by Kit Fortier
“We know what happened to you,” Jake said after Eric had begun eating. He looked up, expectantly. “No, please—eat. Do you want us to wait while you finish? Hamburgers aren’t great when they’re cold,” he said with a grin.
Eric nodded, gobbling down the burger in seconds. He was almost done with the fries when Ben handed him the other burger with another side of fries. He ate that considerably slower. Eric tried to remember to taste the food instead of ripping through it like some sort of wild animal.
Like a wolf.
Ben, Jake, and Fox sat quietly, overtly not looking at Eric. It seemed they wanted to give him privacy—no, space, and time, while he polished off the second plate.
“Pizza?” Ben asked, not unkindly.
Eric shook his head. Ben sat back down and leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands in front of his face. The big guy looked like that thinking statue he had once read of in a history class. It got him thinking about art and the things he once wanted to do. But, now wasn’t that time to hope for something that he’d never have again.
“Let us know if you want something, Eric,” Jake said. “Getting back to you…”
Eric scooted forward in his seat.
“You’ve heard of werewolves, right?”
Eric’s thick eyebrows pushed together.
“They’re not real—they’re in movies and books, they can’t be real.”
Jake’s lips pursed, forming a straight line across his face.
“I’m afraid they are, Eric. You were bitten by one.”
Hearing someone else say it smashed down any walls of denial he had left. He thought it was some fever dream. Maybe some mental issue, a breakdown, a lapse in reality that lead him to believe he had become something else. Something that got him to wake up naked and unaware of how he got there. He had flashes of memories like ripping up cats and eating them. His wolf must have scoured the edges of town for garbage and a warm place to stay when the rains fell.
But the reality was crushing. The truth was, the creature he became spoke to him in his mind. It was unable to verbalize. Instead, the wolf would speak in flashes of images, of primary emotions: happy, angry, sad. At the moment, the wolf was quiet, which was fine by Eric.
Jake continued. He told a story about magic and something called ether. He spoke of lycans and zoothropy and witches and wizards. He talked about lycans being the first altered beasts. How the potion that created them gave them the unexpected ability to pass the condition on to others. That what happened him in Saint George was a result of the condition being passed on to him.
“We were wondering,” Jake asked gently, “how it is you knew to come to my son?”
Eric thought back. “I was… changed. I remember I was trying to get away from those people who stabbed me. I ran as far as I could from the park when my legs started to give, and my breathing got really bad. I made it as far as the hotel without being seen somehow. I thought I smelled something as I passed by the garage,” he said. “It wasn’t like anything I’d ever smelled before. I thought I smelled fresh dirt, even though I was surrounded by concrete. I thought I smelled rain—but I thought that was the rain that had just fallen. Except it wasn’t just rain, it was… Energy? Is that right? It was like I was sniffing a can full of pennies.
“Then I smelled the ocean. I had never smelled that before. The ocean, I mean. It was salt and wind and water all at the same time. I followed the scent and found Ben. But the thing I had become didn’t know what to do, and it felt like I was dying.
“Whatever those people stabbed me with, it made it hard to breathe.”
“Silver,” Jake said. “You were stabbed with silver. It’s an easy metal to shape, and its effects on altered beasts is really severe. It stopped you from healing. From the sound of it, you might have punctured a lung, which would definitely hurt your ability to breathe.”
Eric nodded.
“Why were they after me?”
“Hard to say,” Jake said. “The most likely thing is that they were magic users who wanted you as a slave. It’s something that carried through from the old times. Mages used altered beasts for everything. They were used for protection to destruction to spies to assassinations.”
The next question threatened to destroy Eric if it was true.
“Can I… infect someone else?”
Jake hesitated.
“You can only transmit the condition by biting. And not as a human, but as a wolf. Only lycans can turn other humans. The magic users who made lycans realized their mistake and fine-tuned their potions.”
Relief washed over Eric. It was tinged with fear that he might bite someone as another werewolf bit him, but as a human, he could do no harm.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Jake stood up, knelt down in front of Eric, and put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. He flinched, but settled into the touch.
“I don’t know how we can help you, but we’re going to figure it out, okay? If we can, we will get you back to your family, to your life.”
“Can… Can I stay here?” Eric asked, hope trembling his voice.
Jake blinked. He looked back at Fox, who seemed as confused by the request.
“He can stay in my room,” Ben said.
*** Ben
“Son, can you come with me for a sec?” Dad asked. Tension knotted in Ben’s forehead, but he nodded.
The younger Hughes followed the older Hughes into the bedroom he and Fox shared. They walked into the bathroom, displacing clothes that hung in the archway. Dad hung them off a towel rack inside. Ben’s father turned on the shower and pulled open the drain before turning on the bath. He then shut the door.
“Ben, look at me.”
He did as he was asked. His father must have seen something in his eyes. Defiance was aflame in his heart.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Dad, I know how to handle myself.”
“I know, buddy—but this is a problem you’ve never faced before.”
“He’s not gonna change me, Dad. Is that what you’re scared of?”
“Yes, but—”
“He can stay in the living room then. Is that what you want?”
Something in Ben’s voice made his father shake his head and sigh.
“No, big guy. He’s already scared enough as it is. Him being alone isn’t going to help that.”
“Then I’ll keep an eye on him, and if I have any problems, I’ll call for you.”
Elder Hughes hesitated. “Okay, Ben. We’ll play it your way.”
Ben huffed a little when his father hugged him. His Dad turned off the water spigots he turned on earlier.
“I guess Fox and I are going to have to be careful. He’s got really good hearing,” his father joked.
“Seriously, Dad?”
*** Fox
Fox stood up and looked over the room service cart. “Pizza?”
Eric nodded vigorously. “I could use a slice.”
Fox held out a plate to him. “Please, help yourself. Don’t be shy.”
Eric took the plate a little steadier than before—more self-assured. Fox watched him, comparing notes in his head when they first met until now. Apparently, Eric harbored a fear of touching others. Understandable.
Eric went back to his seat after having taken half the pizza. While he ate slower, Fox laughed inside when he realized he was still a fast eater.
“No one’s gonna take your food, buddy. Slow down,” Fox said kindly.
Eric gave a little smile, and indeed, took in each slice of pizza in measured bites.
“I guess that’s the wolf in you, huh?” Fox asked.
Eric nodded. “I’ve never been so hungry before. I never had a lot of money for food—but ever since this… change happened, I’ve been starving.”
Fox never gave much thought to werewolf physiology before. It was likely they burned thousands of calories per day just being werewolves.
&
nbsp; “Well, don’t worry. There’s more if you want it.”
Eric looked at his food. He looked at it for a while.
“Is something wrong?” Fox asked.
Eric looked up. His startling golden yellow eyes were brimming over.
“Aw, buddy. Hey,” Fox came around and put an arm over Eric’s shoulders. “Jake said we’re gonna figure this out, and we are. We’ll get you back on track.”
Eric looked at his food again.
“Not much track to get back to.”
Fox took that in for a moment. The poor guy couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. Still, he looked like life had already dragged him through the wringer twice over before kicking him in the ribs, and then into the curb.
“How old are you, Eric?”
“Nineteen.”
Wow. To Fox, he shuddered to think this could have been him less than six years ago.
“We’ll work it out, okay?” Fox said, giving Eric a warm pat on the back.
Jake and Ben came back through the door. Jake stood behind the sofa, resting his hands on the back as he looked at Fox. Ben walked over to the cart.
“I can walk this over to my room if you want,” Ben offered. Eric laughed for the first time that night.
Fox watched the expression on his stepson’s face. Ben looked as if he’d conquer the world to hear that sound again.
Poor Jake. His son was smitten, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
4. Out on the Town
*** Ben
When Eric nodded at his cart request, Ben looked at his Dad, then at Fox, who was grinning at him for some reason.
“Let’s go,” Ben announced.
“Good night,” Fox said cheerfully. Ben looked at him suspiciously. The redhead simply winked.
“Good night, son, Eric,” Jake said. Fox was tucking himself under Jake’s arm as Ben and Eric disappeared down the hallway.
“I’ve got some spare clothes if you need them,” Ben offered. Eric only nodded. “Do you need a shower?”
“I think I could use one,” Eric said. “After you gave me your clothes, I went to a laundromat and stole someone else’s. I don’t think they washed them yet,” he said, clearly offended by the sleeves covering his underarms.
“Well, you can use mine until we get you new ones,” Ben passed Eric the plastic bag that was given to him earlier.
“Maybe to sleep in,” Eric said. “I was swimming in your clothes.”
There was a smile. It did things to Ben’s insides—little shivers radiating from his spine.
“Shower’s through there,” Ben said after clearing his throat a little. “There are clean towels. Feel free to use any of the soaps and whatnot in the shower.”
Eric disappeared, and the sounds of the shower came on. Ben was torn on whether he should play the good host and take care of his clothes, or just let them be until morning.
He opted for the former.
When he heard the shower door open and close, Ben waited a minute or two before turning the corner. He kept his eyes down, thinking he might interrupt his guest's shower if he looked up. He found the pants, the shirt, the canvas shoes—but no underwear. Well, it made sense. Clothes are okay, but wearing someone else’s underwear? That just seemed wrong from a purely hygienic standpoint. But as he turned to go, he heard a cough.
Ben turned and saw Eric watching him. Eric looked at the clothes in Ben’s hand.
“I was just—just gonna send these to the laundry,” Ben stammered. “Didn’tmeantointerruptokaybye” fell out of his mouth in a bout of verbal vomit.
Eric just smiled, and continued his shower, facing Ben the whole time.
Ben was nailed to the floor, entranced by what he saw behind the glass door of the shower stall. The water cascading over Eric highlighted his slight but muscled figure. The light dusting of hair at the center of his chest turned dark due to the water. The flex of defined thighs, calves... And the man’s manhood, flaccid but swinging in the shower with each twist of his trim torso.
Ben looked up, saw Eric shampooing his hair. He still smiled at Ben while he scrubbed, clearly not minding that he had a captive audience, entranced, watching his every move. Eric took the liquid soap and poured a generous amount into his hand. He lathered himself up from neck to nape of his pubic mound, then over his groin, and into his crack. He turned and bent over a little, either to give himself room, or to put on a show as he soaped up his ass, outside and between. Ben was entranced to think about his guesses. He was barely aware he held his breath. Or that his ears, his neck—his face, had all warmed up. It certainly wasn’t due to the steam in the room. He pulled the clothes in his hands tight against himself.
When Eric turned back around, he was no longer flaccid. He was hard, rubbing himself over with soap. He never touched his dick with his hands. Rather, he lathered up his groin and his balls—his arms rubbed against his straining hardness. Ben looked up at Eric, whose eyes were glassy with something, likely pleasure. Perhaps the pleasure of being watched?
Eric rinsed off thoroughly and stepped out of the shower, pink and sopping wet. Ben tossed the offensive clothes out the bathroom door onto the floor next to it. Then he opened up a towel for Eric.
Ben flared his nostrils at the scent of the man—minty and earthy somehow.
Eric stood directly in front of him. He took Ben by the hands—hands still gripping the towel—and brought the towel over his head.
“Dry me off?” He asked from underneath the towel. Ben happily obliged. He ran the towel through Eric’s hair, patting him down from the neck to his navel. Ben looked up at Eric, who nodded at him ever so slightly, as he squatted a bit to give access to his inner thighs.
Ben thought he would be struck dead when his arm brushed against that beautiful dick just inches away from his face. He tried to keep it together as he noticed the inviting warmth between Eric’s legs. He was aware of warmth in the conventional sense, but this was an intimate type—one he barely touched upon when he was with…
With…
What was his name again?
When he was done, Ben popped up, handing Eric a bathrobe.
“Here, for you,” Ben said. Eric smiled. Ben smiled back. Eric only took it from him and draped it over his arm. Ben disappeared for a moment, taking a plastic laundry bag and both his and Eric’s dirty clothes out into the hall. He darted down the hall to the room phone in the empty common room, requesting an overnight service. He’d pay Fox back for it himself if it came to it. Ben left the bag by the door.
When Ben came back to his room, Eric stood there, waiting. The shorter guy held the robe Ben handed him in the bathroom over his front. Ben hemmed for a moment.
“I sleep in my underwear,” Ben said, nervous for reasons he could not explain. “You can too, only you don’t have any. I sent them to the laundry. I guess if you’re borrowing some stranger’s clothes, you wouldn’t steal their underwear, because that’s gross and wrong—stealing—I mean, you had to, so it wasn’t wrong, but they didn’t wash them yet—”
“Ben,” Eric said softly. The bigger guy fell silent.
“I’m fine like this,” Eric said, dropping the robe to the floor.
Ben’s mouth suddenly dried out. His jaw went slack as Eric crawled from the foot of the bed to the center. Yet another show. The muscles in Eric’s thighs shifted and tightened with each movement forward. Ben could have lost himself in the sight of the cleft of Eric’s ass. He remembered it was warm—but was it soft? What could he do? What would Eric let him do? The thoughts collided with one solid, seemingly insurmountable obstacle:
Ben had never really explored another person so intimately.
The lack of guys in high school who brave enough to let others know who they were inside didn’t leave Ben with a lot of guys to choose from. And even then, he was too nervous to do anything in the one place he was safest—bringing a boy home with him. For Ben, kissing, touching, occasional “heavy petting”, or even a messy mutual m
asturbation session was as far as it went with another guy.
But Ben knew in his body, if not yet his mind, that Eric had slipped past his many defenses and rang every alarm in the fortress around his heart.
Eric flipped onto his back and stretched far and wide—his toes curled, and his fingers spread. And at the center of the bed, there was nowhere that Ben could lie down that he wouldn’t be close the man. At least if he picked a side, Ben could go to the other side and preserve their dignities. Eric propped himself against the headboard, his arms spread out, legs spread invitingly. Ben melted inwardly at the soft smile the man on the bed gave him.
“Should—should I—” Ben stammered.
“Oh god,” Eric said, springing up. “Are you… Have you ever done it before?” The panic was wild in Eric’s eyes.
Ben’s ears heated up. They were a solid indicator of his embarrassment at any time to anyone nearby to witness it. He hid his face in his hands, aware he couldn’t hide his ears.
Eric scooted down towards Ben, taking the big man’s big hands in his.
“I’m not that exp—I mean, I’ve slept with maybe two guys and did stuff with others, but it’s not like I had a lot of opportunity. I’m gonna shut up now. Should I wear the bathrobe?”
Ben took Eric’s chin in hand. “No. You should be you. Can we… can we figure it out together?”
When Eric nodded, Ben leaned down, and kissed a man—with nascent desire for more—for the second time in his life.
*** Eric
He wasn’t lying when he said he slept with two men. That truly was all he did that night not so long ago. The two were both fall-down-drunk, and wanted a third for a three-way, and offered him a hundred bucks to be that third. A hundred bucks would feed him for a few of weeks, if he was careful, so yeah, he went with it.
But that was the extent of it. The two got to the bed and started to undress him when he realized they both had stopped moving and were dead on their faces asleep.