Camwolf

by J. L. Merrow

“Nick.” Julian’s voice was pleading, and Nick realised uncomfortably that he was half-standing.

  God, he’d probably just shouted that last question. A quick scan of the pub confirmed that yes, all eyes were upon him, and he sat, embarrassed and still angry. “That’s not what you said before,” he muttered, guiltily conscious of the accusation in his tone. “You said you’d fucked.”

  Nick hated himself for causing the pinched look on Julian’s face. “It was…complicated,” the boy whispered.

  “I’m sorry.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “God, now you know the real reason I don’t date. I’m just so bloody awful at it.”

  Bizarrely, Julian was smiling again. “It’s all right. I wouldn’t expect you to feel any differently. But can we forget him now?”

  Nick took a drink, grimaced at the watery taste, and put his glass down again. “Absolutely. So, er, what were we talking about?”

  “You said you were from Cornwall and that you miss the sea.”

  “Ah, yes. Mm, well, the point is, there’s more to the British Isles than East Anglia and Kent. You should take a trip up north sometime—plenty of mountains in Scotland, even if they’re not as high as the ones you’re used to. And Wales, of course, although it always seems to tip down when I’m there. The rain, I mean,” he added in case the idiom was unfamiliar to Julian.

  “Rain isn’t so bad. At least it keeps the people in their houses. Less chance of being seen when you go out for a run.”

  “Agreed, and that’s probably what we should be doing now, if we’re going to.” Nick hesitated. “We don’t have to, you know. If you’d rather do something else…”

  Julian’s smile turned teasing. “Oh, I think we could combine the two, don’t you?”

  Which wasn’t, in fact, what Nick had been talking about at all, but now it had been mentioned he was suddenly desperate for the boy. “Shall we, then?” He nodded at his largely untouched drink. “I don’t think I’ll bother with the rest of that.”

  Julian smiled and raised his own glass to his lips, draining the contents.

  The publican called out a cheery “Good night!” as they left, and Nick felt he might, after all, dare to show his face here again. Outside, it was surprisingly cold, the wind having got up. “I don’t think we’ll be wanting to spend the night out, do you?” he commented as they got back into the Mini Cooper.

  “No. A shame, though.” Julian’s hand brushed Nick’s thigh, a touch innocent of itself, but which sent a surge of arousal coursing through him. Nick had to force himself not to flout the speed limits too outrageously as he drove towards the Godolphin Estate.

  Going to the pub had been a good idea, he decided as he pulled Julian to him in the dark of the little wooded area. He felt relaxed—needy, but not savage. Julian seemed to respond to his mood and they kissed deeply, tongues exploring each other’s mouths lazily. There was a freshness about Julian’s kiss that made Nick want to be gentle with him, protect him. It was only with reluctance that he broke the kiss. “We should get out of the car,” he said in an almost-whisper. “More room.”

  Julian’s nod was more felt than seen. They got out and rejoined one another at the front of the car. Their bodies seemed to mould together, and their kiss was, if anything, deeper than before. Nick shivered as he felt Julian pulling up his shirt and exposing his back to the chill night air, but the heat between them was more than enough to compensate.

  Nevertheless, Julian abandoned his attempt to get Nick’s shirt off, for now, at any rate. He moved his hands round to Nick’s belt buckle, and Nick felt his breathing hitch. Backing off a little to give Julian room, he kissed his way down the slender neck that showed up faintly in the pale light of the moon that hung just above the treetops. Nick moaned aloud as Julian opened his trousers and freed his cock. Nick scrabbled at the fastening of Julian’s trousers, desperate to return the favour. His knees felt weak as he finally pressed their erections together. Their combined heat seared his palm and sent a wave of sensation shuddering through him, almost as if he’d come at the moment of contact.

  “Nick…” Julian whispered.

  “Mine,” Nick replied, a small part of him ashamed of his possessiveness, but the rest of him exultant. Yes. His, not Schräger’s. For once, though, the impulse aroused in him was one of tenderness. He stroked them both slowly, gently—too gently to reach orgasm, but then that wasn’t what he was aiming for. Not yet. “I want to take you.”

  “Yes. God, yes. How do you want me?”

  Instead of answering, Nick took hold of Julian’s beautiful, firm arse and lifted him bodily onto the still-warm bonnet of the Mini Cooper. Julian’s trousers were now in the way, so Nick pulled them off carefully and dropped them, with his shoes, to the forest floor. Then he bent to take Julian in his mouth.

  Julian cried out and arched his back, bucking into Nick’s mouth. “Stop! Please, I can’t…”

  “Too much?”

  “I want you inside me when I come.”

  For once, Nick was prepared. He took a condom from his jacket pocket and slipped it on—a little like locking the stable door after the horse had bolted, but better than nothing, he supposed. Shoving the ripped foil back into his pocket, he took out a small tube of lube.

  “You don’t need to—”

  Nick’s jaw clenched briefly. “Who is the alpha here?”

  He could hear the smile in Julian’s voice as he answered. “You are.” He lay back on the bonnet, hands hitching up his legs. Baring himself for Nick.

  I love you, Nick almost said. He drizzled the lube over Julian’s hole and applied it liberally to his own erection. Then, with one hand on his cock and the other on Julian’s hip, he pushed in.

  He’d thought he knew what it felt like to be inside Julian. He’d known nothing. It was incredible, amazing—pleasure without anger, without jealousy. Before, they’d rutted like beasts. Now, it was something different, something better. Nick’s whole body felt electrified by the contact. A simple brush of skin against skin was like three thousand volts directly into the pleasure centre of his brain. Nick moaned, or spoke, he couldn’t tell which.

  “Need you,” Julian said, and it was all Nick could do not to slam into him. But he managed, somehow. He pushed in farther, every fraction of an inch wringing more sensation from him. When Julian’s whole body jerked, he knew he was there. Pulling out slightly, Nick thrust into that tight channel again.

  “Yes! God, yes…” Julian was babbling, incoherent. Nick set up a rhythm, so exquisitely slow he thought he might die of it. But it was worth it, to see that look on Julian’s pale, moonlit face.

  So beautiful, Nick thought, and then he felt Julian’s body contracting around him and smelt the odour of fresh come, and it pushed him over the edge as well. It was so intense, it was almost painful—like a kind of transformation. It seemed to go on forever. Nick felt suspended between moments, as if nothing could ever be the same again. Then, all too soon, the waves of pleasure subsided and he hung, panting, over Julian’s limp body. As his softening prick slipped out, Julian’s legs straightened. Nick pulled him up and held him close, feeling come soaking into his shirt and not giving a damn.

  His only regret was that it was too cold to linger in one another’s arms for long afterward. Reluctantly, Nick released his lover. They stood there in the moonlight for a moment, just looking at each other. “Time to change,” Nick said at last, and they silently removed the rest of their clothing. Nick, at least, felt that words, right now, were redundant.

  There was a strange kind of beauty in the way Julian transformed. It was a seamless process; analog, not digital, Nick thought incongruously. Like a wave breaking upon the shore. Nick wondered if the process had the same inevitability, once started. If Julian changed his mind mid-transformation, would the process simply reverse itself, like a tape rewound? Nick couldn’t imagine himself being able to do that. For him it seemed more like jumping off a cliff: once you started, momentum made the result inevitable.


  Julian’s lupine form sniffed impatiently at his legs, and Nick realised he was just putting things off. “You know, this would be much easier if you weren’t watching,” he muttered.

  The Julian-wolf wagged its tail playfully and obligingly turned away. Nick laughed joyously. God, he was being ridiculous. It didn’t help, though, that the moon had visibly waned since the last time and was also now low in the sky, barely visible above the trees. In fact, if he didn’t (no pun intended) get a shift on, he wouldn’t be able to see it at all. Nick tried to concentrate, to focus his attention on the moon and its call. Surrender, Julian had said last time. Not something that had ever come easily to Nick. With a sudden flash of insight, he focused instead on Julian’s form, let the sight and scent of his mate call to him. And this time, it felt different. Right. In the near-darkness, Julian’s pale coat shone like moonlight itself. Like a beacon, guiding Nick to his true form.

  Yes. There was still pain—but it was a good sort of pain—and when it had finished, Nick padded exultantly over to his mate.

  Who promptly lay on his back, baring his belly. Nick let out a short bark, amused. He nudged Julian with his muzzle and the smaller wolf sprang to his feet. Together, they set out through the now-familiar woodlands.

  The night was young, and there were rabbits to be caught.

  It was approaching midnight when they got back to college. As they walked through the gates, Nick recalled that he hadn’t told Julian anything about his moving plans.

  “It’s looking like this will be my last year living in,” he said conversationally.

  Julian turned to look at him. “You are moving?”

  “Well, it’s more like I hope to be. I’m looking for a house to rent. It should make things easier for, you know, us.”

  “Yes! Yes, of course.” Julian smiled and suddenly seemed ridiculously boyish, causing Nick to feel a strange twinge. “And it won’t matter how far out it is, as we’ll be able to travel in together. I could leave my bike in college—maybe some of my books, even—”

  Nick stopped dead, appalled that Julian had mistaken his meaning in this way. “Julian…you can’t just move in with me. Do you want to cut yourself off from all the other students?”

  Julian’s face froze. “I’m already cut off from them.” He looked away.

  “Exactly! So it’d be mad to make that even worse. You’re only in your first year here. This is when you need to forge friendships, make connections with people. And in any case, I’m not at all sure it would be such a good idea to make things between us…public.”

  Julian flinched. “I see,” he said stiffly, still not looking at Nick. “I apologise.”

  What the hell was he apologising for? “Do you, ah, want to come up to my rooms for a drink or something?” Nick offered, trying to placate the boy.

  “You want me to?” Julian asked.

  Nick was tired and fed up of trying to work out what was going on in the boy’s head. “What I want is for you to look at me when we’re talking!” he snapped, immediately feeling guilty about it as Julian hunched in on himself and then turned to look at Nick with obvious reluctance. He was about to say something when a window slammed shut overhead, making them both jump.

  “Goodnight, Dr. Sewell,” Julian said politely, his face devoid of any expression.

  Nick sighed and returned to his rooms alone.

  The wolf’s blood was pounding in his ears. His Own was here. Alone.

  Trembling, caught between conflicting desires, the wolf could not bring himself to end the chase too quickly. Careful to stay downwind, he tracked his Own. It seemed agitated, indecisive—wandering from street to street, then doubling back upon itself. Of course. His Own needed him. Needed his guidance.

  The wolf kept to the shadows, losing sight of his Own where necessary, but never losing the scent. His ears pricked as a new note joined the scent. Arousal. Incensed, the wolf sped his pace, closing the distance between them.

  His Own was with another. The wolf watched as they talked. The other grew angry and turned away with a curse.

  His Own stood there for a moment, then turned back the way it had come, its back straightening for some reason, its step now sure.

  The wolf felt the thrill of adrenaline flooding through his veins. It was time.

  Time to reclaim his Own.

  Grinning, panting, the wolf stepped out of the shadows. His Own stared—and then turned to run, his footsteps echoing down the alleyway, in the direction the other had gone.

  The wolf growled. His blood heating with the thrill of the chase, he followed. He caught up with his Own easily—but then the other was there too, stinking of alcohol and humanity. The wolf’s muscles bunched, ready to pounce.

  Wrong, his human mind told him. Not safe, to kill in this form.

  Why? his wolf-brain asked, but already he was transforming.

  The stench of urine was added to the reek, and a hoarse cry sounded and was cut off as the wolf-man took hold of the other and slammed it against the wall, crushing its skull and snapping its neck.

  His Own cowered, as was proper.

  Good. But he would still need to be punished.

  The wolf-man would enjoy that.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tiff was starting to get a bit peeved. Three times now she’d climbed those bloody stairs up to Julian’s room in the last couple of days, and each time he’d been out. And, all right, she’d known she’d be bound to see a bit less of him now that he was going out with Dr. Sewell, but she hadn’t expected to not see him at all. Especially for meals—and come to think of it, how come Dr. Sewell had been in Hall for breakfast and Jools hadn’t? Still, maybe he’d needed a lie-in. Tiff blushed a bit as she thought about why he might need to catch up on some sleep.

  It seemed like they were really serious. Tiff wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She knew how she ought to feel—glad Julian had finally found a decent sort of bloke. Not that she’d seen that much of any of Julian’s exes, but, well, that was the point, wasn’t it? If they’d been okay, Jools would have had them around a bit, taken them for drinks in the college bar, that sort of thing.

  She’d wondered more than once if they’d been a bit like that bastard in Germany, Boris. Tiff shivered as she made her way back down Julian’s staircase. Jools hadn’t said a lot about him, but it sounded like he’d been a right piece of work.

  They’d been in her room, just lazing about, and she’d asked Jools who his first boyfriend had been.

  “His name was Dieter,” Jools had said, a sort of dreamy look on his face, but sad too, somehow. “But we weren’t together long.”

  “What happened?”

  Julian’s face had sort of closed up, and he’d started to look more like he was having a nightmare. “Boris.”

  “Who was he? Did he come along and steal Dieter from you?”

  Jools had turned away, so she hadn’t been able to see his face, but his shoulders were sort of hunched as he answered. “No. He took his place.”

  “Turned out to be a bit of a bastard, did he?” Tiff had asked sympathetically.

  He hadn’t answered. After a moment, she’d got worried and had walked up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Jools?”

  “He…had a bad temper,” he’d said at last, so quietly she’d had to strain to hear him. Then he turned, and her hand slipped away. “But it is all over now.” He’d smiled at her, but she wasn’t so bloody stupid she couldn’t tell it was fake.

  “What did he do? Did he knock you about or something?”

  “Isn’t it time we went down for dinner? We don’t want to be late and find all the decent food’s gone.”

  “Jools!”

  He’d sighed. “Fine. He knocked me about, as you put it. Happy now?”

  “Of course I’m not bloody happy! Did you tell the police?”

  She’d been outraged that he hadn’t—but of course she hadn’t known then what she knew now. God, this Boris had probably been a werewolf too. She
clutched Julian’s jacket around her more tightly. There was a cold wind blowing across Main Court, carrying a few dead leaves to swirl and dance in the corners of the court and throwing up grit into her eyes. She scrunched them tightly shut, then blinked rapidly to clear them. Time for lunch.

  Tiff headed up to Hall and grabbed a plate of lasagne and salad, with the vague idea that the green stuff would sort of counteract the calories in the pasta. She had a look round just in case Jools had snuck in without her, but there was no sign of him, so she flopped down in an empty seat next to Kate Cunningham, her supervision partner. Kate looked pleased to see her, though a bit surprised. “Oh, hello, Tiffany!”

  Tiff realised a bit guiltily that maybe she should have made a bit more effort to get to know the others on her course. But Julian was just so much more…fun. Kate was all right, but she was, well, nice. In that frightfully well-brought-up way that always made Tiff feel really awkward. Like she had to watch what she said around her. It was weird, really. Jools was posher than Kate was, but he was more, well, real. Tiff racked her brains to try to think of something to say. “Um, have you finished that essay for Dr. Sewell?” was all she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

  “Oh, I’m having so much trouble with that. I’m really not sure I’m understanding the question properly.” Kate waved her fork around a bit as she spoke, and a piece of tomato fell off onto the table. She looked mortified, while Tiff tried to hide a smile. It disappeared for real as she realised she was going to have to offer to help Kate with the bloody essay now.

  She hadn’t planned on making quite this much effort.

  “We could have a look at it together, if you like?” Tiff suggested dutifully.

  Kate practically bit her hand off. “Would you? That’d be awfully kind. When would be a good time for you? I’m not doing anything this afternoon. You could come over to my room and have a coffee.” She blushed a little for no reason Tiff could see. “Unless, of course, you were planning to see Julian?”