A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Wild lives, Fun times. | April 27, 2010

I watch the four males walk into the club.

Paris is smiling and laughing at something Wiatt seems to be animatedly telling him. Addison is grinning too. Jules is already scanning their surrounds for some night time activity. The bodies that dance and shimmer in the lights and sweat, moving with one another and the beat of the music.

They stride with casual ease and muscular elegance that you would mistake warriors of their kind for gentlemen. Their ferocity hidden behind blue jeans and designer shirts. Just four normal guys, on a night out, having a boys night out. Four good looking males, who on occasion, like on a full moon, turn totally furry and howl. Four males who relish they’re Alpha side, in the form of the werewolves they truly are. They’re relaxed, it’s good to see. We all like have fun, we all try to unwind and enjoy the good times on a lunar week.

But they’re not normal and that becomes apparent when Paris lifts his head, his brown hair, that was curtaining his dark eyes, moving with the flick of his head as his eyes sight and lock onto me immediately. I can see his look subtly change. His eyes sharpen and darken slightly. His smile falters briefly, as if he’s winded momentarily and then it widens again. He picks up the pace of his strides, leaving the other three half a step behind him as he walks over to me, and me towards him.

“Hey,”
“Hey.” I reply.

Anything but normal when you’re caught in that gaze. It’s mesmerizingly intense. If I was prey, I’d feel like I was being hunted by this domineering werewolf male. But he doesn’t make me feel that way. He makes me feel consumed.
Werewolves love hard.
At least this werewolf does.

His hand slides to the back of my neck and under my black hair, scooping it up off my neck as he pulls me closer to him, his other hands sliding around my waist. My own arms slid up the long sleeves of his shirt, cupping his face as we kiss.

My eyes are closed and I can feel his heart beating madly in his chest, can hear it’s picked up beat. The heat of his body, and hardness of it pressing into me, the dampness of his shirt plastering to his skin, sticking to me too as we press together. Our kiss deepening.

“Can we get some drinks here please!” Addison yells loudly. “Help control these flames.” I hear.
“It’s hot in here.” Jules quips.
“Get a room!” Wiatt joins in, as Paris and I break apart. He slips his arm around my waist keeping my side connected to his.

“We have a room.” I mutter looking at Wiatt and then indicating the rest of the nightclub, which is in the usual throws of abandoned enjoyment as every wolf in there soaks in the sensations of connection, sex and unity.

Wiatt raises and eyebrow in surprise.
“You wouldn’t.”

I raise an eyebrow.
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

Wiatt looks over at his big brother, Paris with a questioning look.

“The wild werewolves, are the ones that always seem so nice, tame, quiet and angelic.” He replies grinning, as Addison hands me a champagne and Paris a beer. Wiatt shakes his head and laughs. So do we.

It’s all good, when the moon is high and we’re all enjoying our wild lives and fun times, with the werewolves of New York.

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