Sweet Hay
I am still pleasantly hovering around the edges of
full consciousness. I allow myself a little
indulgence, a little fantasy. My morning tent is up,
trustworthy as usual. Happy thoughts. Green eyes. Not
Willow, no. Thoughts of Willow... strictly off-limits
if I want to stay whole, sane and alive. Alex. His
eyes are a clearer, edgier green. Emerald. I like to
think about the way his face looked when he was
checking me out in that motel shower. Hungry. Starved.
Not much time for the good things in life when you're
a badaaaasss mutha, is there? And Alex is seriously
badass, no doubt about it. He doesn't talk about it,
of course, but there's really no question about it. He
has killed. Probably will again. Possibly he has
enjoyed it on occasions. Violence is inherent in his
being. I watch my mouth just a little when I'm around
him. Even when we banter, I keep a lid on it. I don't
want him to hit me. His hands look hard. But they can
probably do a lot more pleasant things than whack me
in the face. Oh, I have no second thoughts about using
him in my fantasies, about taking what I want.
Alex in his tight black jeans. Great ass. Muscular
arms, broad shoulders. Alex knows what he looks like,
why the hell else those tight tee shirts, those
low-slung, hip-hugging pants?
My tent is appreciating this line of thought. I let a
hand creep down to give things a little squeeze.
Alex... his hands... right there. His mouth... that
way, please. My other hand sneaks under my shirt to
tweak a hardening nipple. I have to gasp just a
little. The other hand on my boner, keeping up a bit
of friction through the rough denim of my jeans. Soon
I will have to consider releasing my insistent penis
for a more thorough workout.
I smell him on a breeze just before he walks into the
barn. With a minor curse under my breath I let go of
my dick. A setback.
"You awake?"
"Uh-huh."
"Let's move out."
I walk out into the balmy summer night. The moon is
swollen above my head, and I can feel it tugging at
something inside me, a deep, throbbing pulse. Soon...
soon.
"What is it?" Alex next to me. His heat so close to my
back, burning through my thin tee shirt. I feel
strangely giddy. My hardon isn't going anywhere
anytime soon.
"The moon", I whisper, elated. "Two more days."
His hand touches my shoulder. Surge of electricity. I
lean backwards just a bit, lean into him, my back
against his hard chest. He flinches a little, but the
hand stays on my shoulder. My idle morning hardon has
turned into a raging hormonal beast. I rein it in with
an effort. What to do? The hand on my shoulder is
perfectly still. And I can smell his excitement. He
keeps his hips prudently pulled back, but what does it
help when you deal with yours truly? You can't lie to
a werewolf.
I turn around, slipping my arm around his waist.
Giving him a big, old hug, letting him feel my boner.
I press my face into the hollow of his throat, which
is about as far as I reach. Smelling sweat and dust
and something that can't be described because it is
uniquely his. Feeling his pulse flutter through the
thin skin.
His arms come around me, and now I feel his hardness
for real. Told you so. I open my mouth just a little,
and taste his skin, taste the salt and musk of it. The
moon is so close to full that I have a distinct urge
to bite down for a better taste, but it's under
control.
His hands—so hot!—slide up my back, over my
shoulders, to cup my face and turn it upwards. His
eyes, black in the dusk, meet mine.
"What are you doing?" he whispers. Leaving it up to me
to pull him down so I can kiss him.
His mouth is as soft as it looks. I simply press my
own against it, not exactly doing anything, just
holding back, giving him plenty of time to make up his
mind. How odd that he would be the one to hesitate,
the man, the experience all on his side. I have never
even kissed a man in my life. My past ventures into
the uncharted waters of gay sex amount to a few
hesitant blowjobs given and received by my gorgeous
but vapid band front man Devon. I had put it down to
sexual frustration on his part, experimentation on
mine. Well, well, well. Apparently, the owls are not
quite what they seem. Who'll be blowing you now I'm
not coming back, Dev? You never let me kiss you, you
priggish bastard.
And finally Alex opens his mouth to receive me.
Sloppy, enthusiastic kissing. And are those his hands,
grabbing my ass? Slipping between my legs, poking
around in a delightful, knowing way. I have to break
for air, and can't help a tiny yelp when his fingers
hit some preciously sensitive spot, through two layers
of cloth, to boot. Now, I can't even rightly say I
know about all the hot spots on my body. Devon for
sure never bothered to find any, and Willow... well,
Willow won't even say ass.
So all in all, I reflect as Alex manhandles me back
into the barn, this will be different. No need to mind
sensitive feelings, hold back, be gentle. This is a
man, quite possibly old enough to be my father, a man
with twenty or more years of experience. A real, hard,
gay man in all his splendor. His mouth is ravaging
mine, stealing my breath and leaving my head spinning.
My knees buckle, and he pushes me down onto fragrant
hay. The world isn't going to stop swirling around me
like that, is it? I feel drunk, I feel crazy. His
hands, hot on my skin, tugging at my tee. I wriggle
out of it with a minor effort. Another searing kiss
and his mouth leaves mine to attend to my aching, rock
hard nipples. I squirm, I gasp, I rake my fingers
through his hair, down his taut, muscular back. My
hips buck involuntarily. Sharp straws are scratching
my back but really, who cares? Not me, not when
talented hands are working on my fly. I arch my back
and moan, letting the moan resemble his name, and
alright, his breath on my quivering dick, oh yes, wet
warmth... My hands grab random tufts of hay, let go,
grab some more. There, a sharp, helpless thrust into
accepting depths, another and then his hands are on
the sharp ridges of my hip bones, holding me down,
gently at first, then rougher. His fingers dig into
tender flesh, but it doesn't stop me at all. I bruise
easily, my skin being very pale, very thin, but the
bruises always fade in less than a day, something I
find vaguely disappointing. It's kind of a cop out to
have superpowers, I figure. There is not a single scar
on my body. Eerie, but all too true. The change leaves
my human form flawless and reborn every time. There
are no pockmarks in my face, no new outbreaks of acne,
not a freckle to be found. Even my vaccination scar
has melted away, as has the mark after the bullet I
took for Willow.
There isn't really time for contemplation now, for
he's doing... whatever he does, and my brain shorts
out as the orgasm slams into me, claws its way through
my gut, spreading into every part of my thrumming
body. Intense. For a few moments I am quite unable to
move a single finger. Alex, having swallowed what was
offered without hesitation, slithers back up my body
for a new set of kisses, now with the added spice of
my come. This is also new to me, but not at all
unpleasant. Au contraire. I find my arms again, and
promptly aim for the hardon I am reminded of as Alex's
gorgeous body presses against me again. He is
impressively hard, and the lightest, briefest touch
elicits a hissing gasp from him. I fumble a little
with his fly (practice will, no doubt make perfect),
but manage it with reasonable dexterity, and there it
is. No underwear, you kinky boy, you. He lies
completely still, except for the deep trembles that
travel through his prone body. I slide a finger down
the seam on the underside of his cock, and what is
that? Soft skin curls in my hand. Our boy sports a
foreskin. I, having a very limited experience with
cocks, have never seen one before.
I am momentarily taken aback at what I have here. One
achingly beautiful man aroused to the point of
insanity by the alluring presence of yours truly.
Check. One impressively dimensioned uncut cock in my
very hand. Check.
I let go of that pretty tool for a moment to give his
erect nipples my undivided attention. Nibble...
lick... tweak... He gasps. Groans. I like the sound
of him groaning like that, deep in his throat,
rumbling in his chest. I give him a little more of the
same, then move purposefully downwards to that waiting
cock.
Strong, almost overwhelming masculine scent. Neither
of us has seen a shower in a while, but this is not a
problem. My sense of smell has become something quite
otherworldly after the change, and this intense
assault, the smell of this man, just turns all my
pleasure dials up to eleven.
Not a clear thought left in my head as I take him into
my mouth, letting my tongue play a little with that
unfamiliar foreskin on my way down the long shaft. I
hear him moan louder, He mumbles something (that
wasn't my name. What... who is he thinking about?
It doesn't matter) under his breath, twining his
fingers in my hair, stroking my head, my neck.
When he comes, it's with something like a scream, and
there it is again, two syllables that almost
positively make up a name. And the desolation of that
scream bites deep. I realize that this man probably
has as much to try to forget as I have.
Which leads me to Willow, and that's not a place I
want to go, so I crawl back up to kiss Alex, making
myself feel the difference, this isn't Willow, never
will be. And that, dammit, is a good thing. He is
looking at me, and there is pain in his eyes. His
green eyes. Willow's face again. I shut off the
thought. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me
like that. Who he wants to think about but can't let
himself. Is it a man or a woman, or something strange
like me? Someone he used to love, but lost? Someone he
never had? I want to ask, but I don't want him asking
me about Willow, so I don't. Let the past forever be
clouded. The future is coming, and we're it. Two men
with nothing in common, but we will stay together
anyway, because there is nothing else to do.
Take Me Away Part Two
by Wax Jism
I awake to sweet-smelling darkness. The night is
sounding with the secret movements of a billion tiny
creatures. I can smell slightly larger animals going
about their usual business of hunting, eating,
fucking, dying all around me, under me in the fragrant
hay. My bed is soft, sheltered as I am from the
prickly hay by Alex's trusty old leather. I turn my
head, smelling him on it, as if it were his own shed
skin. Alex himself is nowhere to be found. The car is
right there, looming black against dark blue as my
eyes begin to adjust to the scant light the night sky
provides. I burrow deeper into the hay, pulling the
heavy leather jacket around me. I vaguely remember
stumbling out of the car and into this rickety barn.
Alex must have lifted me onto the leather after I
conked out. What day is it, anyway? No idea. We have
been on the road for just about two eternities.
Crossing more state lines in these few days—or is it
weeks?—than I had in all my life before. So, which
state is this? Kansas? Idaho? Montana? I'm not even
sure which way we have been heading. Alex has to be
Superman, or at least his cousin. No one gets by on
that amount of sleep. Not me, anyway. I wonder how
long I've been asleep this time.
