A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Caged | July 6, 2010

 It’s the hottest day in New York in nine years.

 And I’m in heat.

No, I’m not hot because of the heat, well, there’s a little bit of that, but I’m in heat because my werewolf is in heat.  It just happens to coincide with the hottest day in nine years.

 Being a werewolf is tricky, at the best of times.

Being a werewolf in heat, is harder.  

My life is now on hold for how ever many hours, it needs to be until I can get this thing, under control.  You seeing being in “heat” isn’t just about having your sex drive over sexed to the point of exhaustion.  

 Although seriously, that’s as fun as it sounds.

It affects other aspects of your wolf self too. Like for instance, if I get too turned on when getting sexed, I’m likely to shape shift, in the middle of some sexual foreplay and end up “wolfing out” on top of Paris.   Usually before I even know it’s happening and by the time I do understand my shape shift is happening, then it’s over and done. Shape shifting in heat, is violently fast. Which seems to fit the rest of what my body is feeling at present. Violently fast.

Luckily, Paris is built for the hardship of having a crazed, over sexed, werewolf girlfriend out of control for a day or two, I’m loosing track of time here. It’s already been a good twenty four hours and counting.  Longest dose of ‘heat’, yet.  Paris can follow suit though, with shape shifting to his wolf self too.  So it’s not like I can break him, or damage him. Although damn, if the desire isn’t there wanting me to try.

 This being in heat thing is weird.  Always different with me.  Now this.

The urges crawling under my skin and through my foggy brain, make rough sex look tame, and safe, like a Volvo.  My wolf wants to crash the shit out of that Volvo. My wolf is pushing at my skin, constantly.  Making me edgy, restless like I’ve got cabin fever.

Caged.

Nobody can guess how I’ll react to this heat thing, so it’s better for all concerned if I’m taken off the streets and monitored.  So I’m in a cage.  A small part of me understands the logic. But most of me doesn’t care.

 A big, freaking cage. 

My wolf isn’t helped by the sight of it through my human eyes.  We recognize what a cage is, understand it holds us in, holds us back and means I’m trapped in limited space, with no chance of freedom or whatever it is my wolf is seeking out in this mode. I’ve thrown myself against it a few times, I can tell, because I have wicked bruising along my arms. Like army camouflage. Doesn’t matter, it’ll disappear whenever I shape shift again.

 If I shape shift again.

I growl.

Not happy.

Look through the cage bars back at Paris. 

He’s standing on the other side of the bars, his chest is bare and has scratch marks all over it. Some on the side of his beautifully, otherwise smooth face too.  Shit. I don’t remember doing that to him. Hope it didn’t hurt. What am I saying? Of course it wouldn’t have hurt him, much. He’s an Alpha werewolf, he’s got a higher pain threshold than I do. Even in human form. His body acts is like the strongest metal, it can endure almost anything.

And the man can handle little old me.

He’s drinking from a water bottle, Addison is talking to him when he looks over, back at me.

“Soon.”  Is all he says to me.  Addison keeps talking to him.

I start to pace, hair hanging down in my face. Wolf and me are not happy, probably because we keep fighting each other for control of this heat mode.  The human side of my brain tells me I can control this thing, not have it control me.  That I can get it under control if I just work on it.  But the urges pound through me and those little thoughts of figuring out what to do go and I grip the cage bars, trying to rattle them. They don’t move or make any kind of sound.

Fucking cage.

Paris and Addison stop talking and Paris hands the water bottle back to Addison.

“Round two.” 

 Paris unlocks the cage door and steps inside with me.

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