, teeth scraping.

"Yes..." He purred, chin lifting, offering Syl his skin.

Syl's teeth bit down, not as sharp as the Beast's, but sharp enough to sting, to just break the skin.

He jerked, cry echoing, balls drawing up tight. Syl shook his head a little, setting the mark in

deep.

"I want you." Syl’s voice was low, sexy.

"Yes. Yes. Please. I need. Please." He arched, spreading and offering himself.

Syl's cock pressed against him, the head pushing in and pulling out again, the movements

repeated, teasing him.

"Oh. Oh." He panted, eyes rolling. His body burned, ached, needed.

"Now, Cris? Do you want it now?" Syl's voice growled through him.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Please. Please, Syl. Need..."

Syl pushed in all the way, long and slow, the thick heat spreading him wide. Everything stilled,

only pleasure and pressure and heat registering. Then Syl began to move, pushing into him over

and over again, those black eyes staring into him.

It eased him, soothed him, made him shiver and ache. "So good. So much."

"Tight, hot, perfect."

"Yes..." He moaned, reached up and held Syl, petted the smooth skin.

Syl growled and moved harder, faster, filling him again and again. His hand wrapped around his

cock, stroking it, showing off for Syl.

Syl's growls got louder, thrusts stronger. "Sexy kitty."

"For you and him. Only. Yes? Only yours."

"Yes. Mine. Nat's. No one else's." Deeper, more, Syl thrust as if proving that, marking him from

within.

He nodded, arching as he came, entire body convulsing.

"Yes!" Syl threw back his head, a low roar sounding as heat pushed up inside him.

Just melting, Cris purred, rubbed against Syl, mingling their scents. Syl pulled out of him and

shifted, tongue lapping at the mark Syl had left on his neck. Syl's purrs just vibrated the solid chest against him.

Shifting Too - 59

"Home..." Every inch of him felt good, warm. Syl heatbutted his chest and began to lick him. He stretched, morphing back into his true form, his tail twining with Syl's. They groomed each other for awhile before settling back down for another nap. *** Syl loped through the forest, stopping to rub his scent onto the trees, checking out each smell that didn't belong. His territory smelled of himself and game and the twins. All was right. He went as far as the river and then turned, heading home. Home where the twins whose scents filled his nose were waiting. He was growing used to their presence, growing to need it. He went in through the swinging door and bounded up to the pillows, eager to join the warm pile in front of the fire. Cris was grooming Nat, one paw holding Nat down, pink tongue bathing black fur. He growled, feeling his prick begin to respond to the sight. They were each sexy on their own, but together they were something else altogether. Nat's eyes flashed open, the look at once welcoming and long-suffering. Nat hated bath day. He chuffed with laughter and stuck his nose in Nat's belly, letting the hot beast warm him up. Nat purred for him, stretching out, fur so soft, silken. He started to lick as well, helping Cris groom and bathe the dark fur. Okay, he was more just enjoying himself, but it was the thought that counted. Nat tensed, then simply melted, purrs echoing, claws coming in and out. Every now and then Syl’s muzzle met Cris' and they licked each other, their purrs loud. Tails and paws tangled, batted, all of them playful and relaxed, soft sounds filling the air, warming them. He'd not had this kind of companionship before, he only met up with others to fulfill the urges to mate that drove him. This was... different. It comforted parts of his soul he hadn't known were lost, aching. Soon, it came to a point where they would nap or they would fuck and he found he would be happy with whichever outcome. He let the twins decide, taking the cue from them. It was Cris that decided, pouncing Nat's tail, making his twin yowl, pounce back. Syl chuffed with laughter, feeling like the old man among them. And then they both pounced his tail and suddenly he was as young again, rolling and pouncing and playing as hard as they did. They ended with Nat beneath him, Cris atop him, rubbing and riding him. He put his head back and howled, pleasure going through him.

Shifting Too - 60

Nat's teeth were sharp on his throat, digging in, marking him. He never would have thought he

wanted that, but he did, with these two. He howled again, letting them know.

Nat purred, lapped at him, tasted him. Then Cris' mouth was on his throat, tasting him, too. He

jerked; one was arousing, both devastating. He growled and let them mark and taste him.

They marked him, took him in, then as he watched, they both lay back, throats exposed, offering themselves to him. He pounced, and took first one and then the other in his mouth, teeth breaking the skin. He lapped up the blood, growling, tail high. His.

They growled in unison, the sound low and deep, sliding down his spine.

He settled on them, rubbing against one and then the other, his cock sliding on their so soft fur,

theirs rubbing against him. The scent of all three of them was so strong, so good.

They morphed, one then the other, hands petting him, adoring him. Nat leaned over, lapped at

Cris' throat, eyes closed in bliss. He morphed as well, drawn to be skin on skin on skin. Things

were different like this, but still good, still hard and necessary.

"Love." The word was whispered in his ear, the low voice sincere.

He growled softly. He'd never been loved before, never wanted it or cared for it and now it was

his and he wouldn't give it up.

"Yes. Our love." His other lover agreed, kissing his jaw.

"Yes." He hissed the word, kissing one and then the other, wanting to take them both at once.

They rubbed and arched, purring for him, two hard pricks wet tipped and hot for him. He couldn't

take them both, but they could take him together.

He rolled, going to his hands and knees. "Both of you," he muttered.

Nat groaned, slipping behind him, lean body brushing against his back.

"Yes." He turned to look into the golden eyes and then looked forward again, searching for Cris'.

Cris moved closer, leaned down to kiss him, tongue pushing in deep. Groaning, he opened wide

and then closed his lips around Cris' tongue, sucking.

Nat pushed inside him, moan ringing through the room as he was spread, taken. He loved the

burn, the stretch, the way it gave way to a warm tingly feeling and he pushed his ass back,

wanting more. Nat took him, pushing hard and deep, soft words of need and love pouring over

him.

He growled into Cris' mouth, sucking hard on his tongue, making it a promise of what was to

come. Cris' fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, a low cry pushing into his lips. He broke off the kiss and looked into those golden eyes so like the twin's. "Cock. Now."

Shifting Too - 61

"P...pushy." Cris smiled, nuzzled, the tease easy and relaxed.

"Yes. For you. For him." He needed. It was a little scary if he let himself think about, so he didn't.

"Now," he insisted.

"Yes." Cris knelt up, cock pressing against his lips. "Love."

He purred, mouth opening wide, taking Cris' cock in. Filled, he was filled by them.

"Ours. Ours, Syl." Nat kept touching, kept taking him.

He moaned around Cris' cock and rocked back into Nat's thrusts and then forward again, taking

Cris deep once more. They moved, the rhythm getting sharper, harder. He took it, took them and

begged for more with his body.

They gave him what he asked again and again, adoring him, loving him. He was going to come,

the feelings huge, wonderful, all his.

Cris cried out, fingers tightening in his hair. "Soon! Love! Soon!"

He growled. Not soon, now.

Cris arched, cock pulsing, filling his lips. He swallowed convulsively, taking it all in.

Nat reached down, pumping him, stroking his cock, making him buck. "Come for me."

He did, responding to the command without even thinking about it. Nat roared, hips slamming

into him a few more times before heat filled him. Marked him.

He kept sucking at Cris, squeezed his ass to hold Nat tight inside. They were all he could taste,

feel, smell. It was heady, good. Right. Soft purrs filled the air, low and deep and raw.

He finally let them go, falling to the ground and morphing, the Beast in him not to be denied.

They joined him, licking and lapping, loving on him, joining their scents together. He purred,

feeling more at home than he ever had in his space alone.

"Love."

"Ours."

"Fine."

"Syl."

He just purred and rubbed. His. Theirs. It didn't matter, they were all together.

***

Shifting Too - 62

Nat caught the scent of Pride in town while they were picking up supplies, threatening and wild and wrong, just tickling at his nose. Cris' eyes met his, rolling, the scent of terror sudden and sharp. He grabbed Cris' hand, dragging his twin close. "Stop it."

"But, Nat."

"No. Stop it." He whispered low, one eye on Syl who was looking at oranges and grapefruits. Syl

didn't know he was a murderer, didn't need to. "You need to take Syl home, I'll lead them away

and be home later."

"No. Nat. You can't."

"I have to. I can't lead them home, love. They'll only see me. They can't tell us apart."

Syl frowned suddenly, nose twitching. "Others," he hissed. "Pride."

"You have to take Cris and go." Nat pushed Cris toward Syl, starting to vibrate.

Syl growled, one hand wrapped around Cris' arm, the other around his. "You're both coming back

to the house with me. Pride in town is bad for all of us -- we need them in the forest."

"They're here for me. I'll lead them out, away from the house. They don't want you."

Cris whimpered. "Don't go. Nat. Please. You can't. They'll tear you into pieces."

Syl growled again, dragging them down the street, leaving their bags behind. "I thought you said

Pride didn't follow you."

"I did. I didn't think... I hoped they wouldn't."

"Nat killed the Alpha, Syl. The one who... hurt me. Nat killed him and we ran."

Nat stopped, stared at Cris. "You swore not to tell."

Syl tugged him on. "Come on. I don't want to get trapped on the streets with god knows how

many." Syl was glaring, growling, anger coming off him in waves. "You killed the Alpha and

hoped they wouldn't follow... what are you using for brains?"

"I wasn't. I was scared. He was killing Cris." His head dropped, He hadn't meant to kill Reddick;

the blow had just been too hard.

"Don't snarl at him. He did it for me." Cris bristled, teeth bared a little.

Syl rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter now. It's done and they're here. We need to get to the forest

where we know the territory, where we can defend ourselves." Syl raised his head again, sniffing

hard. "Can you make out how many?"

"Four. His lieutenants." Nat looked at Syl, whispering low. "I'll go. I'll keep them away from you

and Cris. They'll chase me."

Shifting Too - 63

"Four? They'll kill you." Syl shook his head. "If you leave Cris with me how will that be different than leaving him with the Alpha you killed? We do this together." Syl gave him a hard look. "We have a chance that way." "I love you. You love him. It's completely different." He held Syl's gaze. "You're ours." "Yes. Which is why you're not doing something stupid like sacrificing yourself for him. Besides, you don't really believe they won't be able to smell us here? To know there's more than just you? They won't stop until we're all gone. The only way to deal with them is to send them home with their tails between their legs or in boxes." Syl still looked angry, but it was clear he loved them, had no intention of losing them. Cris nodded, meeting his eyes. "Yes. Please, Nat. This is our home, our life now." Our lover. Our Syl. Our own place. Nat nodded. "What do you want me to do?" "I'll take Cris into the woods. You scout and find out for sure just how many are out there and lead them back to us. We'll be waiting to trap them in the glen. Hopefully the fact we know the territory and they aren't expecting me will give us the advantage." "I can do that." He nodded, moving back into the shadows, the urge to morph strong. "Go. I'll be there soon." "Don't get caught," Syl growled, eyes on him. And then Syl was tugging on Cris' arm again, leading him toward the forest at the edge of town. It didn't take long to find them, the quartet hunting through the stores, the streets. He watched them, led them, scenting walls and door frames, hands leaving the barest trace behind. Once they caught his trail, they moved faster and the urge to morph grew stronger. Almost, he was almost at the forest's edge where he would have the privacy to change. He considered leading them away from the house, away from Cris and Syl, but something in him knew Syl was right. They were stronger together. As soon as he hit the woods he morphed, running in the general direction of the glen, but zigging and zagging, making his trail look as if he were just running all out, trying to get away, to mess up his trail. The trees were coming quick, the winds beginning to blow and he couldn't misstep, couldn't slip. He could feel the hunters coming up on him, chasing him hard through the late spring snows. His body screamed, wanting to slow, but no. NO. Running. Running. Faster.

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They were on his heels by the time he broke into the glen, and one of them caught his haunches, sending him rolling in the snow. Pain zinged up his leg and he attacked, defending lovers and home with a passion he'd never known before. He heard the howls from the Pride as Cris and Syl attacked from the south; he could smell the blood, smell death as they took the biggest lieutenant down. He took two, teeth buried in a throat as claws raked his belly, his own claws sinking into flesh. They would not have his home. The snows were soon red with blood, howls and growls filling the air along with yelps and whimpers as claws and teeth sank into flesh and fur.

When the blood stopped pouring, the two bodies around him still, Nat tried to stand, to roar, but

he had no breath left.

None.

Then Syl was licking at him, growling softly, nose trying to get him off the ground. He moaned,

so sorry he'd brought them, so sorry.

Syl morphed then, panting, fingers digging into his skin. "Get up," Syl rasped. "You're scaring

Cris and we need to get back to the house and get cleaned up."

Up.

Okay.

Up.

He could do up.

Cris nudged him hard, headbutting him, insisting that he move.

Nat had never been able to deny Cris anything.

As soon as he was up Syl morphed back and the two beasts flanked him, moving him forward and

keeping his momentum going whenever he would have faltered.

The way back to the house had never seemed so long.

Still, the scent of Pride?

Gone.

Replaced with death.

As soon as they were safely inside, Syl guided them to the blankets and pillows, started to clean

him and Cris, tongue lapping away at his fur, removing snow and dirt and blood. Cris morphed back and forth, licking one minute, cleaning wounds with clever fingers the next. Syl stayed as the Beast, tongue working his fur clean, leaving Syl's scent behind.

Shifting Too - 65

He purred, blinking slow, watching, muscles trembling some. They had protected their home.

Syl suddenly morphed. "Will others come? Or will that be the end of it? Honest now."

Cris shook his head. "We didn't know they would come. We ran and ran, Syl."

"Do you think more will follow? Will the Pride risk more deaths?"

"I don't think so, but I don't know." Cris sighed, seemed to grow smaller. "You want us to go."

"No." The word came immediately, almost snarled. "You're mine and you're staying. I just want

to know if I can expect to have to fight for you constantly."

"Oh." Cris sobbed, pushed into Syl's arms and cuddled in.

Syl held Cris, stroked him. "We should clean your wounds, too, Cris. Nat wasn't the only one

hurt."

Nat rolled, tongue sliding over Cris' skin, purring, trying to comfort. Love. My own. My soul. Syl

morphed back and added his own tongue to the job.

Nat moved onto Syl, cleaning and apologizing, loving and touching. He did love their life, their

home, their own private Pride. Syl growled softly and purred, the sounds loving him back,

accepting his apologies, wanting him.

So long.

So long he'd looked for someone to help him.

Love him.

Syl pounced suddenly, rolling him, mouth going for his throat, teeth threatening, but not breaking

the skin.

He arched, lifted his chin. Yours. Yours. Syl's teeth just broke the skin, just enough to make his

mark, the growl vibrating Nat's throat.

Then Syl rolled, offering his own soft belly, his vulnerable throat for Nat, for Cris. They took

their lover, biting and growling, claiming. Theirs. Their own.

Syl purred for them, back haunches rubbing against them, tail twisting with theirs.

They settled down together, hiding, healing.

Home.

***

They healed and slept, then healed and slept more.

Shifting Too - 66

Cris was enjoying it, honestly, the knowledge that there were no more lies between them, no secrets. Even though Nat still seemed angry with him -- well, maybe not angry, maybe just growly. Yeah.

Growly.

He leaned over on Syl, rubbing. Hoping to tempt. Surely Syl wouldn't be too growly at him, and

if Syl growled, it could be about sex and wanting and not upset.

Syl rolled toward him, mouth open wide on a yawn, one paw batting lazily at him. He headbutted

the strong chest, nipping one elbow. Syl growled and pounced him, licked his muzzle before

rolling away and lounging casually.

He purred, eyes caught by the long, tawny tail. Oh.

Oh.

Look.

Pretty.

Moving.

Oh.

The pouncing? Completely by accident.

Syl yowled and growled and pounced him back, the two of them rolling across the floor. Nat

looked over, snarling a low warning as they tumbled dangerously close.

Grouchy bitch.

Syl stopped playing long enough to growl and nip at Nat's haunches. Nat growled back, swatting

a little, tail swishing. Syl pounced that tail, raking it with claws, his growls a little more serious

now.

Nat rumbled, turning on Syl and wrestling. Cris shivered, watching, trying to see if they were

serious, playing, both. They rolled and fought for supremacy, now Nat on top, now Syl.

Nat landed on the floor with a thump, Syl pushing him down. Syl growled softly, nosing Nat's

neck, opening his mouth and taking a bite. Nat tensed and Cris felt a moment of panic, then his

twin purred, stretched out for Syl, offering his throat right up.

Syl's bite turned into licks, the growls becoming purrs just like that. Black rubbed against gold.

Cris purred, moving closer, panting as he watched. Oh. Better. Good. Right.

Syl moved harder against Nat, humping his twin, prick hard and leaking a strongly-scented liquid.

Nat howled, licking Syl's chin and jaw. Syl's howl met and matched Nat, the two of them moving

urgently together.

Shifting Too - 67

Cris morphed, hand slapping down on his prick, pumping hard as he watched. Oh, they were beautiful. Hot. Feral. His own family. Their tongues slid together as they licked each other's bodies, the scent of their need growing sharper. "My loves. I see you. Love you." His words made Nat shiver, the cry sweet and deep and right. Syl put his head back again and howled, golden body jerking as he sprayed over Nat's belly. Nat's

scent and his and Syl's mingled, the heat on his fingers wet and right and good.

Syl licked lazily at Nat's muzzle, his neck and then morphed, still purring softly. "Better, Nat?"

Nat finally morphed, too, nodding, reaching for Syl, for him. "Yes. Thank you, love."

Syl settled on one side, leaving the other side for him and then frowning. "Why aren't we on the

pillows?"

Nat chuckled. "You didn't plan well when you pounced me."

"You weren't who I was pouncing," Syl pointed out. "But you were growly and obviously needed

to be pounced."

Cris giggled as Nat headbutted Syl playfully. "I did not."

Syl snorted, the sound odd in human form. "Right."

Nat grinned, tossed his head. "Bitch."

Syl growled softly and wiggled his ass, eyes narrowed on Nat. Nat purred, licked his lips, just

staring. Cris bounced a little, vibrating. Playing! Their Nat was playing!

Syl pounced, their bodies hitting the floor with a heavy thump, both men grunting. "Now that,"

declared Syl, "was not well-planned."

"No. Not at all." Nat huffed, nipped Syl's chin.

"At least I'm not on the bottom," laughed Syl, eyes wicked.

Cris hurled himself across at them, landing on Syl. "You are now!"

Syl ooffed and rolled beneath him, fingers finding his ribs. "Brat!" There was such laughter in

Syl's voice.

He giggled, wiggled, rubbing against Syl, Nat joined them, all of them rocking together.

"My sexy kitties," murmured Syl, a hand on his ass, the other on Nat's.

"Yours." He nodded as Nat bit Syl's shoulder.

"Mine. And it's going to stay that way." Syl held them both close, possessively.

Shifting Too - 68

Nat purred, snuggling in, nuzzling him, nuzzling Syl.

"Home now," purred Syl.

"Yes. Home." Cris tugged them up onto the cushions, tumbling them all together.

Syl morphed, the beast languid and lazy, tongue licking both him and Nat. Nat purred, snuggling

in, their legs tangled together.

It was what he'd been wanting, needing. Now everything was perfect.

They were home. Whole. Wanted.

***

Syl walked through Sufring, heading quickly to the house at the edge of town. He could smell Nat

and Cris on every corner he passed, their scents growing stronger the closer he got to home, to

them.

There were no Others, there hadn't been for three years.

He supposed one day they might come after Nat and Cris again and he'd face them down again,

stand with his mates. They weren't a Pride, he wasn't an Alpha, but no one would take what was

his, just the same.

He rounded the corner onto the quiet cul de sac and sped, the Beast itching to come out. He kept

it at bay. Hands were more useful with doors. Once he was inside though, he stripped quickly and

let the Beast out, lopping into the backroom to pounce the twins.

They were curled together, a mass of black, beautiful and sleek and happy.

He chuffed happily and wriggled his ass high in the air and then ran and jumped, landing in the

midst of them. Paws and tails and bright eyes greeted him, purrs filling the air. He licked and

groomed and raked his paws over them. His, they were his and life was good.

Cris groomed his cheeks, Nat nuzzled into the curve of his belly. He purred loudly, letting them

know his pleasure.

Ours. Ours. Our love. The thoughts, the love filled the air.

He morphed slowly, rubbing against the beautiful black fur, their softness arousing, wonderful.

Nat's rough tongue slid over his belly, sweet and slow. He dug his fingers into Nat's ruff,

scratching, loving on the twin.

Cris morphed, sliding around to snuggle into his back, lips on his nape. He purred, arching back

into Cris, feeling his mate's hard cock slide in the small of his back.

"Want..." Cris -- so strong now, so sure with his world settled -- moved behind him, the wet tip of

his cock rubbing his hole.

He tilted his ass back, hand sliding back to pat Cris' ass. "Take. Have."

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"Oh..." Cris groaned, moved to press inside, spread him, fill him.

The burn was delicious, the pleasure that rode on its tail even more so. He reached for Nat,

fingers sliding on fur, cock rubbing against that softness. Nat purred, stretched for him, silky soft

against him. They loved him so much.

Cris set up a hard rhythm, driving him against Nat over and over again. He whimpered, growled,

letting his pleasure show. Nat growled low, nuzzling and panting against his throat, breath so hot.

He threw his head back, offering his tender, vulnerable throat to the beast.

Nat marked him, Cris' dull teeth scraping his nape in response, pumping into him. He cried out,

hands tight in Nat's fur as he came, heat spraying from him, marking Nat's dark fur. Cris' heat

filled him, made him shudder, made him ache.

He lay panting between them, filled and fulfilled, happy and home.

He morphed, rumbling happily. Nat purred, the three of them cuddled together. So fine.

There was no Pride here. There was something better. Family.

Mates.

That was more than enough for him.

Shifting Too - 70

Here Kitty, Kitty: Catnip BA Tortuga Hrm.

Soap made with essential oil of catnip.

Adam smelled it. Sorta... green and shit. Not bad. Not flowery or anything, just sort of... herby.

Still, if it worked, it could be fun and if it didn't? He'd be clean and could possibly avoid a very

long, rough tongue bath.

Pretty soon, the hot water was pounding and the soap lathering and he was singing at the top of

his lungs. "Inna-godda-da-vita, baby! Don't you know that I love you-oo-oo-oo!"

"You? Are caterwauling far worse that I ever do." Jax wandered in, grinning down at him. Nose

twitching. Jax frowned. "New soap?"

"Yep." He washed his pubes, sudsing his dark curls up. "You like it?"

"It smells kinda weedy." Such a charmer, his Jax. Always so full of compliments and tact.

"Weedy?" Well, shit. That hadn’t worked. "That sounds... uh... vaguely ew."

"S'not... bad." There went the nose again. In fact it had actually gone kinda. Well. Jax-like. With

whiskers on both sides. "In fact I kinda like it."

Jax moved closer.

"Yeah?" Oh, if it was good enough to get Jax near the shower, it must be doing something.

Stopping just short of the water, Jax sniffed and sniffed. "Nice, in fact. Really nice."

He grinned, leaned against the tiles, stroking his cock a little. "Oh, good. I'm glad."

"Uh. Come out of there and play?" Poor Jax. He sounded so plaintive.

"You don't want to come in?" He rinsed off, stretching. Oh. Oh, this was fun.

"No? Come on, Adam. I wanna play." Yeah. Those whiskers were just quivering. It was

impossible to miss. And the restless shifting with the muscles tensing and shivering was a dead

give away.

Rule number one -- teasing the kitty ended in pouting and claws. Claws on the balls were Not

Fun. Adam turned the water off, reached out for a towel, drying himself off.

The second he was dry Jax grabbed him, pulling him out on the bathroom floor and breathing

against his neck. Heavily. "Oh. God, that smells better and better."

"Uh. We're on the floor, pretty." He arched, pushed just a little. Damn, Jax could be heavy.

Shifting Too - 71

"I know. It's kinda damp. So are you." Not that Jax seemed to care. He was too busy licking and sniffing and just sucking Adam's skin. "We could, uh. Go to the bed, pretty." Oh. Oh, this was. Yeah. Good.

"Bed?" Sharp teeth scraped over his throat, Jax's rough tongue on him all the way out to his ear,

licking at his skin.

"Uh huh." He squeezed Jax's ass, rubbing them together. Pretty. So pretty.

"Hon. The. Oh. You smell so good. I didn't even think I liked that soap." Jax's breath brushed his

chest, moving down. "You always taste good, though. Always."

His cock was hard as nails, aching. He reached down, stroked the long whiskers. "No teeth,

pretty."

"Hmm?" Oh, Jax was just rubbing on him, hot and heavy and damp now, too, motions almost

frantic. "Uh-huh. Sorry. Adam. Hon. Wow." Jax purred, the sound sending shivers right up his

spine.

"You like it." He tried to slip away, tease, possibly get them to the big soft not-wet bed.

One big paw, er, hand. Something. Pushed him right back down, making him slide on the floor as

Jax nuzzled down his belly, cheek rubbing his skin, sharing scent.

"Oh. Pushy kitty." He chuckled, maybe to hide his moan.

"Adam." Yeah. Jax's voice had changed, become deep and throaty. That tongue seemed twice as

rough as it scraped down the trail of hair on his belly and across the crease where his thigh met

his torso.

"Jax. Pretty. Oh..." He spread, smelling the soap himself, stronger as he heated up.

A rough moan was all he got, Jax slipping down to nuzzle right into his pubes, licking eagerly.

That mouth. Oh. Man. There was nothing like this, like being the center of... "Oh. Pretty, right

there. There." Of Jax's attention.

Jax spread his legs, lifting him up, tongue sliding under his balls to lift them and lick them.

Holding him up with one hand, Jax started stroking him with the other, hand moving fast on his

cock. His eyes flew open, breath just catching in his chest as the room went white hot.

"Oh." Vibrating on his skin, Jax's noises got louder and louder until they were more like growls

than anything. Those lips closed over the head of his cock as Jax pulled up and back, sucking him

good and hard.

"Oh! Love!" He arched, hips bucking furiously, heart pounding.

Sucking harder, Jax half nodded, hands getting a little... claw-y. But not hurting. Never hurting.

Everything in him went tight as he shot, caught like a feather on the end of a string.

"Mnuuuuh." Moving fast, Jax rose up over him, rubbing against him, just in a feline frenzy.

Shifting Too - 72

"Yours. Love you. Anything." He leaned up, bit Jax's shoulder, ass sliding on the tile.

"Yeah. Oh, hon, yeah." He could tell Jax wouldn't make it to actually get inside him. That cock

was too damned hard, too hot, and Jax just shook, clumsy and out of control. He managed to get

one hand down, wrapped around Jax's prick and pumping good and hard. And Jax just yowled,

spraying heat over his hand, hips snapping. "Love! Adam."

"Uh-huh. Love." He was gonna buy stock in that soap.

It took a good five minutes for Jax to raise his head, and when he did his eyes were dazed

looking. "Wow."

"Uh-huh. Good soap."

"What's in the soap, hon?" Jax was sniffing him again, moaning a little.

"Weeds." He reached down, scratched the nape of Jax's neck.

Grunting, Jax climbed up him a bit, getting a better position. "Yeah? It's. Mmm. There."

"Here? Harder?" He scratched in, chuckling as that tail appeared, twitching.

"Uh-huh." That tail lashed back and forth, waving wildly. Jax was just kneading his chest,

clawless fingers sinking in rhythmically. Beautiful man. He scritched harder, chuckling as Jax nuzzled his skin. That soap was having some long lasting effects. Cool. Jax licked him some more, growling happily, ass wiggling. "Pretty kitty." He nuzzled. "Bed?" "Yeah. You're on the floor." Blinking, Jax titled his head, eyes kinda wild. "Why are you on the

floor?"

"You tackled me." He grinned into slitted eyes.

"Oh." A grin dawned, all toothy and happy. "I did, huh? Well, can I drag you off to bed like my

jingle mousey?

"Jingle mousy..." Lord. He chuckled, nodded. "Drag away, kitty."

Jax got up and literally hauled him off to bed. The strength in that wiry body never failed to

amaze him. They bounced on the big pile of pillows, and oh. Suddenly Jax had a little kitty chin

hair.

He reached out, scratched. He couldn't resist.

"Oh. So not sexy." Making a face, Jax bent to gnaw his finger.

"You're chewing on me, Pretty." He hooked his finger around one lengthening canine and brought

Jax down for a kiss.

Shifting Too - 73

"I like the way you taste." Jax said it right into the kiss, tongue pushing into his mouth over and

over, proving it.

He groaned, stretched out beneath Jax, letting his lover rub against him. Rubbing was Jax's forte.

They moved together, still a little slippery, a lot hot, and starting to get hard again. Jax moaned

into his mouth, tongue curling to touch his teeth, the outside of his lips. His fingers searched out

all the hot spots, touching and petting and stroking, digging in where Jax liked it.

"Uhn. Adam. Hon. I like it." The way Jax's eyes rolled when he hit the nape of Jax's neck told

him that as clear as the words. So did the way Jax arched when he ran his hands down Jax's spine.

"More here?" He found that spot on the base of Jax's spine, scratched good and hard, watching

those pretty eyes.

"Yeah. Like that. Driving me crazy." Those eyes had gone yellow, and they looked at him,

narrowing. "Catnip. You have catnip soap."

"I do." He stroked again. "And you like it."

"I do. But that's cheating." There was the tail again, waving back and forth. Snapping, really. "I

think I'm going to have to fuck you for that."

"You think?" Adam leaned in, nuzzling Jax's throat. "You'll have to catch me first, pretty."

Then he rolled, scrambling for the side of the bed.

"Oh!" Jax thunderfooted after him, chasing him down out in the hallway. Those hands slid on his

skin as Jax reached for him, missing once, closing around his waist on the second grab.

Fuck, Jax was fast. Strong. Amazing. They went down, landing on the hall floor together, Jax hot

on his back. Rubbing like, well, a cat in heat. Rough purrs vibrated all through Jax right into him.

"Tease. Catnip covered tease. Mmm. Tasty."

He nodded, hips arching up and back, rubbing his ass against Jax. "You have an idea what you're

going to do with me?"

"I could groom you. That'd teach you." Rough and wet, Jax's tongue slid across the nape of his

neck, making him shiver. Definitely cat tongue.

"That's evil." That tongue set every nerve on fire. Every single one.

"You bring it out in me. You know," Jax went on between licks. "I think sometimes if they did a

study, they would see you're to blame for my inability to hold it in. The beast within..."

It was an old joke, but accompanied by the scrape of that tongue down every bump of his spine?

He didn't care.

"Only because I love all of you, beast and all." Fuck, he was hot.

"Oh, good. Because I love every bit of you. This one." Jax tongued the small of his back. His toes

Shifting Too - 74

curled, back arching like a bow. "Like that. Yeah." Growly. Very very growly. Moving down, Jax licked the join of his butt and thigh, right along the little crease. "And here." Oh, that pushed a whimper out of him, deep and rough and maybe even a little growly himself. "Jax. Pretty. Damn." "Mmmmhmmm. You just... taste so good anyway. But now you smell so... uhn." He was starting to get non-verbal Jax, all toothy and licking, spreading him and biting gently at the inside of his thigh. There was something about those teeth so close to his balls, about trusting Jax -- all of Jax - that made him ache, made him need. That purr vibrated his balls for sure, sending goosebumps all over his body. Adam went up on his hands and knees, spreading wide. "Oh. Adam." Tongue scratching, sliding, Jax licked around his hole, strong hands spreading him for better access. Fuck. Oh, fuck. "Love you." His heart pounded, heat spreading from his hole to his cock to his belly, making him shake and shudder. "So much." Jax licked him again, tongue pushing in, over and over, driving him crazy. He scooted forward, heart pounding, the sensations huge, overwhelming. Just pinning him with one strong hand, Jax held him there, loving on him with that sandpaper tongue until he was ready to scream. "Are you ready for me, babe?" "Uh-huh. Please. Pretty. Fucking need." He was babbling. Desperate. Starving. He could swear he felt the tip of Jax's tail against his legs as Jax pressed against him, the broad cock pushing at him. He wasn't quite wet enough, wasn't quite stretched, but Jax slid in like he belonged there anyway, the burn as good as that cat tongue. Adam groaned, pushing back, damn near ending in Jax's lap. "Good idea, babe." Low, guttural, the words were barely understandable. Jax sat back, pulling him up and back, settling so deep he felt it shake him all the way to his bones. He moved, shifting, cock slapping his belly. The body behind him was heated, the hands on him clawed and strong. Fuck. Wild. Teeth closed on his neck, sharp and urgent. Jax lifted them both and brought them back down, cock moving inside Adam in short, sharp thrusts. "Jax. More." He squeezed, making Jax grunt, pull him down harder. He got more, Jax's fingers digging into his hips, that tail definitely there now, lashing his calf, curling to tickle his belly. They rocked and rocked, Jax's growl low and constant. His balls were tight, cock leaking, so fucking close. He grabbed it, started pumping in time with the deep thrusts inside him. Jax grunted, the soft-soft tip of that tail touching the head of his cock as Jax yanked him down hard, just yowling as he came hard, filling Adam right up.

Shifting Too - 75

"Love!" The sheer perversity of that tail, so soft, stroking his cock, sent heat pouring out of him

in pulses.

They tumbled, Jax curling around him like the giant kitty he was and just purring, hands kneading

his hips.

"Mmm... Gonna buy a metric fuck ton of that soap, pretty one."

"Okay." Yeah, Jax was verbal again. "I'll buy stock."

"Cool." He brought one vaguely pointy hand up to his lips, kissing and licking it.

"And sort of minty." The chuckle rasped against his neck, Jax grooming him a little. "You spoil

me."

"No. I just love you, Jax." Simple as that.

"And you do it better than anyone, ever." Jax laughed. "But now I think we need a bath."

Shifting Too - 76

The Wraith King’s Bargain Sara Bell The midsummer night was thick and moonless, but Aswyn and the five canine sentries padding through the lush undergrowth behind him had no trouble finding their way back to the base of the hill. Once there, Aswyn gave the signal for the others to fall away as he alone climbed the rocky peak. He stayed in wolven form until he reached the copse of trees at the hill's crest, beginning the shift as soon as he stepped into the safety of the sheltering elms. As always, the jarring change from wiry animal sinew to corded human muscle took his breath away, causing Aswyn to stand panting in the shadows for a full minute while he recovered. Once assured his legs were strong enough to hold him, he winced away the last twinging pains of the transformation before striding naked and unashamed to the spot where his liege waited. Courtesy commanded most vassals to fall on their knees at first sight of their king, but Aswyn made no such supplication. He and Xandor were more than king and commander. Having been raised together, they were as brothers -- friends until the last breath parted them. For that reason, Aswyn greeted Xandor with nothing more than the words, "'Tis done." Xandor's only response was a tense order thrown against the stillness of the night. "Tell me what you've found." Aswyn hesitated. His next words would damn the governor beyond redemption, but there was no help for it. Oskar of Graywald had hung himself with his own misdeeds, and now he would pay the price. "We found most of the items he stole from you tucked away in the cellar." "Most?" Aswyn nodded, knowing Xandor could see him despite the darkness. "Several substantial pieces were missing, but 'tis possible he has them hidden somewhere in the main house. My soldiers and I were unable to conduct a more thorough search without alerting the household to our presence, but we can go back and search anew if you so desire." "There's no need. I imagine the varlet has already traded my family's treasures for coin, anyhow." Aswyn's keen night eyes caught the spark of outrage in the king's black gaze. "So I was right about his treachery, after all. I'd hoped perhaps I was mistaken, but now…" Xandor broke off and looked away, but not before Aswyn saw the flash of pain that creased his regal face. It hurt Aswyn to see Xandor so wounded, and renewed anger toward the governor fired his blood. "You've only to say the word and my men and I will roust the villain from his bed to answer these charges." Xandor was shaking his head before Aswyn even finished. "We'll move tomorrow, in full light of day. I want the entire village to bear witness to Oskar's arrest. Let his humiliation run so deep that even his ancestors feel the sorrow of his shame."

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Aswyn tilted his head to the side, studying Xandor's face. "And what of Tynan? Do you seek to punish him for his father's misdeeds as well?" "Tynan plays no part in this," Xandor said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Whatever happens tomorrow is between Oskar and me. I care not what Tynan thinks." Aswyn snorted. "You might be able to peddle that tale to someone else, but I know you too well to buy it. And there's something else I know." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tynan will not stand idly by while you call his father out as a common thief, evidence be damned." Xandor shrugged. "So be it. Let Tynan wail and gnash his teeth to his heart's content. So long as he stays out of my way, that is." Aswyn was quickly losing patience was Xandor's cool façade. "Creator's sake, man, you loved him once." Xandor whirled on him then, eyes sparking with anger. "A love which he killed the day he refused what I offered." Aswyn fought the urge to scream from pure frustration. "He was only ten and eight when you told him the truth about yourself, Xandor. A mere boy in all the ways that count. How could you expect him to embrace a full mating with you?" "I would have done no less for him, and well he knew it. Instead, he turned his back on me. Me." Xandor jabbed a thumb against his own chest. "The man who loved him." His voice fell a full measure. "The man who would have died for him." Aswyn ached for Xandor, but he'd seen enough to know that Tynan had suffered as well. "You could have given him time to come to terms with all you asked of him. Time to make up his mind instead of ordering him out of your life." Xandor's face closed then, the mask of iron control firmly back in place. "'Twas a long time ago, and I'll discuss this no longer." He turned his back on Aswyn and started down the backside of the hill. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "Tell your men to report back to the keep. We'll descend on the governor at dawn." Long after Xandor was gone, Aswyn stood in place, praying The Creator of All would give them all strength enough to greet the morrow. He had a feeling 'twould be a prayer much needed. *** 'Twas the thunder that woke him. Tynan blinked, coming awake by degrees. He groaned as he sat up in bed, even that slight movement causing a deep pain to stir within his chest. Willing it away, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced out the window, surprised to see the sky clear and the sun rising. He frowned. If it hadn't been thunder he'd heard, then what? Struck by the need to investigate, Tynan dressed as quickly as he could manage, forcing his exhausted body to cooperate as he pulled on his hose and tunic. He'd just stuffed his feet into a pair of soft leather boots when the bedchamber door flew open and Jib, his father's manservant, skittered inside. "Lord Tynan, you must come quick." Jib's wrinkled face was deathly pale as the old man wheezed and gasped for breath. "Your father, he needs you."

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Tynan needed to hear no more. He followed Jib into the keeping room of the manor, thankful his father had seen fit to grant him a room on the main floor. Stairs were the last obstacle Tynan needed to deal with this morning. Not now, when the disease was so close to tearing him apart. Shaking away the dark thoughts of his soon-to-be demise, Tynan glanced about the room, finding nary a trace of his father. Lifting puzzled brows to Jib, he said, "Where is he?" "Outside, my lord." Jib lifted a trembling hand toward the door leading to the gardens. "They've come for him, Lord Tynan. You've got to help him, please." Tynan could make little sense of what Jib was saying, but he dared not waste a second with more questions. After instructing the trembling servant to take a seat, Tynan made his way to the door, stepping into the early morning light and coming face to face with the very image that had haunted his dreams every night these eight years past. Xandor of Alden sat astride a charger as dark as his eyes, his muscular legs holding the horse's sides while keeping his back lance-straight. The Wraith King, the villagers called him. Xandor's ability to glide through the night undetected made him the subject of tavern gossip the kingdom over, but Tynan knew his former lover was no ghost, but a man of flesh and blood. Tynan hadn't seen Xandor since his own return to Graywald village, and if anything, the passing years had made the king more handsome, a feat Tynan would ne'er have thought possible Xandor's midnight hair was bound with a leather tie at the nape of his neck, but the restraint did nothing to disguise the lush softness of the rippling waves. Tynan swallowed, remembering all too well how it felt to run his fingers through those silken locks. Against his will, Tynan's eyes drifted to Xandor's full lips, as sensual as the last time he'd kissed them, even pinched as they were in a hard frown. A spear of pain that had little to do with his illness knifed through Tynan's chest. It hurt to look at Xandor, to think of all his mother's curse had cost him. Swallowing, Tynan tore his eyes away from the beloved face and cleared his parched throat. "What goes here?" Tynan glanced around the soldier-filled garden. At least fifteen mounted men and fourteen foot soldiers crowded the small space. Shielding his eyes against the rising glare with the flat of his hand, Tynan searched anew for his father. He found him a moment later, struggling to free himself from the two burly soldiers holding him captive. Tynan started forward to offer his father what feeble assistance he could, but Xandor's voice -- still as smooth as honeyed ale -- cut through the near silence of the courtyard, causing Tynan to stop short. "Stay where you are, my lord." Xandor made the title sound like an insult. "Your father stands accused of the high crime of treason against his king." His dark brows came together in a hard line just above his rod-straight nose. "I'll accept no interference from you as the governor answers to these charges." "Treason?" Tynan gave Xandor a long, searching look, half certain the man must be daft. "Surely you jest." "Unfortunately for you and the cur who sired you, I'm stone serious." Xandor looked to his right where Aswyn sat astride a red roan. "Tell Lord Tynan the truth of what you found."

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Tynan fastened his eyes on Aswyn, praying Xandor's commander could make sense of this all. He'd always liked Aswyn, had become rather fond of the man during his time with Xandor. If anyone would tell Tynan the truth, he would. Silently, he beseeched Aswyn to speak. Aswyn cleared his throat, his wide neck flexing with the motion. "Lord Tynan, I…" He swallowed before beginning again. "Last eve, five of my men and I paid a visit here while the household slept. We had reason to believe someone from Graywald Manor has been stealing from Alden Castle." His raspy voice was laced with pity. "'Tis with a heavy heart I tell you that we found the ill gotten gains in yonder cellar." One thick finger pointed to a set of thatched doors leading underground. "As well you know, one of the governor's chief duties is reporting to the castle once each fortnight to update village records -" "Meaning the bastard had ample opportunity to plunder my house." Xandor broke in and finished the sentence with heartless candor. Turning to look at a still struggling Oskar, Xandor said, "How could you betray the House of Alden? My family has entrusted the keeping of Graywald Village to yours for generations without measure. In return, you and your kin were given wealth, title, and privilege." Barely controlled rage simmered beneath the surface of his words. "Is this how you chose to repay our kindness, with treason against the very house that made you what you are?" Tynan's eyes darted to his father's milky blue ones, silently begging him to deny it all. "Father, did you -" Tynan never finished his sentence. Oskar stopped his struggles, his thin body sagging in the arms of his captors. With tears streaming down his dry, leathery cheeks, he gave Tynan a half nod. Bile rose in Tynan's throat as the truth of it hit him full on. He need not ask Oskar why he'd done it, the answer all too clear. Oskar had stolen from Xandor to pay the cascade of leeches and healers who'd attempted to heal Tynan, all to no avail. Hands knotting into tight fists at his sides, Tynan once again lifted his eyes to Xandor's granite-set face. "What punishment have you in mind for my father?" "A full stripping of his wealth and title, for one." Tynan fought the urge to laugh. Thanks to him, there was no wealth. "What else?" "Your father will stand in the lower bailey of Castle Alden for two full hours each morn wearing a yoke upon his traitorous neck so that all who see him will know of his disgrace. And in the evenings, Oskar will toil the fields like a common laborer, turning the soil until the value of every last treasure he plundered from me has been repaid." As soon as Xandor finished reciting the terms of Oskar's punishment, Tynan looked to his father. What little color was left on Oskar's face had slowly leeched away, the impact of the sentence hitting him full force. Oskar was an old man -- too old to survive the grueling pace of a field hand. Another stab of guilt knifed through Tynan's chest. Oskar deserved to spend his remaining years at rest, not toiling his life away in the fields. It was then that Tynan made his choice. His father had committed a crime, yes, but the attempt to save Tynan's life had been earnest. Now was the time for Tynan to repay the debt he owed his sire. "I won't beg you to spare my father this measure of justice," Tynan said, proud that his voice shook but slightly. "The Lords of Graywald stole from you, and 'tis the Lords of Graywald who

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owe you recompense. But my father is an old man, unable to give you the full measure of satisfaction you require." Xandor dropped the reins he'd been holding onto the back of his stallion's neck and folded his hands together on the saddle, sitting in quiet contemplation for a full moment before asking, "How then do you suggest I harvest my pound of flesh?" Tynan faced him down without so much as blinking. "I will serve the sentence in my father's stead." As soon as the words left Tynan's lips, Oskar set up a violent protest, taking advantage of his captors' surprise to wrench free and rush to Tynan's side. "You cannot do this, my son," he whispered so that only Tynan could hear. "I'll not allow you to sacrifice yourself for me this way." "I can and I will." Putting a firm but loving arm around his father's shoulders to still their quaking, Tynan again looked to Xandor. "According to the laws of the Over Kingdom of Orielle as signed by High King Elwin himself, a son can bear the sins and punishment of his father if he so chooses." "This cannot be." Oskar shook his head with such force Tynan could hear the faint rattle of his teeth. "You will not take my place. I'll not allow it." "Silence, old man." Xandor studied the pair of them as if thinking, though Tynan was certain he'd already made his decision. True enough, a scant breath later Xandor said, "The choice is made. From hence forth, let it be known that Tynan of Graywald, lord no more, will be branded as thief and traitor and shall serve the sentence in his father's stead." He motioned to the guard standing closest to Tynan. "Henrick, take him away." Oskar tried with all his might to hold onto his son, but he was no match for the henchman's strength. As Henrick pulled him away from his sobbing father, Tynan dared give voice to one last question. "What will happen to my father once I'm gone?" Before Xandor could answer, Aswyn spoke up for the first time since Tynan made his choice. "Your father will be well cared for, Tynan. I promise you that." His earth-brown eyes shone with an emotion Tynan recognized as respect. "I'll see that he's well tended for the rest of his days. Your sacrifice will not be in vain." Satisfied that Oskar was in good hands, Tynan relaxed into Henrick's grasp and allowed himself to be dragged away, his ears ringing with his father's fevered protests. *** Xandor gripped the stone wall of the parapet and stared down into the bailey, his keen eyes noting the pallor of Tynan's face. For three days now, he'd come each morning to watch as Tynan bore his father's punishment. Xandor's fingers tightened against the rough stone as yet another of his soldiers came to jeer at the fallen lord, laughing at his change in station and spitting on his bare feet. It shouldn't bother Xandor to see Tynan humbled this way. Tynan deserved to hurt, to bleed the way Xandor had bled the day Tynan rejected him. What did it matter to Xandor if Tynan was pounds too thin and visibly weak? So what if Tynan was clothed in rough peasant's rags instead

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of the fine linen he was used to? Xandor should be glad to see the mighty Lord Graywald taken down. He should be, but he wasn't. Behind him, the door opened. Xandor turned to see Aswyn stepping onto the battlements. With a sigh, he turned to gaze back down at Tynan. "If you've come to lecture me again, you may as well save yourself the trouble. Tynan made his choice, and that choice will stand." "You'll hear no more lectures from me." Aswyn snorted as he came to stand beside Xandor at the parapet wall. "My mother listens better than you do, and she's stone deaf." From the corner of his eye, Xandor watched as Aswyn looked down at Tynan. "He seems a mite pale to me," Aswyn said, pointing at Tynan's trembling figure. "Are you affording him full rations at each meal?" Taking exception to the question, Xandor turned to look Aswyn full in the face. "How can you ask me that? I don't starve or abuse my prisoners, and well you know it." "Perhaps, but you and I both know Tynan is no ordinary prisoner." Aswyn propped one thick hip on the parapet wall as he turned to meet Xandor's glare head on. "If he were, you wouldn't be out here every morning watching him like some circling hawk." "What I do with my time is no one's business save mine." "True, but as commander and captain of your guard, prisoners fall under my care." Aswyn hesitated. "I received a report from the field captain this morning. It seems Tynan is unable to keep up with the other field hands." Xandor made a face. "Unwilling, is more like. He's lived a life of privilege, Aswyn, coddled and spoiled from the day he stretched his mother's womb. No wonder he takes offense at doing an honest days work." Aswyn frowned. "You have no idea where Tynan went after he left the Kingdom of Alden, do you?" Xandor turned away then, pretending interest in a loose stone on the ground beside his foot. "No, and I prefer not to hear it now." "Well that's too damned bad because hear it you're going to." Aswyn's voice took on a hard edge. "When he left here, Tynan was heartbroken. You'd ordered him out of your life -" Xandor's head whipped up as he interrupted. "Only because he refused to accept me." Aswyn rolled his eyes. "Will you be silent long enough to listen?" When Xandor closed his mouth in a tight, angry line, Aswyn continued. "When Tynan left Alden, he traveled to Banning." "The capitol city?" Xandor was surprised, but that feeling quickly turned to cynicism. "Probably hoping to hitch his handsome arse to one of High King Elwin's wealthy courtiers, I'd wager." "'Tis one bet you'd lose," Aswyn said. "Tynan pledged his services to Elwin's southern army."

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Xandor felt as if he'd been slapped. "You must be mistaken." Aswyn shook his head. "I sent a messenger to Elwin himself just last year when I heard Tynan had returned to Graywald village. The High King confirmed the truth of the story." Xandor narrowed his eyes. "You sent a message to the High King? You, a lowly commander?" Aswyn shrugged. "'Twas easy enough. I 'borrowed' the signet ring from the box in your chamber and pretended the message was from you. When the messenger came back from Banning, I intercepted him at the gate and told him I'd see that the missive was delivered to you myself." "But why? Why go to all that bother?" "When I heard the rumors in the village that Tynan had allied himself with the southern army, I was astounded. With over three hundred lesser kingdoms pledging fealty to King Elwin, Tynan could have chosen to serve any one of them. Why would he purposely join himself to the most savage band of warriors the Over Kingdom ever spawned? 'Tis a well known fact that most new recruits don't last the first year through. Why would Tynan punish himself so?" Aswyn stared Xandor down. "I could think of but one answer." "If you mean to suggest Tynan felt guilt over his refusal to bond with me -" "'Tis the only explanation that makes sense." Xandor closed his eyes, the beat of his heart unsteady as he thought about what Aswyn was implying. If Tynan truly felt remorse over his decision not to mate with Xandor, then there might be hope for them after all. Then again, if Xandor went to Tynan with his heart on his sleeve only to be rejected again, Xandor wasn't certain he'd survive it. Head spinning, Xandor opened his eyes and lifted them to Aswyn's face. "I need time to think on all you've told me." "I wouldn't take too much time if I were you." Aswyn pointed down and into the bailey. Xandor followed the direction of his finger and watched as two guards came to lift the yoke from Tynan's shoulders. Tynan stumbled as the weight was removed, and the guard closest to him cuffed the back of Tynan's golden head with enough force to make his knees buckle. Xandor was at first outraged, but if Tynan was playing ill to shirk out of the bargain he'd made, 'twas no less than he deserved. Unsure whether or not to intervene, Xandor watched as Tynan righted himself before lifting defiant eyes to his tormentor and allowing himself to be led through the courtyard. Pushing himself away from the wall, Xandor started for the door. Aswyn called, "Where are you going?" but Xandor ignored him. He needed to get away, to go somewhere he could think without risk of being interrupted. There was only one place he could find the isolation he needed. Destination set, Xandor headed for the stables. *** Aswyn handed his reins to the barkeep's son and made his way into Graywald Tavern. Under normal circumstances he'd have stayed at Alden Castle and partaken of the fine wine Xandor's cellars had to offer, but not today. Xandor had been gone for hours now, and Aswyn had no

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notion whether he'd gotten through to the iron-headed man or not. No, today Aswyn needed a stiff, skull numbing drink strong enough to strip tarnish off of silver, and Graywald Tavern was just the place to get it. The barkeep greeted him with a three-toothed smile and poured up a tall tankard of something dark and foaming. Passing it to Aswyn, he said, "First round's on me, yer lordship." Aswyn took the drink from the man's knotty fingers and then turned to scan the room. A barmaid with lush breasts and a pretty face gave him a saucy wink before swishing her skirts to indicate interest, but Aswyn ignored her and walked across the filthy, rush covered floor to a table set in the back. Any other time he'd have taken the wench up on her offer, but not today. He took a bracing sip of the black brew and shivered. He'd come here to get drunk, and that's exactly what he meant to do. Aswyn was halfway through the bitter ale when the outside door opened, spilling light into the darkened keeping room. Not bothering to glance up and see who the intruder was, Aswyn took another swig. He'd just set his tankard back on the scarred surface of the sticky table when he realized someone was standing over him. He looked up and into the wide eyes of Tynan's father. "Begging you pardon, my lord." Oskar's thin lips twitched and his voice shook so that Aswyn feared he was about to turn tail and bolt. Oskar surprised him though, continuing his plea despite his trembling. "I saw you come in here, and I…there's something I must speak to you about." Remembering his promise to Tynan. Aswyn stood and pulled a stool away from the table, motioning for Oskar to sit. "You look as if you're about to fall on your face, man. Stay still while I order you some food." Oskar shook his head. "'Tis not me you should be worried about, my lord." He clasped and unclasped his fingers, obviously too nervous to stay still. "I tried to gain audience with King Xandor, but he refused to hear my suit. Not that I blame him, of course, but I can wait no longer. My son's life hangs in the balance." Aswyn's skin prickled with gooseflesh. "I think perhaps you'd better start this tale from the beginning." With a tight nod, Oskar opened his mouth and did just that. *** Xandor dropped Shih's reins and allowed the big stallion to graze as he himself wandered to the clear brook where they'd stopped and bent to take a long, satisfying drink. The cool water was a boon to his parched throat, but in truth being thirsty 'twas no less than he deserved for riding through the forest like a madman. He knew he'd ridden Shih too hard -- a fact the horse reminded him of with a nip to the shoulder the moment he'd climbed off the beast's back -- but Xandor had been unable to help himself. He'd needed the speed, the rush of the wind as they'd raced through the trees. Anything to clear the muddle from his head. Unfortunately it hadn't worked. Xandor rose from the stream bank, as confused and alone as ever. There was a time when he'd have turned to Tynan with his troubles. A smile creased Xandor's lips as he remembered those days. They shouldn't have worked, the pair of them, what with Tynan the son of a lesser lord and Xandor heir to a powerful throne. Even so, the moment Xandor -- six

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years Tynan's senior -- had stopped seeing the governor's son as a gangly brat and started seeing him as a man full grown, he'd known they were destined for each other. Too bad Tynan hadn't shared those feelings. Xandor was just turning back to Shih when the rattling of underbrush caught his attention. Whirling on his heel, he reached for his sword, relaxing only slightly as Aswyn rode into the clearing. Allowing his sword to slide back into place at his side, Xandor said, "I assume you have a good reason for scaring the wits out of me." He gave his friend a smile. "You took no less than five years off my life. How did you find me anyway?" Aswyn tapped his nose. "I always was better at scenting a trail than you, even in human form." He rode closer, giving Xandor a full view of the deep well of concern marring his face. Xandor's pulse quickened. Something was wrong. Aswyn swung from his mount. "I've just spoken with Oskar of Graywald. He tells me that he's been begging an audience with you for these three days past." Xandor relaxed a fraction. "Is that what holds you so distraught?" He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure 'twas nothing. Probably wanted to beg me to lift the punishment and restore his house." "I wish that were the case." Aswyn drew a deep breath. "Creator knows I do." He took a step closer. "Xandor, Oskar came to plead all right, but not for his own pardon. He came to beg for his son's life." "What are you talking about? Tynan hasn't been given a death sentence." "But he has. That's what Oskar was trying to tell you." Aswyn's eyes shone bright with sorrow, even though the trees above them blocked the brunt of the midday sun. "Tynan is sick, wasting away from the same disease that claimed his mother." "I don't understand." Xandor's response came out as little more than a whisper. "How could he have caught the same ailment as his mother? She's been gone these twelve years past." "According to Oskar, 'tis a malady that affects each generation of his late wife's family. Not all her kin develop the disease, but once they do, 'tis always fatal. Why do you think Oskar stole from you? He needed the money to pay the healers he'd hired in a last attempt to save Tynan's life. When his own coin ran out, Oskar grew desperate and resorted to thievery." Aswyn bowed his head. "I'm sorry to say his efforts were all in vain. Even now, Tynan sickens. Soon his heart will grow too weak to sustain him, and then 'twill all be over." Xandor stood in mute shock for a full moment before his fevered brain had sense enough to spur him into action. Rushing to where Shih stood chewing on a patch of stubby grass, he said, "I must go to him. We'll find a healer who can save him. I'll -" "Xandor, wait." Aswyn stepped up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "There's something else you have to know. 'Twill hurt you to hear it, but you have a right to know the full truth."

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Xandor swallowed, certain nothing in all of Orielle could hurt worse than knowing the man he loved was dying. Still, he nodded his head, standing in silence as he waited for Aswyn to speak. "The disease is slow but painful, taking a firm hold on its victim while slowly draining the life force from his body. 'Tis why Tynan joined Elwin's southern army to begin with." Xandor's stomach rolled as he turned to look at Aswyn. "He was hoping to be killed before the disease progressed." "Yes, and there's more." Aswyn sighed. "There is no easy way to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it. When you told Tynan the truth of what we are -- the day you asked him to bond with you - he'd already begun showing symptoms of the disease. Knowing that wolves mate for life, he was afraid to mate with you for fear his death would leave you devastated and alone for the rest of your days. Tynan was seeking a way to tell you why when you pushed him away." Aswyn gave his shoulder a squeeze. "He wasn't rejecting you, my friend. He was trying to save you." Xandor felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed the breath out of his lungs as he realized just what a fool he'd been. How he found the strength to remount, he couldn't say, but the next thing he knew he was on Shih's back racing towards Alden with Aswyn following close behind. The ride wasn't a long one by any measure, but to Xandor it felt as if he'd been riding for days by the time they reached the field where Tynan was working. Xandor arrived just in time to see Tynan stumble over a rock hidden in the dirt. A hard faced task master with a thick club in his hand gave Tynan a solid thump across the front of his chest, a blow that proved too much for Tynan's already struggling heart. As Xandor watched in horror, Tynan crumpled to the ground like a child's forgotten poppet. *** The first thing Tynan noticed was the feathery feel of softness beneath him. A mattress, no doubt. He opened his eyes, but they were grainy with sleep and he had a hard time focusing. He tried to turn his head, but a pair of strong yet gentle hands stopped him. "Easy, my love. You mustn't move. Allow the healer to tend you first." Soft fingertips brushed against his forehead, pushing aside his dirty hair. "All will be well, you'll see." Tynan was dreaming. He had to be. That sounded like Xandor's voice, but 'twas impossible to even think it. Xandor was lost to him, a fact Tynan had long ago resigned himself to. Without strength enough to fight against the sleep still claiming him, Tynan again closed his eyes and allowed the blessed cool of darkness to take him. *** Aswyn opened the door to the old king's chamber, not surprised to see Xandor sitting in his late father's chair, gazing out the lone window. Aswyn closed the door behind him and crossed the room to sit in the chair closest to Xandor's. "I was hoping I'd find you here." "No matter the problem, I could always come to my father when the need arose." Xandor scrubbed a weary hand over his haggard face. "He always knew just what to say, just what to do to soothe away my fears." He managed a weak smile. "My father loved Tynan. Said he was good

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for me. Even after Tynan left, Father championed his cause." Xandor gave a bone deep sigh. "Once again, the old man was right. Creator knows I wish he was here to say, 'I told you so.'" Aswyn wished so, too, if for no other reason than to offer Xandor some comfort. "I spoke with the healer you brought in to examine Tynan." Xandor lifted flat eyes to meet his. "Then you know that there's nothing to be done for Tynan." "So the man told me, but -" Aswyn broke off, unsure how to proceed. He had no wish to give Xandor false hope, but if there was even a chance that Tynan's life could be spared, he owed it to

both of them to try. Swallowing, he said, "There might be a way to save Tynan still."

Xandor sat up in his chair, eyeing Aswyn like a drowning man eyes a rope. "Well don't just sit

there. Tell me what I must do."

"Xandor -"

"Aswyn, please. I know I was a fool." Wetness leaked from the corners of Xandor's eyes, but he

brushed it away with trembling fingers. "I pushed Tynan aside when he was only trying to protect me. I know that now, but by all that's holy, I swear to you I never stopped loving him. If there's a way to save him, you must help me." Aswyn nodded, knowing that should his plan fail, Tynan would be no more or less damned to death than he was now. "Remember the stories we were taught as children, the tales of how our people came into being?" "Yes, but what…" Xandor shook his head. "Those were just legends told to frighten and enthrall hapless youths. Myths they were, without a measure of truth in them." "But what if they were true? Don't you owe it to Tynan to test the theory?"

Aswyn could tell from the look on Xandor's face that he wanted desperately to believe. "If I do as

you suggest and it doesn't work -"

"Then Tynan will be no worse off than he is right now."

Xandor rose from his chair on unsteady legs. Clapping Aswyn on the back, he said as he passed,

"Pray for me, my friend. If this fails and Tynan dies, I doubt I'll be strong enough to survive it."

Aswyn doubted it, too. He waited until Xandor was gone and then prayed like he'd never prayed

before.

***

Tynan woke to the sound of arguing. Though still too weak to open his eyes, this time he was

certain he heard Xandor's voice. "Leave, damn you. I know what I must do, and I'll tolerate no

more of your interference."

"Majesty, please, you must reconsider. You're pinning your hopes on a fairy's tale. You mustn't -"

"Out, healer," Xandor all but growled, "before I lose patience and throw you out myself."

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Tynan heard the squeak of the door as the healer complied and then he was being gathered into a pair of sturdy arms. "Wake, my love," Xandor's husky voice entreated. "Wake so that I may again see those dazzling green eyes of yours." Tynan forced his heavy lids open, surprised to see tears coursing down Xandor's cheeks. He tried to lift a hand -- tried to wipe them away -- but his fingers refused to cooperate. In the end, he was able to utter but one word. "Xandor." Soft lips pressed to his. "Shh. You need not speak, only listen. I may know of a way to reverse the effects of this disease that claims you. To save you, that is." Tynan wanted to tell Xandor 'twas of no use, but he was too exhausted to voice the words. Not that it would have mattered. He could hear Xandor's determination, could see it on his face as Xandor stared into his eyes. "'Tis a legend among our people that the first of our kind was created when he crossed paths with a vengeful witch who then levied a curse upon him. 'Twas said that she poisoned his blood so that upon the full of each moon he'd be forced to answer the summons of the wolf." Xandor stroked Tynan's face with one finger before going on. "Because most of us can change whenever we so desire, my people have always dismissed the stories as nothing more than myth, but there's one part of the tale I'm not so quick to set aside. 'Tis said that the blood of a man-wolf, once tasted by a human, will turn the human so that he, too, must answer the moon's call." He leaned closer. "My kind is immune to human disease, Tynan. If you become as I am -- if 'tis even possible for you to do so -- then there's a chance the wolven blood will restore your heart to its former strength." Xandor hesitated. "Legend tells us that once one of my kind turns a mortal, that mortal is bound to him for all time. If you do this thing, the two of us will be linked until the day we die." 'Twas then that Tynan understood what was being asked of him. He wasn't just choosing between life and death. He was being asked to choose or reject Xandor. Once, a long time ago, Tynan had mistakenly chosen wrong and paid the price, but never again. If all he ever had with Xandor was his last dying moment, 'twould be enough. Summoning all his remaining strength, Tynan whispered, "Yes." Xandor sagged with relief. "Thank the Creator above." With infinite care, he laid Tynan against the pillows before sitting back and pulling his own tunic over his head. Sick as he was, even Tynan was able to appreciate the corded display of rippling muscle and sun bronzed skin Xandor showed. He watched, fascinated, as Xandor pulled a dirk from his belt and cut a small slit just below his collar bone. Tossing the dirk aside, Xandor again reached for Tynan, lifting him so that his mouth was pressed against the wound. Threading his fingers through Tynan's hair, Xandor said, "Drink, my love. Drink for both of us." Closing his eyes as the coppery liquid filled his mouth, Tynan drank deep, never doubting that both their very lives depended on it. *** Xandor eased Tynan back against the mattress but kept a firm hold on his hand, waiting, though he knew not for what. To his alarm, Tynan's breathing grew even more labored. Frightened, Xandor ripped open his beloved's field-soiled tunic and pressed his ear to Tynan's chest. Tynan's

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heart was beating an erratic rhythm, and his skin was pale as death. Uncertain what to do, Xandor called for help. Aswyn answered the summons, running into the bedchamber at top speed. "What's happening?" Xandor shook his head, still holding tight to Tynan's hand. "I don't know. I gave him my blood," he pointed to his still-bleeding chest with his free hand, "but it only made things worse." But Aswyn wasn't looking at Xandor's chest. His eyes were focused on the back of Tynan's free hand. "I don't think you made it worse. In fact, I'd say Tynan is about to go through his first change." Xandor's eyes flew to the back of Tynan's hand just as he felt the first prickling of coarse hair tickling the skin where his fingers and Tynan's were entwined. Sure enough, a sprinkling of golden hair was sprouting through Tynan's pale flesh. Xandor had just leaned over to better see the new growth when Tynan's eyes flew open and he began to thrash. For better or worse, the change had begun. Xandor stood, bending forward over Tynan and gaining a firm hold on his shoulders. Glancing back at Aswyn, he said, "Grab his legs and hold tight. If I remember my own first change correctly, 'twill be a long, painful journey before he reaches the wolf." Aswyn nodded and had just taken hold of Tynan's legs when Tynan found his voice. "What's happening to me?" His scream echoed across the chamber, causing both Aswyn and Xandor to wince as the inhuman sound hit their sensitive ears. Xandor tried to soothe Tynan as best he could without easing the grip he had on Tynan's shoulders. "It's the change, love. 'Tis always painful the first time. 'Twill be better in a moment, I swear." Tynan shook his head, the movement blending in with the seizures racking his too-thin frame. Tears of agony filled his eyes. "Hurts." Xandor felt ill, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease Tynan's pain. "I'm so sorry, my own. I'd have spared you this if I could. Please tell me you know that." Tynan tried to answer, but the sound came out as nothing save a low growl. Beneath his hands, Xandor felt the telling crunch of bone and gristle as man became wolf. He watched with keen fascination as Tynan's button nose lengthened into a wolven snout and his luscious mouth gave way to row upon row of razor-edged teeth. Cloth ripped and tore as Tynan's human clothes became an obstacle, and Aswyn relinquish his hold long enough to pull the rags away while Xandor held tight. When at last Tynan was gone and only the wolf remained, Xandor and Aswyn stepped back, each giving Tynan a chance to adjust to the transformation. Xandor stood beside the bed, looking down at a pair of sleepy green eyes. The wolf blinked up at him, and even though Tynan was incapable of human expression in this form, Xandor knew without having to be told what Tynan was feeling. "'Tis normal to be addled, Tynan." He managed a weak smile. "Even though you've completed the change, wolf and man are still trying to reconcile. If it makes you feel better, in a moment

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you'll fall into a deep sleep and your body will once again become human. 'Tis the magic's way of completing the cycle." The furry body tensed, but again, Xandor understood. "It won't hurt this time, love. Leastwise, you'll be in such a deep slumber you won't feel it." He reached out with one hand, lightly rubbing over the still-heaving canine body. "Rest now, Tynan. Let the magic overtake you." The wolf blinked at him twice before closing his heavy lidded eyes. As soon as it seemed Tynan had reached the promised sleep, Aswyn sank down onto a bench at the foot of the bed and released a long held breath. "Thank the Creator 'tis over. I don't think I've been this frightened since my own first change." Aswyn looked to Xandor. "Do you think I was right? Did the change reverse the damage done by his sickness?" Xandor sat down in the bedside chair, studying the handsome gold wolf lying atop the satin coverlet. "Would that I knew." He sighed. "As soon as Tynan shifts back, we'll have the healer perform another examination." He leaned his weary head on the back of the chair. "Until then, all we can do is wait." Aswyn snorted. "Waiting. The one thing neither of us is good at." Normally, Xandor would have agreed with Aswyn, but not now. Xandor had been waiting for Tynan these eight years past, though at the time he'd dared not admit it to himself. And if he was forced to wait eight more, he would do it gladly. Xandor was praying like mad for a second chance with the man he loved, and if took patience and perseverance to get what he desired, then so be it. *** Tynan opened his eyes as an odd sense of wellness pervaded his every extremity. So long had it been since he'd felt truly healthy, it took him a moment to recognize the feeling for what it was. He lifted his hand to his face, surprised to see his sallow skin once again alight with the blushing pink glow of well being. Lowering his hand, he moved his hips to gain a more comfortable position, and 'twas then he realized he was stark naked. "My clothes." The words came out as little more than a raspy mumble, his raw throat sill smarting from the abuse of his screams. Even so, the moment the utterance left his mouth, Xandor was at his side. Sitting down beside Tynan on the bed, Xandor gifted him with a brilliant smile. "If by clothes you mean those filthy rags you were wearing, I'm not sorry to say they didn't survive the change. I tossed what was left of them into the fire where they belonged. When next you dress, 'twill be in only the finest garments Alden has to offer." That didn't make sense. Tynan stared up and into Xandor's haggard but radiant face. "What about the punishment?" "Punishment? You mean for the task master who hit you in the chest?" Xandor's lips fell into a hard line. "You'll be happy to know the scum is going to be working the very fields he once patrolled for a long time to come. I'll not tolerate that kind of abuse being hefted upon my

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workers. All men deserve a measure of dignity, from the wealthiest king to the lowliest field hand." Tynan shook his head. He was glad to hear the man would no longer be able to abuse the serfs, but that wasn't what he was talking about. "What about my punishment? Mine and my father's?" Instead of answering straight away, Xandor stood and crossed the room to a low chest on the other side, coming back a moment later with a goblet in his hand. Setting it on the bedside table, Xandor slipped an arm under Tynan's shoulders and helped him sit up. The warm touch of Xandor's hands on his bare skin caused Tynan to flush, but if Xandor noticed, he said nothing. Once Tynan was sitting steady, Xandor handed him the goblet before reclaiming his place on the edge of the bed. "Drink that. Your voice sounds as scratchy as uncombed wool." Tynan did as he was told, expecting the vessel to contain water. He was surprised when the honeyed flavor of mead exploded onto his tongue. He closed his eyes, allowing the blessedly cool liquid to caress the swollen tissues of his throat. Only after he'd drunk his fill and handed the empty goblet back to Xandor did he say, "Mead, my favorite drink. I can't believe you remembered." Xandor's eyes bore into his with an intensity that made Tynan squirm. "I've forgotten nothing of our time together, Tynan. Not a single detail. Creator knows I've gone over every last moment again and again these eight years past, searching for the place where I went wrong." Remorse and regret warred within Tynan, hating himself anew for the pain he'd caused. "Xandor, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you as I did." He sighed. "My only defense is to say that, at the time, I believed I was sparing you an upcoming grief." "I'm the one who should be apologizing to you. We were lovers, Tynan. I should have known you were ill. And by the time you came back to Graywald, 'twas almost too late." He shuddered. "I died a thousand deaths when that bastard hit you across the chest and you collapsed. So many things I hadn't told you, so many -" He broke off, coming to his feet with a surge that startled Tynan and caused him to fall back against the pillows. "My wounded pride almost cost you your life." "Xandor, don't -" But Xandor wouldn't let Tynan speak. "I'll not allow you to absolve me of this. I know a fool when I lay eyes on one, and each time I look in the mirror 'tis a fool I see looking back at me." He took a deep, chest-shaking breath. "In answer to your question, there is no punishment. Your father and all his household have been reinstated to full title. And I've replaced every last coin he spent on those charlatans who promised they could heal you yet delivered nothing." "Xandor, you don't have to -" "Speaking of healers," Xandor kept talking as if Tynan hadn't interrupted, "as soon as your change cycle was completed, my own personal physician examined you." He paused, his eyes searching Tynan's face. "You're healed, love. Near as he can tell, your heart is beating a normal rhythm." Tynan wasn't surprised. For the first time in almost eight years his own heartbeat wasn't ringing in his ears as it pounded out a pathetic, struggling cadence. Knowing that his entire life lay still

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ahead of him made the pain of the last hours more than worth it, but there were questions Tynan had yet to ask. Clearing his healing throat, he said, "The wolf. How often will I be forced to call it?" "Should you so choose, you never have to change forms again." Xandor tilted his head to the side, a sad smile on his face. "Is it really so hard for you then, to embrace the creature you've become?" "No. Xandor I -" A commotion from downstairs cut him off mid-sentence. "I imagine that's your father, come to see what I've done to you." Xandor turned toward the door but stopped halfway there. Without turning around, he said, "I know it may be hard for you to accept that which you've become, and I realize now that you may not have known what I was asking of you when I told you to make a choice. But know this," he half-turned then, allowing Tynan to see the burning certainty written across his face. "If I had the choice to make again, I'd do the same thing without thinking twice. I'd rather have you alive and hating me than be left to mourn you the rest of my days. I may be a selfish bastard, but I love you, and damned if I was going to stand aside and watch you die." And before Tynan could respond, Xandor turned and walked out the door, leaving Tynan to ponder his next course. *** "He loves you, you know. I'd be willing to wager he never stopped." Xandor paused on his way past the stables, not surprised to see Aswyn lounging against the wall that divided the lower bailey from the stable yard. "Think so, do you?" Aswyn nodded and pushed away from the wall, coming to a stop by Xandor's side. "'Tis obvious from the way he looks at you." When Xandor shrugged, Aswyn raised both brows so that they disappeared into the thick nest of his hair. "Don't tell me you doubt it?" Xandor sighed. "Truth be told, I was so busy plotting a way to save Tynan's life, I never stopped to think how he would feel when 'twas over." He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "You should have seen the look on his face when he asked me how often he'd be forced to call the wolf. He was well and truly terrified of what he's become." "Give him time, Xandor. He's lived under a death sentence for so long, I imagine he's still reeling from the fact that he's going to live, much less the knowledge that he's no longer wholly human." Aswyn clapped a hand on Xandor's shoulder. "Don't make the same mistake you made last time. Don't push Tynan away before he has a chance to deal with all that's happened." Xandor shook his head. Pushing Tynan away again was the last thing he'd ever do. Drawing a deep breath, he said, "You needn't worry about that. If Tynan will have me, I'm his for as long as my heart still beats." His lips twisted in a self-mocking half-smile. "In truth, I'm his whether he wants me or not." He exhaled sharply before moving out of Aswyn's grasp. "If you need me, I'll be at the lake. Perhaps a brisk swim will clear my head." Aswyn nodded and Xandor continued on, traveling the rocky path that led just behind the castle walls to a small copse of trees at the base of a rolling hillside. No one just glancing at the clump of towering pines would guess at the treasure which lay inside: a clear bottom lake, small enough to be concealed but large enough so that a man could swim off his frustrations. With that thought

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in mind, Xandor stepped through the trees, made his way to the lake's edge, and stripped off his clothes. Once naked, he braced himself for the cool plunge and dove in. Even at this time of year, the water was cold enough to momentarily numb his senses, exactly what Xandor was hoping for. Enjoying a quiet moment of not feeling -- of just being -- Xandor swam to the end of the lake and back again, over and over until his arms ached with the strain of it. He lost track of the number of times he repeated the course, but by the time he paddled to the bank where he'd left his clothes, Xandor's every muscle throbbed with the pleasant hum of exhaustion. It was as he pushed himself out of the water that he had the feeling of being watched. The soft clearing of a throat as Xandor again stood on solid ground confirmed it. He turned to look into Tynan's openly admiring eyes. Though not a modest man by any means, Xandor blushed under the appraisal as Tynan studied every inch of his body with unashamed appreciation. Xandor thought he was supposed to say something, but his sluggish brain couldn't find the words. In the end, 'twas Tynan who first broke the silence. "You may claim to be half man and half wolf, but I vow there's a bit of fish blood in you, as well. I've ne'er seen anyone as graceful as you are when you swim." Xandor found his tongue then. "How long have you been watching me?" Tynan shrugged. "For a while now. I sought you out, hoping to talk to you, but when I caught sight of you gliding through the water like that," he gave Xandor a sheepish smile, "I fear I lost the ability to speak at all." Uncomfortable as always with praise, Xandor changed the subject. "You shouldn't be out of bed. You've yet to recover fully from your ordeal." He eyed the dark blue tunic and hose Tynan was wearing. His own favorite garments. He and Tynan were about the same height, but because of the sickness, Tynan was far thinner, and the clothing dwarfed him. "I told you I would attire you in the finest cloth Alden has to offer," he said. "You've no reason to wear any man's hand-medowns, mine included." Tynan shook his head before taking a step closer. "My father brought some of my own things from Graywald, including these boots." He lifted one leg for Xandor to see before lowering his foot to take yet another step toward closing the distance between them. "But these," he plucked at the tunic with two fingers, "these I found in the chest at the base of your bed. They smelled like you, so I put them on." This time Tynan came close enough so that the two of them were almost touching. "'Tis what I miss most from our time together, you know." Xandor swallowed. "What's that?" Tynan looked at him with unblinking honesty. "Being bathed in your scent. You'd make love to me all day and hold me all night, wrapping me in both your arms and your scent." With one finger, Tynan reached out and traced the straight slope of Xandor's nose. "Know what you smell like, Xandor?" Xandor could do nothing more than shake his head.

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"Wild, like the mountains and the dells. Solid, like the walls of Alden Castle." Tynan leaned forward to press a soft kiss at the base of Xandor's throat before pulling back to say, "Mine, Xandor. You smell like mine." Xandor shivered, his uncovered cock hardening until he thought sure 'twould break. He wanted nothing more than to take Tynan into his arms and never let go, but first he had to be certain Tynan understood what he was doing. "You still want me then, even after what I did to you, what I turned you into?" "You saved my life, Xandor." Tynan cupped Xandor's cheek in his hand. "You gave me the chance to live, to love you again." He smiled. "How could I ever regret that?" "But you said -" "I know what I said, and if you'd bothered to let me explain, you'd know I meant only that the transformation burned like fire and I was hoping 'twould not hurt so every time." He sighed. "I've had so much pain these last years, Xandor. I fear I was a coward." "Coward?" Xandor almost laughed. "You're the bravest man I know. You faced down death and disease with more fortitude than most men ever possess. And as for the wolf, if any man can come to terms with it 'tis you. I'll not lie to you and say that there isn't a spot of pain with each change, but the first change is always the worst. 'Twill only get easier from here on in." When Tynan still looked doubtful, Xandor took a step back and said, "Want me to show you?" "Yes." Tynan smiled as Xandor's bobbing prick swayed with the movement. "I don't think he wants to wait, though." Xandor grinned. "They'll be plenty of time to deal with him later." The grin faded a fraction. "I won't be able to rest until I know you've made peace with this." Tynan nodded, and Xandor took yet another step back, beginning the change as he went. So used to it was he, Xandor barely noticed the jarring crunch of the shift. Besides, he was too busy watching Tynan, who was staring in wide eyed amazement. Once the shift was completed, Xandor sat back on his haunches and waited for Tynan to follow his lead. Tynan didn't disappoint. Though Xandor could smell his fear, Tynan overcame it, just as Xandor had known he would. "I'm not certain I know how to call the wolf forth, but I suppose there's only one way to find out." And with that Tynan reached for the hem of the borrowed tunic, pulling it over his head and dropping it onto the ground. His boots and hose soon followed until at last Tynan was standing nude before him. A low growl rumbled from Xandor's throat as his sharp, wolven eyes took in Tynan's nude beauty. Thin as he was, Tynan was still the most glorious creature Xandor had ever seen. He wanted nothing more than to shift back and lay Tynan on the ground, kissing every delectable inch of his flesh, but he knew that wasn’t what Tynan needed. Not yet. For that reason, Xandor kept still as Tynan readied himself. Stretching out his right arm, Tynan swallowed and said, "Here's to it, then." Closing his eyes, Tynan called forth the beast within.

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As Xandor had known it would, Tynan's second shift went far easier than the first. Within moments, a sleek, golden wolf was sitting in the place where Tynan had stood. After resting a moment, Tynan rose on four shaky legs and padded over to Xandor, nuzzling him muzzle to muzzle in a show of acceptance. Then, to Xandor's amazement, Tynan lay down belly-up on the grass, sprawling himself before Xandor in a show of submission. Xandor understood the gesture. Tynan was giving himself freely into Xandor's keeping. Not only had Tynan accepted himself as a wolf, he was accepting Xandor as his mate. Unable to contain the rapture of the moment, Xandor threw back his head and let loose a joyous howl, the sound echoing through the trees and bouncing off the water. Tynan soon joined in, the two of them setting up a noisy chorus that startled birds to flight and sent small animals scampering for cover. With a canine wink, Tynan jumped to his feet and took off running. Heart pumping with sheer exhilaration, Xandor gave chase, racing through the trees at top speed and easily gaining on the still recovering Tynan. Cautious of Tynan's fragile state, Xandor tackled him with infinite care, catching him just as he'd quit the tree line and darted up the slope of a short hill. The two of them wrestled and rolled, coming to a stop once again by the side of the lake. Xandor licked at Tynan's muzzle, nuzzling and relishing the feeling of having him so close. Tynan returned the favor, but soon it wasn't enough, and fur melded back into skin as licking muzzles gave way to frenzied, human mouths. A moment later, Xandor was holding Tynan in his arms at last. "So long," he whispered as he rolled Tynan beneath him on the grass of the bank. "So long since I've held you." "A lifetime." Tynan kissed the base of his throat. "I used to lie awake at night, listening to the snores of my fellow soldiers, remembering the weight of you on top of me. You'll never know how I prayed that one day you'd hold me again." Xandor traced the shell of Tynan's ear with the tip of his tongue. "Must have been hard for you, serving with that forsaken army of Elwin's." "Nothing compared to losing you, Xandor." Tynan's eyes burned into his. "Nothing could be worse than that." "Don't think of that now." Xandor licked a trail down the thin column of Tynan’s neck. "Indeed, I can think of much more pleasurable pursuits to focus on." He rose above Tynan, balancing himself with his arms. "Give yourself to me, Tynan. Become my mate. Stand before the Creator and say you'll be my husband rightly wed. The High King himself will bless the union and -" Tynan pressed a slender finger to Xandor's lips. "I'm already yours, Xandor. Yours for the taking." Xandor needn't be told twice. First, though, was to make Tynan ready to receive him, a task Xandor intended to savor. Rising onto his knees, Xandor backed up a space before reaching for Tynan's legs and spreading them wide. The beauty of Tynan's thick erection lay bare to him, a temptation Xandor was beyond resisting. Lowering his head with quiet reverence, Xandor took Tynan fully into his mouth.

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Tynan gasped and arched his back, a low moan spilling from the back of his throat. The sound was music to Xandor's ears as he reached up and lifted a finger to Tynan's mouth. Tynan took it willingly, sucking Xandor's finger with the same zeal Xandor gave to Tynan's cock. A moment later, Xandor slipped his finger free and brought it to Tynan's waiting entrance. Careful not to rush it, Xandor slid the finger slowly inside, all the while keeping Tynan's rigid prick securely in his mouth. Tynan whimpered, letting free with a stream of incoherent babble. "So good. Xandor…please, so long. Need too…" Knowing exactly what Tynan needed, Xandor increased his efforts, taking Tynan all the way down his throat until Tynan's beautiful balls grew heavier and his body clasped tighter around Xandor's finger. Tynan all but screamed, and a moment later Xandor's mouth was flooded with a sweetness he'd dreamed about since the day he'd pushed Tynan away. Not willing to waste a single drop of the precious essence, Xandor released Tynan from his mouth and moved lower, showering the warm liquid onto Tynan's opening and slicking him up before adding a second finger to the first. Still reeling from the pleasures of his release, Tynan lay catching his breath as Xandor stretched him wide. Lifting himself, Xandor looked into Tynan's eyes and said, "Are you ready for me, love? I pray the answer is yes because Creator knows I don't believe I can wait any longer." Tynan opened his arms in invitation. "I've waited a lifetime for you, Xandor. I've never been more ready." 'Twas all Xandor needed to hear. Lining himself up carefully, he slid inside Tynan's welcoming body at the same time he claimed his beloved's mouth. He stilled as he reached bottom, plying Tynan with tender kisses until he was certain 'twas safe to move. Once assured Tynan was ready, Xandor began a delicate rhythm, thrusting short and shallow, then alternating to long and smooth, all within the space of a heartbeat. Tynan was tighter than he remembered -- hotter and deeper than any man had a right to be -- and though Xandor had hopped to bring Tynan to release once more before taking his own pleasure, he soon realized he hadn't the stamina. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Sorry, love, but this isn't going to last." Even as he said it, though, Tynan was tensing beneath him, and to Xandor's relief, his nails bit into Xandor's back and he cried out his release just as Xandor collapsed on top of him with a triumphant shout. *** Oskar smiled as Tynan again adjusted the elaborate tunic he was wearing. "My son, you look exactly the same as you did the last time you fiddled with that shirt. I declare you're as nervous as your mother was the day she and I said our vows." Oskar’s eyes glittered with misty remembrance. "Ne'er have I seen a more beautiful sight than she as she stood before the priest and vowed to love me the rest of her days." Tynan stepped away from the mirror and sat down beside his father on the bed. "You miss her still, don't you?" Oskar sighed. "Every day of my life." He patted Tynan's hand. "Let us not dwell on that today. I know your mother is smiling down on you right now, wishing you and Xandor a lifetime of

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happiness. Feeling her presence as I do -- and having you hale and hearty again -- is comfort enough." Oskar stood. "Come. We mustn't keep Xandor waiting. In truth, I'm surprised he's let you out of his sight for this long. In the fortnight since your healing, I swear this to be the first time I've seen one of you without the other." As if to punctuate Oskar's words, Xandor stuck his head through the door. "What's keeping you? The priest is ready and the guests are assembled." Oskar winked at Tynan. "I'd best go downstairs and seat myself," he said. "Try not to get…delayed." As Oskar look his leave, Tynan rose to his feet. "My father and I were talking and I lost track of time." Xandor smiled. "'Tis all right, though in truth, I was afraid perhaps you'd changed your mind and decided not to marry me after all." Though Xandor made the statement in jest, Tynan knew that a part of Xandor was still afraid of losing him. As he took Xandor's hand and the two of them headed down the hall, Tynan vowed to spend every day of the next fifty years erasing Xandor's worries. Planting a soft kiss on Xandor's cheek, Tynan said, "Sorry, love. I didn't mean to keep you waiting." "I'd wait a lifetime for you." Xandor's eyes burned with conviction. "Two lifetimes, in fact." Tynan believed him. In essence, Xandor already had. As the two of them walked down the stairs, Tynan said, "I've a new life standing before me now. A life with you. Let us not waste a moment of it by looking back." "You're right, as always." Xandor tugged him toward the door as they made their way to the great hall. "Come on, then, and we'll make sure this new life of ours begins with a rousing start." Tynan was right beside Xandor all the way, not having to be told twice.

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Here Kitty, Kitty: Playtime BA Tortuga Jax had a terrible urge to scratch the sofa.

Really, really terrible.

His claws flexed in and out he wanted it so bad, and his nose quivered and...

Jax sighed. Damn this whole freaking... disease, disability, whatever it was. Now he had a

snaggletooth.

"Adam? Babe? I wanna go play." He sounded whiny as hell, but he couldn't help it.

"Pretty one, it's raining. You sure you want to go out?" Adam was at the drawing board, but

wasn't sitting head down, so he wasn't working.

Stretching, Jax watched the end of his fingers. In, out. "I want to scratch things."

"You stay away from that sofa." Adam stood, pulled a key from his pocket. Oh. Oh, the

playroom. Adam saved it for special occasions, special times -- the multilevel tiers covered in

carpet were perfect, the whole room designed just for him.

"Oh." That just made him purr, padding behind Adam, his whole body just itching. Yeah. Yeah.

Adam looked back, eyes warm, happy. "You sure you want in, pretty one?"

A growl slipped out, sort of yowly and don't you dare tease. "Uh huh. Need."

One soft, gentle hand stroked his belly, Adam giving him a look. "Have I ever left you hanging,

Jax? Ever once?"

"No." He moved close, nuzzling up, dipping his chin in apology. "Not ever."

"That's right." Adam nudged his chin up, tongue licking his lips, so hot.

Mmmmm. Pressing Adam against the still closed door, Jax purred, nipping and rubbing.

"Right..."

"Hungry one." Adam's fingers found his hot-spot, right above his tail, scratching good and steady.

His back arched, and he pulled his claws back in, and started stroking Adam's chest. "Itchy. And

always hungry for you."

"Come on, then. We'll play. Together." Adam took off shoes and shirt, then unlocked the door,

pushing it open for them.

He bounced right in, tearing around the room a few time before coming back to butt his head

against Adam's chest. "Mmm. Smells like us."

Shifting Too - 98

Adam grinned, stretched out over a carpeted tier, tugging a soft pillow under his head. "You

already look more relaxed. Nice tail, too."

"Yeah?" He looked. Damn, there it was. Jax grinned. "I need to scratch and run. I'll be cool."

"Run then. I'll catch you." Adam chuckled, hand scratching his belly, right above his cock.

"Yeah?" Oh. He liked that. He took off at a dead run, waving his tail like a banner. He loved it.

To hell with like.

And he couldn't believe it took his cock like, ten seconds to tell his brain that Adam had almost

touched it. He must really be restless.

Adam was... Where was Adam? Jax stopped, turned and immediately got pounced and kissed

before Adam let him go. "Tag. You're it."

"Cheat!" He grinned and bounced after, his claws tearing into the carpet for purchase.

Adam didn't have a chance, but his lover gave it a try, scrambling up onto one tier, then another.

Leaping to the very top level, Jax waited for Adam to get about halfway up before jumping all the

way down and tickling Adam's ankle.

"Show-off!" Adam laughed, rolled away, eyes just teasing.

His tail flicked as he watched which way Adam went, gauging his next move. Yeah. Right. He

went the other way, avoiding the fingers that reached for him. Adam slipped down, leaping for

him, fingers grazing his ankle before Adam fell to the ground with a grunt.

Shit. Jax scrambled down, peering at Adam's face and feeling him for bumps. "You okay, hon?"

Adam nodded, eyes rolling just a little. "I'm good. Just knocked the wind out of me."

He bent down and sniffed, knowing his nose would tell him if Adam was lying and was actually

hurting. But he smelled fine. So Jax licked his cheek. "Sorry, babe."

Adam smiled. "It's why we padded the floor so well, yeah? So I could fall and be safe." Adam's

hands stroked his belly, his nipples.

"Uh huh..." Unh. Rolling, he went to his back and sorta just wallowed in the scritches. "Never

want to hurt you though."

"Just scratch and bite a little, huh?" Adam leaned down, nipped him a little, almost marking him.

Oh, man. Jax moaned, just wiggling to get closer. "Like that, Adam."

Adam bit again, teeth sinking into his skin and bruising him, making his claws dig into the carpet.

The scraaaaatch as his claws scrabbled almost startled him, but the way his cock went so hard

even he couldn't scratch it didn't surprise him at all. He always wanted Adam. Greedy, he pushed up again, making some kind of noise, not really all that manly, but effective.

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"Mmm... just like that." Those teeth found his shoulder, his nipple. Twisting against Adam, Jax willed the claws away and lifted one hand to pull Adam closer. That whole nipple thing just made him crazy. "Love you, pretty one." Adam cuddled in, one hand scratching down his spine. "Mmmhmm. Love the way you do." That was just making him all dreamy. Not sleepy, but sure enough slowing him down. He touched Adam more, tickling the small of Adam's back, the nape of his neck. "Pretty kitty." Adam nuzzled his throat, fingers finding that spot at the small of his back, rubbing in lazy circles. "Pretty?" Not when his mangy ear was doing that popping in and out thing. Adam was a fucking unique man, he was, to ignore shit like that. Turning, he pressed Adam down on his back, tracing his cheeks and lips. "You're the pretty one, babe. So good." Adam reached up, scratching his ears. Oh. Oh, right there. Right there. Uhn. To return the favor he bent down to give Adam a kiss, just like Jax knew he liked it, brushing, then licking. Adam fed him a low, happy sound, fingers pulling him in close as they rocked together. Just purring, he took the kiss deeper, the restlessness morphing into need. Damn he loved this man. They rolled, Adam rubbing against him before letting him back on top. He let his cock rub Adam's belly, moaning at the feel. Good. So good. There was still Adam's bottom layers of clothes in his way, though, and Jax went to work on shredding them. "Fuck. Fuck, it always stuns me, how you do that and don't hurt me..." Adam watched, wideeyed. He grinned, feeling a little toothy. "You're my Adam," he said, before bending to butt his cheek against Adam's cock. Adam nodded and that hard cock bobbed, both bits agreeing. "Yours." Musky, salty, it was Adam all the way as Jax tasted, licking like he would a bowl of cream. Mmm. Warm. He nuzzled down against Adam's balls too, loving the difference in texture. "Jax. Oh. I... I want. You make me so hard." Adam spread wide, thighs rasping against the carpet. "Want me inside?" That little hole just called his tongue, and Jax licked and licked. "Or want me to ride you?" "Uhn. In me. Then I'll do you next, bent...bent over the tier." Okay. Yeah. He could surely do that. Jax set to really getting Adam good and wet, stretching him with fingers and tongue. Working on driving his man crazy. Adam arched, little mewls sounding that made him smile, made him nod. He drew those sounds from his human, from his Adam. They did say that the longer you lived with a cat, the more personality you shared with them, after all.

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Jax huffed and laughed, pushing in deep one last time with his tongue before rolling up and

hovering over Adam's body. "Now?"

"Now. Please. Love. Need." Adam rippled, begged.

He didn't tease anymore, just slid right in, groaning at how tight Adam was, how hot. Reaching

up, he pinched Adam's nipples, pushing the sensation. He loved how Adam arched and rolled,

how Adam wanted him, responded to him.

His hips moved faster and faster, his cock pushing in over and over. His tail just lashed back and

forth and Jax growled, feeling possessive as hell and on top of the world. Adam's cries filled the

air, body just rocking, riding him.

"Love. Love you. Touch... touch yourself." He wanted that. Wanted to see.

Those long fingers wrapped around a long, full cock, pulling hard, working without any

hesitation, any worry. Uhn. Moving faster, he wrapped one hand around Adam's, helping out,

feeling it in the way Adam tightened around him.

"Jax. Oh. Oh, I'm gonna. I..." Those muscles went tight-tight, body shaking hard.

Eyes going wide, Jax shot, watching Adam's face the whole while. So, so pretty. Adam was

definitely the pretty one.

"Yours. Damn." Adam's fingers traced his face, his ear.

"Mmmine." He licked his lips before kissing Adam again, loving the taste. "And I'm yours. And

you can have me over the jungle gym soon."

"Uh-huh. When your tail goes down."

A chuckle burst out. "Yeah, otherwise I'd be whapping you in the face."

"That would be painful." Adam grabbed his tail, petting it.

His tail disappeared, leaving Adam petting air. Jax grinned hugely. "All gone. Wanna do me?"

"Impressive!" Alex laughed, looking down at his own cock. "Give me some recovery time and

I'm right there."

He laughed, the itchiness that had plagued him all gone. He bounced into Adam's arms. "Love

you, hon."

"Mmm... hey, pretty one! I love you, too." Adam smiled, kissing him silly and breathless.

He purred, not really caring what they did now as long as they did it together. "Thank you, babe."

"Thank me? For what? Playing?" Adam's fingers rested on his throat, drawn by the purrs.

"For putting up with me? For loving me?" For everything?

Shifting Too - 101

"No one else on Earth I'd rather be with, pretty one. No one."

He felt exactly the same way. There was no one on earth he would rather be with.

Hell, who else would devote a whole room to a cat condo?

Shifting Too - 102

Hunting Lorne Rodman Ropur ran full out, leg muscles screaming. The jungle was but a blur, green and brown flashing by, his feet barely leaving tracks he was running so fast. For nine moons he had been alone, moving slowly through the jungle, looking for a place to call his own. Or for someone who could remove his curse so that he might return to his people. He had grown lonely, pining for the company of others, be they shifters or humans. Lonely enough that he became careless, drifted too close to the villages that lined the plains and now he was hunted. He should have left his hunter behind long ago, but the man was persistent, following him through the night, quick and bright. It was almost as if the man had the senses of one of his own kind. He crossed a river and stopped, pacing at the other side, growls in his belly. He silenced them and closed his eyes to slits, scenting the air, listening for noises that did not belong. He growled again as he caught the scent of the man, sharp and savory, upon the air. Close. Too close. He did not know where he was, had been driven deep into the jungle by his hunter. He knew he could find his way back, but only if he was able to take his time and track himself backward. He had to shake loose this hunter first. And it would not be long before dawn's fingers painted the sky and the change would be upon him. While he would be safe from the hunter's bow when he no longer held his cat form, his belongings were far from here and he would be naked, vulnerable. There would be no hiding the mark of the changeling upon him, his bare skin as mottled as his fur, the three small dots just behind his jaw below his right ear. Nor would he be able to hide the birthmark above his right ass cheek, the mark of his clan. Humans did not treat his people with kindness. The only solution was to keep as far from this hunter as he could and then to find a place to hide as soon as he changed. The man would not be expecting that and, Leopana willing, would become confused by his tracks. Ropur knew he had no more than a handful of moments before the sky began to light and he lost the advantage of his night vision. He loped away into the jungle, looping around to cross the river again. He raced up a tree, leaping from one to another and then taking to the ground again, running parallel to the way he had come, pushing as hard as he could. He could feel the burn in his muscles, the leaves and branches slapping him as he passed through them. The jungle stank with the human, fear and worry chasing along his spine as he ran.

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Away. Away. He had to get away. *** The cat was clever. Darien could not remember a time when he had hunted such a beast. Truly, it seemed almost to reason against him, looping back on itself, straying far from what had to be its den. He had heard of the cat, even from far away. It was reputed to be a ghost, the local hunters unable to kill it, unable even to catch a long enough glimpse to get a shot off. That was why he had come. Darien preferred only the most worthy prey. Instinct drove him to retrace his steps all of a sudden, making him turn back before he crossed the river. He would go upstream, find where the cat might have turned back. That was what he would do, and this cat seemed to be more... Darien paused. Generally cats were lazy when hunted. They would find a tree and hole up, and expect their camouflage to work for them. This one acted like the one thing Darien hated to hunt, but loved the challenge of nonetheless. A man. He rounded a corner and stopped dead, a clearing before him, a very wet cat in it, its eyes closed, head up, scenting the air. He knelt, unstringing his bow. Now was his chance. He notched an arrow, ready to let fly, just as the first, filtered rays of sunlight broke through to the jungle floor. There was a tortured sound, half growl, half childlike cry and the cat... shimmered. Darien stilled his hand, staring, wondering if perhaps the long night's hunt had addled his brain. But no, the cat shimmered again and then stretched, arms and body changing, head, too. Another of those strange, pained sounds filled the air and then a man lay where the cat had been, panting loudly, chest rising and falling rapidly. He practically dropped his bow. Darien rose and went to the man, looking down at him, staring. He appeared young -- maybe twenty summers. Maybe. And startled, scrambling away from him and going to his feet, looking ready to bolt. The man's eyes were the color of a cat's. The bow came back up, arrow still ready. "Run and I will skewer you." The man froze, swallowed. Those eyes held his, fear in them, but also courage, pride. This one would fight death, but in the end face it head on. He had no wish to kill this one now, however. At least not until he knew what he had seen was real. Darien drew close, looking at the young man carefully. The golden skin appeared almost mottled in the sunlight, the markings familiar. The youth's hair was short, brown and gold and orange and standing up this way and that. Slim, but muscled, the slender limbs seemed graceful. Most intriguing of all, perhaps were the three black dots beneath one ear that almost looked like a triangle. They seemed quite deliberate.

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The man still did not speak, did not move, but for those eyes which watched him.

"What are you?" He knew that was the worst way to ask, but it popped out before he could stop it.

"I am a man." The voice was surprisingly low.

"You are now. You were not before." He lowered the arrow, just slightly toward the ground.

"You are not of the village nearby."

Fear flared for a moment in the strange eyes and then the man shook his head. "I am from far

away."

"As am I. Will you promise not to run if I unstring my bow?" He did not want to shoot this

intriguing creature.

A head tilt was his answer, the man's nostril's flaring for a moment and then he received a nod. "I

will not run."

Nodding in return, he unstrung his bow and put the arrow back in his quiver, taking off his long

over tunic and offering it. A slender hand reached out and took the tunic from him, the man's

fingers surprisingly long.

"Thank you," murmured his mystery as the lovely body was hidden from view.

Sad, but easier to concentrate this way. "Were you born like this?"

"Like what?" Oh, that face looked so innocent, but those eyes were strange, not quite human.

He moved even closer. Darien was a large man, tall and intimidating. He used it to every

advantage. "Half man and half cat."

The creature swallowed and took several stumbling steps backward. "I... No."

"I see." Not that he did. He simply could not wrap his mind around it. "How do you..."

"I just do." Those eyes were watching him, still very wary.

"Does it hurt?" He should be doing... something. But he was infinitely curious.

That head tilted again and then nodded. "Though it should not, it does."

"It should not?" His belly rumbled, reminding him that he had been tracking all night with no

food. "We should find food."

At the mention of food, the youth's stomach also grumbled and something new appeared in those

eyes. "I have not eaten in... awhile."

"Food then. We shall stay away from the village, however. You make them nervous." Nervous

was not even close to the hysterical stories. "The feeling is mutual," murmured his companion.

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"Yes, well. They fear you will eat them." He held out his hand. "Come. Let us find food."

His hand was regarded for a long moment and then the long-fingered slender one slid into his.

The skin was soft, but the pads of the fingers were rough, the nails a bit too dark. He wrapped his

own fingers about it, pulling the man-cat with him. His camp was well outside the village. They

would eat there.

By the time they got there, the youth was stumbling, obviously exhausted.

He helped ease the man down, for now there was little of the cat's grace about him, and went to

get hard bread and cheese. Meat. He handed over half his share. "What is your name?"

"Rrropurr." The food was taken, his guest eating quickly, teeth tearing at the meat.

He ate more slowly, working the purrs out of the name. Ropur. Yes. "I am Darien the Hunter."

Ropur stilled a moment and nodded. "Hunter. Yes."

"Yes." He ate more, watching Ropur carefully. Fascinating. Really. "So you know now the things

that happen then?"

Ropur nodded, eating more slowly once the meat was gone, chewing the bread and cheese

carefully. "I am of two bodies, but only one mind."

Fascinating. "You are the first thing that I have hunted that I have not killed."

Ropur blinked and shifted almost imperceptibly, inching a little bit away from him. "Thank you?"

He did not know why he said that, but he felt he had to let Ropur know. "I... there is more meat."

"I am fine," murmured Ropur, but those eyes had moved to his pack, nostrils flaring.

There was always meat. He never went hungry for that. So Darien got up and got more, handing

it to Ropur wordlessly.

Ropur nodded. "Thank you." He then tore into it with the same hunger he had originally shown.

Once it was gone, Ropur going as far as to lick his fingers, tongue sliding on them, a soft,

rumbling sound accompanying the cleaning, Ropur smiled softly.

"I missed my hunt this past night."

"Better?" Sipping a bit of water, Darien looked about, automatically cataloguing the sounds and

sights of the jungle. Most of the creatures that lived there were nocturnal, so they were in no

danger, but he was always on his guard. "Why do you bother the villagers?"

Ropur sighed and shook his head. "I did not mean to bother them. I was merely... alone." Ropur

curled his arms around his legs. "I wished... hoped."

"Hoped that they would accept you?" His lips curved in a bitter smile. "They are simple people. They will never accept what they do not understand."

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"They are not the only ones," murmured Ropur, voice bitter. Oh ho. He heard much in that simple statement. "You had people once." "I had a clan. We were part of a tribe. I was different. I left." He nodded, pretending that he understood. He didn't, not really. Darien had never belonged anywhere. "It makes you crave the company of others." "Until the change came upon me several years ago, I was never alone." That he could not fathom. To never be alone... he had been so since his voice changed, his mentor leaving him in the middle of one cold, dark night. He played with the feathered end of one arrow shaft idly, trying to wrap his mind about the idea. "We are considered cubs until we reach our 18th summer when we go through the change. I changed differently." "Differently?" Amazed at the young one's candor, Darien shifted to a more comfortable spot, eyes heavy now that he could relax. "How?" It seemed as if once he had started talking, Ropur could not stop and Darien wondered how long he had been alone. "My tribe can change at will. It is the way of things. But I cannot change when I wish to, it is only the sun's rays that make me human." Ropur's eyes reflected that sunlight, shining as they watched him. "They tried to find a solution, but in the end my differences forced me to leave." Darien nodded. "I was born under the sign of the hunter. They say..." He could remember his mentor, Gralien, shaking his graying head and spitting on the ground when he said it. "They say that people such as I are a danger to a tribe, and as soon as we are done suckling, they send us away." "So you also are alone." He couldn't be sure, but he thought maybe Ropur had moved back a little closer. "I have been alone all my life. Even before he left." Why this creature brought answers from him like water he did not know. Perhaps they were alike. Somehow. "Who left you?" Ropur asked him and this time he was sure there was a tiny movement forward. Looking away, Darien began identifying plants, here the velvet leafed phylia, there the waxy pliophea. "They say he was my uncle, but he seemed... old." "Who do you think he was?" Ropur asked, slipping his hands into the arms of the borrowed tunic. "A hunter. A ghost." He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "We are safe here. We should rest. I will have to go to the village at sundown, tell them I killed you or they will burn the jungle." A shiver went through Ropur and the youth looked over his shoulder as if expecting to see the villagers with their torches right behind him. "I will change again when the sun goes down."

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"Will you stay here? Out of sight?" He did not wish Ropur to leave, though he should. Darien should make him leave now. "And if I do? Will you return and kill me?" Ropur looked right into his eyes.

"No." He would not. He only hunted men who were evil, and every sense told him Ropur was

not. "You have my word as a Hunter."

"Then this night I will stay, hidden, until your return. And I will stay now and trust that I will not

be taken to the village to be shown as a trophy, a freak when the sun goes down."

Darien held out his hand. "Yes. My word."

Ropur's hand slid into his. "I believe you."

It was entirely possible that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. But as Darien held that

soft, mottled hand in his, he decided to believe instead that there was a deeper reason that they

had found each other.

And perhaps believe in hope.

***

The man had left just before sundown and for that Ropur was grateful. The change was hard, ugly

and painful, so different from the smooth, even transition he'd witnessed again and again and

again among his tribe. He slunk into the jungle, climbing a tree some way in to wait and see if the man would return. He wasn't even sure why he was waiting, why he didn't just run, disappear. His animal instincts nearly had him doing exactly that more than once in the hours he waited, but he stayed. There was nowhere to go really and something about this man who was so alone like him, intrigued him. A sound had his ears twitching, nostrils flaring to pick up a scent.

It was the man.

He leapt down from the tree and waited.

The man came into the small clearing, looking right at him, seeming unafraid. In fact, Darien

walked right up to him, kneeling before him.

"They think you are dead now."

He purred, nose nudging the man in a thank you.

"We should get your things, if you have any. Can you take me there?" The man was pale in the

night, compared to him, despite the brown skin he'd seen in the day. The dark hair, in one long braid, seemed even darker in comparison as Darien bent to stroke his ears.

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He twitched them, and backed away, he was so unused to being touched anymore, especially by humans. He started off toward the shelter where there were clothes for his human form, food. Mmmm, food. He growled. A second night where he had not hunted. He would need to find fresh meat tomorrow night. Stopping, he turned to see if the man followed. The man was there, keeping up with him easily. Of course, if he left the man behind, Darien could probably track him, as he had the night before. It made him growl. Never had he met such a good hunter. His animal instincts told him this was a bad idea, but he pushed on, fighting the urge to run or to turn and tear the man's throat out. When they got to his hiding place, the man looked about and nodded, approval in his voice and on his face. "This is a good place. But we must keep moving." He went over to where his things were wrapped in a cloth. There wasn't much, some clothes, fruit and his talisman. He looked back at the man. He would be happy to move on with Darien, but he could not carry his things in this form. Darien nodded again, came to pick up his small pack, strapping it to the harness on his back that carried bow and arrows and food. "We should cross the river and go further into the jungle. As far as we can go before daylight." He purred his agreement and walked back out, brushing against Darien, tail curling for a moment around the man’s thigh. When he looked back, Darien was standing there, watching him. At his low growl the man shook himself and followed, coming to walk close at his side. It grated, walking slowly. They could be so much further by sun up if they ran. He raised his head and growled before increasing his pace to a lope. He could hear the man behind him, feet pattering lightly on the jungle floor. He listened closely as they ran, but Darien's breaths stayed light and easy. He increased his pace, moving so easily, testing Darien. Darien kept up with him, running smoothly, feet hitting the earth in long, measured strides. He stretched his own legs out, not running full out, but using his whole body, feeling the heat in his muscles. It was pleasurable to run like this without being chased. It was ironic he ran tonight with the same man as the night before. Surely that was not a laugh he heard? But it was, a happy, free sound as Darien ran with him, falling behind only slightly and staying right on his haunches. It felt good, to run with someone, a feeling he had not enjoyed since he left his clan. He slowed just a touch, finding a pace he could keep for a long time. He wondered how long they would run for, but assumed it was most of the night so that they might put ground between themselves and the villagers.

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They ran until the moon was high, shining down through the tall jungle trees and low hanging branches, when suddenly a sharp whistle split the air, and Darien stopped. Growling low he stopped and circled back toward Darien. He stopped some feet away from the man. Darien was breathing a little more heavily than before, but still did not sound winded. Still, the man began to walk in circles, cooling down. "I need water, Ropur. And food." He growled softly. He would like to hunt. He moved forward and touched his nose to Darien's leg in acknowledgement and then he took off, nose in the air, hunting down the scent of his dinner. The man did not call after him, or come after him, so he must have understood. He found a den of rabbits, killing four and eating three. The fourth he carried back to where the man was, laying it at Darien's feet. He growled softly. He could share. "Oh." Darien looked up at him, eyes glinting in the dark. "Thank you, Ropur. I will strip it and I can dry it tomorrow when we stop." He growled, lips curling. Meat was meant to be eaten fresh. Darien laughed, reached out to stroke his head. "I am sorry, Ropur, but I am afraid that would make me sick." He snorted and sat a little way away from Darien, began to groom. Humans. He'd have nothing for the race if it weren't that he was one half the time himself. The man went to the small stream that ran near the clearing to clean his catch. Darien had good instincts, he had to admit. Their resting site was perfect. He watched, seeing easily in the moonlight, grooming. It had been a long time since he'd had a chance to do this. It was strange to do it with another after nine cycles on his own, but he could grow quickly used to the companionship that the hunter offered. He was not sure that was a good thing. Quickly stripping the rabbit, Darien wrapped it and tucked it away, moving upstream a few feet the wash his hands and then drink. Then Darien stood, hands on hips, surveying the jungle. "We should move on." Ropur stood and stretched, feeling good, his muscles working well, food in his belly, the hunter at his side instead of hunting him. He waited for Darien to go ahead, to choose their direction. As if scenting the wind, Darien tilted his head back, nose in the air. Then he nodded, taking up his pack and heading off at a light run. Ropur followed, lopping easily next to Darien. He cared not where they were going, having put his trust in Darien. *** Darien found them a good place to camp for the day. It had a small pool of water that was not stagnant, huge trees for shade, and a large basket between tree roots for him to make their beds. What amazed Darien was how easy it had been for him to look for a campsite for two instead of

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one, and how he had taken Ropur's unique nature into account when he did. He was a loner. Wasn't he? Groaning, Darien dropped his pack on the ground and stretched. The extra weight of Ropur's possessions had not been much, but it had been enough to throw the balance of his normally perfectly even pack off just so. And to give him blisters. Just before dawn Ropur touched his muzzle to Darien's leg and then loped off, disappearing only to reappear several moments later as the comely youth he'd met the night before. Ropur opened the material that held his things and took out a tunic and leggings, slipping them on silently. Darien was sorry to see that fine form covered, but he said not a word, just made them a small pit fire so he could roast rabbit meat and vegetables. Ropur crouched close to the fire, the strange eyes watching him. He set some of the meat aside on a few large leaves, letting it have only residual heat so it would dry more quickly. The rest he pushed into a packet of more leaves with some dried herbs and stuck into the coals. "I do not usually eat when I am like this," murmured Ropur. Sitting back on his heels, Darien wiped sweat from his brow. "I am always like this. And a man

must eat more often than a cat."

Ropur nodded. "It is a most inefficient form."

"I suppose. I find it useful to have thumbs." He wiggled them. "I am going to wash the stink of

the day off."

Ropur raised his head, nostrils flaring. "Stink?"

"I smell." He grinned, not even lifting his arms, for that? Was nasty. "And not sweetly, either."

Ropur shrugged. "You smell human."

"Yes. I suppose I do." So much for polite conversation. He went to the pool and dipped out water

with his hands, sluicing it over his chest.

Ropur appeared suddenly next to him, having walked soundlessly. "The water smells fresh."

"It is. There is a small stream." He splashed more of the cool water up, loving the silky feel of it.

Ropur moved downstream a little and bent to drink, wild curls dipping into the water. Even as a

man, Ropur drank like a cat, delicately. Darien watched surreptitiously, trying not to be obvious

and make Ropur nervous. The pink tongue came out often, licking at Ropur's lips.

Darien sighed, standing and stretching again, turning, trying to see the blisters on his side and

back so he could tend to them. He could not turn far enough, however, and he blew out a

frustrated breath.

Ropur returned to his side. "Are you good?"

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"I think I have some blisters. Could you look at them?"

Ropur tugged at his shirt, pulling it off gently. "Oh... sore."

"Yes. I was afraid of that." He sighed, motioning to his pack. "I have a cloth there. They need

washing, if you will help."

"A cloth?" Ropur shook his head. "I will help." Then that pink tongue licked at his skin, soft and

hot.

Darien jumped, practically a good arm's length into the air. "I am not sure your saliva will work

as well in this form." His voice was unsteady, but not so much that he felt it showed.

"Oh." Ropur frowned. "I would not know. You prefer the cloth?"

Did he? No, not at all. Should he? "We can try this."

"It would be easier if you sat -- you are taller than me." Soft hands held his hips and made down

motions.

He sank to the ground, his knees giving way. To be touched, and willingly... it was odd. Good.

Ropur's breath was warm against his skin, the sudden touch of tongue hot and slick.

"Oh." Oh. He was shivering, his muscles jumping. That felt so good, the touch easing his aches.

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?"

"It stings." That wasn't so much it, but what could he say? The wind rustled in the trees, and

Darien listened to it automatically, listened to it tell him all was well. The birds called to each other, waking up in the trees, gathering as flocks after their night of sleep. "I'm sorry," murmured Ropur, but he didn't stop until each blister had been licked carefully. "Thank you." His heart pounded, and Darien moved away a little, hoping Ropur could not hear it. "The meat should be ready." "You are welcome." He could feel Ropur continue to watch him, those eyes like a touch.

The fire called him back, the scent of the rabbit suddenly strong. He pulled it away from the fire

before it could burn, and before it could bring predators their way. The vegetables were hot and

tender as well, and he offered Ropur half.

Ropur laughed softly. "Oh, that's too much for me, Darien. I only need a little." Ropur only took

half the offered vegetables and meat.

Darien nodded, tucked the other half away for later. As hard as he'd run through the night, he

would need it. He devoured his share while it was still hot, licking his lips and fingers after.

"It was good rabbit. Thank you."

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Ropur nodded and grinned suddenly. "It tasted better raw." Laughing, he turned the meat that he was drying. "If you say so... I find it a bit too strong raw." "Things are... more in my other shape." "Yes, I imagine they are." He looked off, into the distance. What would it be like, to have Ropur's senses, even for a day? "Most of my people remain in their animal form," Ropur told him quietly. "I must learn to accept this form." "So how is it that they change then? Why?" His experience with animals taught him that they all did things for a reason. There had to be a reason Ropur's people were able to become human. Something that scared them enough to kick out one of their own when he could not spend all of his time as a cat. "There is a story," said Ropur, "about a cat that drew down a curse upon himself from the Great Cat and from that moment on, he and all his kin could not remain as a cat for their entire life." "And they thought somehow you did something to make the curse worse, yes?" Ropur nodded. "But I did nothing any one of my siblings did not also do. I don't understand why it happened. They will not let me choose a mate. Or sire children. They tried to help me, but in the end, they did not wish to have me remain near." "They thought you would hurt them." Yes. He knew that. Knew how it felt. A hunter was a danger to the tribe, even as a child, according to Darien's people. Ropur nodded. "I would not hurt them, never. But it was dividing them, my being among them. It was best that I left." "For them." Darien sighed, his own bitterness barely held at bay. He unpacked his sack and repacked it so it would be more balanced the next day. His blisters felt better, but there was no sense tempting fate and gaining an infection. Ropur nodded. "Yes. For them." Ropur shared a sad smile with him. "What do you do during the day?" He was curious to know if the nocturnal nature of the cat was overcome by the human. "It depends on whether or not I need to move my territory. I can move faster and for longer at night, but I can not bring my possessions with me. If I am not moving, I explore a little, sleep." "Yes." He moved better at night as well, but would easily go during the day if need be. "Well then, we can rest. Sleep. We will move on tonight." "You do not mind me traveling with you?" Ropur asked. "You are more accustomed to being alone, I think."

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"I am. But I feel..." How did he explain the highly tuned instincts that often kept him alive? "I feel we move together or not at all." Ropur tilted his head in that manner he had that reminded Darien of the cat. "Well I am pleased to have a companion." "As am I." And he was. For the moment. He would wait and see what the future would bring. *** They had been traveling together several days, following whatever it was that drove Darien. Ropur was not an Alpha male, he was happy to let Darien lead. Indeed, he was just happy that Darien allowed him to continue to travel with the man. He truly was tired of his own company and there was something about Darien, something... that felt like home. He liked the man, liked the quiet and intensity. One thing he still missed from home was sleeping curled together with his siblings, limbs and tails tangled, head resting on someone's haunches, someone else's head on his. Each day when they bedded down, he moved a little closer to Darien, not on purpose, he wasn't trying to make a move, but he craved the touch, the warmth of another. Today he was bold enough to curl up against Darien's back after the man had fallen asleep, the warmth of the man seeping through his clothes. Darien went stiff against him for a moment, then relaxed, and the evenness of the man's breathing told him in seconds that Darien slept again, still and peaceful. Ropur turned and spooned up behind the man. Oh, yes. Almost a year he'd missed this closeness. He was not certain how long it was they slept before Darien turned about and flung an arm over him, lying face to face. The man's breath was sweet, tickling across the skin of his face. He purred, not really even thinking as his tongue slid out to lick Darien's lips. Darien froze once more, going still, silent. Then Darien's lips opened, a soft sigh bathing his cheek. His own eyes blinked open and he looked at Darien, watched the man's face as he licked again, this time deliberately. Shockingly pink, Darien's tongue came out to meet his, tasting him. He moaned softly, recognizing this was not the simple grooming he'd done with his siblings, it left too many feelings inside him. Big feelings. The eyes so close to his were an odd, clear gray, the look in them serious as Darien opened his lips over Ropur's, tongue darting out to taste again. Oh. Oh, he had never done this. His people did not mate before the change and after he had changed wrong, he had been shunned in that area. He moaned again, pressed a little closer. One of Darien's hands came up to cup his head, Darien's leg covering his, a slow slide. Each movement set off impossible explosions of feelings inside him. His shaft became hard, heat heavy in his belly.

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Darien pressed his lips open and pushed inside his mouth, tongue touching his teeth. He heard Darien moan, too, the sound shockingly loud. He shivered, pressed even closer, hands moving to hold onto Darien. Darien's impossibly long braid teased his fingers, sliding along his hand as he touched Darien's back. The kiss, for that was what it was now, became deep, almost hard. It made him gasp and pull back a little, Darien's mouth following, not letting his go. He panicked for half a second and then went with it, opening wider. Darien grunted and pushed him to his back, climbing atop him, hands on his shoulders, hips pressing against his. His eyes went wide and he pushed slightly, startled by the sudden weight on him. "Do not fear me, Ropur. I will not hurt you." Darien smiled, eyes darker than they had been, hands gentling on him. "You surprised me," he admitted, reaching out to touch Darien's cheek. "I did not mean to. I... surprised myself." Darien bent, kissed the place where his pulse beat in his throat. Ropur tilted his head back instinctively, purring softly at the touch. "It feels good, Darien." Just because he had been startled did not mean he wasn't enjoying it. "Yes. I knew it would. Knew you would." Perhaps he had not thought of it, but Darien must have. Darien moved on him, legs sliding on his, large and hard at the center where their hips pressed. He was hard there, too, and as Darien moved they rubbed together and it made him cry out, bucking up against Darien. "You like that, yes?" One large hand flattened against the small of his back, pushing him closer still, creating such friction! He gasped, nodding eagerly. Yes. He liked it very much. "So do I," Darien said, stroking his neck, his chest, braid falling forward to tickle his cheek. Whimpering softly, he licked his lips, head coming up off the ground. He wanted another kiss. He got it, Darien leaning to press their mouths together again, giving him the flavor he craved. He opened his mouth with a moan, tongue sliding against Darien's. Darien rocked against him, slow and steady, rubbing them together through their tunics, the kisses making him dizzy. The scent of them reminded him of mating season among the tribe, strong and musky. It made him ache with wanting, even if he'd never experienced it before. His body knew what it was doing though, moving instinctively, pushing up into Darien's body. Darien encouraged him with touches and sounds, petting him, moving against him. He heard words, indistinct and rough, but all of them about how pretty he was, how smooth his skin. Moaning, heels digging into the ground to help push himself up, he slid his hands around Darien's body, grabbing the fine ass and squeezing.

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"Oh. Yes. Just that way, Ropur." He could feel the shiver that took Darien's body when he did that, feel the jump of the hardness pressed against him. Darien kissed him again, bruising him, tongue taking his mouth aggressively. He whimpered, mouth opening wide, his fingers digging into the hot flesh he held. Then Darien reached between them, one large hand pushing into his leggings and cupping his shaft, squeezing and stroking, pressing down against him as they kissed. He cried out into the kiss, the pleasure like nothing he'd ever felt before, heat streaming from him over Darien's hand. Darien held him cupped in that big hand, not letting go, and stroked his cheek with the other. "You're beautiful to me, Ropur. I knew you would be." He blinked up, confused and full of melted pleasure at the same time. "You knew?" "I..." Those odd eyes searched his. "When I saw you as a man. I had a feeling." "Is that why you did not kill me?" "No." The answer was definite. "I did not kill you because I do not hunt men unless they have committed a terrible crime. And if you were a man as well as a cat, I could not believe you would do the things the villagers said you had." "I did not do anything to those villagers." He made a face. "The taste of manflesh is less than appealing. Not to mention it would be... I do not eat my own." "Yes." Darien kissed his mouth lightly. "The knowing just made it... more. Easier to stop the bow." He moaned at the kiss, mouth trying to follow Darien's as he leaned back. He wanted more of these shivery, wonderful sensations. "Wait." Darien pressed him back down, tugging at his tunic. "I wish to see you. May I?" He nodded and helped, wriggling out of the material and pushing off his leggings until he lay naked and exposed beneath Darien. The man also pulled away his own clothes, so he was not naked alone. Darien stroked his chest, fingers playing his nipples, tracing the spots that dotted his skin. "Yes, beautiful." He found himself arching into each touch, writhing and trying to entice Darien to touch him some more. With a knowing smile, Darien bent, touching lips to his nipple, hands sliding to stroke his belly and his hips. Thumbs pressing into his hipbones, Darien sucked his nipple between those soft lips, teeth threatening. He cried out, roared almost, and bucked, his hands finding Darien's shoulders. He wasn't sure if he was trying to push Darien away or bring him closer.

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The sting as Darien bit him decided him, and he pulled Darien down. Darien came to him willingly, hands on his thighs, opening him. He whimpered, moving on instinct and wrapping his legs around Darien. "Yes. Touch me, Ropur." Darien sounded... desperate. Harsh. The strong body atop his began to buck and rock. He slid his hands from Darien's shoulders, down along the muscled chest. His fingers were tickled by the light hair he found there and then caught by the little pieces of flesh that were growing hard beneath his touches. A rough moan sounded, Darien rubbing against him even harder, a deep flush staining his skin. "Yes. Please." Ropur nodded, a thrill going through him as he took the little bit of flesh between his fingers and pinched, making Darien buck and moan. Oh, he'd done that. Him. His shaft was hard again, rubbing with Darien's and the pleasure was building once more inside him, eager and pushing instead of lazy and sated as it had been just moments ago. He could feel Darien's prick against his, the tip damp, sweat beginning to come up on Darien's skin. It was the most beautiful and pleasurable thing and he might have cried at having been denied it by his clan, his tribe, if he were not so distracted and pleasured by what was happening between him and Darien. Darien smiled at him, kissing him again, making soft noises. "Yes." "Oh, don't stop," he murmured, hands sliding on Darien's chest, his stomach. "I will not. I promise." No, Darien did not stop, he simply rubbed harder, reaching down once more to enclose both of their pricks in one of his hands, grunting as they found a rhythm together. His own hands kept wandering back to the hard little nipples on Darien's chest, loving the way pinching and tugging them made Darien's noises get louder. "Soon, Ropur. Oh. I... soon." Darien went stiff, his muscles standing out under his skin, his whole body straining. Ropur slid his hand up, touching Darien's lips. "Soon?" he asked, his eyes going wide as the pleasure began to explode again, more heat spilling from him. "Now." Darien bucked against him, eyes going so dark, Darien's seed splashing across his belly and his prick. "Oh. Oh." He touched Darien's face, so lovely. Darien leaned against him, panting, skin hot and sticky. "Oh. Yes." He brought their mouths together, liking this, liking the kissing as the pleasure sort of swirled, shared between them. They nuzzled, rubbed gently, almost like grooming with his den brothers and sisters. Darien almost purred.

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He smiled, purring himself. Oh, he liked this almost as much as he liked what they'd just done.

"We should sleep," Darien said. "Rest up for the night. I fear we need to travel fast."

"We do? Why?" That sounded ominous.

"I do not know. I simply feel it. My instinct for hunting tells me also when I am hunted..." Darien

shook his head. "We must move."

"All right." He nodded, trusting Darien. "We will move at nightfall."

Darien kissed him again, a soft brush of lips, a thank you. "Yes. At nightfall. Until then, we can

rest together."

He smiled. "I like the sound of that. Together." The word purred from his mouth and he nodded,

nuzzling against Darien.

"Yes." Strong arms went about him, holding him close and tight. "Together."

He purred softly.

Together.

***

Darien stretched, his muscles burning. They had been running hard all night, he pushing

whenever Ropur would have slowed. Not that Ropur could not keep up, but he had a feeling his

cat-man did not understand the rush now that they had left the village far behind. He watched Ropur sniff about the tiny clearing he had chosen for their camp as he bent to stretch his legs. Darien sighed. He really did not understand it himself. He only knew that with each running step his urgency had grown. It was as if he had gone from being hunter to being hunted. He checked the light filtering through the trees. Soon daylight. They would need to rest, eat. A flush stained his cheeks. Frankly he liked traveling by night, because he had Ropur as a man during the day. The cat was fascinating, but the man was... edible. Ropur stretched and yawned, gave a soft growl before scenting the air and looking toward the sunrise. The cat usually disappeared into the woods just before the sun came up, coming back as the man. He didn't want to be invasive, but he wanted. Well, he wanted to see. He moved, putting a hand on Ropur's back. The soft fur and strong muscles rippled beneath his touch. Ropur looked at him, vocalizing softly. "Yes. I know. If you need to. I mean, can you stay here?"

Ropur purred and rubbed against his leg. It was the first time he'd interacted physically with the

cat and he was surprised by just how soft that fur was.

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Ropur moved toward the fire, stopping near it, head going back to roar. Darien watched, flexing his fingers, still feeling the softness of Ropur, even as he watched. He did not wish to get near, in case he got in the way. Ropur roared again, body elongating, back legs stretching out behind him. Darien didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but he thought he could hear bones crunching. His heart raced as he watched. Oh, it sounded painful. It was a thing of terrible beauty to watch. Ropur kept stretching until he was lying on the forest floor, twisting, fur seeming to disappear as Darien watched. The fur shrank, the markings growing fainter, but not disappearing as Ropur changed. Still it was almost a surprise, as if he blinked and one moment Ropur was a twisted up cat, the next a man, curling around himself with a cry. Darien was beside him in an instant, petting, feeling sweat under his hand, slick on Ropur's skin. Ropur shivered, gasped, hand coming out to grab his leg. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what he apologized for, except that Ropur was hurting and he could do nothing to help. Ropur shook his head and sat up, blinking. "It is not your fault. I don't know whose fault it is. My siblings can all change at will and without pain. I am not so lucky." He stroked the hair back off Ropur's face, nodding. "Yes. Would you like water?" Ropur nodded. "Please." Those fingers slid along his hand. "Thank you." "You are welcome, Ropur." It felt good, right, to be doing for Ropur, which was odd and rather frightening. Alone was easier. He got the water, handing over his waterskin. Ropur took it eagerly, hands growing steadier as he drank. "It is... different, not being alone for the change. Better." "Good." Giving into the urge, Darien pulled Ropur into his arms, nuzzling the strong throat. "Oh. Yes, that feels good." Ropur's arms circled him, head dropping back to expose more of that throat to him. "Yes." Oh, yes, he wanted more of the flavor, more of the heat. Darien tasted Ropur, tongue coming out in short licks. He could feel Ropur's purrs against his tongue and Ropur's hands closed into fists around his tunic. Need rose urgently in him, and he traced the spots on Ropur's skin with his fingertips, Ropur’s chest and belly, arms and back. Ropur's purrs grew louder, not as deep or resonant as when he was the cat, but much stronger than most humans could manage. "Darien... Oh."

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He pushed Ropur down, tearing at his own tunic, getting them skin to skin so he could lean down and rub, press against Ropur hotly. "You feel right." Ropur moaned, hands sliding along his back, fingers digging in, nails sharp and bright as they pierced his skin. "Yes.” "Oh!" Darien arched, begging with his whole body. Ropur repeated the motion, fingernails like claws on his skin, the contrast between them and the soft skin beneath him sharp. He could not have asked for anything more perfect. Somehow the contrast between man and animal excited him unbearably. Darien bent to kiss Ropur, tongue pushing across Ropur's teeth. Ropur's mouth opened to him, letting him in. He pushed in, tasting deep, feeling like a hunter who had caught his fiercest prey live. So very good. Ropur's lips wrapped around his tongue, sucking as the lithe body beneath him bucked, rubbed up against him. More. Darien wanted more. He moved down, licking at Ropur's throat, feeling the pulse beat there before scraping his teeth down Ropur's chest, nipping at the tiny buds of Ropur's nipples. Ropur bucked up against him, strangled sounds coming from his throat. That sound suited him so well that he did it again, teeth worrying one nipple until it was red and swollen. "Darien," his name was purred, those sounds getting louder. "Mmm." Yes. His name. Darien worked down Ropur's flat belly, stopping to lick the navel, then down even more, his chin brushing Ropur's prick. Ropur froze on a gasp, fingers opening and closing on Darien's back. "You like that." He rubbed his cheek against it, feeling the silky skin, the drops of wetness on the corner of his mouth. He had to taste. Darien turned his face, opened up and took Ropur in, licking and sucking the head of that prick. Ropur cried out, body bucking, pushing his shaft in further. Darien put a hand to the base of Ropur's prick, controlling the depth of his thrusts, but otherwise letting Ropur move as he would, lips tight about the shaft. Ropur's hands clutched at his shoulders, hips pushing again and again. The sounds that came from Ropur were intense, addictive. Darien sucked harder, wanting to taste the essence of his cat man, wanting to hear Ropur in the ultimate pleasure. "Darien. Oh." Ropur bucked hard, nearly pushing him over and heat splashed against the back of his throat. He took it all down, licking Ropur clean, glorying in the heat-male-bitterness of Ropur's seed. Ropur was purring, almost as loudly as he did when a cat, hands sliding through his hair. Nuzzling Ropur's belly for a moment, Darien moved up to look at him, smiling. "That feels good, does it not?" Ropur nodded, eyes wide, hand moving to touch his mouth. "Yes."

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He licked at Ropur's fingers. "There are many other things that are just as good."

Ropur moaned softly, fingers sliding into his mouth. "Many more?"

"Yes." He laughed, seeing the bright curiosity in Ropur's eyes. He took hold of Ropur's hand and

sucked on the thumb. "Many."

"Oh..." Ropur's body shuddered beneath his.

"Mmm." Yes. Now was the perfect time to show Ropur how that mimicked what they had just

done. He licked and sucked, rubbing his hard prick against Ropur's thigh.

"Should I put my mouth on you?" Ropur's voice was husky.

"If you like. I would like that very much." Oh. He wanted that so much it hurt.

Ropur rolled him, pushed him onto his back, eyes glittering at him. He lay back, watching Ropur

decide what to do first, his prick standing proud and swollen. Ropur's tongue dragged across his

lips and then each of his nipples, just a cursory lick, really before Ropur honed in on his shaft.

"Oh." It came out on a moan, his hips rising at the touch. He controlled the thrust, knowing Ropur

would not know how, his hands fisting at his side as he sought control.

Ropur's tongue licked at him and then Ropur's mouth surrounded him, loosely at first and then

with more suction.

"Ropur." He practically growled it out, wondering if he sounded like one of Ropur's own people.

He certainly felt it.

Ropur raised his head, looking up at him. "Yes?"

"Yes. Oh, please." His hips lifted, his belly going tight as he rocked.

Ropur smiled, purring softly as his lips closed once more around Darien's prick. He let out a

strangled moan, his prick leaping with his heartbeat. His whole body shook, his breath coming in

harsh pants as he tried to hold on to the sensation.

Ropur's head moved slowly, taking more of him in and then releasing him. The technique was far

from expert, but Ropur was enthusiastic, mouth hot.

Darien did not last much longer, and when he felt it rise along his spine, he grasped Ropur's shoulder, trying to warn him. "Now. Oh..." Ropur's tongue slid across his slit, one hand petting his belly as he shot.

"Ropur..." Enthusiasm, yes. Ropur had that along with a natural heat and curiosity. Darien very

much looked forward to teaching Ropur everything he knew.

Ropur licked at his belly and at his nipples again before settling against him. "That was good?"

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"That was very good. Believe me." He settled, arms coming around Ropur and holding him close. "Thank you." "You are very welcome, Darien." Ropur shifted closer, almost rubbing against him, that purring noise vibrating from Ropur's chest to his own. He could become accustomed to this. It scared him, almost as much as the niggling feeling that he had become the hunted, that he had to keep moving. Ropur on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms, settling against him, falling easily into sleep. He stroked Ropur's back idly, listening to the sleeping purrs, and tried to clear his mind to sleep. Wakefulness would only make him tired later, when he needed all of his wits about him. Something was coming. He did not know what, but his instincts were rarely wrong. Darien could only be glad he and Ropur would be together to face it. *** They ran for days as if a pack of wolves with an unending territory were chasing them down. The days were filled with loving, sucking and kissing and rubbing together, but the nights were beginning to wear on him. Ropur was not used to running full out for hours on end day after day. He was barely getting enough food to do so either. Finally, as they made camp one morning and he changed, he did not search out Darien's mouth for kisses as he usually did. Instead, he sat across the little fire from Darien. "I would speak to you of this path we follow and at such speeds." Darien looked at him, surprise in his eyes, but he nodded, and sat cross-legged, waiting. "I do not understand why we must push so hard, Darien. Surely we have left behind the village and its dangers for good." Darien nodded, but those long fingers played with the end of Darien's braid, letting Ropur know it was not that simple. "I wish I knew why I felt the need to press on so hard, Ropur. I just know it is what my mind tells me." "How long will this mad rush continue?" "I do not know, Ropur." Darien shifted his weight, eyes looking to the ground. "If you need rest you must tell me." "I need to eat. The beast cannot run on only a rabbit or two. He requires more than that. And that requires a hunt." A hunt while he was the beast, for Ropur as human was not capable of such things. Nodding again, Darien looked about them. "Well, this is as good a place as any. We can camp here and you may hunt."

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"We must wait for night. It is the beast who must hunt, do you understand? I cannot do it." They

would lose a day of travel.

"Very well." Darien stood abruptly, gathering up his bow and his quiver. "I will do some hunting

myself, then."

"You are mad at me." He looked down at his hands. "I am slowing you down."

"No!" Turning back, Darien dropped the bow and quiver, coming to him to put a hand on his

shoulder. "I am afraid I have put you in danger. And I do not... I do not wish for you to leave me."

"I do not wish to leave, Darien. And surely if anyone is a danger to the other, it would be I who

brought danger upon you?" He leaned his cheek against Darien's hand, thinking that falling upon

each other's bodies was a much more pleasant way to begin each day.

Stroking his cheek, Darien smiled, shook his head. "We are a pair, hmm? We have been running

hard. A day of rest will not hurt."

"As long as it is safe. I have no wish to put you in danger, Darien. Being with you is... a gift."

"Oh. Yes." Darien smiled at him, eyes bright. "A very fine gift, Ropur."

He smiled back up at Darien. "Perhaps your hunting can wait?"

"Yes. I think it can." Darien took his hand, leading him to a shaded spot.

He smiled up at Darien, free hand sliding beneath the soft hide tunic to find the lovely warm skin

of Darien's chest. He heard a moan, Darien leaning into the touch, eyes hot and heavy-lidded. So

fast. It was so fast between them every time.

His own need was upon him just as quickly and he pushed against Darien, having learned that

rubbing was a wonderful thing. Darien cradled him easily, legs spreading for him. He was kissed

thoroughly, Darien's lips soft and sweet on his.

He tugged and pulled and pushed until Darien's tunic was up beneath his underarms, rubbing his

own naked body against that warm skin.

"Ropur!" Wiggling, Darien held him close, trying to get to him with mouth and hands.

"More skin, Darien." He liked it skin on skin.

Nodding, Darien wiggled some more and the tunic popped off, hanging up on Darien's long braid

for a moment. Then Darien reached between them and started on the leggings. He helped, fingers

clumsy with excitement and need. He purred when Darien's prick leapt into his hand, heated and

silky.

"Oh." The sound was a long, indrawn breath, Darien arching under him. "Good."

"Yes, good, Darien." He nodded, pulling on the hot flesh, tugging it in his hand. The heated flesh

throbbed, and he could feel the muscles in Darien's chest and belly go tight against him. Darien's

neck arched, his head falling back against the ground.

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He loved that he could affect Darien like this, that his touches brought such responses. Darien finally began to touch him back, fingers counting the bumps of his spine, tracing down to his bottom to cup his cheeks. It was lovely, but distracting, too, his hand stuttering along Darien's shaft. "Oh..." "Yes. I think perhaps it is time I showed you something else, hmm?" Darien's voice sounded like claws on bark, rough and scratchy. Darien pushed at him, turning him so that his prick was at Darien's mouth, and Darien was at his. "Oh! Oh, Darien." He nodded eagerly, catching on right away. He lapped at Darien's shaft. Darien's encouraging noise was muffled as Darien's lips slid over the head of his own prick, tongue working the underside. He whimpered, shook. So good. He licked and licked and then began to suck. They moved in time, Darien raising and lowering on his shaft, mouth moving wetly. Darien's hands moved as well, squeezing his bottom again, fingers digging in before one finger dipped between, touching him where no one ever had. He froze, startled, body going tight. Pulling back, Darien licked the very tip of his shaft. "I will not hurt you, I promise." He swallowed and nodded, taking Darien back into his mouth. "Ropur." Darien sounded so pleased, and he could feel the smile on Darien's lips before his prick was engulfed again. The broad finger pressed between his buttocks, pushing at the tiny hole there, circling it gently. He shivered, the sensations strange, but also good, making Darien's mouth around his shaft seem bigger. He tingled, and the taste of Darien made it a closed circle, made him pant. He could hear and feel Darien breathing as well, could feel the heat of Darien's skin. He began to bob his head the way he knew Darien liked, his whole body beginning to shake. The finger slid... inside him. Just like that. And Darien sucked hard, going all the way down. He cried out, his whole body going tight as the pleasure pulsed from his shaft. Without even meaning to, his body squeezed hard on Darien's finger. Darien moaned around him, tongue moving fast, hips rocking as his mouth was filled with Darien's seed. He swallowed it down and then cleaned Darien's prick before letting it fall from his mouth. He was panting and breathless, still shivering. Darien moved back up alongside him, petting him all the way. "Did you like that?" He nodded. "It was strange, but good." "There are many more things..." Darien kissed him, lips and tongue moving on his mouth. "I like the things you teach me, Darien." Ropur kissed back, playing with Darien's tongue.

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"Mmm. I like to teach you." Those lips caught his again, Darien pulling him close enough that

they could have shared the same skin.

"Then we are both lucky there is more." He pushed their lips together again, demanding more

kisses.

Darien's chuckle puffed against his lips and he got his kisses, deep and drugging. It was funny, how he felt safe and secure in Darien's arms, their endless rushing nights fading away under the onslaught of that heated mouth. They curled together, rocking and rubbing. Darien held him, loved him, hands working over his skin. It was as if they had not yet been together this day, as if it was all new. "Will you show me more?" he asked, looking up into Darien's eyes.

"I will show you whatever you wish. There are so many ways we may be together." That smile

was wicked, happy.

He laughed in response, feeling good, feeling at ease.

"Did you know that two men can be together almost like a man and a woman?"

He laughed again, believing Darien was teasing him.

"It is true." Darien pulled him closer, rolling them to their sides. Then Darien took his hand and

drew it around behind that strong back and down to Darien's bottom. "You will not believe how it feels." "Show me?"

"Yes." He got a kiss, Darien's prick rising against his belly. Then his fingers were brought back

around and up so that Darien could suck on them. It was suggestive, arousing.

He moaned, his own shaft growing, pushing up along Darien's. He gasped, hips moving instinctively. Darien moaned, too, the sound shockingly loud, even around his skin and bone. When his fingers were slick and wet, Darien pushed them back down behind, showing him without words where they should go. His eyes flew to Darien's. "Are you sure?" "I am. One at a time. When the way eases, add another." The smile was back, those dark eyes hot

and wild.

He trembled, pressing one finger against Darien's entrance. It was too small, his finger would not

-- oh! Oh, it slid in, just like that, into such tightness, such heat.

Arching, moaning, Darien rubbed against him, skin heating against his. The shaft alongside his

own jerked, Darien obviously enjoying his motions.

"I... so hot." He was breathless from it, amazed.

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"Wait. It is better later. Two now, Ropur." Darien's voice sounded almost like a purr. With a little more confidence this time, he pushed another finger into Darien. They slid in easily, Darien's body sucking the two of them in. Darien bent, mouth on his neck, lips and tongue moving. He shivered and pushed closer, fingers going deep. "Oh." He got an answering shiver, bone deep and good. Darien crowded against him, whispering instructions on how to stretch him. He did as he was told, fingers opening and closing, moving in and out. Darien was like silk inside, heated silk. He rubbed their fronts together as he continued to push his fingers in and out of Darien. Such good things Darien showed him. "Now the last one, Ropur. Stretch me so I may take you." "Are you sure?" he asked again. He had no wish to hurt Darien, but his fingers and... his shaft? How could Darien take them?" "Yes. Please. Ropur. I need you." Teeth scored his skin, Darien biting into his throat, low sounds coming from him. It made him jerk, made him shudder, his shaft aching, his body needing. He pushed another finger inside, just gasping as it went in, as the tightness around him increased. "Uhn." Darien bit him again, hips rolling so his fingers slid in and out. He whimpered, rubbing hard against Darien, fingers finding Darien's rhythm, moving with him. They rocked together, his fingers opening Darien's body. Finally Darien pushed him to his back, his fingers sliding free. Darien bent and sucked his prick in, just for a moment, getting it good and wet, and then... Oh, then Darien was rising up, centering his shaft and pushing down upon it. He shook his head, not believing it was possible, not believing that his prick was really sinking into that tight, amazing heat. It was happening though. So tight around him, so hot. Darien rose above him, then lowered, starting a rhythm that left him breathless. His shaft was squeezed inside Darien's body again and again and it made him cry out, made him reach for Darien's arms, needing to hold on. "Ropur." He could feel Darien's shaft against his belly, hot and good, leaving a wet trail. Then Darien's eyes went wide, and that body clamped down on him so tight as Darien's seed spread over his stomach. That heat, that tightness, the way it seemed to milk him, it made him cry out, made him buck, his own climax shaking him. Darien collapsed against him, breathing hard. "Oh, Ropur." "Yes. Oh. Darien." He had no words, so he slid hand hands on Darien's skin, trying to tell him that way.

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They curled together, Darien heavy against him, both of them relaxing as their breathing slowed. Darien said no more either, but Ropur could feel words in each touch. He rippled, nuzzling against Darien, pushing into the touches. It felt good. Darien's breathing evened out, sleep not far away. The scent of them was strong, deep. Darien stirred, just slightly. "Wake me before you hunt tonight." "Will you hunt with me?" He wasn't sure why he asked, but it felt right. "I will if you like. I love the hunt." Yes, he knew that, had felt the pressure of Darien's hunt. The man was relentless. "I think it would be... a good thing." "Then I would be honored." Darien smiled at him. He smiled back and leaned in, eyes closing as he rubbed their cheeks together and then their lips. "Mmm." They kissed, Darien's mouth opening under his, Darien's breath mixing with his. It felt good and right and if they hadn't been running all night and just spent themselves -- twice! - he would have rolled Darien and done it again. Instead their kisses slowly settled, quieted. Darien stroked his back like he was petting the cat not the man, making low noises until finally Darien dropped off to sleep. Purring softly, Darien's warm skin against him and the hot sun on him, he fell asleep, too. *** Darien woke just as the change was coming upon Ropur. Always fascinated, he watched, as Ropur felt little need to hide from him any longer. Not since he had asked to watch. Excitement rose in his belly, making him smile as he reached for his bow. He could not wait to see how the cat hunted. It didn't seem to be as painful for the animal to take form as it did for the man, and it wasn't long before the big cat gave him a look and a nudge, moving them into the trees. Darien stood and moved easily, following the big cat with little trouble. He only hoped the whole of the hunt was so easy. Ropur loped easily, seeming to follow one trail and then catching scent of another, not appearing to be serious about any of them. Darien wondered if Ropur knew how human he really was. The cat seemed to know what he was looking for, and most cats were lazy ambush predators. It was beautiful to watch, though, the way Ropur's shoulders moved as he loped, the way the tail twitched at the slightest noise from the trees. Suddenly all the hackles went up on Ropur's ruff and his tail went straight up into the air. The big cat's rear end went into the air, shoulders going low, bunching to pounce. Ropur waited patiently, obviously having caught scent or sound of something from a long way off.

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Darien held his breath, listening, his own weaker ears detecting nothing. Still, the instinct he counted on told him that prey was near, and his own muscles went tight, his hand reaching for his bow. He heard it moments later, a boar by the snuffling sound of it. Bigger than a lot of game, so Ropur would not need to make more than this one kill. It was a good choice while they were on the run. Holding back, he let Ropur move in. He would only help if he was needed, and he might be, for boars were notoriously dangerous. His admiration for Ropur swelled, for it took great skill and nerve to take a boar. The boar came running into sight and Ropur pounced, snarling, mouth ripping open the back of the beast’s neck and jumping away again to keep out of the way of those tusks. The scent of blood rose strong and hot, the squeals of the boar and the growls from Ropur ringing loud in his ears. His heart raced as he watched, so glad that Ropur would share this with him. Ropur didn't play with his catch, going back quickly to finish the boar off. When he was done he raised his head and growled, eyes searching Darien out. Those eyes fairly glowed, and they caught him up, bringing him forward as if his feet moved at Ropur's will. His hand dropped to Ropur's head. "Beautiful." Ropur pushed up into the touch, the growl turning into a fine purr. There was no ritual among the lonely hunters of Darien's tribe. No sharing. This was something new, this kneeling over the fresh kill, his hand in Ropur's fur. Ropur would have to tear into the belly of the beast. Darien had the advantage of a knife, and he split the body wide, right there, offering Ropur the beast's heart as his tribute. As his due. Ropur's purrs got louder and his hand was licked for a moment before Ropur ate the heart and then tore into the beast’s belly, taking the and the guts, the body steaming. Darien watched. He would clean what he needed when Ropur had his fill. His careful cut would make sure the meat was not contaminated and he could dry some for them to eat on their nightly treks. Ropur ate a good portion of the meat and then went to him, purring before settling some feet away from the kill and starting to clean himself. After petting Ropur's head for a moment, Darien moved to clean the rest of the carcass, wanting to move on before the scavengers came, as they did. He cut away meat for them, wiping it down and wrapping it in skins he carried with his quiver. He looked up to find Ropur watching him, tongue lolling from his mouth as if laughing. "Oh, surely, you can laugh. But I must eat as well." Ropur growled softly, eyes bright in the moonlight, and then Ropur got up and came over, licking the blood from his fingers. Darien smiled, tingles running up his arm as the rough tongue scraped over his skin. He leaned against Ropur's strength for a moment. Ropur let him lean, supporting his weight, purring again, rubbing against him.

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Rubbing back, Darien hummed, feeling good. "We should go. Before the ferals come." Ropur rubbed for a moment longer and then headed off, fur blending into the forest. Hefting his pack, he followed, heading back toward their camp. His feet would no doubt leave bloody tracks, and he hurried to catch Ropur. "We should circle around a few times, let our tracks wear. Ropur slowed and joined him, fur rubbing against his leg as Ropur let him lead the way. The looped about in large circles, ever changing, until finally he was sure that they could not be traced back to their camp from the carcass. He sank a hand into Ropur's ruff, turning them toward their stream and their trees. Ropur moved to lope ahead of him, muscles moving beneath his fur, a thing of beauty. Following more slowly, Darien listened carefully, noting every detail of the land about him, checking to make sure they were safe. He wanted Ropur this coming day, and did not want to be interrupted. Ropur was waiting for him, lying on the furs they shared during the day, that tongue hanging out again, laughing at him again. "I wish I knew what was so funny, you." Grinning, he set his wrapped meat down, preparing strips for drying, hanging it so it couldn't be gotten by animals. When he'd settled again, the cat's heavy head rested on his thigh, low purrs vibrating his skin. He rested. It seemed odd to rest at night, the darkness hiding too much in the quiet. Ropur had the softest ears. They twitched beneath his fingers and Ropur sneezed. Now it was his turn to laugh, scratching Ropur's neck and shoulders hard. Ropur pushed into the scratches, a low warning growl sounding for a moment. Oh. They couldn't have that. He jumped on the big cat, rolling him over and over in the dust and grass. Ropur's paws batted at him, that big mouth opening on his skin, but neither tooth nor claw touched him. Laughing, feeling Ropur's incredible strength against him, he used his own momentum to push and pull and wrestle. They played hard for awhile and then Ropur rolled off him, panting, one big paw on his chest as if to say "I win." He capitulated, but only because when he tried to move he had the most impressive view of Ropur's sharp white teeth. Darien laughed, stroking the big paw on his chest, the claws not in evidence at all. "Yes, yes, all right. You are a fine fighter, my Ropur." Ropur put his head up and made a nice loud noise and then settled next to him, rumbling happily. They had little to do but sleep, and Darien found that so appealing that he immediately curled along Ropur's side, one arm on the cat's back, hand in the soft fur. He rested his head against Ropur's shoulder, sighing, enjoying this night that was free of traveling, of frantic running. That rough tongue dragged across his face. It seemed Ropur felt the same enjoyment.

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The affectionate touch surprised a laugh out of him, and he patted Ropur, letting his hand wander, letting his mind wander as well. His breathing evened out, his mind sinking into sleep. It was so much better to hunt with someone to share it with. And he hadn't thought anything would be better than hunting alone. *** Ropur ran and ran, letting Darien push him, keep them moving. He could feel what was driving Darien now, an itch at the back of his neck as he ran, spurring him onward. Something out there was after them. He only slowed as the sun started to come up, going to Darien and growling softly. He had to stop, let the change have him. Darien nodded, hands on his knees, breathing deeply. Darien wasn't laboring, really, but Ropur could tell he was having a harder time this night keeping the pace. Their night of rest had done perhaps more harm than good. Or perhaps it was just the punishing pace they'd kept. Ruffling his ears, Darien nodded toward the far side of the small clearing, then went to sit, pulling out his water skin to drink and to watch. He went with Darien and stopped a couple of feet from the man and lay down, already vibrating with the change. He always hoped that one day it would get easier, that the pain would fade, but it was always the same, the feeling of his bones stretching and contracting, changing. He lay there, panting, shivering a little without his fur to keep him warm. "Ropur." Darien's voice warmed him, as did the hand that took his, pulling him up and into Darien's arms. "Would you like water?" He nodded, pushing against Darien's warmth. The change itself hadn't become any easier, but this had. After, with Darien to hold and help. Holding the skin to his lips with one hand, Darien stroked his hair back with the other. "It gets more difficult, Ropur. And more urgent." He swallowed several mouthfuls of water down and then nodded. "I feel it, too. I don't know how long we can stay ahead of it." "Yes." They sat for long moments, and he listened to the thump of Darien's heart as it slowed. "I feel... I wish I knew what it was I felt. I feel as if I know this thing." A shiver went through him. "Should we find somewhere to face it, Darien? I fear it attacking us from behind." Darien squeezed him, quiet for so long that he feared Darien had fallen asleep. Then Darien stirred. "Yes. Yes, that is a good idea. A den. Someplace defensible."

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"The beast would search better -- do we have the time to rest and wait for nightfall?" He wanted

to lie with Darien, to forget their worries and touch, love.

"We do." Darien's lashes brushed his cheek as Darien turned to kiss him, lips soft, damp with the

man's sweat.

He whimpered softly and pushed closer, so eager to enjoy these touches again.

Strong hands slid up his bare back, massaging the muscles on either side of his spine, just as

Darien would do for the cat. It felt good. Different, but good. He stretched against Darien and

reached for the bottom of Darien's tunic, wanting to rub skin against skin.

He got help, Darien leaning away, raising his arms. As soon as the tunic slid away, Darien came

to him again, holding him close. His mouth went to one of Darien's nipples, teeth biting at it,

loving the way it went hard for him.

"Oh. Ropur." Short nails scratching, Darien pulled him even closer, legs opening for him as

Darien lay back and pulled him on top.

He growled, full of need and want, rubbing as his hands tore at Darien's leggings.

Darien arched beneath him, dark skin stark against the growing day, the long black braid

whipping about them as Darien thrashed against him. "Want."

"Can I be in you again, Darien?" Ropur asked, voicing his own want.

Darien looked at him, eyes wide, and nodded. "Yes. Yes, please. I want you, my Ropur." He

could feel the tremors that shook Darien's body, the need.

"Fingers first, yes, Darien?" He was eager and wanted so much, was so hard for Darien. They had

not done this but the once, had barely had time to do more than run and rest for days.

"Yes. Start with only one or two."

He put his fingers at Darien's mouth. "You will make them wet."

Darien licked and sucked at his fingers, getting them good and wet with strong pulls of those hot

lips. It made his eyes roll and his stomach go hard and he tugged his fingers away, almost

trembling as he slid them down between Darien's legs.

"Shhhh." Darien stroked his chest. "Breathe, my Ropur. Relax a moment."

Yes. Yes, he should. He would not hurt Darien.

He rested his forehead against Darien's shoulder, breathing heavily, like he'd just been running.

Darien stroked his hair, his shoulder. "Yes. That's it. Breathe with me, my Ropur." They both

calmed enough to go on, though Darien's skin against his was so, so hot.

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He slid his fingers back behind Darien's balls, stopping a moment to stroke and cup them. Then he tentatively pushed on finger against Darien's opening. Last time they had done this, Darien had asked, had led them. "Oh." Legs sliding apart even more, Darien arched into his touch, making sweet noises against his skin. "Yes, please." He pushed and his finger slid right in and it was so hot and silky inside, making him cry out. He had forgotten how hot it was. Darien cried out as well, just rolling his hips right up, rippling around him. "Oh, Darien. I'm inside you." He pushed a second finger in beside the first. "Inside. My... oh." Looking dazed, Darien began moving rhythmically, his chest heaving and skin dark. "Yes." "Oh. Oh." He moved his fingers, pushing them deep and pulling them almost out again and it felt so good, so amazing. He rubbed his shaft against Darien's thigh. His Darien looked so good in his passion, his cheeks heated, teeth worrying his lower lip. "More, Ropur." He licked at that lower lip, at Darien's teeth and pushed another finger in, eyes widening at the way Darien just stretched for him. Wide-eyed as well, Darien stared at him, breath slowing, muscles jumping. "So big. The feeling is so much." "Is it good?" He didn't want to do this if it wasn't good for Darien as well. "Very good. Very. I..." Darien shook, gasping as he loosened, warmed, rippled again. "Yes." "My hardness now, Darien?" "Now, Ropur. Please." Panting, Darien nodded, raising his hips. He looked down at himself, hand guiding his shaft to Darien's entrance. He could hardly believe his eyes, or even the tighthot feeling around him as he pushed in. So different from when Darien had ridden him, this active taking. Just as he had for the fingers, Darien opened for his shaft, the heat and pressure more than he'd ever expected. His eyes rolled and he dropped his head forward, panting. "Darien. Oh. I..." He didn't have any words, it was just huge and all-encompassing. Those hands, rough with scars, clutched at his back as Darien rose to meet him, teeth sinking into his shoulders as if he were in his cat... as if Darien was a cat as well. It shot sensation through him, meeting with the heat and pleasure coming from his prick and he whimpered, beginning to move.

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"Harder." Demanding now, Darien urged him on with hands and legs, wrapping around him and not letting go. "More." He was eager to obey the commands, his thrusts becoming harder, wilder as the sensation got more intense. He could feel Darien's shaft hard between them, hot against his belly. Darien touched him all over, scratching down his back, his bottom. It spurred him on and he moved faster, harder, pushing into Darien over and over again. "Touch... touch me, Ropur. Please." This was so new, so different, Darien asking him to take the lead, and it excited him unbearably. Darien groped for his hand, brought it between them. Gasping, he wrapped his hand around Darien's prick, their movements sliding it through his fist. Darien cried out again, high and oddly sweet, and spent himself, wet heat flowing over Ropur's wrist. The way Darien's body clamped down on him... oh. He shuddered, his whole body going tight as he slammed into Darien one more time, the pleasure spilling from him in hot waves. "My Ropur." Darien sighed beneath him, relaxing finally, hands reaching for him. He collapsed down onto Darien, his shaft slipping from its tight sheath. "Oh, Darien. I had not imagined something could feel like that." "Mmm, yes. It is most enjoyable." Darien laughed a little, as if he knew that was an understatement. "Perhaps I am lucky after all, Darien. To have found you." "Perhaps you are." Strong hands stroked his back, hunter’s hands, but ones that would never hurt him. "I know I feel fortunate beyond what I deserve." "I was told I would die alone, that I did not deserve to live. I never expected to find love with a human." He rubbed his cheek against Darien's. "That is cruel, my Ropur." Kissing his mouth, Darien rubbed their noses together. "I know. I was told I would die alone." "They were wrong. About both of us." "They were. I vow it, Ropur." They were silent for a long while, the heat of the day making them drowse. Then Darien breathed deep. "The cat will find us a place, yes?" Ropur nodded. "The beast will know, will find somewhere we can fight." A shiver went through him, the feeling of being hunted returning as they spoke of it. "Perhaps one of us should keep watch, Darien. Just in case." "We could trade off. I can take first watch, as you do not sleep as well late in the day as the cat comes on you." Darien smiled, already knowing him so well.

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He rubbed against Darien happily. "Yes, that would work well." "Good." Sighing, Darien petted his back. "I wish... Well. What I wish is neither here nor there, hmm?" He raised his head and looked down at Darien. "What is it you wish? If I could do something to make your wishes happen..." "You are good to me, my love." He got a kiss for his trouble, Darien's lips rubbing the worry away. "I just wish we could stop running, find a place for us, and stay there." He nodded. "Yes, Darien. That is my wish as well. When we have taken care of what hunts us, yes?" "Yes. Yes. I had thought I would always roam... but I need not hunt again except to feed us." A place of their own sounded wonderful. A territory for the cat, a place for the man to come home to. He stretched and then curled again on Darien. "Yes. I would agree to that. We will find a place. After. I do not wish to kill just to kill in a place I would call home." "No. I would not either." Nodding, Darien yawned. "Later." He thought perhaps Darien might forget he had first watch, but finally Darien sat up, putting him gently aside. "May I put my head in your lap, Darien?" He was not sure he should admit it, but he slept better if he were touching Darien. "Of course." Smiling down at him, Darien patted his own leg, inviting. “I would never deny that." On impulse he gave Darien a long kiss and then he curled up next to where Darien sat and put his head on the muscled thigh. He purred softly. A place of their own would be nice, but he was already home. *** The den was a small cave, too shallow to afford them much protection from the elements, but just right to be heavily defensible from a predator. They moved in the day after Ropur found it in the night, lying low until night fell again. Then Darien went out and made traps, traps only a good hunter would know. Whatever was after them had to be good at hunting, though, so some of his traps were of his own creation, meant to trap a man, not an animal. After he had them all set up, he went to find Ropur, who sat grooming, tail and ears flicking. "Come, my Ropur, and see where the traps are." The cat went with him, staying right at his side, in fact staying close enough they were touching with every step. By the time they were circling back to the cave, Ropur's ears were flat against his head, all his fur standing on end.

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"What?" He practically whispered it, knowing Ropur could not answer in words, but nervous all the same. Ropur pushed him toward the cave, growling low. There was something out there, and not very far off if Ropur's behavior was anything to judge by. What amazed him was that he hadn't felt it. He was getting soft, living with someone who had much better hearing and eyesight than he did. "Back to the cave, my Ropur. And quickly." Ropur put on a burst of speed, waiting for him to catch up before going even faster. The beast pressed him to the back of their shallow defense, taking up position near the mouth of the cave and growling, the sound low, dangerous. He supposed that it was best that whatever came after them was doing it at night, when Ropur was at his best, but it frustrated him that he had to strain his senses. The hair rose on the back of his neck, and Darien held his breath. Ropur went silent, nose going into the air as he scented. Ropur's whole body was tense, vibrating. The attack came with no more warning than that, a sleek, feline body sliding out of the darkness like a ghost, tangling with Ropur so quickly that Darien could not even raise his spear. And then he could not tell in the dark which cat was which. The snarls and growls were low, intense, punctuated now and then by screams of pain. That he was focused on Ropur and the cat he fought with was nearly Darien's undoing. It was only some instinct he couldn't name that had him flinching, the arrow missing him by the narrowest of margins. So narrow that the skin on his arm burned, blood trickling down. Only a scratch, but so, so close. He faded back into the cave, focused on the dark now, all of his senses straining as he fell into hunter mode, ignoring Ropur's desperate battle. Ropur would either win or not, but it would do his cat no good if Darien died of carelessness. There, a shadow among shadows in the rocks, and Darien hefted his spear sent it flying, leading his target a good handspan to the right. His hunter knew he was also hunted now and the shadow disappeared behind a tree. The cats continued their yowling and snarling. It couldn't be good, as long as it had lasted. Whoever was the victor, there would be vicious wounds, he was sure of it. Darien slipped out of the cave as Ropur and his assailant rolled to one side, feeling closed in too much inside. Now he could use his own bow, and he unstrung it, searching the shadows for the one shaped like a man. He strained his eyes in the darkness, the lack of moon this night both a blessing and a curse -- the same dark that hid him also hid his assailant. A hint of a movement came from his left and he caught sight of his hunter, the man slowly circling toward the cave. Darien sent an arrow whizzing at the man, hoping to take him down, and if not, at least make him feel pain, know fear.

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His shot found a home in the man's upper thigh, going deep in the meaty part and bringing him down. The man cried out, dropped and rolled, disappearing in the underbrush. Yes. Darien wanted to go and finish him off, but he knew it could be a ruse to draw him in incautiously. He circled, avoiding the pit he'd dug earlier, placing his feet with great care. The cats had gone silent, the whole forest preternaturally still. It was unnerving. He went on the most indirect route toward his fallen adversary, hoping against hope that Ropur was all right. He could not worry about that now. He had to have all of his faculties. He lifted the underbrush with his notched arrow, ready to let fly at any movement. And yet, he was still caught off guard, his feet swept out from under him, his opponent having been still as a rock. Darien flailed for balance, finally having to drop his bow. He flung it as far in the opposite direction as he could, not wanting his opponent to use it against him. His hands became his weapons, and he lashed out, connecting with flesh. His enemy hit back, but the blow glanced weakly off his shoulders, the one to his stomach was sturdier, firmer. It knocked the breath out of him for a moment, but he kept moving anyway, rolling away and gaining his feet again, searching for an opening. His attacker also went to his feet, but from the way the man was listing, it was clear he was injured. Still, an injured quarry was often more dangerous, desperate. They circled each other carefully. The man moved... like a mirror image of himself. Not just a hunter. A Hunter. Darien shook his head. He had never met another, not since his uncle. He feinted, pushing toward the uninjured side before switching up with his skinning knife in hand toward the vulnerable, injured side. The other Hunter twisted out of the way at the last minute, but went down hard. Twisting on the ground, he rolled out of the way, evading Darien. Darien stifled a curse, knowing this needed to end, and soon. He rushed, his feet digging into the ground to launch him forward. His move caught the man off-guard and though a punch landed hard against his hip, his forward momentum pushed his dagger into the man's heart. Dark brown eyes widened, the look surprised as a gurgling breath sounded. Yes. Yes, he would have had that look, if it was him. Darien felt the man's lifeblood pour out over his hand and he wanted to vomit, knowing he had killed this man, knowing it was kill or be killed. There was a growl, low and menacing and a cat sprang from the trees, pouncing on the Hunter and ripping his throat out. It was his own Ropur, bloodied, one ear badly torn, but alive. "Ropur! My Ropur, stop. It is over." Darien dared not touch Ropur, not if he was still in a killing frenzy.

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Ropur snarled and swatted the dead man's head, tearing four strips along his cheek. Then the big

cat came at him, tongue licking at the blood on his hands, the growls soft and worried.

"Shhh. Shhh." Oh, his poor Ropur. He stroked the uninjured side of Ropur's face. "Please, let us

go to the cave so I can look at your wounds."

Ropur purred for a moment, still licking, trying to clean the blood from his hands, his clothes.

Then the cat took several limping steps, turning back to make sure he followed.

Darien stood, his own gait labored as bruises bloomed on his skin. They got back to the cave and

the carcass of the dead cat lay just outside the entrance, it's face twisted horribly. Darien sighed.

The threat... well. It seemed neither he nor Ropur felt it anymore.

"I am going to chance a fire."

Ropur made a soft noise, settling on the cave floor with a whimper. The cat started to groom,

slowly, obviously in pain. He worried what it would be like when Ropur went through the

change.

Darien made a small fire, deflecting the smoke out with some large, wet leaves, and went to get

water to heat. His bones felt brittle, his body old. When he came close, Ropur's tongue slid out,

licking his skin. His Ropur made a soft noise, eyes looking at his.

Oh, how he wished sometimes Ropur could control the change, could speak to him. His legs gave

out and he sat, his hand coming to rest on Ropur's neck.

They had done it.

Together.

Maybe there was hope for their dream after all.

***

Ropur hurt, but he was alive and his wounds were not mortal.

And Darien too was alive and not dying.

It was not as good as they could have hoped for, but it was far better than it could have been.

He worried about the approaching dawn. He could feel it coming, deep in his bones. He did not

know if the wounds he had were tolerable as the man.

He whined softly.

Darien stroked him even as he awakened, his man having dozed off some time ago. "Ropur?"

He purred and licked Darien's hand. He needed Darien for the change.

Joints popped as Darien sat up, one hand touching him all the while. "Nearly morning."

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Yes. He purred and licked Darien's hand again, putting his head on one thigh. Darien would understand his fears for his manself, Ropur was sure. If he needed help, Darien would give it. "My Ropur." He got a smile, those dark eyes shining, Darien's braid brushing his whiskers.

He purred softly and closed his eyes, letting Darien distract him from the pain he knew was

coming. Darien stroked him, waiting with him. Low words poured over him, nonsensical, in some

language Ropur had not heard before. He purred softly, relaxing into the touches, with the

sounds.

The change took him by surprise, distracted as he'd been by Darien. He groaned as his bones

stretched and contracted, the pain of his injuries adding to the usual pain of the change.

He whimpered, body shaking.

"Oh, my Ropur." The soft touches helped ease him, helped make it better. "I am so sorry."

The fur was suddenly gone from his body, leaving him cold and naked and he shuddered as the

last of the change took his body, leaving him panting, curled against Darien's warmth. "Darien..."

"Yes. Love." Darien covered him carefully, holding him. "Do you... are you hurt?"

"I ache. My heart most of all, Darien. The cat? Was one of my kind. A warrior. They are sent out

to take care of threats."

"Oh." Darien stroked his hair, his cheek. "The man was a Hunter, Ropur."

"Our own kind have banded together to take us out, Darien. I don't understand. I left as they

wanted. I will never go back."

"There must be some reason, Ropur. I do not know... perhaps we should know. If they sent one,

the might send more.'

Ropur nodded. "Yes, that worries me as well. As I am now, I am weakened and would have a

hard time winning a fight."

Darien went silent, thinking, petting him. He liked that about Darien, that he considered every

angle. Darien was much better at puzzles than he was. For a cat, he was smart. But he didn't

always think the way a human did.

He rubbed his cheek against Darien's leg, trying to ignore the aches and pains.

"Maybe we should go to your tribe? I could always pretend to have killed their warrior as a cat.

Find out why he was sent."

Ropur shrank away from the idea. "I swore I would never go back."

"Then we must go where your tribe would not... or. Or make them believe you are dead?"

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Ropur tilted his head, hand reaching back for the marks behind his ear. "I am not sure how to do that." "I am not either... I just. I do not want to run from this for the rest of my life, love." Darien took his hand, keeping him from worrying at the wounds. "No, I do not want that either, my Darien. I want to stay with you in peace." "So..." Darien thought for long moments. "Is there a way. Something that your tribe would know was you?" He fingered the marks again behind his ear. "These," he said softly. "They mark me as a member of the tribe, as me." Looking at him seriously, Darien motioned to the other cat. "We... we could send them a message." He shook his head. "They will know that was not me." "No. I mean if we sent them that cat, with your marks in its claws." So earnest. Darien was grasping at straws, Ropur knew, but straws were all they had. "They would be suspicious if we sent them the cat, Darien. Seeing as he's dead." Still, there was something to the idea that struck him as a possibility. "But when he does not return they will send someone for him..." "Do you think so?" Eyes lighting from within, Darien bounced, jostling him. "If we could find another cat. We could tear that piece of flesh from it to match..." "And cut it from me and leave it in the cat's claws!" He nodded, smiling widely at Darien. "It could work!" "It could. What about the hunter? Do you think they will believe you killed him? And what about me. They might not even know of me, and if they do, my kind are notorious for cutting our losses." Oh, the hope on that dear face. "Yes. We could do it." He wanted to agree wholeheartedly, but he needed to think it through, to be sure. Someone would come, he was sure of it. They would find the hunter's body with his claw marks in him and they would find two dead cats, one the soldier they'd sent, the other ... a fake him. It could indeed work. "Yes, Darien. I think we could." "Then tonight we hunt. For another cat." Darien stroked his back, loving him. "And then we move on, leaving no trace.' He nodded. "I will need your help bringing down the cat. I am hurt." "Of course, my Ropur. We must be careful, though. It can show no marks of me." He got a kiss, sweet and light, Darien mindful of his injuries.

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He purred softly, nuzzling into the soft touches. "It will work, Darien. And we will be free."

"Yes, my Ropur. Yes. We will be free."

It was more than he ever thought he could find in a life full of loneliness and peril.

And all he would ever ask for.

Epilogue The sun was just starting to come up when Darien went to pull aside the skin he and Ropur used as a door. Ropur's territory spread out before him, the light starting to filter down into the rainforest, the roots of the great hollow tree they had made their home curling under his bare feet. Ropur should be coming in soon, a night spent on the hunt without Darien good for him sometimes. Darien still slept with him during the day, though, spending the night working on their shelter, building on rocks and woven leaves to the tree to make a natural den for them. A natural den with a bed. Ropur came walking through the trees, unconcerned with his nudity and headed straight for their home. For him. They had not seen hide nor hair of another cat, or another Hunter, since they'd left the dead ones behind them. It was good to know that Ropur could hunt safely and come back, night after night. His prick twitched and filled as Ropur neared, the scent of the cat still strong on him. Darien held out his arms. Ropur came right into his arms, purring, rubbing, smiling up at him. "Darien... my mate." "My Ropur." Kissing the corner of Ropur's mouth, he turned them to go inside, arm about Ropur's waist. "Was it a good hunt?" "It was. My stomach is no longer hungry." "Mmm. Good." He took another kiss, this one square on Ropur's lips. "I am hungry, but not for food." "Are you sure?" His Ropur had relaxed the longer they remained here unmolested, occasionally teasing him. "Do I not feel sure?" His need pushed against Ropur's hip as he moved closer, arms sliding about Ropur's neck. Ropur purred and rubbed against him. "You do feel sure. Most very sure." "I am." Fingers skimming Ropur's skin, he let his hands wander, finally cupping Ropur's bottom. He squeezed, loving the resiliency of muscle there.

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Ropur wasn't shy about touching him back, fingers plucking at his nipples and stroking his belly. He hummed, pulling at Ropur, moving them toward their bed. He loved the furs Ropur had provided for them, loved to snuggle in the cool interior of their tree. Among other things. Ropur grinned, fingers moving to poke at his ribs. "There is nothing wrong with the ground, you know." "No. As we proved the morning before last when we made love under the waterfall. But when we are home we have our own nest." They sank down, him covering Ropur with his body. Ropur arched beneath him, pushing up into his body. "I like the way you prove things, Darien." "Good. I fear I am too old to change my ways." He laughed with Ropur, the sound free, easy in a way he had never expected. God, he loved his Ropur. So much. Darien took kisses long and deep, rocking down against Ropur's soft skin and hard muscle. "You are just old enough," whispered Ropur, tongue tangling with his own, hands sliding down over his spine. "Mmm." Arching, he rubbed happily, savoring the warmth Ropur radiated, the need. "Want." "Yes. Yes, Darien." Ropur's legs spread easily, slim hips cradling him. He licked at his fingers, pushing them against Ropur's opening, stretching him. His prick throbbed. Ropur cried out, bucking beneath him, body swallowing up his fingers. "Yes. Yes, my Ropur." He moved more, deeper, readying that sweet body for him. When Ropur was open and ready, he moved his fingers away and slid his shaft inside, eyes rolling as Ropur's heat closed around him. "Darien!" Ropur's fingers dug into his ass, tugging him in deeper. "Yes, Darien, yes." They moved together faster and faster, their skin slapping together, sweat starting to run on their bodies. He bent to bite at Ropur's throat, wanting to mark, needing to. Ropur cried out, head going back for him, begging for the bite. A bruise rose up under his teeth, and Darien cried out, hips driving as he saw it, just needing so bad. Ropur's cries filled the air, the body around his cock squeezing him tighter and tighter. It surprised him when his seed poured into Ropur, so quickly had it come, so violently. Darien groaned, licking the bruise he's made, touching Ropur firmly, squeezing and stroking. "Darien!" Ropur called out his name and growled, body bucking as his mate's seed spread between them, Ropur's body going tight. "Oh, my Ropur." He relaxed down in their furs, pulling Ropur so close and breathing them in. He loved how they smelled together. Ropur purred, hands sliding idly on his skin, touching and stroking.

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"Are you happy here, my Ropur? In our place?" Darien saw it every day. But sometimes he needed to hear it aloud. "Oh, yes, my Darien. I am happier than I ever dreamed that I would be."

"Good. I love you, my Ropur. Beyond all things." Beyond anything he ever thought he would

have. They had their place. Their home. Each other.

He had no need to hunt anymore.

He had found the only thing he would ever need when he found Ropur.

"Yes, Darien. Love is... not a strong enough word." Ropur curled against him, the vibrations of

his purrs familiar and warm, absolutely perfect.

"There are no words."

There was just their love. Their love. Home. Something both of them had been taught from birth

they would never have. They had both been cursed through fate.

Maybe they were living proof that curses could be lifted.

In the end it mattered not. All that mattered was that they were Darien and Ropur, together.

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Here Kitty, Kitty: The Storm BA Tortuga Adam tore across the street, dodging raindrops and cussing up a storm. Damnit. The thunder was loud enough to make him jump and he wasn't a man-sized cat with a serious storm phobia and a tendency to tear up furniture when he was stressed. He hit the button for the elevator, popping it over and over and over. "Come on. Come on. I just got the couch refinished. Come on!" He was just about to start up the stairs, visions of foam and upholstery fabric dancing in his head, when the elevator dinged and he headed up. He was still five seconds away from his door when it opened and a wildly striped Jax-kitty came flying out, pouncing on him and peeping. "Jax! Pretty!" He muscled them in, holding on and petting. "It's just a storm. Just a storm." Jax was pretty much all cat, which meant he was scared shitless and every bit of him was in agreement. He’d be damned pretty, as he was all stripes and gold and stuff, with goldy-green eyes. Too bad Jax's hair was all up, tail lashing madly, making him look about twice his usual size. "Shh. Shh." He hustled them into the bedroom, into the bed. "Jax. We're in. It's going to be fi..." The lights popped out and he bit out a particularly vicious curse. He did not need this shit. Glowing eyes looked at him, Jax's head tilting, an enquiring mew coming out as Jax licked his cheek. Okay, a housecat doing that was kinda cute. Jax? Was like the worst kind of stubble burn. "Shh. You're fine. Come on, Pretty. Breathe." He started petting and humming and trying to decide whether Jax needed a downer or a bowl of cream. Jax swarmed over him, curling around him until he wasn't sure he could breathe. His whole world was the bed and the dark and heavy fur. Adam started talking, telling Jax about the day he'd had, the meeting with his agent, the nasty burger he had for lunch. How he'd worried when he saw the storm coming. Somewhere around the burger Jax started grooming him, licking his neck, purrs coming out. Oh. Oh, good. That was a damned good sign. "Hey, Pretty. There you are. I don't have plans that'll take us out for a few days. We can play. Make love." He could feel the wildness ease out of Jax's tense muscles. The tail beating against his leg went still, just the very end twitching when lightning struck too close. And the tight cling of those clawed paws let go of his shirt, though it was still a total loss. He got them settled, the pillows arranged to support his back. "Did you do anything interesting Shifting Too - 143

today, pretty?"

The purrs faded a little, the body atop his changing, the claws turning to hands, the fur receding.

Jax's voice came, still rough with fear. "I called Aunt Kathy. She told me not to scratch the

couch."

Bless her black-hearted soul.

"I came as soon as I saw the clouds."

"I knew you would. I was listening for you." Jax sighed, laid his head on Adam's chest. His very

human head from the feel of the ears. "Sorry I'm such a wimp, hon."

"Not a wimp, pretty. Hell, I see clowns and freak right the fuck out." Pretty man, so sexy.

"Mmmhmm. Which is amazing that you can handle me. I saw you when someone suggested you

see Cats. It wasn't pretty." Oh, a laughing Jax was much better than a freaking one.

"Not my job to be pretty, now. It's yours." He leaned in, nuzzling, humming low. "Do you

remember when I met you? How I couldn't stop looking at you?"

"Yeah. And I thought I must have whiskers or an ear hanging out and kinda ran away." Jax had

really fled the scene, making him think he didn't even have a chance.

"It took me three weeks to find you. I was desperate. I just wanted to talk to you. Learn about

you. Love you."

"And I wanted you pretty bad." Jax rolled them to their sides, stroking his back. "But I figured

you'd be freaked out by me, and didn't even want to try a date. I got so nervous I sprouted a few mangy patches." He chuckled, taking a long, slow kiss. "It didn't matter. I saw your eyes."

"You saw me." Jax took the kiss even deeper, humming and purring into it, tongue pushing into

his mouth.

Yes. He moaned, just a little, rocking against Jax and rubbing them together. That was so much better. When Jax kissed him like that, touched him like that he could even forgive the shirt. Jax nuzzled his cheek, nipped his throat. "Toothy thing." He chuckled, fingers finding Jax's ass. "My toothy thing." "Uh-huh. I missed you like crazy today. Kept feeling the storm build up." Rubbing on him, Jax

nibbled back up his neck to his ear, licking. Scratchy and good.

"Let it fucking storm. I'm home and we're together." He wriggled out of his jeans, needing to be

naked, wanting to feel.

"Yeah. Always come to me when I need you." The cat had definitely receded, smooth skin sliding

against his, even if the tail was still there, tickling his leg. They kissed again as soon as they came

back together, lips and tongues moving hard and searching.

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He started scratching Jax's hot spot, loving the way that Jax responded, yowling into their kiss,

tail thrashing.

"Uhn. Adam. There... babe." Jax had that eyes half-closed, blissed-out thing going on, tongue

pushing out between his lips. "Good."

"Yeah. Good. So fucking pretty. Love that look." He kept scratching, kept the intensity up.

Jax started kneading, hands opening and closing, hips snapping. "Want.. oh. Want you."

God, he loved it when Jax got incoherent.

"Right here. Right here." He spread, shifting so their cocks lined up, sliding together.

"Yeah. Yeah. Please." Rocking, Jax loved on him, licking his throat, cock just slipping and

sliding.

Oh, yeah. Someone didn't see the lightning now. Didn't even fucking care.

Jax was obviously feeling pretty damned good.

Unclenching, Jax touched him, hands sliding on his skin, fingers pinching his nipples. "Love your

skin. Love how it feels."

"Oh. Love. Please. That's good." Adam arched, heels digging into the mattress.

"Yeah?" Panting, Jax squirmed, pinching again, twisting a little. "Really good?"

"Uh-huh." He couldn't breathe, just rubbed and scratched and moaned.

"Oh! Oh, I know..." Jax slid around so fast he almost got whiplash, hovering over his cock with

that sweet mouth, Jax's cock level with his. Then Jax bent down and sucked him in, licking all the

way down to the base of his prick.

"Pretty!" He bucked a few times, before focusing, getting Jax's sweet cock between his lips. Oh,

yeah. Hot. Hard. Salt.

"Mmmmhmmm." Oh, yeah. Musky, hot, Jax's thighs and cock and balls were all he could see, all he could focus on as Jax sucked him like crazy. Still petting, Jax stroked his legs and down to lift his ass, pushing him up, taking more and more. And just purring around him. Fuck, normal guys didn't know what they were missing. Not even a little. He hummed, pulling harder, fingers slip-sliding over Jax's hole. "Mmmmnph." So surprised, that sound, so happy. Jax shot for him, just like that, the yowl echoing around his own cock, rocking his world. He swallowed hard, hips stopping for a minute while he tasted, while he drank Jax down. Jax encouraged him on with hands and mouth, starting up the rhythm Jax'd lost while he shot. Those rough hands squeezed his balls, just so, slipping beneath to press hard. His toes curled, hips

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snapping, Jax knowing just what he needed, just where to touch. So sweet, those touches, that tiny, tiny hint of teeth. Jax just drew everything out of him, licking the underside of his cock with that sandpaper tongue. "Love. Love you. Damn, Pretty." A long purr was his answer, Jax petting and stroking and not grooming. Nope. Not a bit.

He chuckled, nuzzling back, fingers petting that long, slender tail.

"Love you, hon." Jax turned and padded back up his body, nuzzling and sort of... peeping.

"Love you. Nap, then tuna sandwiches?"

"Oh. Yeah." The storm still raged outside, but he couldn't find one raised hackle on Jax's floppy

kitty body. He did that boneless thing too well. "Nap. Tuna. Lemon pie that Aunt Kathy walked

me through today."

"Mmm... perfect." He stroked, petted. "Just perfect."

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Sleeping Bears Lie Alex Draven "Matt?!" Of all the bars … Matt was about the last person I was expecting to run into. I mean, I spent nearly three months looking for him with no success, and found out that every single thing he ever told me about himself was a lie in the process, so, really, I wasn't expecting to see him back behind the bar at my local as though he'd never left. I've only been back here myself for a few weeks: the stairs down are a bitch with my knee, even now I'm out of the cast. Hell, this is where I first met him: tending bar in Donnovan's, just shy of a year ago. "Dan!" He looks so much the same it's almost shocking. Maybe his hair's a little longer, his tan a little darker, his belly a little rounder, but the same eyes, the same smile, the same graceful way of moving as he stows the glass he's wiping and comes around the bar to hug me. The emotion that flickers across his face when I move away slightly I don't recognise. "Dan? How're you doing?" He's looking at me like I'm the one being weird. A few months ago I was flying on his smiles, and now the sight of him makes my stomach turn. "Better now -- I'm off the crutches and everything." "Crutches? What happened?" His hand's on my shoulder and when I flinch away it covers his mouth, which just leaves his eyes to do all the acting, shocked and hurt. "Dan?" Something about the tone of that just hits a nerve, and I'm not normally the kind of guy to cause a scene in a bar, but damn. The gall of him! "Just - stop that -- stop pretending like you give a crap and fuck off, you lying piece of shit." The silence after that is huge. The ABC news headlines are suddenly very clear in the bar. I don't even have to look around to know that everyone in here is staring at us, and my cheeks are burning. In the half second it takes for me to turn around to make for the door the chatter starts up again, all with a single focus. I don’t cry until I'm back in my room and I've drunk almost a third of vodka. *** The first time I saw Matt he was tending bar at Donnovan's, and I couldn't stop myself from watching him, even though I never did pluck up the courage to say anything to him at all -- not even to go up to the bar and order a drink, let alone a flirt a little. I mean, I was hanging out there because of the university GLB group, and while any kind of a relationship with a student would be a really bad idea, there's a fair few folks not from the University who tag along. It's the nearest Shifting Too - 147

thing Fairbanks has to a gay bar. Which doesn't mean that the bar staff are necessarily queer, although I've wondered about Michele a time or two, but makes it easier for a guy to play 'what if' in his head. So sue me. I'd been in town nine months and not gotten laid. Who wouldn't want some new fantasy fodder after that long? And Matt? I guess he's not exactly Falcon material, too stocky and solid for that, but to my tastes that's a good thing, and there was just something about him. Something just still and steady, but somehow like there could be anything underneath. I don't know. Maybe I was just desperate for a new face, someone I didn't know a damn thing about yet. Maybe I'm a white trash boy from Tennessee who has kinda a thing for native looking guys, or maybe I'm just a romantic at heart and was looking for any excuse to fall in love a little with the idea of someone. By the next time we ran into each other, at the OIT helpdesk, I'd come up with a hundred and one histories for him, and a thousand and one futures where we would have ended up in bed, in love, in each other's lives, and in each other's bodies. He called me Chip for awhile after he found that out; reckoned that I should take up poker if I could hide my reactions that well. I was at work! Well, that and you don't get through high-school in one piece without being able to hide a crush, and I've never quite lost the knack, apparently. Of course, I never turned up on Bobby-the-quarterback's doorstep and lurched from 'Hi, how are you?' to kissing him in the hallway in minutes either, so it's nice to know that some things do change. So, yeah. I pretty much threw myself at this guy after maybe a half hour of conversation, and he caught me. The first time we kissed was in the doorway of this big house he was taking care of for the winter. The first time he sucked up a mark on my neck was against the wall of the hallway, the first time I blew him was on the stairs, and the first time he made me come was right there on top of him. Best gamble I ever took is what I told my room-mates when I hadn't been home in three days and Mitchell came into work and hauled me out for lunch with them both. It's funny how things change, looking back. *** When I wake up, I'm stiff and grainy from passing out in my clothes, my head and my knee are pounding, and my mouth….The first thing I'm going to do when I eventually muster the energy to haul myself to my feet is to brush my teeth. Drink some water. Take painkillers. Grab a Dew out of the fridge, and get back into my room without talking to anyone. I have a plan. I turn it over in my sodden mind for a while, and it still looks about as good as it's going to get. Sure beats thinking about anything that happened yesterday. One good thing about this godforsaken state is that, now that winter's really bitten down, at least I don't have to worry about opening the drapes and getting a face full of sunlight. In fact, even though it's nearly noon, I have to flick on the main lights as I lurch through the doorway. I've only accomplished the toothpaste when the knocking starts. I rinse and spit, waiting to see if anyone answers. Mitch is most likely over at Su's place, seeing as it's a weekend, but Dirk might be in, and if I stay here in the bathroom I don't have to face him or whoever's at the door. When I've damped down my hair and rubbed enough water into my face that the world's starting to be a

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bit less blurry and the knocking's still going -- rat a tat tat every minute or two -- I figure that Dirk must have gotten lucky last night as well. Our visitor doesn't seem that likely to just go away, either, so I shuffle for the door. It's Matt. It's Matt and before I can slam the door in his face, he's stepping in, forcing me back with the power of pure good manners. Well, that and the very cold air that rushes in with him. For a split second the grin he flashes is warm, familiar, right, and then reality catches up, and I can taste bile in the back of my mouth. He unzips and unwraps without speaking, and the slide of cloth and the vibration of the furnace are the only sounds. When he breaks the silence his voice is matter of fact, but he doesn't quite meet my eyes. "Don't suppose we could do this in the kitchen, could we? I'd kill for a cup of coffee." I can't think where to even start. Mostly I can't think, although the faint remnants of yesterday's blinding anger are starting to wake me up. Matt takes silence for an answer and moves toward the back of the house and the kitchen as though he belongs there. He's got the coffee machine filled and on before I manage to form words. "What are you doing here?" It's an effort, but I keep it to a neutral tone. "We need to talk." "Are you going to say anything I can believe this time, or is it always all lies for you?" He turns with his back to the counter, arms crossed behind him, just looking at me. "I guess I deserve that." "You guess? You guess? Jesus! You're not even going to deny it?" "No. I spoke with Ramon, by the way. He filled me in on your accident. I'm just glad you got out of that wreck more or less in one piece!" "What do you mean, no? What the hell…?" My head is pounding, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. Jesus. The small sounds that answer me are those of Matt opening the side cabinet where we've stored pills and potions for as long as I've lived here, and crossing the kitchen to put the big rattling bottle of pain pills on the counter beside my hand. The contrast is insane. "Matt, just -- what the fuck? I thought -- I thought I knew you. I know how you take your coffee and that you hate the smell of bug spray and how hard you like your balls to be touched when you're getting blown, and, hell, you know your way around my house well enough, but I don’t, do I? I don't know a fucking thing about your real life, and why are you even here?"

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He shrugs, backing off just a fraction, although I'm hyper-aware that his hand is still on the work surface, just millimeters away from my own. Still standing close enough that he has to look up a little to meet my eyes. "Because I owe you an apology, Dan. I lied to you. I'm sorry." "That's it? You're sorry? What? Like that’s supposed to make it better?" He looks away, and for the first time I think I can see what he's feeling. He looks hurt. Sad. I don’t know how to react to that. "Well. I hoped it … I hoped you might let me explain some." The coffee is finishing up and making two cups -- black with three sugars for him, creamer and none for me -- gives me time to think. In the end I pass him a mug and decide to let him talk. Maybe it will help. "Go on then, Matt. This I want to hear. Fuck. Is that even your name?" The thought that it might not be hits like a fist, and I feel queasy again. When his hand brushes the back of mine, I don't flinch this time. "Yes. Well, short for Mahto, but you know that. Shit. Look, Dan. You know me. You know me better than anyone has since I left my family. " The laugh chokes in my throat. He looks to me for explanation, and it's like a hundred thousand shared moments from my memories, so I say it. "That's pretty sad, if it's true." "It's true. You really think that's sad?" "Given that I pretty much know nothing, I'd say so." He's leaning back against the counter top, staring into his coffee, blunt fingers wrapped around yellow ceramic, and I know it's crazy but I've missed him. "You know me. You know my name, my character, my heart. You know why I came back for you, although I guess you might not know that you do yet." When he looks up, he catches my eye, and his smile is rueful, rain-on-your-wedding-day-ironic. "I messed up. I should have told you, it's just…" Everything about his posture, his breathing, the way his fingers are flexing on his mug, tells me this is hard for him, and if he's acting he ought to be in Hollywood. He takes a deep breath. "It probably doesn’t make it any better, but I wasn't lying to you Dan, just -- to everyone. Oregon is, I guess you'd call it a cover story." Memories of increasingly frantic web searches and desperate phone calls wash over me. Damn right it's a cover story; a bad one. The University of Oregon doesn't even have a post graduate biology program. He must have caught the gist of my thoughts because he makes a small shrug as he continues. "Not even a good one, I know, but Dan, you've got to believe that I have a good reason why I can't tell you where I really was -- what I do all summer."

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"Matt Quinhagak, international man of mystery?" I can't help but make the joke, with the atmosphere so serious. "Something like that." I wait for a moment, until it becomes apparent that that's all he's planning on saying. "That's it? That's your explanation?" "Yes? Really, Dan, I can't tell you. Can't tell anyone. I'm not even meant to tell you that there's something I can't tell you, and,” his mug clatters on the counter and all of a sudden he's close enough that I can feel him through jeans and layers of shirts. "I missed you." Three words, and somehow I'm touching him, my arm going around his thick waist, and leaning down to meet his lips is like everything sliding back into focus. When his hands scrabble under the edges of my shirt to skim up around my ribs, I shiver all over, and somehow, in those moments, a decision is made. *** We didn't even make a pretence of taking it slowly. I think the only reason he didn't move into my rooms sooner was that it took him three days to get around to telling me that the Kupfer's were wintering at home this year, so he had neither a collection of neurotic lizards to look after, nor a real place to stay. We got cosy so fast it occasionally made my head spin, and it certainly confused the hell out of the handful of friends who knew our history. The mystery in the history became a running joke. That first day, wrapped around each other in my messed up bed, I broke off from kissing each bit of skin I could reach to say 'so maybe you're a spy?' and he laughed and said maybe he was, except that he'd always thought the FBI paid better. It was like that, odd moments and maybes, and none of them made sense so all of them seemed like jokes. Maybe he's in the army, maybe he's escaped from the nut house, maybe he's on seasonal release from the alien's human farm, maybe he's a terrorist, maybe he's secretly breeding mutant trees, maybe he's a snow spirit, maybe he's a Russian spy, maybe he's infiltrating Greenpeace on behalf of the Japanese whaling industry. Maybe, maybe, maybe, but the man snoring in my arms and cooking me dinner and getting beaten at Teken and massaging my healing muscles, the man making me laugh and come was real, and that's what mattered. It was a relatively conscious decision to accept it, too. I certainly had to explain it enough times to enough concerned friends, and I could see why they'd be worried, it was just that being back with him felt so much better than being alone did, I was willing to let things ride. I'd spent a long time after the accident feeling very alone in the world. Even when I was discharged from the hospital, when the guys had a schedule pinned up on the fridge for helping me out, so there'd be someone around every evening to keep me from moping, it never felt as right as Matt's arm around my waist did. Sarah accused me of hiding from reality with him, but the fact remained that for the first time in months I was sleeping through the night without nightmares of that pickup hurtling towards Tex's car.

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So, nothing was really resolved, but we had mostly good times, and he accepted my new limits, and I tried not to think about the maybes too hard. *** My whole entire plan for the evening is to collapse on the couch and look pitiful until Matt brings me dinner. Eight months since my accident and the physio sessions are down to one every two or three weeks but they still wipe me out. Larry insists it's for my own good, but damn. I'm wrung out like a sponge after two hours with him, even if I do mostly keep to my exercise schedule between times. Matt might tease me about it sometimes, but I will be climbing this summer, and if that means hitting the gym and doing stuff at home every day, that's what I'll do. Only, for the time being, what I'm mostly doing is leaning against Matt and poking him in the side to get him to put down his book and go make me some food. Maybe a little poking for its own enjoyment, too. His top shirt is blue, washed so soft it almost feels like a baby blanket, and he's warm and just yielding enough to the touch, and every time he shifts a fraction away from my demanding fingertip, he leans his shoulders in a fraction toward mine. I can feel him, ribs to ribs, trying not to laugh, and I'm pretty sure that, if I look away from the TV, he’ll be watching me, all dark eyes and affection. Love, maybe, although he's never said it in those words. I'm so lost in my thoughts that he takes me by surprise when he drops his shoulder and wriggles free, leaving me sprawled on the couch. He's surprisingly fast and flexible for a guy his size. "Bastard! I was comfortable!" I tease, and his hand is hot around my wrist, turning me right side up again. "Yeah, yeah, comfortable but starving. What do you want? A cook or a comforter?" I catch his hand, holding it so I can gnaw gently at the side of it, which makes him chuckle. "Ok, ok -- I'll go make dinner." "Thanking you!" I call after him, and he leans back around the door to give me the finger, so I blow him a kiss. Both my room-mates are still at work, and the house is quiet enough for me to hear him moving around the kitchen, opening the fridge door, rinsing something off in the sink. The summer, and its pain and misery, seems a very long time ago. I'm half watching an old Burt Reynolds film, and half dozing, and it's warm and comfortable and I'm tired, but happy. The clatter of pans and breaking crockery from the kitchen startles me, but it's the fraction of a second of silence where Matt's cussing should be that starts me panicking. "Matt? You ok?" It feels like it takes me forever to scramble to my feet, stiff muscles protesting. By the time I reach the kitchen my heart is in my mouth, and when I see Matt slumped down by the cabinets surrounded by raw chops and broken plates, it pretty much stops altogether. Everything about what I can see broadcasts wrong I get to my knees at his side and my first aid training kicks in, hands running on autopilot. He's breathing, but not well. Pulse fast and thready.

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Pale, clammy skin. Barely responsive, although by the time I skim my right hand down his left leg, looking for injuries, he's starting to move, rolling his head and there are small painful sounds breaking up his breathing. I try everything, talking to him, calling his name, holding his hand, his face, slapping his cheeks gently, pinching his ear -- he's semi-conscious but not responsive. We're pretty much at the far end of a one day first aid class and all I can think is that it's time to call the cavalry, insurance or none. Except that the phone is in the front room and my knee's locked, and Matt's unconscious for no visible reason and I'm halfway hysterical, laughing and crying and choking and pleading with Matt to ‘please baby, please look at me.’ I'm not at all clear how long we're stuck like that -- long enough for my knee to put my thigh muscles into spasm and even in the middle of all this drama and panic I can't help but yelp, because the pain is just that much. I've got my eyes screwed up, trying to focus, to breath, to work out what to do, how to move, how to endure, and I don't hear the truck pull up outside, or the key in the door, only Mitch's stunned ”Shit!” Guess the cavalry made it after all. Mitch hauls me unceremoniously to my feet -- foot, really -- and it's a testament to the guy's good nature that he even gives Matt a long enough look to figure out who the real invalid is. Mitch has told me, repeatedly, he doesn't understand why I would want Matt back, let alone why I'd ever trust him again, but when I grit my teeth over the pain, and grind out 'I'm fine', Mitch goes to his knees in our messed up little kitchen. I've never been so grateful in my life. Until maybe a moment later, when Mitch gets an actual reaction from Matt. It's fuzzy and unfocussed, but it's a definite sign of consciousness. His second word is my name, and I curse my leg for the millionth time as I start to go to him only to be stopped by the fact that it's a burning mess of pain. Mitch shoulders his way under Matt's arm, gradually helping him up, where we can lean fuzzily against each other. Matt's gripping the counter with a white knuckled grip, but edges his hand along so our fingers can brush. His are ice cold. "What in the heck happened? You ok, Matt?" Mitch asks. Matt's still pale -- almost grey under his tan -- and his skin looks damp and wrong. He's holding his head as though it's precariously balanced, and his voice, when it comes, is thick and uncertain. "I don't … " he blinks slowly, his whole stance settling as though deciding somewhere deep down at bone level that he was back in the here and now. "I don't know. I … I just... I'm OK. Slipped on something?" That's a performance deserving of the glare of death, in my opinion. Anyone looking at his skin, his still-racing pulse, the way his chest is working just to keep him standing, can see that he's not ok. Infuriatingly, tightening my muscles to step close enough to touch properly is enough to set off another ripple of pain, blood slowly returning to my twisted leg, and I hiss with it. "Dan? Shit -- are you ok?" Matt asks, stepping that last bit closer, with Mitch not far behind. I wave them off. "Fine, it's just a cramp and general panicking. I just need Tylenol and an ice pack. And for you to be ok."

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I go to poke him in the chest, to make it a joke, but my fingertips turn gentle, resting, riding the frantic beat of his heart. He closes his own hand over mine, still cold and clammy, but somehow reassuring anyway, and gives it a squeeze. "I'm ok. Mitch, can you….Thanks" A bottle of prescription painkillers has appeared in Matt's hand, and Mitch is already rummaging in the freezer, deciding which vegetables we don't really need. By the time he brings it over, Matt has eyeballed me into dry swallowing two of the tablets, but he hasn't taken his supporting hand off the work surface yet. Given how much they don’t get on, it's all kinds of strange to see my room-mate and my boyfriend sharing meaningful looks. Apparently they make some kind of decision that way though, because Matt shrugs a little and it's not until Mitch is carrying me carefully down the hallway to my bedroom, with Matt trailing behind with the ice pack and a couple of bottles of water, that I figure out what they're doing. "Hey! Guys! No way. Matt, you need to get to the hospital." I try to sound stern, which is hard when you're being dropped on an unmade bed. Well, set down pretty carefully, but it feels like being dropped. "I'm fine. I just need to -- rest or something. I don’t need a doctor. If anyone needs a doctor it's you." I roll my eyes. "I know what this is, Matt, and I'll be fine, but you…" "Um, guys?" Mitch interrupts. "If you're well enough to bicker, I'm going to figure you're both going to live, so I'm going to..." He nods his head towards the open door. "God -- sorry -- Mitch, thank you. You're a hero." "Thank you." Matt adds, from his spot sitting by my knees. "You sure you're going to be ok?" "Sure," "Yeah," we chorus, and Mitch rolls his eyes and makes like a bunny, thumping up the stairs. By the time the bedroom door swings shut the muted sound of Aerosmith through the floorboards has started. We don't talk as we get situated because, much as he's plowing on, moving pillows and pulling blankets and arranging the ice packs to best effect, Matt's skin is still pale and slick and when he comes to rest, one hand on my hip, I can feel it shaking slightly. "Matt?" "Shhhh, Dan, really. I just need to rest." I stroke his hair back from his face, which only means I can see the vein butterflying in his temple.

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"You scared me." It's not what I meant to say, but it's what comes out. He squeezes my hand, rolling a fraction closer, but not saying anything. I let out the breath I was holding. "Rest, you, but if you're not better in a little while, I am taking you to the emergency room and you're not going to argue, ok?" "Deal" he nods into my shoulder. "I'll be fine, so you won't have to, but if it makes you feel better -- ok." "Ok." "Ok." With the adrenaline ebbing and the pills pulling gently at my edges, I manage to doze, but Matt is far from sleeping easy. He's restless, unsettled, his forehead creased and his hands are still frozen, for all he's acting like someone with a fever. When Mitch put his head round the door to say he'd cleaned up and to check on us before heading out for the night, I'd promised myself half an hour. For the last twenty minutes all I've done is look between Matt not resting in the half-light and the clock numbers slowly tumbling upwards. Getting him into the truck turned out to be the easy part, for all he wasn't quite awake and I have to resort to the walking stick to support myself. It's once we are on the road that he really gets difficult. It's as though the cold night air takes him from semi-conscious to fervently awake, gloved fingers plucking at his jacket, knee bouncing, and constantly talking. Insisting over and over again that he didn't need a doctor, wouldn't go to the emergency room if I paid him, wouldn't set foot in the place at all, that it would kill him to be shut away in there, that he was fine, that the air was helping. And through all of the words his voice scratches and catches, and his skin is dirty ash under the tan, lit with twin highpoints of fever red at the cheeks, and the low grade panic in my stomach is rising again. I try to argue; that one emergency check up won’t bankrupt me any more than my own bills have; that the doctors could help; that he's clearly not fucking fine; but everything I say just makes his answers louder and harsher and wilder, and I'm terrified that if I look away from the road for more than a fraction of a second we'll crash. Larry's no shrink, but he assures me it's normal for me to get tense when I'm driving these days, even when I'm not otherwise on the edge of freaking out. Now that we're further away from campus the roads are almost deserted -- that mid evening lull when the folks who are at home are home already and the folks going out are holed up in the bar or restaurant of their choice. I think my vision's blurring some, but all my headlights catch are parked cars and snow slides where the day's sun was hot enough to loosen a roof load, so it's hard to tell. Nothing to do but drive and try not to listen to the note of hysteria in Matt's voice; to focus on just getting us over to Cowles Street without crashing into anything. There's a reason I hate to take the prescription meds. Maybe it's callous of me, but I'm almost screening Matt out, just concentrating on the curb, the roll of the swept tarmac under the wheels, which turn I need to hit the bridge. I scream like a girl when Matt grabs my arm.

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Scream and stand on the breaks, and we judder to a halt, front end over the center line and at an angle, and in that moment, just as the engine stalls, I could kill Matt. If I could just keep from blacking out or throwing up. "Jesus fuck! Jesus fucking fuck!" He won't let go of my arm when I try and move away. The grip is intractable -- none of the weakness or shakes of the past hours -- and when I look at him the fever spots are burning just as hot, and there's something I don’t recognize in his eyes. Maybe he's a psycho. Maybe he spent the summer in a mental hospital. Maybe he's someone very, very dangerous. It's going to leave bruises, but I have to wrench myself away, shove open the door to retch into the street. When I sit up, gulping down air, his hands on me are softer, his voice someone I recognise, cursing under his breath and apologizing, saying my name over and over. It almost makes me want to laugh, hysterics threatening, the thought of just how fucked up the both of us are right now. Matt catches my face in one hand, turns me by the chin so I have to focus. "Dan? Dan, listen to me. Let me drive, ok? Just -- slide over this way, come on you." He suits actions to words, tugging and encouraging, and I'm wrung out, ribs sore with laughing and crying and not being able to breathe, and I let him support my hurting leg -- throbbing a hundred miles away now, thanks to the pills -- over the gear stick. I close my eyes, and Matt becomes the sound of a door opening and slamming, footsteps, and the truck rocking where he's gotten in the driver's side. I don't really notice the cold until he fires up the engine and the heaters give up their first blast of hot air, making me shiver, and with my eyes shut it's like we're a see-saw -- the less together I am, the more Matt's coping. I let that ride for a while, leaning against the door as we corner and trying not to think past that. Which works great, right up until I open my eyes and realise that we're out somewhere past the airport, moving at speed, and Matt's skin is sheened slick in the reflected lights. "Matt?" He doesn't even glance my way. "Matt!" I repeat, over the rumble of the engine. "What the….Matt!" The spectre of the truck swerving and rolling keeps me from grabbing his arm, but I'm moving to tap his shoulder when his hand snakes out and grabs my wrist in an iron grip. He doesn't take his eyes off the road. I swallow my alarm as best I can, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable, trying to draw my arm back gently so he'll let go. "Matt? Baby? Where are we going?"

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His hand loosens enough that I can move my fingers, but it's nothing like a lover's caress. Nothing I can find reassuring. "What's out this way, Matt? I thought we were going home?" "Something I need to do." His voice is lower than normal, as though he's smoked a thousand cigarettes since lunchtime. "Baby? What?" No reply, although he does put both hands back on the wheel. Every instinct tells me to move slowly as I pull my arm back, wrapping them both around myself. My poorly-contained panic is definitely still in the cab with us, because all of a sudden I don't recognise him. I don't recognise anything about the man I've spent the last few months with. I don’t know him at all, and all those maybes just got darker and more threatening. *** As best I can figure from the distant glow on the horizon, we're somewhere off the Chena Hot Springs Road. Somewhere off, because, just before he lost it completely, Matt threw my truck over the snow bank and off road for as far as he could thrash it. Then he grabbed the emergency shovel from the back and started attacking a knot of broken tree roots and frozen muddy slush. The fact that I have no real idea of where I am and if my truck's still going to run is half the reason I'm still sitting here, wrapped in every layer I can find. The other half is that, even if he's had some kind of psychotic breakdown, I can't quite bring myself to drive away and leave him to a certain death out here. I mean, I grew up pretty rural, but there's nowhere south of Canada that can compete with Alaska for sheer wilderness, and all the darkness, the stillness, the occasional creak and crash is something else. And the cold. All the facts and figures I can remember tell me that Matt ought to be done for, but I can’t just leave him here. I can't hear him any more, but I can't leave, and every time I hear snow shift, or one of this tangle of trees move, my heart jumps because maybe… I don’t even know if I should be hoping that Matt comes back or that the psycho madman who seems to be in control right now never does. The more I think about it the less it makes sense, and the more I try to make sense of it, the more I wonder if he's cracked or if I have. Or if maybe this is all just a really, really bad reaction to the medication, although in that case taking the second pair of tablets when my knee started to throb again was probably a bad idea. I'm not so drug-fuzzy or snow-blind that I don’t see him coming though. His red shirt is bright against the snow even in moonlight, and by the time he's opening the truck door and heaving himself into the driver's seat it's occurred to me what's so very wrong with this picture. Not only has he lost his coat and several other layers of clothes, he's tramping through broken snow in unlaced boots. I flick the overhead light, and even in the sulphur light I can see his face is calm, clean, normal. "Matt?"

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"Hey." He turns three-quarters in the seat to smile at me, and somehow that helps, because I might still be somewhere in the foothills of freaking out, but at least I recognize the guy who just got in my truck. In the good, making love and sharing coffee sense, rather than the bad, was just kidnapped by sense. He wipes his hands on his jeans, leaving damp marks, before he reaches out to rest his hand on the edge of my seat. "I actually don’t know where to start," he says. His voice is back to normal, too. A little hesitant, and husky, like he could use a drink, but his normal register and tone. "How about -- are you ok?" I move my hand that extra fraction so our fingers can tangle. He squeezes them tight, as though he needs grounding as much as I do. "Yes. Now. Better. Although, shit, are you ok? I didn't … " "Hurt me? No. Freak me the living hell out, yes, but -- Jesus, Matt -- what the hell?" "Um -- maybe I'm a nature spirit?" "Or maybe you could tell me the goddamn truth this time?" The anger is quick and hot and unexpected. He looks me straight in the eye and repeats "Maybe I'm a nature spirit." "Right. Fine. You're a freaking nature spirit, and a shaman summoned you out here to talk to the great moon, and you actually hate playing with my head but the moose made you do it. Of course. Nothing could be clearer." I scrape my hands back over my face, tugging fingers in my hair, because I don't quite trust myself not to do something stupid. Matt's making little 'shh'ing noises and I may have jerked my hand away, but he's still touching me, delicate gentle strokes that I'm dimly aware ought to be calming. "Please, Dan. Please. I wouldn't. I don't.… I'm not lying now, Dan, I swear. I know it's crazy, but that's what I am, that's…. Fuck. If you don’t know yet that I love you Daniel Rushkin, then… " "Show me, then," I interrupt. It scares me how badly I want those words to be true, but Mitch and Dirk and Sarah and the others are right -- the secrets he's keeping are no foundation for anything real. His expression tells me clear as day he doesn't really understand me. "If you're a nature spirit, Matt, show me. Prove it to me. Make it be true, and…. Please? I feel like I'm going nuts, and -- just show me. Anything, Something." I feel stupid for it, but my heart breaks all over again in the long minute where he just looks at me, weighing it up, making his decision. Between the drugs and the stress and the evening's insanity I'm hiccuping on the brink of something when he nods once, sharply, and opens the truck door.

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He hops down and waits for me at the corner of the hood. "Well?" he calls back, and I'm scrambling out of my cocoon and out where the air's cold enough to strip my lungs before I even think this through. I take his outstretched hand and let him guide me, tugging me through and over rough snow and through brush shadows, until a hand on my shoulder urges me down. I crouch, and feeling with my boots and one outstretched hand I understand that he's brought me to the mouth of a muddy bluff. I rap my knuckles on the slick plastic handle of the shovel, and figure out that this must be where he'd been excavating, not that that makes anything any clearer. I am also hit by the unmistakable stench of bear. I may not be a wilderness buff, but I know what bear smells like, and no one moves to Alaska without hearing at least a dozen horror stories to get the adrenaline pumping. It's musky, almost a solid wall of scent where the scooped out snow shelters me from the wind. I stop automatically, and Matt is pressed up close behind me, and even with everything that's gone on this evening it's still automatic to grab his hand. I'm whispering warnings, and his voice is normal, perilously loud out here in the still of night.. "It's ok, Dan, I know. It's -- this is what I had to come out here to take care of. It's ok. I promise you. Come on." He wriggles past me, fingers fleetingly hot against my cheek, and crawls head first into the narrow opening. I'm frozen, trying to work out if I can find my way back to the car, what my chances are, what I should do, when his hand snakes back out of the darkness and tugs me forward. The first thing I notice, once I'm past the claustrophobic moment of feeling earth close in around me, is the warmth. It's pitch dark, and warm, and the air is thick, but somehow the smell is less dominant, and even straining my eyes I can see nothing -- not even the proverbial hand in front of my face -- which is doing nothing for my overall sense of reality. I'm light headed, and I keep forgetting to breath and my voice catches in my mouth. "Matt?" His hand is hot against my cheek, his lips burning on mine, and I shut up, relax, go with it because what has thinking done for me this evening? When he pulls back we are tangled close enough that I can feel his intention to do so in the muscles in his back. "You trust me, Dan? Don't you?" It's such a stupid question that I'm in danger of cracking up and just laughing. "I'm here, aren't I?" I hiss, and somehow I know he's smiling. "Keep touching me, ok? Promise?" I nod and press closer into him. He takes my hand, his palm against the back of mine, and after a moment's awkward adjustment he reaches out with my arm, and my fingers brush cool greasy fur. I try and jerk back, but his grip is that iron stranger’s grasp now, and when he starts to whisper to me, low and gentle, I realise I must be hyperventilating again. My head is spinning and my wrist

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aches under Matt's finger tips, and my own are pressed into the coat of something that -- oh my god -- just breathed, and nothing is making any sense. Nothing makes sense while Matt tells me stories about bears and shamans and hunters and spirits and half breeds and changing. Nothing makes sense, not the words and not the bits of biology my memory throws at me. Nor that Matt is moving against me, around me, and I'm sweating in my jackets and he's somehow naked under my hands. He's worked round in front of me again, and there are pine needles digging into my knees and sharpening the scents in my nose, and his mouth brushes over mine. Nothing makes sense, and maybe it's not Matt who's the madman. Kissing him, breathing him, is the only thing in this darkness that I can understand, and then that too goes away, and there are just my hands in his, and he turns and then presses them, one to his hip, where the fat lies over the bone, and one high on his chest, where his pulse runs strong in the hollow of his neck. He moves and I follow, leaning forward, almost lying on him, and the backs of my hands are buried in the harsh-soft fur, caught between my lover and a bear. It feels like passing out, the way that reality slides and slips away and the salt taste in my mouth must be tears, because somehow Matt is gone and there is only bear, fur musk against my face.

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Here Kitty, Kitty: Perpetual Motion BA Tortuga Jax loved winter.

He could go out! Because he could wear a hoodie and a scarf, just in case he sprouted extra stuff.

Like ears. Or a kitty nose. These days it happened so easily, and until they found a way for him to

control it... well. Yeah.

So while Adam was off meeting with an editor, he'd gone out. He'd gotten groceries. Tuna steaks

and fancy mushroom things that Adam liked and fresh cream and a cake. A real, honest to goodness carrot cake with cream cheese icing. Cream cheese. Jax figured that was like, proof of God.

He had it all set up when Adam got home, the tuna just seared and crusted with pepper and

sesame seeds, and the mushrooms in a vinaigrette.

He could be good when he needed to. Especially for his babe.

"Oh, man. Something smells so, so good." Adam sounded happy, relaxed, muffled under ten tons

of winter clothes.

"I made supper." Grinning, he wandered over and poked a claw into Adam's scarf, slowly

unwrapping his prize to take a kiss. "Hey, babe."

"Oh, I love when you cook us a feast." Adam licked his lips, teeth teasing just a little, nose cold

where it touched his cheek.

"Oh! Cold." Laughing, he unwound the rest of the way, pouncing on Adam to kiss him silly.

"Tuna steaks. And those weird mushrooms in a salad."

"Mmm... mushrooms." Adam's hand slipped under his shirt, teased his belly with icy fingers.

"MMMMMMmmmm... warm Jax!"

"Shit!" He squeaked, fur popping out on his belly, trying to protect him. Soft, thick belly fur.

Adam started laughing, fingers petting him, eyes just dancing. "Oh. Oh, Pretty. That's so handy."

He purred, his eyes half closing. So not fair. That felt goooood. "Glad you find me useful,

Adam."

"Useful. Good company. Fabulous in bed. Beautiful. Uh... what am I missing?"

"I shed." He chuckled, blowing on that still cold nose. "Supper'll get cold. Come on, babe. Let me

feed you."

"Mmm. Okay. Oh! I found you something today." Adam shuffled around, coming up with a little

metal perpetual motion machine, the parts just shiny and swinging, the shapes fascinating.

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He watched it sway back and forth, eyes following it, hands twitching. "You're too good to me,

babe. We'll play..."

"Mmhmm. I saw it and it called your name." Adam's fingers twined with his, tugging. "Come on.

Feed me."

"'Kay." He went, looking back at the little toy where Adam had set it on the table. Just for a

moment. Just a little. Then he snapped out of it and served, beaming as Adam oohed and aahed.

Adam ate well, proving that he’d done it right, that it was good. That Adam loved him. It was

silly to feel all good kitty over that smile, but damned if he didn't. He'd even do the dishes...

"Oh! There's cake."

"Cake? Like cake-cake? With frosting and all?"

"Yeah. I got one of those gourmet carrot cakes. With cream cheese, babe." Adam liked that as

much as he did. He knew it. He'd seen Adam lick the pan.

"Uhn. Pretty." Adam's eyes got all blissed out and eager. "You spoil me."

"We're even." He bounced to the fridge, tail waving. Tail. He looked behind him. Huh. Must be

too much with new toys and tuna and mmmm yummy cake. "You want milk?"

"Uh-huh. Cold milk. Cake." He heard the click of the toy on the table, the whoosh-whoosh-

whoosh sound it made.

His tail twitched, the very end just curling. Oh. Playplayplay. He got the cream and the 2% milk

stuff Adam liked and the cake and plates and... argh. Clickclick.

Adam got up, grabbing some forks and licking at his lips, just teasing. "Come on, pretty. Play."

He skidded to a stop in front of the little table with the toy, putting everything down nice and safe

before batting at it. Oh. Cool.

Adam stood behind him, chuckling. "I knew you'd like it."

"Like it?" He tapped it again, head just swinging back and forth as he watched. Ticktack.

"Mmhmm." Hands were working his shirt open, tugging it off.

"There's... there's cake." He waved vaguely at the cake, trying nudging the toy with his nose.

"I like cake." His pants were next, Adam's cheek rubbing the base of his tail.

"Mmhmmmnnnn." Cake, toy or Adam? He turned, cradling Adam as he pounced, pushing him

down to the floor and straddling his body. "Hi."

"Hi." Oh, yeah. Those hands stroked right up his body, knowing every little spot. "Here, kitty,

kitty."

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Purring, he rubbed cheeks with Adam, just loving how different their skin was, how Adam smelled. Clothes. Not good. "You have too many clothes on. Wool is scratchy." Adam's laugh tickled all through him, and the wriggling while Adam was fighting the clothes? Worse. Finally he got Adam naked and had a serious thought. Adam and cake. Or at least icing. Oh. Yes. He reached over and got some, spreading it on Adam's lips before licking it off. Woo. "Oh, now aren't you clever?" Adam dipped long fingers in the cream, tracing pale wet circles around his own nipples, painting them for Jax's mouth. "Not as clever as that. That's the best idea all night." Jax bent and licked and sucked, those sensitive little bits of flesh drawing up for him. The taste was so good he just kept worrying Adam's nipples until it was all gone. He looked at Adam, those eyes just wide, teeth deep in Adam's bottom lip, breath panting. "Oh. Jax. I. Oh." "Uh-huh." He kissed Adam hard, sharing the taste before going back for more icing, spreading it down Adam's belly. Licking it off just made him purr like a lawnmower motor. "Hun...hungry thing." Adam's legs were still half-caught in his pants, cock so hard and leaking, bobbing like the toy on the table. He batted at it with his chin, laughing as it swayed. "Always hungry for you, babe." He got rid of those pesky pants first, then sat back to decide. Thighs? Balls? Nah. He was an eye on the prize cat. One more dollop of frosting got scooped off the cake and plopped right on Adam's cock so he could suck it off. Adam's laughter filled the air. "Cream cheese cock!" "It would sell, I bet." Jax laughed, his breath huffing over the wet tip of Adam's cock. "We could market it." "Oh, Lord. No marketing schemes. None. You're dangerous with those." Adam twisted a little, getting close enough to stroke his side, his hip. "I have to have something to do all day." The taste of Adam au natural was just as good, and even more addictive. Jax licked and sucked, pushing all the way down to Adam's pubes. The sounds that Adam made were amazing -- all deep and needy and growly and good where they settled deep in his balls, in the base of his tail. His hips rotated, his own cock aching as he sucked. So good. Adam wasn't cold at all anymore. Nope, he was hot, skin flushed and a little sweaty, which just tasted so yummy. "More. Oh, Jax. Pretty. Want more of you." Adam pushed up, rocking into his mouth, thighs spread and tight, balls swinging. "Yeah?" He popped off Adam's cock, licking his lips and looking up. "What do you want, hon?

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Huh?"

"You. I just want you." Adam gave him a wild grin, eyes just glowing.

"I can't use icing for that, babe." He looked around, a little frantic. What could he use? Not the

milk, because ew. Uh... "I'll have to improvise."

He lifted Adam's hips, bending to lick at that hot little hole.

"Oh! Good. Good plan. Jax." Adam pushed against the floor, giving it up.

"Mmmhmmmm." It came out as a loud loud purr against Adam's skin. How come he always

forgot this was his favorite thing. Not cake or cream or even little clacky toys.

Just Adam.

Adam moaned, all sorts of filthy, wonderful promises pouring out. He just kept on and kept on

until Adam was slick and open from his tongue and his fingers and then he squirmed up to cover Adam's body, cock against Adam's entrance. "Ready, hon?" "Born ready, pretty. Come in." Adam's eyes danced over him, loving on him.

"Oh, good." He tried not to hurry too much, but oh he wanted. His cock slid in, just a little, and

Jax panted, pushing his hips just so. In. Out. More in. Out.

Adam rocked back, meeting his rhythm, drawing him in deeper and deeper. They just moved like they were meant for each other, and Jax really didn't know what it said about Adam that he was made for a mangy cat man who couldn't control his own body, but he really didn't care either. He was just grateful he had his Adam. His. Jax rumbled, tail waving madly as he snapped his hips. He bent to kiss Adam's open mouth, licking and loving. "Love you, pretty. Feels so good." Adam's fingers worked his nipples, teasing them, tugging them.

"Feels like nothing else, babe. Ever." It so did. He bit a little, Adam's shoulder the perfect place to

anchor while he rocked and rocked.

Adam's lips found his ear, whispering to him, telling him about how happy Adam was, how good their life was, how right it was to be here, with him. He knew it. Oh, he knew it. Yeah. He just loved Adam so much. He loved him tuna and cake much. Jax arched back, hands on Adam's chest, then his cock, really going to town and stroking at the same time. Oh. Oh, close. He could feel it in Adam's muscles, see it in the red flush on Adam's belly. "Jax!" "Babe!" That sent him right over, yowling so loud that one of the neighbors banged on the floor. Adam cuddled in, chuckling, seed sticky and warm between their bellies. "Oh, man. That? Was a good one."

"That was really good." Really really. He cuddled up, flicking his tail back to set the little

perpetual motion toy to swinging. "Love you."

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"Mmhmm. Love." Adam chuckled, ass squeezing his cock.

"Mmrrrr." It had been totally worth going out today for this. "Want some cake?"

"Mmhmm. I do. Cake and you and tonight we'll go to the roof and have a snowball fight."

"Promise?" He loved snowballs. He chased them and ate them and... he was the luckiest damned

cat... man. Whatever. In the world.

"I swear, pretty. It'll be a blast."

"Good." He curled, a little boneless. They'd play, but first they needed a rest. Just a bit. "It's

always fun with you."

Adam yawned, nudged the little machine, the whooshwhoosh sound filling the air again. He let it

lull him, right on down into a nap. The best part about playing was the snuggling after.

He couldn't wait to do it again.

Soon.

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Ves’tacha Sean Michael Sochar ran at the edge of the pack, wheeling and turning, flying through the woods, careful to stay near the outside, not to get hedged in. He was running with the big dogs now. Puphood was behind him and he had a thing or two to prove. Like how he could keep up with them, for a start. How he was an asset rather than the burden every pup was before they could take their place in the pack and help bring down the food. He avoided barking, his voice still a little high, not the low, deep sound of the older wolves like Teyeth and Randor. Not the loud, authoritative growl of Gareth. Speaking of the Alpha... Big and silver and he could run like the wind, Gareth was actually holding back as he led the pack, so they could keep up with him. Sochar did his best to excel at everything he did so the Alpha would notice him. He didn't boast or bark a lot like some of the other wolves. Instead he let his actions speak for him, catching small game and bringing it to the pack, laying it at Gareth's feet. Keeping up with the big dogs as they ran. Unlike the other wolves, Sochar wasn't preening for shemate. It was Gareth's look he wanted to catch. The running felt good, like he could do it forever, his legs carrying him easily over the ground. Gareth's ears pricked up, nose twitching. Then a series of short, sharp commands were handed out. Big game up ahead. An ox. A male. The older males spread out, moving instinctively into formation. This is where it got tricky. Sochar wanted to be in on the kill, needed to do his part, but where did he fit? There was a bit of a hole to the right of Gareth, left there by Ben's death. A hole no one had filled. Did he dare take it? He put on a burst of speed and took the position, eyes and ears wide open so he didn't miss a cue. He couldn't be anything but noticed here and if he screwed up, that would be what Gareth remembered. Those icy blue eyes looked at him, Gareth nodding once, then crouching low, putting on a burst of speed. The ox was in the tall grasses on the edge of their territory, eating, head down. They circled, closing ranks so that when the beast noticed them it would be too late.

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He stayed close to Gareth. Not close enough to get in the way, but close enough to follow the Alpha's lead. Adrenaline flooded him and he had to fight not to throw his head back and howl, had to fight to channel it into the hunt, the kill. Teyeth led the rush from the side, Gareth growling and crouching to leap, to take the throat from the ox. Sochar’s job was to help hold it down, grab a cheek with his muzzle and drag it to the ground. He leapt right after Gareth did, teeth sinking in. He pulled with his entire body, hanging on as the ox fought for its life. Gareth's body bumped against his, the splash of blood from the ox pouring everywhere, wet and rich. He fought his desire to lap at the blood, he needed to keep hold of the ox's cheek, needed to do his part or the ox would escape and they'd be searching for big game that was scarce, scared off by the scent of the ox's blood. It seemed like hours, seconds, days, heartbeats, and the ox fell, the pack falling on the meat with a unison howl. He threw his own head back and howled, blood on his muzzle, in his mouth. It was good to be alive. Gareth's voice joined his, those eyes watching him, approving, proud. Joy filled him at being noticed and he howled again, daring a quick lick to Gareth's muzzle before lowering his head for his Alpha. The Alpha actually leaned in, nuzzled him -- just quickly, but it was a nuzzle, a touch -- before going back to feed. He quivered, excited and happy at being noticed, at Gareth's touch. The fresh meat was good and he ate his fill, knowing he could, they all could, and still have enough to drag home to the females and pups. After he was finished eating, Gareth stretched out, watching them, licking his lips and cleaning his paws. Sochar dared to stay near, sitting down close enough to lean over and lick, but not actually touching, cleaning himself just as Gareth did. The Alpha allowed him to stay, not backing him away like he was a puppy. From here he could see the multiple colors that made up Gareth's pelt, the clear shine of Gareth's eyes. Gareth was so beautiful. Handsome and strong, the best Alpha anywhere ever, Sochar was sure of it. He rested his muzzle on his front paws, watching, gazing at his hero, his Alpha, his heart's desire. Gareth turned to look at him, muzzle leaning down to slide along his own, tongue swiping his lip. Oh. He whimpered softly, lifting his muzzle, tail thumping twice. Another lick, a brush of that cool nose against his. Gareth smelled of approval, of peace. Sochar thumped his tail again, belly full, heart happy. It wasn't long before Gareth stood, rumbling orders, getting them moving again, back into the safety of the trees. Those eyes kept coming back to him, though. Watching him. Two of the pack morphed to build a travois for what was left of the ox, to drag it back to the rest of the pack. But Sochar stayed close to Gareth, trying not to be underfoot, but holding his place next to the Alpha, almost quivering. Gareth barked sharply, moving to run ahead, scent for danger.

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The Alpha was almost in the trees when those blue eyes looked back him, the yelping call clear. Are you coming? With a sharp bark he put on speed, catching up, rubbing shoulders with the Alpha as they ran through the woods. It felt so good, to be running alongside the Alpha, to be chosen, seen. Bellies full, food on its way back to the pack, they were free to run and run they did, Gareth leading him through the woods, skirting the pack and going and going until they'd left the others behind and it was just the two of them. Once they were truly alone, Gareth slowed a little, watching him, panting, bodies almost touching. It felt good, his muscles stretched, pushing to keep up with Gareth, showing the Alpha what he could do. No. Showing Gareth what he could do, who he was. Yes, he wanted to impress the Alpha, but more than that, he wanted Gareth the male to notice him, to see him. They came to the edge of the clearing with its low houses, its cabins and main halls, the border guards greeting them both, muzzles lowered for Gareth. To his surprise, Gareth turned west, moving deeper into the trees, toward the lake and the cliffs. He followed without question, surprised or not, he would follow Gareth to the ends of the earth. They ran until he was tired, until the daylight was almost gone, until they reached the lake. Then Gareth stopped, lapping at the water, breathing hard. It was beautiful and silent, the water deep and clear and cold. Sochar drank his fill and stepped back, admiring Gareth, wondering at being brought here all on his own. Hopeful. Gareth ran their muzzles together, rumbling softly, chuffing. He whimpered and risked rubbing against the beautiful, solid body. The caress was accepted, Gareth rubbing back, the scent of hunger and something new in the air. He raised his muzzle, sniffing, liking the new musk; it made his flanks quiver and he whined. Gareth rumbled softly, the sound familiar and comforting, vibrating deep within him. He barked happily, telling Gareth he was Alpha, most loved, most beautiful. Gareth answered, the low yips and growls an offer, a wish. It was heady, to hear the Alpha had wanted him, watched, waited. His own barks were high, excited and he lay down in front of Gareth, rolling, showing his belly, offering himself. Gareth gave him a happy sound, muzzle tickling his belly, making him squirm and pant. He chuffed happily, enjoying the way Gareth played with him, showed him a side only the littlest pups got to see of the Alpha.

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They began wrestling, rolling together, Gareth letting him learn the strength, the power in the lean body. It was a little intimidating, but also exciting, testing himself, learning Gareth. And the freedom to touch, to rub against Gareth... it made him want to howl. Gareth's scent was coursing through him, was in his fur, in his nose, mingling with the crushed grass and the water and the scent of night. It made him ache, made him want... made him want all sorts of things he knew he was supposed to want with one of the bitches, but didn't. Suddenly Gareth morphed, the long, lean Alpha staring over at him. The Alpha's hair was dark, grey streaks shining in the moonlight. Oh. Oh, he swallowed and shook, eyes closing as he shifted, the transition still a little awkward. He was shy without his fur, shivering as the breeze blew over his bare skin. "Sochar." The word was rumbled, low, muscled arms opening for him. "Gareth," he breathed the Alpha's name, moving forward, pushing into the open arms and whimpering as warm skin met his own. Oh, he was shaking, adrenaline and wonder, excitement and a touch of fear firing through him. The soft comforting sounds remained the same, warm hands petting him, holding him close. It calmed him and excited him at the same time and he looked up at Gareth, making a soft sound of inquiry, of need, of want. Gareth leaned down toward him, lips exploring his face. They were surprisingly soft and warm, gentle. He whimpered, holding onto Gareth as he grew hard, the sweet touches making his breath short, making him want so much. His lips were lapped, nuzzled, fingers stroking his spine, his nape, pushing into his hair. "Gareth." Another whimper left him and he followed his instincts, body rubbing against Gareth, shuddering at the sensation of his hard cock sliding along Gareth's skin. Gareth growled, nostrils flaring. "Yes." "Yes?" It this okay? I want more. Can I? His thoughts stayed quiet though and he just gazed up into those ice eyes and kept rubbing, shivers increasing. "Yes." Gareth's hand slid over his shaft, lips covering his, making him want to rub and jerk and howl and arch. He pushed sounds into Gareth's mouth as he pushed his cock into Gareth's touch, sure he was going to explode. Gareth was strong around him, so sure, so warm and comforting and arousing and... Oh. Oh, he did explode. Just like that, he came, only it wasn't like rubbing off on his own had ever been. It was... it was everything and when he was done he kind of collapsed, but Gareth had him. Gareth had him. Soft rumbles sounded, Gareth cleaning the square, strong hand, tongue sliding, lapping his seed.

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Oh. Oh, that made him start to go hard again and he couldn't believe it. His hardness or what Gareth was doing. He nuzzled Gareth's hand and then licked, the salt-bitter flavor sharp in his mouth. Those icy eyes shone in the moonlight, tongue sliding against his own. He whimpered again and boldly pushed his mouth against Gareth's. Gareth growled for him, meeting his kiss, tongue pushing into his lips, the flavor so strong, so male. Him. Gareth tasted like him. He put his hands on Gareth's shoulders, hanging on, opening up to Gareth's kiss, submitting

happily to his Alpha, his... lover.

The kiss eased, Gareth backing away. "I have waited for you to be grown, Mate."

Oh.

Mate.

He pushed against Gareth. Yes. Mate.

They mated for life.

"How did you know?" he asked. He'd only realized as the winter's snows had faded.

"Your scent. It made my heart pound." Gareth licked his lips. "The moon was testing my

patience, my faith."

"And you passed the test? Am I your reward or are you mine?" His own heart was pounding,

Gareth making him feel so many things and it all got so much bigger with everything Gareth said.

Gareth chuffed. "You are mine, ves'tacha. When you are ready, I will claim you before the pack."

He shivered. "Ves'tacha? Claim me before the pack?"

"When you are ready." Ves'tacha -- beloved before all, mated. Adored. Loved.

"More patience." He nuzzled Gareth, his body's needs making themselves known, his cock hard

again. "Do I have to be patient now?" he asked, rubbing again.

"Hungry pup." Gareth chuffed, nuzzling his neck.

"Don't you want, too?" he asked, head falling back with a small moan.

Gareth growled. "More than you can imagine."

He shivered, that sound so sexy, making him need. "Show me."

The speed that Gareth moved them with was amazing, the long body sliding against him, shaft

hard and hot and dripping with need. He whimpered, holding on, rubbing back, pleasure

everywhere.

"Sochar..." Gareth's mouth moved over him, licking and nuzzling, low growls brushing his skin.

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He rubbed harder, wanting and wanton, needing things he couldn't give voice to. Gareth threw his head back, howling, the sound ringing in the sky. Sochar echoed him, howl torn from his throat as he came again, his seed splashing against Gareth. He could smell Gareth's need, feel the heat as it pulsed over his belly. Burning and hot and so good, knowing that his need was shared, that Gareth truly meant it when he said Mate. Gareth nuzzled his throat, then shifted, long wolf tongue lapping his belly clean. Sochar shivered and gazed down at Gareth, whimpering softly. Once his belly was clean he shifted, meeting Gareth's muzzle with his own, tongue licking at Gareth's teeth. It was late and dark, and Gareth led them to a hollow space in a log, curling around him, snuffling and nuzzling. Oh, it was warm and safe and he was Gareth's. It had been a very good day. *** Gareth had been waiting years for this moment. He had known the second Lynnea had presented Sochar to the pack that his ves'tacha had come, that the moon herself had delivered his mate. Now, that simple fact that his mate was a pup? A young pup? Proved the moon had a wicked sense of humor. Still he had waited patiently, busying himself with leading the pack, with hunting and challenges and protecting. But the hunt had proved his Mate was grown, strong, fierce and wild with a long, full tail and strong shoulders. Gareth watched the sun rise, luxuriating in the scent of his mate. Sochar snuffled, head sliding against him. He groomed Sochar lazily, tongue and teeth cleaning fur and ears, eyebrows and paws. Sochar whimpered softly and woke, pushing instinctively against him. He rumbled, easing the sweet pup, comforting. All pups in the pack knew that sound, trusted it. Sochar eased, eyes opening, green and dark and finding his. A low rumble sounded, Sochar pushing their muzzles together. They greeted each other, Sochar licking his chin, then offering the soft throat, his own teeth just brushing the flesh there. Sochar whimpered and whined, pressing closer. So responsive. He nuzzled and growled softly, then let his wolf-self go, let his man-hands touch and stroke and pet. Sochar rumbled happily, arching into his touches.

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"So fine." He hummed, closing his eyes and scratching, smoothing the heavy fur. Winter would

be early and cold this cycle.

Sochar enjoyed his ministrations and then shifted, a little slowly, unused to the change still. The

green eyes remained the same, turning to him, limbs trembling just a touch.

"Bright morning, mate." He opened his arms again, offering his strength, his heat.

Sochar melted against him. "Mate."

He nodded, wrapping his arms and legs around the pup, rocking gently, humming. Sochar raised

his head, mouth open, searching for his kiss.

There was a pull between them, the draw of the moon, and each kiss, each touch strengthened it.

He licked and lapped at Sochar's lips, growling deep in his chest. Sochar was so open to each

touch, so eager and wanting.

The temptation to roll and take what was his was huge, infuriating, but he would not push the

pup, would not defy the moon's will that he have control. Sochar's hands found his shoulders,

warm and needy, holding on to him, clinging.

The strength in this pup aroused him, enflamed him. He took the sweet mouth, tongue pushing,

taking, needing. Sochar pushed sweet sounds of need and want and love into his mouth. He fed

from them, the bond between them flaring to life, sweet and rich. So right.

Sochar rubbed against him, body finding the rhythm of his tongue. So eager, so natural, so needy.

His hands traveled along Sochar's flank, gently petting the heavy sacs, the hot shaft.

Sochar gasped, pushing into his touches. "Gareth..."

"Yes, Sochar?" He watched those sunlit forest eyes.

"It's so big."

"Yes, ves'tacha. Bigger than the world itself." Beautiful.

Sochar brought their lips together again, hands sliding on him now. The touch was sweet, making

him arch toward the tentative strokes. It was rare that anyone dared pet the Alpha. Sochar's hand

stroked down his flank, copying the route he'd taken moments before.

Oh. Oh, this was no shy pup. He rumbled softly, encouraging. Sochar's hand hit his shaft and

skittered away, the forest eyes flying up to his.

"All is well, pup. Touch only as you wish." He nuzzled Sochar's forehead, tongue slipping out to

taste.

"Still a pup?" Sochar asked, nuzzling into his licks and kisses. "Perhaps not." He teased, chuckling. "Time will tell."

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Sochar growled suddenly, pushing him over onto his back and following, lying on top of him and kissing him with far more passion than skill. His instinct was to snap, to put the pup in its place, but he refrained. This was his mate and it was only right that they shared passion. He accepted the kiss, then pushed back into it. Sochar slid against him, the pup running on instincts. His hands found the muscled hips, pulling the pup into him again and again. Those green eyes stared down at him, pleasure, amazement and need filling them. "It is good between us." He spread his legs, pushing up against the strong body. Sochar whimpered. "Good. Feels... yes. Good." The green eyes looked glazed, as if Sochar were

not entirely sure anymore of what he was saying.

"Yes." He leaned up, licking and nuzzling the long, sweet throat.

"Gareth!" Sochar called out his name, eyes going wide. His mate's body shuddered, heat

spreading between them.

He growled, head tossing as the scent hit his nose. Sochar whimpered, still moving against him,

trembling and shuddering. His hand fell to his shaft, pulling, tugging, need making him rough.

Sochar's hand slid across his, tentative and trembling, but wrapping around him, tugging with

him.

"Oh... Your touch is fine. Fine, mate." He pushed into their touches.

"Good?" Sochar asked, licking at his lips.

"Good. Yes. So good." He was panting now, rocking hard.

Sochar barked and the licking moved to his neck, his mate bravely nipping at the skin there, not

quite hard enough to mark. Oh. Oh, so fine. He shivered, humping into Sochar's touch.

"Mate," whispered Sochar, teeth biting this time, marking him.

Gareth came with a sharp howl, seed spraying from him, Sochar's name ringing in the treetops.

Sochar's hand kept moving, his mate's tongue sliding over his skin.

He slowly relaxed, rumbling as he slumped into the ground. Sochar slid next to him, head on his

shoulder, hands touching as if now that he'd started, Sochar couldn't stop.

His own fingers kept sliding through Sochar's hair, petting and loving. "Happy?"

"Oh, yes, Gareth. I did not dare dream of such happiness, though I hoped for it. I have admired

you for as long as I can remember."

He preened, nuzzling the long face with his own. "That pleases me, ves'tacha."

Sochar rumbled. "I want to please you."

"You do. You are a fine male. A hunter."

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Sochar preened for him, the pup easy to make happy, to make feel important and special. He reached down, scratched the pup's belly, nails sliding just lightly. "Oh. How did I come to be so blessed by the moon?" "Luck." He winked and dove in for another kiss, rolling Sochar playfully. Sochar's growls were happy, his pup pushing back against him. Sochar was strong, but inexperienced, easy to overpower. For now. They nipped and slid together, both morphing together, wrestling and running, barking along the edge of the water. It was a glorious thing and he felt like a pup again himself, young and free. They plunged into the water, yipping and bouncing, drops flying. Sochar's teeth closed over his throat, the pup laying claim to him again. He growled softly, allowing that touch, just barely controlling the urge to snap. Sochar barked, rolling him in the water. He bounced up, shaking furiously, water going everywhere, yipping and barking. Sochar was chuffing, dancing away and then back again to nip at his flanks. He pounced, nipping Sochar's ear, panting, laughing. Sochar yelped and chuffed again, rolling, trying unsuccessfully to get away and turn the tables. He started nipping at Sochar's heels, running them both. Sochar ran and ran, but, young as the pup was, Sochar tired out first, slowing. They slumped together, panting, resting against each other, muzzles side-by-side. Sochar rumbled softly and licked at his muzzle, tongue sliding over his nose, along his teeth. He loved the flavors of his mate, nuzzling and lapping back. Sochar whimpered, yipped and whined for him, back end rubbing against him. He leaned against Sochar with his full weight, sliding them together, enjoying the sensations of them both. Sochar rolled, presenting the white belly, offering him everything. Oh, the temptation to lick and nuzzle, rub his nose in that sweet, soft fur was too great to resist and he wallowed in the pleasure of touching, of grooming, of learning his mate. Yips and whines and soft chuffing met his ministrations, Sochar submitting totally, enjoying his touches. Gareth finally came to rest, muzzle snuggled in Sochar's warmth. So fine. So strong. His mate. Sochar was rumbling, sounds happy and lazy and good. When winter came, they would be always with the pack. Perhaps today should simply be their own. He yawned, snuggled in. Yes. Their own. A nap, first. Then, a day to play. *** They had played all day, chased and run and nipped and howled and loved. Now they were returning to the pack and Sochar didn't know what to do

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Would he be allowed to stay at Gareth's side? Would he be expected to stay back? Would Gareth acknowledge him as mate? Would anyone challenge that? He whined softly, pressing closer to Gareth while he still could. Gareth nuzzled him, that low growl still proud, still naming him mate. He barked happily, picking his feet up high. The guards watched them, muzzles dipping for Gareth, the pack slowly gathering, soft yelps and barks filling the air. Gareth searched out his dam, blue eyes shining at her. Sochar raised his head, staying close, letting his shoulder rub against Gareth's flank. His instincts were telling him to be ready, to take down anyone who challenged his place next to Gareth. Greta, the Alpha female and Gareth's sibling, snarled low, tossing her head. Her mate was Tamm, a strong second, often challenging Gareth for Alpha. Gareth bared his teeth, the warning growl sharp. He bared his own teeth, growling as deeply as he could, adding his voice to Gareth's. He could smell the surprise, the shock as the pack realized what this meant. He gave a sharp bark, proud and full of love. Mine. My mate. My Gareth. His mate responded, agreed. Mate. Mine. His. It made him feel ten feet tall, made him feel like the strongest in the pack, able to take down an ox all on his own. Greta made to snap at him, growling, threatening, and his dam snarled at her, both females backing off as Gareth barked. He worked to contain his quivering, but it was hard. He didn't entirely understand the dynamics, had to fight his urge to jump forward and protect Gareth instead of letting Gareth speak for them both. Gareth slowly shifted, standing proud and strong and tall amongst them. "He is my ves'tacha. He will share my home when he is ready. There will be none other." He gave a bark, licking at Gareth's hand, rubbing his head against Gareth's thigh, the warm skin so different against him compared to the magnificent pelt Gareth wore in wolf form. The long fingers stroked his ears, his head. It did not surprise him when Greta shifted, glaring. "He is a pup, a male. You have a responsibility to the pack." "He is full-grown, he hunts with the pack." Gareth's fingers felt so good on him, it was hard to concentrate, to pay attention. He wanted to go back to playing, to gamboling through the grasses and pouncing his mate. He gave a bark though, backing up what Gareth said. He was a good hunter, willing to learn to be even better. He had run beside Gareth when they took down the ox. "You need a female. Fransi is of age and fine. Mating with him denies us two males."

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Gareth rolled his eyes. "As if there is a lack of randy males." He chuffed and snorted, turning to lick Gareth's hip. His Mate's human skin tasted good, salty and not as sharply musky to his wolf's nose. The argument continued, the words token and pointless, the important thing the scent of need on his mate's skin, the hand on his fur. Gareth tasted very good, and he licked at his Mate's groin, rumbling happily as the scent was stronger there. It was even stronger behind and he licked along Gareth's buttocks, searching out the strong musk. Gareth's words faded, the blue eyes focused on him, dancing, laughing. "The bond is too new to waste on fighting with you, Greta. We are going to our cabin, yes, Sochar?" He barked and licked Gareth's buttocks again and then bounced a few steps away before coming back and licking at Gareth. Wasn't Gareth going to come? Was he supposed to shift? Hurry, he wanted to explore the smells! The Alpha's cabin was distant from the others, a nice building made of wood and peat and he wanted to see inside, wanted to know. Gareth led him in, the huge hearth and pillows strewn about it the focus of the room. It was a place for man or beast to be comfortable and he examined it thoroughly, smelling and tasting everything before going back to Gareth and resuming his tasting and smelling of his mate. Gareth spread out on a huge cushion, relaxed and open for him. He sniffed and licked thoroughly, going back to Gareth's cock, balls and ass, as those had the most interesting smells, the strongest sense of Gareth. "Curious..." The word was growled, Gareth moving restlessly, shaft filling. He barked. Yes, curious. The smells were familiar, but different like this and when he licked at the heat in the crease of Gareth's buttocks, it was strongest, good and so hot. Gareth growled, rubbing against the cushions, panting now for him. He whined softly, licking Gareth's shaft again, barking at the sharp taste that leaked from it now. Gareth's fingers stroked his head, hips jerking, cock bobbing with the motion. He whimpered, that touch from Gareth's human fingers so good, and set to licking the long shaft some more, being careful with his teeth as he searched for more of that sharp Gareth flavor. More or less careful. Gareth's sounds were sharp, needy; his name had never sounded that way from another's voice. Encouraged, he continued, alternating between the heady musk behind and the sharp flavor up front. "You make me want, mate." The words were bitten out, Gareth's eyes rolling. It didn't sound like a bad thing, so he kept it up, trying to suck on Gareth's shaft, to pull more of the pure flavor out. His teeth scraped a little and Gareth yelped. Yelping himself, he jumped away, backing into a corner, head low. Gareth rolled onto one side, arms open for him. "Here, pup."

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He went slowly, head and belly low to the ground, whimpering soft apologies. Gareth pulled him close, petting him, forgiving him. Happiness rumbled in him, those hands making him feel good. His belly was rubbed, the base of his tail scratched. He yipped and licked Gareth's face, tail wagging hard. Gareth rubbed harder, hands massaging his muscles, melting him deep inside. He thought hard and shifted into his human form, Gareth's touches sliding over his skin, making him whimper. "Mate." Gareth's lips slid against his. "Mate," he whispered, touching Gareth's lips with his not nearly so sensitive to tastes and smells human tongue. Still, he could taste Gareth inside his mouth. Gareth held him, tongue sliding into his mouth, then backing away, offering him a kiss. He followed Gareth's tongue back into his mate's mouth, whimpering softly. Oh, this was good in a way being the wolf wasn't. This was... softer but deeper, too. Gareth sucked his tongue softly, then let him in, let him have all he needed. He pushed close, rubbing as he licked the insides of Gareth's mouth. Gareth was rocking, shaft hard against his thigh. He wanted to know suddenly, how that leaking shaft would taste in his human mouth. With a whimper, he tore his mouth from Gareth's and slid down the long, sleek, unfurry body. Gareth groaned, panting. "Such instincts. Mate." He rumbled, yipped, licking at the liquid that leaked from the tip. So good, exploding sharply across his tongue, even his puny human tongue could taste this. Looking up, whining softly, he opened his mouth and wrapped it around Gareth's shaft, again trying to suck more of that liquid from Gareth, worried he was doing wrong. Gareth's face was slack with pleasure, lips parting, breath panting from him. Oh. Oh, he wasn't hurting. It was allowed. Good. He closed his lips around Gareth's shaft and pulled with all his might, sucking hard for more of that flavor. The salty drops exploded on his tongue, male and rich and strong. He sucked harder, wanting more, greedy and needy. His own hips were moving, humping against Gareth's shins. Gareth's hips began to move, to slide the hard shaft over his tongue. He jerked away at first, surprised. One hand stroked his cheek. "Sorry. You make me need." He turned his head, licking at Gareth's palm. "I make you need. Me." He gave a sharp human bark and turned back to Gareth's shaft, taking it in his mouth again. "You." The motions started again, slow, careful, gentle. He whined around Gareth's shaft, encouraging the motions now that he knew what they were, what they meant. Gareth stretched, growled low. "Mate. Need." Pleasure moved through him, that he made Gareth feel that way. Him. He pulled harder, whimpering every time the hot, sharp liquid dripped onto his tongue. The motions grew harsher,

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faster, growls constant. It was a little scary, that large shaft pushing into his throat over and over again, but it was exciting, too and he held onto Gareth's thighs and let his mate take his mouth. He heard Gareth's howl, then seed filled his mouth, hot and salty. He gagged and then swallowed quickly, lapping Gareth's shaft clean of seed once it stopped pouring out. His. His seed. Gareth whimpered, the sound happy and sated, slumping into the cushions.

He continued to lick and nuzzle at Gareth's cock and balls, searching out the scents and flavors,

noticing how much harder it was with his human nose and mouth, but how much more he could

feel the heat and silkiness of Gareth's skin.

His hair was stroked, petted. "Ves'tacha."

He whimpered, nuzzling up into Gareth's hand, body vibrating as he rubbed himself against

Gareth. Gareth moved down, pulling him into the curve of the muscled body, fingers stroking.

"Mate." He whimpered, hips moving hard.

"Mine." His shaft slid between Gareth's strong thighs. His eyes widened and he looked into

Gareth's eyes, yipping as he moved faster.

Gareth squeezed him, giving him the hot press of flesh to work against. He grasped hold of

Gareth's arms, holding tight, clinging at the so big feeling coursing through him.

"Yes, mate." Gareth licked his lips, kissed him.

He cried out into Gareth's mouth, seed spraying from him.

Gareth snuggled into him, nuzzling. "You will den here, with me."

Oh. He nuzzled and pushed into Gareth. He could do that.

"My mate." Gareth wrapped around him, holding him.

He nodded. "Yours."

"Be wary of Greta. She does not approve."

"What is she going to do?" He shivered, pushing closer. His Gareth. His.

Gareth chuffed. "Probably try to seduce you."

He pulled back, looking to see if Gareth was joking. Greta was bitch Alpha, almost a second

mother to him. To all the pups.

Gareth didn't look like he was joking...

"But she's... " Almost his mother. A female. Old. "Not you."

"No. She is not me." Gareth smiled at him, nuzzling.

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He buried his face in Gareth's neck. "You're laughing at me."

"No. I'm happy." Gareth rumbled softly, petting him.

"Oh." He nuzzled Gareth's neck. "I am, too."

"Good. Nap now. Then we will explore further."

He rumbled and settled close. "Yes. Mate."

Gareth licked his lips then morphed, melted into a grey lump. He stroked his fingers through the

silver fur and then let go of the human form, joining his mate, lying his muzzle next to Gareth's.

Those icy blue eyes blinked, watched him, then closed, soft snores sounding.

He gave a single bark and settled again, letting his eyes close. He would sleep with his mate now.

***

Greta was skulking and Lynnea rejoicing, the entire pack was in uproar and he?

He was snuggling.

Life was pleasant.

Gareth watched the shadows slip slide down the wall, the afternoon passing as they touched.

Sochar was so happy for each touch, so eager and wanton. And had a pup's capacity for play.

Currently it was Gareth's own tail that was the object of Sochar's fascination, the pup stalking and

then pouncing. Gareth chuckled, wagging a little harder, teasing a little more.

Sochar whined and barked and pounced again, paws holding his tail still, jaws closing on it.

Gareth yelped, turning and nipping, rolling Sochar and making the pup spin. Sochar's paws batted

at him, their muzzles knocking together as Sochar whined softly.

He licked and lapped at Sochar, nuzzling in. Peace, mate. Sochar purred softly, body stretching,

offering him all of Sochar. It was a gift to Alpha, to mate.

Mine.

He nuzzled, nosing and cuddling in, breathing the heady scent of his ves'tacha. Sochar was full of

wriggles and rumbles and little happy whimpers. His muzzle was licked quite often. He growled

low, rubbing their muzzles together. Sochar panted, the wriggling beneath him increasing.

He shifted, digging his human fingers in and rubbing that soft pelt. Sochar whined again and

licked his face, tail thumping happily.

"Beautiful boy." He growled, watching his mate, his ves'tacha.

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Sochar stretched and then morphed, the change easier now, quicker and more fluid.

"Mmm...Hello." He leaned, licked one nipple.

"H...hello!" Sochar arched his back, chest pushing up into his mouth.

"Hungry pup." He nipped, tongue sliding over Sochar's nipple over and over.

Sochar whimpered, body bucking, the hot cock filling and pressing hard against his belly. He

licked his way down, drawn by the scent, the heat.

Sochar moaned, hands sliding into his hair. "Oh, Gareth."

Gareth nuzzled, lips wrapping around the tip of Sochar's cock, pulling gently.

"Gareth!" Sochar's voice was shocked, awed.

"Mmm..." He sucked harder, head bobbing.

"Oh! You will make me..." Sochar's hips started to push, cock jerking in Gareth's mouth.

Gareth groaned, sucking harder, pulling at him. Sochar screamed, the pup filling his mouth with

seed. He swallowed Sochar down, swallowing hard, drinking his sweet mate down.

Sochar's hands dropped to his head, soft whines sounding. "Gareth, oh. Oh, so good."

He lapped and nuzzled Sochar's cock, growling low. Sochar whimpered, hands tangled in his

hair, legs shifting restlessly. He looked up along Sochar's body, admiring; his beautiful mate.

Sochar's eyes were on him, wide and full of heat, love.

His tongue tasted all along Sochar's body, just dragging.

"Hot," whispered Sochar. "You make me burn."

"It is what mates do. Make one another burn."

"Do I make you burn, too?" Sochar asked, fingers finally untangling from his hair, moving on his

skin.

"You make me ache." He smiled up, licking Sochar's belly, one tight nipple.

Sochar bucked and gasped, pushing into his mouth. "Is that a good thing?"

"It is." He chuckled, bit down. "Very good."

Sochar bucked hard this time, hands grabbing at him. His laugh filled the room, low and rolling,

teasing. Sochar's laugh joined his own, long fingers brushing over him.

He morphed, running across the room, tail wagging, tempting, teasing. Sochar laughed and then

morphed as well, tripping over his legs as he ran for Gareth.

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Yes. He jumped from cushion to ledge, barking and happy. Come. Get me. Sochar followed, hot on his tail. The pup was fast, soon would be faster than him. He twisted and pushed, growling low. He would give his mate a challenge for years -- years -- to come. Sochar went right into the window and stood for a moment, shaking his head before taking up the chase again. Gareth chuffed, tossing his head, bouncing a little, letting Sochar almost catch him. Again and again the pup got near and again and again he danced away, Sochar snapping at his haunches. He leapt onto the cushions, rolled, tongue lolling. Sochar pounced him, growling. He chuckled, leaning up to rub and nuzzle. Such a strong mate. As soon as he began to nuzzle, Sochar returned the caresses, their muzzles rubbing together as soft, eager whines came from the pup. Strength and pure happiness. It was a lovely combination. He told his mate of all the wonders they would find, all the joys they would explore together. The world was vast, their bond bigger still. Sochar snapped and yelped and howled, promising to always be at his side, to fight with him, Gareth, Alpha, his magnificent mate. It was all he could want, all he could ask for. All he needed. Sochar settled with him, curled up close, muzzle on his front paws as their play turned to rest. Outside his home the pack went about their lives, for today, he and Sochar could leave that behind, leave it outside their door and be just themselves. *** Two glorious days with his Alpha, his mate, his Gareth. Sochar had enjoyed them tremendously, both the day they'd spent at the lake and the day in Gareth's home -- their home for he lived there now, too. Sochar didn't want them to end, he didn't want to have to face the pack, Greta's hostility and inevitable fights for spot as top dog that would come. The other males would see him as a weakness in Gareth and would challenge Gareth. Sochar knew he had to prove himself, both as Sochar's mate and as second. For that was the place he knew was his, by Gareth's side, that hole left when Ben had been killed. So when Gareth headed out to check over the tribe, Sochar followed, tail high, feeling very strong and very proud for such a young dog, just out of puphood. His mother greeted him, tail wagging, eyes bright. Son! Bright morning! He bounce and ran around her, barking loudly. Yes! Yes! Bright morning! Then he returned to Gareth's side, trying to look dignified. Trying very hard to look dignified. His friends stared at him, wide-eyed and barking. The elders looked too, some approving. Some not.

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Gareth didn't seem to mind one way or the other. He tried to be cool like Gareth was, like it wasn't anything special, it just was. But then it would hit him again -- he was Gareth's mate -- and his backside would wiggle like crazy and he'd whine happily. Gareth looked back at him, eyes so warm, happy in a deep, quiet way. And that was how he knew it didn't matter what the others thought or that Gareth wasn't bouncy happy like he was, because Gareth felt it all the way inside. He did, too, but it was still so new and he wasn't as experienced as his Alpha yet and he couldn't keep it all in, he just couldn't. It exploded out of him in another burst of energy and he ran to a group of his agemates, barking and laughing with them for a few moments before going back to Gareth's side. Greta came over, tall and fine in her human form, staring at him. "Have you finished playing with your pup, Gareth?" Gareth's teeth bared and he growled, facing her down, the offense obvious. Sochar resisted the urge to press closer to Gareth's side and remained still, proud beside his Alpha. This was his place and if she challenged him, he would fight. His own growl was much softer than Gareth's, not tentative so much as soft. Fight with her he would, but he had no desire to do so. She backed away, head ducking, acquiescing. Gareth would tolerate no questions, no challenge. He belonged by Gareth's side. Her acceptance seemed to spark the same in the others who were unhappy and soon everyone went back to their business, the issue seeming settled. Gareth touched noses with everyone -- young and old alike -- greeting and querying them. Sochar followed behind, touching noses with his agemates, his dam and giving the others respectful nods. His closest agemate, a tiny female named Rana came up, chuffing, full of questions. Her eyes were just dancing. There had been a time when many had thought they might mate, though he had known in his own heart it would not be, as had Rana. She'd always known where his eyes strayed. He rubbed her muzzle with his own, happy to still share friendship with her. She looked up at Gareth, then back to him. Then she bounced away a little. Come play? Two days ago he would have gone and played happily, but he didn't even hesitate to shake his head. He was Gareth's mate now, his place was at the Alpha's side. Her eyes got sad and Gareth turned to her, nuzzling and greeting her, making her shiver and preen. Oh, he would have to watch Gareth closer, learn how he did that, for it was more than just attention from the Alpha that had her shivering and preening. Gareth made her feel seen, special, wanted. Sochar knew that feeling well. He gazed at Gareth, so proud of his mate that he thought he might burst from it. Then those eyes turned on him, loving him, holding him. The rest of the world disappeared when Gareth looked at him like that and he moved close, whining softly, rubbing their flanks together.

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Gareth slid their cheeks together, the scent of love and need strong in the air. He whimpered, wanting, needing. It hardly took anything to make him need Gareth so much. Gareth's eyes looked to the forest. Run with me. He barked sharply. He would. He would follow Gareth anywhere. His mate ran for the woods, muscles working, tail held high. He gave chase, holding back for a moment or two to admire his mate before his instincts led him to put on speed and catch up. Gareth leapt, shivering visibly. Wanting him. Tempting him. He put back his head and howled, he was so happy. And then he gave chase, following Gareth

deeper into the woods, nearly catching him time and again.

Gareth led him into a clearing, panting, head tossing. He took his shot, leaping at Gareth,

barreling them both over onto the ground. Gareth morphed, arching beneath him, bowed and

rubbing.

Oh. Oh! He morphed as well, the change coming so much easier now, and he rubbed against

Gareth, their skin sliding warmly together.

"Mmm... love. Love. My ves'tacha." Gareth panted, groaning low.

"Yours, Gareth. Oh." He kept rubbing, his cock sliding along Gareth's belly and it made him gasp

every time their cocks rubbed together.

"Yes. Mine." Gareth bucked up, hips driving harder, faster.

"Oh, Gareth, I'll come soon." He had never come so much as he had the last few days.

"Do you wish to wait?" His ves'tacha teased so.

"No!" He shook his head, moving faster. "Oh, no, Gareth."

Gareth groaned, nipped his jaw. "Good. Good, pup. Want you, so badly."

"You have me."

He nodded and then his eyes went wide as he came, pleasure moving through him and shooting

from his cock. Gareth howled, pushed against him, so hot, panting.

He kept rubbing, watching Gareth's face, the line of his neck. His. His. Gareth was his.

The lean hips pressed into him, Gareth beginning to shake and shiver. Bending, he followed his

instincts and wrapped his lips around Gareth's neck, marking his mate.

Gareth's cry echoed, his mate's seed pouring out against him. The scent was something he was

beginning to know and he whimpered as it made him jerk.

"Ves'tacha." Gareth groaned low, eyes just rolling.

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"Ves'tacha." He nodded. He liked the sound of it, the way it made him feel inside.

"Yes. Mine." Gareth's eyes just danced. "We should hunt. Run. Play."

He nodded. "Anything you want. I just want to be with you."

Gareth kissed him. "Yes. Yes, the bond wants sealing, wants to grow."

"Sealing? It isn't sure yet?"

"There has never been anything so sure."

He beamed and nodded and bounced up, morphing and pouncing Gareth.

"My mate!" Gareth laughed, fingers scratching him.

He barked twice. Yes! Yes!

He was petted, loved on, stroked, Gareth grooming and adoring him. It had never occurred to him

that it would be nice to be like this, one human, the other beast, sharing in a different way. He

whined and licked at the mark his human mouth had left on Gareth's neck.

"Beautiful boy. Beautiful one." Gareth's voice poured over him, warm and wanton.

He licked Gareth's face, so happy, so happy.

"Love you. My ves'tacha." Over and over Gareth spoke to him, adored him.

Finally he morphed again, skin on skin again, his own soft whispers sharing his love for Gareth.

Gareth kissed him, eyes alight and shining, hands sliding over his skin.

"Your touches are magic. You make me want so much. So much," he told Gareth, rubbing again.

"That is because the moon made you for me."

"Oh, you are magic." Gareth's words were like his touches, magical, wonderful.

"I am yours." Gareth rubbed up against him, hand on his buttocks, pulling him down.

He whimpered, Gareth's hand on his ass making him shiver and push back into it. Which brought

him rocking forward again and soon he found a rhythm, forward and back and it felt so good.

Gareth panted, thighs cradling him, holding him tight.

"I just want and want and want, Gareth. I could do this forever."

"Yes. I have waited for you, so long."

"I'm glad you waited. Even if it wasn't fair you didn't have a mate until now." He didn't want to be

selfish and he wanted his Gareth to be happy, but Gareth was his.

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"There was no question. None other. Only you. We mate for life."

Sochar nodded and put back his head to howl, the sound odd from his human throat. Gareth

leaned forward, mouth fastening on his throat. He howled again, the sensation of being marked by

his mate so very right. It was like there was a connection between Gareth's mouth on his neck and

his cock, singing through him.

He could hear Gareth's mind, the whispers of 'mine' and 'ves'tacha' and 'beloved.'

He rocked and rocked and then he came, again, because there was no other way to express the

great joy inside him.

Gareth held him, rocked him gently.

"Oh, love. Love." He repeated the word over and over, clinging to his mate.

"Yes, mate. Yes." Gareth comforted him, balanced him, the intensity easing.

He curled up with his mate, his ves'tacha and let go of his human form, tail wagging slowly, soft

rumbling purrs coming from him.

Gareth's muzzle landed, sure and soft on the back of his neck.

He whined softly, happily, at peace.

***

Sochar pulled the water off the fire and added the dried berries and mint to it and set it on the

hearth to steep.

He double checked the windows again, making sure they were airtight and then went to the

pantry, pulling down the cookies he'd made, munching on one as he went over the rest of the

pantry's contents. The larder was next, the trapdoor in the pantry leading to the cold room where

the meat was stored.

He slammed the trapdoor closed and shifted into the wolf, growling as he paced.

Something was wrong and he didn't know what.

He should be settling in -- he had everything he needed set away, the cabin was fortified. Winter

would be long and slow, but warm and comfortable. He should be feeling easy in his bones,

becoming lazy, instead he was pacing, uncomfortable, itchy under his skin.

Well, fur.

He padded to the door and hit the release with his head, carefully sniffing as he went out.

The scent of fresh blood hit him like a wave, coppery and rich and strong, drawing him toward

the trees. He loped toward the scent, hackles rising, a low warning growl in his throat.

Shifting Too - 185

The thick snow gave way as he hit the trees, the snow cover here thinner. There was a copse of

trees, thin and bare, rocks offering a bare shelter.

A deep growl sounded, rough and raw, a clear warning. He answered angrily. This was his land.

He'd taken himself away from the pack, he expected to have his boundaries respected. It did slow

him though and he continued on more carefully.

A bark now, sharp, firm. Back off. Stop. Go away.

He snapped back. His territory. His. If there was a kill made here, it belonged to him.

There was the oddest sound, a mix of whimper and grunt, a noise almost familiar. Then a thin,

dark muzzle lifted, ice-blue eyes meeting his own.

Gareth.

He stopped, growl stuck in his throat as the memories flooded him. He and Gareth running

together, loving, hunting, fighting.

He shifted, shivering as his bare feet hit the snow. "Gareth."

Gareth bowed his head, lips curling, baring those sharp teeth. Sharp bloody teeth. Those eyes

watched him, clung to him.

Sochar looked around; there was no kill.

"You're hurt." His voice was low, husky from disuse.

Gareth rumbled, then shifted, eyes meeting his. "I wanted to see you once more."

"Why?" Damn it, he didn't need this.

He was happy.

Well. Content.

Not unhappy.

There was a soft chuff, almost a laugh. "Because I'm an old fool."

Then Gareth shifted again, just fading into fur and fangs and claws. Those blue eyes stared at him

for a long, silent moment, then the wolf stood, turning to limp into the trees, back legs dragging.

Fuck.

He shifted and gave chase, circling until he was in front of Gareth.

Gareth growled, fur ruffling, trying to intimidate, to appear bigger. He growled back softly,

rubbing his muzzle along Gareth's. Come on, old man, you're in no shape to fight me, don't make me hurt you.

Shifting Too - 186

Those blue eyes closed, Gareth leaning towards him for a heartbeat. He licked at Gareth's muzzle, growling at the taste of blood and pain. He nudged Gareth to turn, head back to his cabin. Gareth stumbled, nuzzling him, nose touching his in a motion achingly familiar, the wolf's nose hot, dry. He whimpered, licking Gareth's nose; his mate was really sick. He shifted. "I'll carry you." Gareth snarled, shaking and trying to hold himself upright, then with a soft groan, Gareth slumped into the snow. Damn that beast's pride. He lifted Gareth in his arms, surprised by how little Gareth weighed. He made a broken sound in the back of his throat and started to run, cursing his human legs as they cleared the trees and the snow became deeper. His arm was licked, Gareth's eyes rolling, the thin body relaxing. Sochar whimpered again and moved more quickly. The sun was nearly gone by the time he made it to the cabin and he was gasping, sweating; he couldn't feel his feet. He brought Gareth over to the fire, laying his mate down in front of it. Gareth lived, breath coming in shallow pants. His mate's hindquarters were dark, pelt matted with blood and he could see evidence of a fight, the flesh torn and bitten. He probably should have boiled water and cleaned the wounds out, but instinct took over and he shifted, tongue working to clean the wounds. Gareth's flavor exploded over his tongue, so familiar, so necessary, so missed. So many years since they had separated, Gareth leaving him the pack, the pups. Leaving him behind. And now Gareth was back, but leaving him once again. Sochar raised his head and howled, let his anger and pain and fear and sorrow out. And then he went back to cleaning Gareth's wounds, determined not lose Gareth to this. If his mate was going to leave him again, let it be on all fours, running and free in the wind. Soft grunts and whimpers sounded, filled the air, assuring him that his mate still lived, his mate still breathed. He cleaned the wound for hours, days, or maybe only minutes. And when Gareth's wound was thoroughly cleaned he began to lick the rest of his mate, using his teeth to work out knots and twigs and bugs that were caught in the dark silver fur. He ended the cleaning at Gareth's muzzle and settled next to his mate, pressed close, whimpering softly. Gareth nuzzled him, then curled into him, the low sounds instinctive, intended to comfort, to ease. He had heard those sounds in one form or another his entire life. He licked at Gareth's muzzle again, tongue sliding across the dry nose. Mate. The word rang within him, surprising him, scaring him. In the end Gareth had rarely reached for him in that way, rarely allowed the defenses that surrounded the Alpha to drop. He leapt up, barking sharply.

Shifting Too - 187

Gareth looked up at him. Love. Mate. So proud.

A wash of emotions slammed over him, pleasure and sorrow, pain and joy, admiration and love.

All the things Gareth had held behind that wall of duty and Pack, offered freely, completely. Then

they stopped, Gareth's eyes falling shut.

No!

He pounced Gareth, pushing at his mate. Gareth's eyes fluttered open, a soft growl sounding.

He shifted, fingers digging into Gareth's fur. "Stay."

Sochar. Nowhere else could his name mean so much, be filled with so much history, so much

emotion.

He started into the ice-blue eyes, pouring himself into his mate. Stay. Gareth. Mine. Stay.

Gareth whined softly, that tail thumping on the floor once or twice, expressing pleasure. Stay.

He nodded. "Thank you."

He stroked Gareth's fur, rubbing the muzzle, Gareth's flanks. Gareth relaxed beneath his touch,

sinking into a deep, silent sleep, the thin chest rising and falling with silent breaths.

He stayed there for a long time, holding and petting his mate with human hands, trusting that

Gareth would keep his word, would stay. Then he let the beast take him again and lay curled with

Gareth, muzzles resting together on Gareth's front paws.

***

Sochar pulled the water off the fire and added the dried berries and mint to it and set it on the

hearth to steep.

He checked the windows and the door, guiltily latching and barring the door -- he'd totally

forgotten in his worry over Gareth. His mentor and mate would scold him if he knew. He checked

Gareth's wounds. They looked okay, his licking having cleaned them thoroughly, but he had no

idea how much internal damage there was.

It worried him how long Gareth was sleeping.

He stoked the fire and poured out his tea, sitting between Gareth's legs, his mate's fur soft and

good against his skin.

Gareth chuffed softly, front paws moving, his mate dreaming, nose wrinkling, scenting. He

reached out to pet his mate, fingers sliding along the dark muzzle to check Gareth's nose. Not all

right, not yet, but the strange dry heat was gone and Gareth pushed into his touch, tongue lapping

his palm.

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

Shifting Too - 188

Of course, now that it looked like Gareth was going to live, he was angry, pissed off. It was just

like Gareth to just show up, the same way he'd gone. Just. There he was.

The soft touches of tongue stopped, Gareth moving away from him, slowly, painfully shifting,

staring at him from behind long, steel grey hair. The wounds were more obvious in the man-form,

pale skin mottled with blacks and greens and purples.

Sochar whimpered softly, hand going to stroke the abused skin.

"What happened?"

"Hunters. A pack of the humans had one of our own -- a girlpup -- and they were violating her. I

could not let them have her." Gareth swallowed hard, but found a smile. "I also could not escape without drawing notice." "Did she live?" So like Gareth, to put the pack first before himself. He always had.

"She did. I took her to the Pack. Her Pack was lost to the humans. Cerek told me where I could

find you."

"Why did you come to me?"

"I needed to tell you goodbye."

"Because you thought you were dying you mean." He looked away, the old pain coming back so

easily. "You could have said goodbye when you left."

"No." The word was broken, harsh. "I could not."

"Do you have any idea how long I searched for you? How long I waited for you to come back?"

Gareth might be hurting, but so was he. He had been for years. Years.

"Yes. We were destroying one another. Better to be alone than to be despised, Mate."

"I missed you. I've missed you every day." Oh, he'd dreamed of this moment and all the things he

would say and now that Gareth was in front of him, they all flew out of his mind aside from the

sadness and the pain and the need to curl up with Gareth.

"As I have missed you. You became a great leader, ves'tacha." The word slammed against him.

Ves'tacha. Beloved above all.

He whimpered. "Gareth..."

"You are still the most beautiful thing in my sight, Sochar. You are still the center of my soul."

"And I have never stopped missing you, loving you, wishing I could still wrap myself in your

warmth."

"We will war again. We are both too male, too strong, not to bare our teeth." Those blue eyes

stared into him, through him.

Shifting Too - 189

"But here there is lots of room to run and hide and lick our wounds. There is no pack to protect, to care for." He could scarcely believe he was being given this opportunity. "I would stay with you. Here. I would be yours and have you as my own." Ves'tacha. Again Gareth's mind brushed his own, so intimate, so close. Ves'tacha. He pounced Gareth, unmindful of his mate's injuries, needing to touch, to taste, to know that this was real. Gareth's laughter poured over him, sweet and low, as those arms wrapped around him. "My Mate!" "Yes. Mates. Forever Gareth, no matter where you go." A trembling hand stroked through his hair. "Kiss me, Sochar. I need your taste on my tongue." He whimpered, whined, heat and need making his belly ache. Bending, he brought their lips together, stopping when they were scant millimeters apart, breathing each other's breath. Gareth's eyes were huge, shining, the beast just held at bay. Ves'tacha. Mate. Gareth's tongue touched his lip. He wanted to pushed Gareth to the ground and mount him. He wanted to throw back his head and howl. He pushed their mouths together, opening his lips, wanting Gareth inside. Gareth moved into the kiss, hungry and eager, tongue pressing deep, need raw and open as a wound, exposed for him. He whimpered and pushed closer, hands sliding through Gareth's hair. It was like silk, long, heavy strands of silk. The settled before the fire, Gareth moving slowly, but refusing to let their bodies part, to release the touch. Hands drew him close, rocked them with a motion that started sweet and wanton, but quickly gained hunger. He remembered this, his body remembered it deep inside him and he moved against Gareth, need driving him hard. Little yips and growls started, Gareth panting, hard and hot against his belly. He rolled onto his back, neck arched, legs spread, submitting, giving himself to Gareth. They'd fought for Alpha position constantly in the last weeks they’d been together, but now he just wanted Gareth, any way, any how. Gareth pressed against him, covering him with the lean, lanky body, Gareth's skin hot. He would have wrapped his legs around Gareth, but he didn't want to hurt his lover, so he just pushed up against Gareth's body, spreading his legs as wide as he could. "Take me. Make me yours." "You were born mine." Gareth scooted closer, then whimpered, winced, shifting to find a comfortable spot. He whined softly, hands sliding down Gareth's back. "Are you okay?" "I hurt. I want you." Gareth tossed his head, growled. "Hate being old."

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He licked Gareth's neck and then moved beneath his mate, going to all fours. It would be easier for Gareth this way. "You have me." Gareth groaned, resting against him, letting him support the scant weight. He felt the brush of Gareth's cock against his hole, wet-tipped and heavy, the brush of Gareth's lips on his shoulder. He shuddered, pushing back, panting. "Gareth... " Ves'tacha. "Yes. Mine." His body was spread, stretched and opened as Gareth pressed inside, teeth sharp on his shoulder. He put his head back and howled, taking Gareth deep.

Ves'tacha. My soul. Mate. Love. Sochar. The words poured over him, overwhelming the feeling

of Gareth within him.

He lost himself to Gareth, gave himself over to his lover's need and emotions. They became his

own, were his own.

The motions inside him were rough, clumsy, Gareth’s innate grace lost to need and pain. It was

enough though, it was the deep, hard penetration he needed, it was Gareth, his ves'tacha, inside

him.

"Soon. Soon, Mate." The growls were deep, fierce.

He nodded and barked sharply, one hand going to his cock, tugging hard. Gareth bit into his

shoulder, jerking, howling around his skin, heat filling him. That bite was all he needed, familiar

and sharp, marking him as Gareth's.

He howled again, coming hard.

His mate slumped against him, hot tears dropping on his skin. "Ves'tacha."

He slowly lowered himself and Gareth to the ground. "Ves'tacha."

"Forgive me."

"If you'll stay. I will." Though the proviso was unnecessary, he already had. He'd forgiven Gareth

the moment he'd seen him again.

"I cannot leave you again."

"Good." The word was fierce, hard.

He moved, Gareth's softening cock slipping from him. Turning, he wrapped his arms around

Gareth. "Good."

Those icy eyes watched him, oddly vulnerable, then the thin throat was exposed to him. "Yours."

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Whimpering, he leaned up, lips and teeth closing around his skin. Gareth growled, rubbing against him, pressing close. His whimpers turned to growls and he wished Gareth wasn't hurt -he wanted to lay his claim as surely as Gareth had laid his. "Do it, Mate. Claim me and then rest with me." He rolled them, gently spreading Gareth's legs and entering his mate. Tight, gripping, low yelps filling the air, his mate was beautiful, made for him and him alone. He poured himself into Gareth, entering his mate's body over and over again. His mate's mind opened to him, wrapped around him, and he sank into sensation. Ves'tacha. They were each other's. With that thought he came, marking his mate deep inside. Gareth sighed, the sound filled with a

deep satisfaction, a healing.

Sochar bent and kissed the mark he'd left on Gareth's neck. A low rumble filled the air, Gareth

relaxing, eyes closing.

He pulled out, shifting and curling around his mate, growling low and soft. In a single breath,

Gareth was resting against him, tail twined with his, muzzle on his paws. He licked at Gareth's

muzzle, rumbling happily.

Love. Mate. Gareth yawned, snuggling, chuffing softy. Sleep.

He barked softly in agreement.

Sleep.

Because now he was ready for winter.

***

Gareth wandered the pack, looking, searching, making sure his people were healthy, happy, fed.

It was what he did.

Touched noses, chuffed, licked, saw.

It was what an Alpha did.

Sochar padded along at his side, offering greetings of his own to everyone. Rubbing noses,

wrestling a little with his agemates and the generation that had come after. It made Gareth proud,

that his mate was so attentive, so strong, so involved.

Every time Sochar bounded back to him, the pup, well hardly a pup anymore, Sochar was fully

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grown now, his mate for four seasons, but Sochar still had the enthusiasm of a pup, leaping at him

and nipping his haunches or rubbing against him.

He leaned into Sochar on the next pass, enjoying the strength, the solid presence. Beautiful pup.

Ves'tacha. Sochar licked his muzzle, growled low, the sound happy, possessive. He growled back,

nuzzling, panting. How he loved this pup.

He could see the sudden need in Sochar's eyes, could smell the way his musk sharpened. Sochar

whined softly, need clear. He moaned low, looking toward their house. Yes. Want. Mate.

Sochar nodded and barked once and then shot ahead, racing toward the building. He followed, hot

of Sochar's heels, but not quite able to catch up. Sochar went through the swinging door and when

Gareth followed he was pounced, the two of them rolling across the floor.

He fastened onto Sochar's throat, teeth on the fur, holding on. Sochar fought his grip a moment or

two and then went still beneath him, panting, whining softly. He nuzzled in, panting, their bodies

rubbing together.

His beautiful Sochar was always so eager to prove his love, to share his need. Soft whimpers and

needy whines filled the air. He nodded, pushing harder, loving the soft fur, the heat.

Sochar put his head back and howled, exposing the lovely throat for him again, submitting to

him. It made him ache, made him snarl and his fur ruffle. Sochar whimpered again and wriggled

beneath him, bucking him off before turning and offering his rump up high.

He groaned, covering Sochar immediately, shaking with need. Sochar gave several short barks.

Yours. Mate. Ves'tacha.

Yes. Mine. My own. For life.

His eyes rolled, heat spreading between them.

Sochar barked sharply again, head going back in a howl as the scent of him grew strong.

He ached, burned, needed, his pleasure running up along his spine.

Sochar suddenly morphed, the soft, warm human skin rubbing against him. "Gareth... please, I

need you."

He nodded, sliding into his human skin without a thought, pushing right into Sochar's tight heat.

Sochar moaned, body rippling around him. He jerked, pushing hard and fast, driving into his

lover, his mate. Sochar met his thrusts, pushing the hard bottom against him again and again.

"Love you. Need." He groaned low, arching and he pushed in.

Sochar howled again, the sound ragged in his human throat, tinged with Sochar's wanton need.

"Come for me. Show me."

"Gareth!" Sochar shouted his name, seed shooting from his cock.

Shifting Too - 193

He jerked, his own pleasure filling him.

Sochar collapsed beneath him, panting. "Oh, I love you, Gareth."

"You do. My ves'tacha." He nuzzled, nibbled Sochar's nape.

Sochar hummed softly, the sound almost a purr. "Yes, yours."

"Yes, my own." He loved the way Sochar vibrated beneath him.

Sochar's hand found his, fingers twining.

"It's still as intense," Sochar murmured.

"It is. I thought it would fade."

"I'm glad it hasn't," Sochar said, wriggling a moment beneath him.

He chuckled. "We should go hunting. Go to the forests."

Sochar nodded. "Oh, yes. Near the lake?"

"Mmm... yes." They loved the water, the pastures there.

"We should check on the route the deer are taking this year, too. Make sure they're staying in our

territory."

He nodded, "They have not changed their patterns in a generation."

"There's a lot to think of as Alpha, isn't there?"

"Yes. Some days it seems endless."

Sochar rubbed back against him. "But you're so good at it!"

"It is what I was born for." He chuckled, nuzzled at Sochar, allowing the pup to roll over.

Sochar's arms immediately went around him, fingers stroking his skin. "What was I born for,

Gareth?"

"Me." He winked, took another kiss.

Sochar laughed and pushed close, mouth opening for him. Their tongues slid together, so hot, so

right. Necessary. Sochar's moans and whimpers were muffled by his mouth, fed right into him by

his always eager pup. He met each moan, each bit of passion, answering it with his own.

Sochar rolled them, lying on top of him and kissing him strongly.

Oh. A challenge. He pushed up, not quite fighting, just pushing against his mate. Sochar growled

Shifting Too - 194

a little in the back of his throat and ground down against him, rubbing hard. His eager pup's cock

was hard again already, need scenting the air.

He fought down the instinct to snarl, letting Sochar have a taste of dominance.

Sochar kept moving against him, hands sliding on his skin. It felt good, the deep, sure touch.

Sochar's kisses grew stronger, bolder, as did the touches. He ached, pushing up into the touch,

shaft hard and full again.

Sochar's hand wrapped around his shaft, holding tight and stroking him as sharp bites shocked his

lips, his chin and cheeks. His hands scraped down Sochar's spine, tugging them tighter together,

fire building inside him. Sochar whimpered and pressed hard against him, cock leaking on his

belly, so hot and hard, like burning silk.

He arched, feet thrumming on the floor, wanting, needing. Sochar's hand left his cock and slid

beneath him, grabbing his ass and tugging him up into each push down against him. His cock met

Sochar's, heat sliding on heat, the leaking tips making the glide easy.

"Close. Love. Mate. Close."

"Yes. Want to smell you, feel you, hear you. Gareth. My mate." The words were breathless,

husky, almost all growl.

He did growl, hips pumping as he shot hard. Sochar's eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring and then

his ves'tacha howled, heat splashing against Gareth's belly.

"Mmm... Hot." He growled low, rocking nice and slow.

Sochar whimpered again, nose sliding along his neck, breath panting in his ear.

"Love. Mate. Ves'tacha." He was melted, goo.

"Mine," murmured Sochar. "You are mine."

"Mmm... as you are mine."

Sochar stopped a moment and then nodded. "Yes. Yes, Gareth. Yours."

Morphing, Sochar licked at his neck. He chuckled, the long tongue tickling. Sochar moved slowly

down his body, tongue lapping at his skin, whining starting as Sochar began to clean the come from his belly. "Oh. Oh..." Had he not just come, he'd be hard again. Sochar was careful, loving, tongue cleaning his belly and then his cock and his balls, tickling between his thighs as soft whimpers adored him. His own sounds were deep, rough, muscles clenching and relaxing. Sochar's nose pushed between his legs, his mate's tongue licking at his hole, tasting the strongest part of him.

Shifting Too - 195

His breath huffed from him, entire body shaking, shuddering. "Sochar. Love."

Sochar licked again and again, whimpering softly, breath hot against his skin. His skin burned,

body so tight, so needy. Sochar morphed again, human tongue now pushing into him, licking him

inside.

"Sochar!" He arched, eyes just rolling.

Sochar's hands slid up along his chest, pinching at his nipples, fingernails scratching his

collarbones.

So big. So much. How he needed...

Sochar drew up suddenly, eyes looking down into his. "Gareth... I want."

His immediate instinct was to deny Sochar that. He was Alpha. He was dominant. But the part of

him that was human, in love, mated, that part nodded, drew Sochar down into a kiss.

Sochar trembled and whined, eyes going wide. "Really?"

"This does not belong to the Pack. This... this belongs to us." Sochar nodded, mouth closing on

his, hard and eager.

The kiss was deep, Sochar feeding needy noises into him, rubbing against him. He arched up, lips

parting, drinking Sochar in. Sochar's knees spread his legs, his mate's hard cock pressing against

him.

"Feel you. My own."

"Yes, Gareth, Mate. Me." Sochar whimpered softly and pushed into him. "Oh! Oh, Gareth!"

He whined, body shifting, toes curling up.

"Is it okay, Gareth? Is it okay?" Sochar was panting, still, hands on his ass.

"Yes... Okay..." He groaned, hips arching. "Okay."

"Can I move? I need to move." Sochar whimpered and he could feel the vibrations in Sochar's

thighs as his mate tried to hold still.

"Yes. Yes, love me. Mate."

Sochar barked with his human throat and began to move, slowly coming out and then pushing

back in again.

His eyes rolled, heart just pounding, hips jerking. "V...ves'tacha."

"Ves'tacha," repeated Sochar, moving harder, faster, pushing into him eagerly.

The burn pushed through him, stretched him, made him ache.

Shifting Too - 196

"You're so hot," Sochar told him, voice ragged, words ending on a whimper.

"Burning inside." He arched, toes curling.

"Yes. Yes. And tight." Sochar's fingers dug into his hips, body slamming against him.

"Sochar. Sochar. Please." He reached down, hand tugging on his cock.

"More? Stop? Gareth?"

"More. More." He would bite Sochar if he stopped.

"Thank the moon!" Sochar moved harder, faster, fingers digging in deeper as the pup rode him.

"Yes. Yes. Sochar!" His balls tightened, cock throbbing.

One of Sochar's hands slid away from his hip and wrapped around his own, helping to pull at his

shaft.

He shot, howling out his pleasure, the walls vibrating with it. Sochar's howl joined his own, heat

filling him inside for the first time ever.

It wasn't until the pleasure faded that the importance of what he had done hit him.

No Alpha allowed another male to mount him.

Ever.

Sochar seemed oblivious, lips warm on his neck, soft, happy whimpers coming from his throat.

He closed his eyes, stroking Sochar's hair, loving on his mate.

Trying not to think.

***

Sochar loved running the herds with the pack. He loved the way Gareth led them, the silver furred

body sure, choosing the weakest deer, nodding to them all. They all knew what part they played, bringing the beast in question down with deadly efficiency. He ran proudly at Gareth's side. He was the Alpha's mate. Almost top dog himself.

Even better were the times they went off together, time in the forest, at the lake, checking on the

herds. Nights were spent making love, grooming, loving.

Sochar came out of the lake and bounded over to where Gareth was sleeping in the sun, shaking

himself vigorously, water droplets flying from his fur. And all over Gareth.

Gareth barked, rolled up and pounced at him, their chests meeting in a loud thump. He barked

happily, laughed and bit at Gareth's neck.

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He loved playing.

Gareth rolled him, nuzzling his belly before jumping back. Laughing, he leaped up and gave

chase, pouncing on Gareth's hindquarters. Gareth stumbled a bit before getting his balance, tail

whapping him in the nose.

He barked and bit Gareth's tail. Gareth yelped, turning to charge him again. He barked again and

then turned and ran, Gareth hot on his tail.

He could hear Gareth panting, chasing him like mad.

They were almost at the other end of the lake when it occurred to him that Gareth hadn't caught

him yet. Surprised, he slowed a little.

Gareth caught him in a few leaps, breathing hard, tongue lolling out.

He rolled beneath his mate, licking at Gareth's muzzle. Gareth nuzzled, nose hot and wet, heart

pounding hard again him. He licked again, whimpering softly, a little scared.

A soft sound comforted him, vibrated against him. Peace. Easy. All is well.

He gave a soft bark and licked Gareth's muzzle again, his mate's reassurance all he needed. Those

grey eyes shone for him, breath panting out.

He howled softly, telling Gareth of his love, and began grooming his mate.

Gareth stretched, ears shifting, eyes closed.

He rolled them, really working to care for Gareth, licking and nuzzling for all he was worth. The

sounds that poured from Gareth were low and deep, happy. Warm. He did that. Him. He made the

Alpha happy, blissful.

He whined softly.

The brush of Gareth's mind against his was brief, but perfect. Ves'tacha.

Whimpering, his touches became less about comfort and more about love and lust and all the

emotions that mixed together inside him until he couldn't separate his need from his love. They

morphed together, naked skin rubbing, mouths open and needy as they loved.

"Love you," he murmured as their mouths parted for a second before coming back together with a

click of their teeth.

His hips rolled, pushing their shafts hard together. Gareth groaned, hands on his ass, pushing

them harder, faster. He was so eager, the pleasure sliding through his veins, making him throw

back his head and howl.

"My own. Beautiful." Gareth groaned, teeth fastening on his throat, marking him.

He cried out, heat spraying from him as Gareth's bite shot through him, straight to his cock.

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"Yes... Mine." Gareth lapped the spot on his throat, panting.

Moaning softly, he slid a hand between them, wrapping it around Gareth's cock. It was slick and

slippery from the splash of his come and Sochar whimpered. "Take me, Gareth. Show me."

Gareth rolled them, mounting him, needy growl echoing in the trees.

He cried out, hands grabbing his ankles as he gazed up into Gareth's eyes. The heat inside him

was incredible, hard and hot and he wanted it so badly.

"Love you. Need you more than life." Gareth's eyes were wild, glowing, hips jerking into him.

"Yes." He hissed the word and leaned up to bite at Gareth's lips, tongue swiping along after each

bite.

The grass was cool and slick against his back, Gareth burning and beautiful above him.

"Harder. Faster. More," he demanded. His own body bucked up to meet each thrust, his need

bigger than the blue sky behind Gareth's head.

They rutted, growls and yips filling the air, Gareth giving him everything. His hands slid over

increasingly slick skin, the scent of them filling his nose, making him want to howl again. He

gave voice to it all, giving as much as he was getting.

"Sochar!" His name echoed and echoed, ringing through the air.

Gareth's wild passion made him shudder, made him come, heat spreading over their bellies.

Gareth growled, pushing in deep. "Yes. Yes, mine."

"Yours," he nodded, arms and legs wrapping around Gareth, holding him hard. "Mine," he added.

Gareth nodded, nuzzling at him. "Yes."

He purred softly, head going back, offering his neck to his Alpha, his lover, his mate. That soft

tongue teased across the mark on his neck, making his skin tingle. He shivered and whined softly,

hands tightening on Gareth's skin.

"Mine. For life." The bite was sharp, quick.

He jerked and yelped, but nodded, too. "For life, Mate. And you're mine."

It was important -- he didn't just belong to Gareth, his mate belonged to him, too.

"Are you sure?" Those eyes were twinkling, shining.

Was he sure? Oh yes, he was sure. He reached up to bite and mark Gareth's neck.

Gareth pulled back, making him fight for it. He pushed up against Gareth, trying to roll him, but

Gareth was stronger in human form, more steady than he was and he couldn't. It made him fight

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harder, teeth snapping in the air as he tried to press up. Gareth growled low, pushing him back against the ground. He continued to fight, some urge inside him demanding he mark Gareth, he prove that he was...

He collapsed against the ground suddenly, whimpering softly, confused, head going back again,

offering Gareth his due as Alpha.

Gareth made a soft sound, shifting, muzzle soft on his throat, the sounds easing him.

His hands slid into Gareth's fur, petting the lovely softness before he too shifted, whining softly

for his Alpha.

Gareth was a comfort, a heat, a lover.

Everything else was just details and didn't matter. Nothing mattered but this.

***

The snow piled up as he healed, covering the windows, the door, keeping them close and trapped

and together by the fire.

Gareth leaned into Sochar, watching the flames.

He wasn't miserable.

Not at all.

For the first time in years, he was home.

Sochar was half dozing, half grooming, cleaning him lazily. The brash, bold youth was gone,

Sochar a man now, calmer.

He licked at one of Sochar's paws, the flavor a comfort, a heat deep inside him. Sochar growled

softly, the sound gentle and then Sochar's tongue slid along his muzzle.

Oh. He lifted his chin, asking for more. Sochar gave it to him, tongue on his face, licking again

and again, the scent of his ves'tacha strong on his fur.

Ves'tacha. Love. Life. He rippled, sensation sliding through him.

Sochar pulled back for a moment, deep eyes watching him and then a soft whine sounded.

Ves'tacha echoed in his head, Sochar whining again and beginning to lick him more eagerly.

His heart pounded, tongue flicking out, tasting Sochar on the air. Sochar's bark was soft and the

next time his tongue flicked out, Sochar's met it. He groaned, eyes meeting his Mate’s. He

needed. Wanted. Loved.

Sochar barked again and then slowly morphed, fur turning to skin. "Easier like this," murmured

Sochar. "You're still hurt."

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He slowly morphed. "I need you."

Sochar nodded, hands sliding on his cheek, mouth pressing against his. He opened, fingers

slipping and petting Sochar's belly, his hip. Sochar whimpered softly and whispered his name.

Warm fingers slid through his hair as Sochar's tongue pushed in.

They rocked together, the heat and pleasure sweet, growing so slowly between them. Sochar slid,

moving down until they were stretched out together, skin on skin, cocks sliding together.

"I found you. Could feel you on the wind, in the trees."

"I've missed you," Sochar told him, the words an accusation.

"We would have killed each other."

Sochar looked away, but didn't deny it. Instead, his Mate pushed against him, mouth landing on

his again, the kiss hard. He met Sochar's strength, reveled in it without shame.

Sochar's hand went behind his head, holding him in place as Sochar deepened the kiss. His own

fingers tangled in Sochar's hair, holding on. His mate. Oh. His own.

Sochar's cock slid along his, those hips starting an eager rhythm he hadn't felt in too long. He

grunted, pushing back, rocking, needing. Sochar's hand slid around to his ass, tugging him in

harder.

"Love." His entire body rippled, his need immense.

"So long," murmured Sochar. "Needed you for so long."

"Every moment. I thought my heart would break."

"Mine did," whispered Sochar, hand going to their cocks, wrapping around both of them and

pulling.

"Forgive me. Better alone than dead, ves'tacha, or so I thought."

Sochar put a hand over his mouth. "Sh. You're here now. And if you leave again I will hunt you

down and drag you back by your tail."

"Swear it." He licked Sochar's palm.

Sochar growled. "On my life."

"We mate for life. I will never leave you again."

"Good."

Sochar's hand tightened, thumb spreading their precome around, making the strokes slide easier,

slicker.

Shifting Too - 201

His breath hitched in his chest, eyes rolling. "Yes..."

Sochar's mouth slid along his chin and down to his neck, teeth scrapping and then biting where

his neck met his shoulder. Oh. Marking him. Marking him. He cried out, hips jerking, entire body

begging. Faster and harder, Sochar tugged their cocks together, lips sucking in the same rhythm,

pulling the blood to the surface.

"Yours. Ves'tacha. I need." His heart pounded, body aching, beginning to be desperate.

"Yes, mine. As I am yours. Show me. Show me."

His hips snapped, seed spraying between them, hot and wet.

"Yes!" Sochar's teeth bit again, more heat splashing between them.

He slumped, exhausted, sated, whole.

Sochar lay next to him, spreading soft kisses on his neck, his face. "Ves'tacha."

He nodded, opening to the beautiful man beside him. Ves'tacha.

Sochar whimpered softly and kissed him again. Yours.

He nodded, agreeing with everything in him. Yes. Yes. My own.

Sochar morphed back into the wolf, head going back for a howl before the soft fur pressed close,

warm against his skin. He spent a long moment petting, stroking the soft fur. Loving on his

Sochar. Sochar's head came up, the warm tongue licking over his face, long tail thumping.

Gareth smiled, leaned close and nuzzled. "Home."

Sochar whined softly and licked him again, tail wagging harder. Home.

He nodded, watched the fire. Yes. Yes, home.

***

Every time that Sochar woke and found himself curled up with Gareth, he thought he was

dreaming. For so many years he longed for Gareth, longed to be with his heart. It didn't quite

seem real now that his longings were fulfilled.

And he wasn't quite sure how to act.

He'd been Alpha of the pack and then he'd been on his own, still Alpha, still top dog. But Gareth

had been his Alpha, as well as his mate and his ves'tacha. And then Gareth had been gone.

And now he was back.

Sochar whined softly, walking circles in the cabin. He'd been so settled, had come here to live out

his last years in quiet and peace and just... die.

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Sochar didn't like confusion.

He went to the window and rose up on his hind legs, front legs on the ledge, but there was

nothing to see, the snow still higher than his little cabin.

Gareth sighed softly, morphing to move firewood, posture quiet, defeated. Sochar morphed, too,

worried Gareth was doing too much. He wouldn't say that though, instead he quietly helped,

trying to go quickly so it would be done and Gareth could rest, without it seeming like he was.

When they were done, he touched Gareth's shoulder, the need making him hard immediately. He

loved Gareth and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of their days making love, but he

didn't know where they fit anymore.

"Gareth..."

"I've made you unhappy. I shouldn't have come back." Gareth sighed, eyes on the fire. "I just

needed to see you, so badly."

"Don't say that! I'm glad you came back! I am!" He wrapped his arms around his mate. "I'm just...

I don't know how we fit anymore."

Gareth nodded, pushing close with a soft sound.

He chuckled, cheeks rubbing against Gareth. "Some places I do."

"I just want to be yours. Be beside you."

"Oh." He could remember that, remember when all he wanted was to be next to Gareth, to be

noticed by him. He'd never wanted to be Alpha. Not at first. "There is no pack here. Just us. We

don't need an Alpha."

"We don't. We have two. Together." Those tired eyes met his, the weight of Gareth's need

immense.

"I like how that sounds, Gareth. I need you and I want you." He looked right back at Gareth, letting his mate see in. "Yes." Gareth's fingers stroked his face, his jaw.

He nuzzled into the touches and then pushed their mouths together for a kiss. It was soft, sharing

rather than taking. Gareth moaned, eyes closed, body arched into his own.

He whimpered, hands sliding along Gareth’s back, body rubbing. "I want to take you," he whispered. "I want to feel you tight around me." The first frantic couplings had not been enough, never enough. "Yes. Want to feel you fill me, love me." Oh. Oh, yes.

He walked them back to the pile of blankets by the fire, pulling Gareth down with him. Gareth

went easily, their bodies rocking together.

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They kissed and touched each other, relearning their bodies, what felt good, what felt incredible. Before it had been about coming together after so long without seeing each other, now it was about rediscovering each other. Eventually, Sochar slipped around to spoon up behind Gareth. They would do it like this, so he wasn't mounting his mate, just coupling. He refused to give into the urge that demanded he show he was stronger, Alpha. Because here it didn't matter -- it shouldn't matter. Gareth brought one of his hands up to those soft lips, nibbling and nipping. He moaned softly, his

own lips pushing past Gareth's hair to lick at the smooth skin of Gareth's neck.

"Love..." The passion was rich, sweet, just a lush heat that surrounded them.

"My own," he whispered before adding, "yours," the word coming naturally, not being forced.

He nudged Gareth's leg forward with his own, his cock sliding along Gareth's ass.

"Yes. Your own. My ves'tacha. Mate." Gareth almost purred, stretching beneath him.

His fingers stroked across Gareth's belly, swept up to tease the little flat nipples as he continued

to rock, prick sliding, bumping against Gareth's opening again and again. Gareth was relaxed,

easy, heated against him.

On one of the passes, the head of his shaft slid into Gareth's body, just like that and he moaned, pushing in deeper, taking Gareth in a single, long stroke. "Sochar..." His name was a moan, deep and low.

"Gareth," he whispered back, mouth sliding along one shoulder. His mouth, lips and tongue were

all that moved as he stayed still, buried inside Gareth's heat. He whimpered. It was wonderful.

It was... more than he could have imagined. He felt Gareth's heart, beating around him, Gareth's breath coming in slow, deep pants. He closed his eyes and started to move, slowly to start, just living in each second, enjoying it. Gareth's fingers were twined with his, holding tight, squeezing. They moved together, feeling so good, wrapped around each other, within each other. Sochar whined softly, pressing himself even closer against Gareth's back, wanting to sink into his mate completely. "So good. So full of you." Gareth moaned, leaning back against him.

"I can feel you everywhere," he told Gareth. "Feel you all around me and in my heart."

"I am everywhere. I am yours." Gareth kissed his wrist.

Whimpering, he started to move faster, eager to make Gareth feel good.

Gareth pushed back against him, groaning low. "More."

Shifting Too - 204

He pushed harder, his hand dropping from Gareth's to wrap around Gareth's hot, silky shaft.

"Oh. Love..." The words were barked out, Gareth jerking and groaning.

He whined, moved faster. "My own heart."

"Yes. Yes. For life. Faster." Demanding beast.

Laughing, he did what Gareth wanted, pushing in faster, tugging harder on his mate's hard heat.

Gareth squeezed him, hips jerking and rocking. It felt so good and he couldn't hold back any longer as the pleasure grew and grew inside him. He cried out, pushing deep, his seed spilling into Gareth. "Ves'tacha!" Gareth shook, heat pouring over his hands.

He moaned, plastered against Gareth's back, holding onto his mate. Gareth held him, shaking.

"Mine," he whispered. "Mine. Mine. Mine." He would hold on forever and not ever let go.

"Yes. Yes, Mate. Yours." Gareth nodded. "Your own."

"Ours. Our own." He nodded. He thought that was right.

Gareth chuffed. "I like that."

Oh, he loved that sound. He'd missed that sound. He pressed their mouths together again, the kiss

slow and languid. Gareth wrapped around him, fingers petting his hair.

"Love you, Mate," he whispered. And that was why it didn't matter if it was confusing or hard or

strange -- he wasn't letting Gareth go again.

***

"He's acting like the Alpha, Gareth." Greta had him cornered, her eyes flashing. "Strutting

around, acting as if he answers to no one. You have to stop it."

"He's a male, strong. You can't expect him to..."

Greta snapped. "If he's going to challenge you, let it happen. You're confusing the Pack."

He growled, snapped back. "I am Alpha."

Sochar came running up, rubbing against his legs, growling at Greta, snapping at her with wolf's

teeth. He reached down, hand in Sochar's ruff, restraining the pup.

"Enough. Greta, you have heard me on this."

Sochar barked sharply, adding his voice. Gareth had to fight himself not to growl back, snap. He

had to protect the power of the Alpha, the place.

Shifting Too - 205

"Get him in line, Gareth. Before it's too late." She growled at them both and turned, stalking off. He tossed his head, the urge to howl, run, fight huge, red-edged in his sight. Sochar barked and nipped at his fingers, demanding his attention. "What, Sochar?" He looked down, panting. "What do you need?" Sochar ran a few steps and then bounced back to him, gave another sharp bark. He followed, distracted, fighting the urge to morph and growl. Every now and then Sochar would come over and lick him, bark and bound and then continue on toward the forest. He did morph finally, running idly, thoughts swirling through his head. Sochar's happy yips sounded as soon as he'd morphed, his mate running through the woods. The happy sounds soothed him, made his frustration ease, and he followed, feeling younger, more free. Sochar stopped for a moment to howl and then turned to pounce him, sending them both rolling. He landed on top, blinking, the forest spinning. Sochar chuffed happily, licking and nipping at his muzzle. He huffed, shaking his head. Silly pup. He nipped the long, soft throat. Sochar whined softly, neck going back for him. Yes. Mine. My own. He licked, nuzzled, lapping the soft fur. Sochar rubbed and wriggled against him, so eager and wanton. He pushed down, rubbing back, growling soft and low. Sochar wriggled harder, pushing his pace. He forced himself to keep his pace, to move slowly, steadily. Sochar kept pushing against him, growling a little, teeth snapping together. He growled back, refusing to speed. Sochar settled, whimpered, whined and licked at his muzzle. Yes. That's right. Mine. He rubbed, rewarding Sochar with low sounds, licks. Sochar whimpered again, body shivering. The scent of his mate's need was sharp and strong, good. He bit down, teeth scraping, threatening. Sochar barked and whined, musk growing stronger. He morphed, shaft sliding along Sochar's belly fur. Following his lead, Sochar morphed as well, mouth meeting his in an eager clash of teeth. Their tongues slid together, hot and wet, needy. He needed. Sochar's arms and legs wrapped around him, tugging him in close, his mate's need hot and urgent against his belly. His fingers tangled in Sochar's hair, baring that long throat to his mouth. Sochar whined, back arching, the long line of his mate's body rubbing beneath him. "Please." He nodded, teeth scraping Sochar's throat, cock rubbing furiously. Sochar bucked against him, heat spraying between their bodies. Yes. Yes, he'd needed this. Needed Sochar. One of Sochar's hands pushed in between them, taking his prick in hand and tugging. "Want to smell you, Gareth. Want to taste you." "Love..." His head snapped back, hips rocking.

Shifting Too - 206

Sochar's free hand landed on his ass, tugging him up, his Sochar's mouth open, tongue licking

Sochar's lips.

"Hungry pup." His cock throbbed, balls tight and aching.

"Not a pup," countered Sochar. "But I'm hungry."

"My pup." He was needing that mouth, that heat.

Sochar's eyes met his, full of heat as his mate's mouth wrapped around his cock.

"Sochar..." Heat poured through him, his toes curling with the pleasure.

His mate whimpered around his shaft, making it vibrate, suction fierce, matching the look in

Sochar's eyes.

He shook, moving faster, needing more. He pushed in deep, heart just pounding furiously.

"Mate."

Sochar swallowed around his cock, hands landing on his ass, squeezing. He shot, the light

sparkling in his eyes, his howl echoing in the trees. Sochar was still sucking him as he came

down, eyes watching his face, intent, hot. Sochar's face was soft, smooth, warm under his fingers.

Beautiful boy.

"Love you," whispered Sochar fiercely as he pulled out of the pup's mouth.

"Yes. Love you, Mate." He rubbed their cheeks together. "Never doubt that."

"Mate. Mine." Sochar made a purring noise and rubbed back, nuzzling into his neck.

He nipped Sochar's ear. "Mine."

Sochar chuckled and rubbed beneath him. "Yes, Gareth."

Yes. He nodded, lips brushing Sochar's jaw. This was why it was worth it. Just this.

***

Sochar was pleased to be out on the hunt. He'd been restless lately, pushy and growly, unhappy in

ways he couldn't understand, couldn't figure out. Out here he could run by Gareth's side, run ahead as he moved to flank one of the deer. He hardly even noticed that Gareth hadn't given the signal yet, hadn't chosen. Sochar already had. He ran playing his part in the machine the pack made.

They took the deer down, the big buck's antlers tossing and slashing at them.

He put his head back and howled, mouth full of warm, thick blood from the buck's throat.

It took long moments before he realized Gareth wasn't feeding with the rest of them, was sitting

Shifting Too - 207

in the lee of a tree, licking his side. Sochar growled and snarled at Teyeth and Randor, grabbed

some of the soft innards and brought them over to Gareth, giving him his due.

Gareth snapped at him, teeth bared, lip curled. He snarled back and then stepped back and

whimpered, head going down. Gareth stared him down until he looked away, then turned the grey

back to him, dismissing him.

He whimpered and then turned, snarling at anyone daring to stare at him. Everyone looked away,

then started to get the kill ready to take home, the tension in the air palpable.

As soon as they started back toward home, Sochar turned tail and ran into the forest, as fast as he

could.

He wasn't sure what hurt more -- that Gareth snarled at him or that Gareth didn't follow.

He ran and ran, heading for the lake without even realizing it. By the time he got there he was

exhausted and he ran right into the water, cooling off, washing the blood from his fur.

After a long bath, he heard a rustling in the bush, Darren padding over. The lean, strong male

lapped the water, blue eyes watching him. He watched back, wary, and slowly came out of the

water. What was this?

Darren morphed, looking over at him, lean as he washed the smooth skin.

Sochar morphed himself and stood there, hands across his chest. "What?"

"The hunters asked me to come." Darren and he had been age mates. "We want to know if you

will challenge Gareth."

He snarled. "Gareth is my mate."

"Yes. The pack needs a strong Alpha."

"It has one." He snarled again, furious. Furious at Darren. At the hunters. At himself for wanting

it.

Darren growled low. "You run the hunters, you took down the deer. You look to him no longer. It

is time for Gareth to step down."

He growled, pacing faster. "He's my mate."

"Yes. You're stronger. We need you."

"I stand by him." Gareth was strong. Especially with him at Gareth's side.

"Even if he falls?" Darren shook his head. "You cannot fight the wolf, Sochar."

He wouldn't betray Gareth. He wouldn't. "I'll be there when the time comes."

Gareth would step down before it was too late. They would make this work -- he would be Alpha

and Gareth would be his and it would be okay.

Shifting Too - 208

"You are meant to be Alpha. You want it." Darren stepped closer. "You have the support of the

hunters. The females will follow."

"So the hunters have taken to politics?" Gareth walked out of the trees, a long scratch along one

side. "To deciding who is Alpha?"

"Gareth!" His heart leapt -- Gareth had followed him after all. He all but bounded over to

Gareth's side. "I told him I stand by you."

Gareth looked at him, eyes still and quiet. "I heard it all."

"Then you heard me tell him I stand by you. You're my mate."

The look in Gareth's eyes, he'd never seen it before, not directed at him.

"I did." Gareth nodded, eyes on Darren. "You speak for the hunters?"

"We're agemates," Sochar told Gareth. "We played together once."

"You cannot stop time. You are old, Gareth. You need to step down. You have chosen a

successor."

Sochar turned and snarled at Darren. "You had my answer. Leave us."

Gareth moved, glared at him. "You are not Alpha yet."

Sochar backed off, head lowered. "I meant no offence." His heart was pounding so hard, his heart

and his mind and his instincts warring with each other.

"He is young, strong. You swore to do the best for the pack."

"I am not so ancient as all that. I have much to offer the pack."

"You're not old at all, Gareth! You're strong. A wonderful Alpha!" Sochar dared take a step

toward Gareth's side.

"He was. The hunters will speak to Greta, Gareth. We all believe it is time. You will always be

honored, but you are no longer strongest."

"Then challenge him yourself, Darren." Sochar knew Darren wouldn't. None of the others would

because the only one who could come close to Gareth was him.

"Go home, Darren. Tell the Hunters I have heard their voices and I will address them.

Sochar glared at Darren until the man morphed and the last of his tail was seen disappearing

behind the trees. "That's telling him, Gareth." Gareth didn't answer, simply morphed and padded out to the water, drinking deep. He whined softly and morphed, too, following, rubbing along Gareth's haunches. Please and I love you and I'm yours.

Shifting Too - 209

Gareth was stiff for a moment, then leaned into him, accepted him. He whimpered, more relieved than he'd expected and he licked eagerly at Gareth's muzzled, wanting to play or to love, just wanting to be with Gareth. Gareth chuffed softly, eyes watching him closely, every move. He panted happily and kept licking, getting his scent all over his mate. The blood from the wound was sharp, metallic. He followed the scent of it, licking down along Gareth's side until he hit the wound. He cleaned it with his tongue, whimpering softly. He hadn't even realized Gareth had been hurt in the hunt. Gareth groaned, stretching for him, tension eased. He kept licking, long after the wound had been cleaned, slowly nudging Gareth toward the shore. Gareth followed, head down, panting softly. Sochar licked Gareth's paws and his muzzle, his back and his hindquarters, loving on his mate, pushing everything but the need away. Gareth moved, shifting and sliding, low sounds escaping into the air. He kept licking, growling softly, letting Gareth know how much he loved and adored his mate. Gareth's voice responded, the love there strong, but somehow sad. He whimpered softly and started to move against Gareth, moving to mount his mate. Gareth shifted away, growling low, head shaking. Sochar felt as if he'd been slapped. Then he figured he must have misunderstood and he pushed forward, again trying to mount Gareth. Gareth turned, snapping, eyes glowing with a mixture of pain and anger. No. He backed away with a whimper, head down. No? He didn't understand. He whimpered again and moved slowly around so he was approaching Gareth from the front. He went to lick Gareth's muzzle. Gareth met his eyes, the look in them unlike any he'd ever seen. Gareth licked his nose, his chin, grooming him. Sochar just stood there, whimpering every now and then, whining, not understanding what was going on at all. Gareth was his mate. His. Every inch of him was licked, fur cleaned and straightened, even his long tail carefully loved. He growled softly -- it felt good and he wanted to reciprocate, to make Gareth feel good, too, but he was scared to, scared of that strange look in his mate's eyes. He was nudged, rolled so Gareth could reach his belly. He stretched for Gareth, knowing he'd not do this for anyone else, ever. It kind of made him feel like a pup though, like Gareth was putting him in his place as much as loving on him. That mouth ended on his throat, teeth close, Gareth just staying there. Breathing. He barked softly. Yours. Gareth nodded, the motion shaking his ruff. He dared to lick at Gareth's ear, about all he could reach, but otherwise he just stayed where he

Shifting Too - 210

was, quiet and obedient to Gareth. Gareth lifted his head and howled, the sound mournful, ringing

through the trees.

He morphed, hands reaching up to slide into Gareth's fur. "Love you, Mate," he told Gareth, a

shiver going down his spine.

Gareth's pelt became soft, smooth skin, the long arms holding him close. Whimpering, he pushed

even closer, tilting his head for a kiss.

Gareth's kiss tasted of tears.

***

He woke from a nightmare of wind and rain and endless pain, the loss inside him huge. He

howled when he leapt from the furs, eyes rolling, snapping at the air. The room smelled of heat

and smoke and home and...

Sochar.

His Sochar.

His Sochar who came padding out from the kitchen. "Hey, Gareth." He was given a smile and

strong fingers rubbed along the ruff of his neck. "Are you all right?"

He pushed into the touch. Oh. Home. Their own home. Yes.

Yes, he was all right.

Sochar dropped to his knees, both hands digging in now, rubbing and petting and scratching as

Sochar rubbed his human nose along Gareth's muzzle. He relaxed, lapping and nuzzling Sochar's

belly, cuddling. Oh. Good. "So beautiful, Gareth. I've always loved your fur." The words warmed him, made him feel alive and sensual and fine. Sochar's fingers moved in longer strokes, sliding down along his back, his flanks. "I’m never letting you go again, Gareth. There's nowhere you can go that I won't follow you." Gareth panted, stretched, the words a balm.

"Yeah, that's right, you heard me. You're stuck with me." Sochar smiled at him, eyes warm.

He licked Sochar's thigh, almost playful, eyes dancing. Promise?

He could see Sochar's surprise and pleasure and then his ves'tacha laughed softly. "Yes, Gareth. I

promise. For always."

Always. He licked again, then nuzzled the soft sacs, feeling almost young.

Sochar gasped, legs spreading. "Oh, Gareth..."

He chuffed softly, licking again. Yes, ves'tacha.

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Sochar's fingers curled into his fur, the moan that left his ves'tacha was sweet, wanton. The scent of passion surrounded him, strong and male and he licked more, nudging, nuzzling in. Sochar sat down suddenly, leaning back and spreading his legs. He groaned, morphing, mouth open, tongue flicking out to taste. Sochar's fingers slid through his hair, thumb sliding along his lower lip. He sucked that thumb in, head bobbing, pulling and licking. Tasting Sochar. "Oh, that feels... good." A low moan accompanied the words, Sochar shivering.

"Tastes good." He spread Sochar wider, tongue sliding down behind Sochar's sacs.

Sochar drew his legs back, offering himself.

His growl was deep.

Needy.

Desperate.

His mate. So fine.

"Please, Gareth. Yours." Sochar sounded desperate as well.

"Yes." He tilted Sochar's hips in his hands, tongue pressing against the little hole, tasting, the

scent of male making him want to howl.

Sochar gasped and moaned, hands fisting into the blankets beneath him. He licked and lapped,

pushing in, loving his mate. Moans and whimpers met every lick, every lap, his mate letting him

know how good it felt. His fingers explored, his tongue stroked and pushed, adoring Sochar with

all he was.

"Gareth. Oh, love, love." Sochar whined, hips moving, pushing into him.

Yes. Love. Always. His love. He growled, pushing harder.

"Please, oh. You're going to make me..." A shudder went through Sochar's body.

He shifted up, mounting Sochar with a cry, his cock sinking in deep. "Ves'tacha!"

"Yours!" Sochar's body welcomed him, drew him in and held him tight.

"Yes. Yes. Yours. Love." They rutted, happy howls and cries filling the air.

It wasn't long at all before Sochar's heat spread between them, his mate still pushing up into each

thrust enthusiastically. He ducked his head, panting, growling low as his balls tightened.

"Mate. Mine." Sochar's mouth met his, hard and toothy and perfect.

He bucked, pushing in deep, emptying himself. "Yes! Ves'tacha!"

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Arms hard around him, Sochar tugged him down. He cuddled in, panting, eyes rolling.

"I love you, Gareth." Sochar's fingers were warm, sliding over his skin.

"Love..." He nuzzled, lapping Sochar's throat.

"Yes. It feels good." Sochar undulated beneath him, neck stretched out for him.

"Yes." It felt more than good.

Sochar growled softly, the sound more a vibration against him than any real noise. He morphed,

tail wagging, muzzle on Sochar's throat. Those long fingers slid into his fur again, Sochar petting,

scratching, loving on him.

Oh. Oh, so good.

He panted, rolling over to show his belly. Laughing, Sochar followed, rubbing hard.

He stretched, legs moving restlessly. More.

Everything. Sochar's hands never stopped moving on him, giving him what he wanted, what he

needed.

Love. Love. He yelped, wiggled, caught in the center of pure pleasure.

Sochar morphed suddenly, rubbing against him, mouth on his neck. He groaned, chin lifting,

heart pounding. Sochar's teeth sank in, marking him. He groaned, eyes rolling, swallowing hard.

Yes. Sochar's.

Sochar let go of his neck and then howled, the sound filling Gareth. His own howl joined

Sochar's, twined with it.

The sound was theirs, something they made together. Something more than either of them alone.

Sochar's heat sprayed over him, coating him with Sochar's musk.

He groaned, panting, the scent filling the air. Sochar licked his muzzle, whining softly. He licked

back, heart at ease.

Sochar settled on him, and he could feel the peace in his ves'tacha's soul.

Love. His own love.

His ves'tacha.

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Contributors

Sara Bell Sara Bell is a thirty-something freelance writer living in upstate Alabama with her sexy, baldheaded husband and two beautiful, exceptionally bright daughters. When not busy chugging away at the keyboard, Sara can be found burning cookies for school bake sales and logging time as the family taxi driver. To learn more about Sara and her work, or to contact her directly, please visit her discussion group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/themagicinyourtouch/ Alex Draven Librarian by day, storyteller by night, Alex Draven is addicted to language, music, love and all the stuff of fairytales. Rob Knight Writer, editor, animal lover and avid reader of erotic fiction, Rob was pleased to be asked to work with Torquere Press again, especially on the sequel to the popular Shifting which he edited for Torquere Press in 2003, once again giving him a chance to explore the strange and visceral, that animal magnetism. Rob enjoys travel, pets, bad B movies, and men kissing. He’s working on an upcoming anthology of his own work for Torquere Press: postcards or snapshots from older gay men. Sean Michael Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys. Other than that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark. Pluto http://www.thatdamncat.com/ch/ Lorne Rodman Lorne Rodman's characters tend to reflect the wide array of personality traits possessed by the author; from shy and squeaky to bold and arrogant, they represent the best and worst of Lorne's life. Humor and hot sex are trademarks of Lorne's stories, as is pushing the envelope of what is proper and acceptable. Lorne's hobbies range from searching for the ultimate gay porn story to attempting needlework with his toes. Julia Talbot Julia Talbot resides in the Southwest of the United States with her dog, several houseplants, and has not quit her day job. She has a penchant for blank books, gay porn, and big, ugly hats. She can most often be found in coffee shops and restaurants, scribbling in her notebook and entertaining other diners with her mutterings. Julia cut her reading and writing teeth on purpleprosed romance novels, and as a result decided that boys were much more interesting with boys. Intense study of her subject and as much firsthand research as possible figure heavily in her writing adventures.

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BA Tortuga B. A. Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life, with hobbies that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub dips, and ogling hot guys at the beach. A connoisseur of the perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites in the name of research. Mixing the natural born southern propensity for sarcasm and the environmental western straight-shooting sensibility, BA manages to produce mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure, unadulterated smut. BA's latest projects include ongoing work on a novel set in the old west.

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