A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn


October 3, 2010

A night after a shape shift and it’s like waking up in a whole new universe. Everything feels good. Aligned in my body, in my vision, in my world. Quite often I end up at Paris’s house.

His place is like a sanctuary of sorts. He might be a mighty Alpha werewolf and the pack leader of the Manhattan Maen. But even he needs a break from werewolf world sometimes. An escape. A place to breathe, think.

When you’re the leader of a pack, it’s like non-stop werewolf play and politics. There’s always something going on. Going down, needing to be ruled over, corrected or sorted out. It’s pretty much a full time job that you never get to leave to go home to.

Except, Paris has made an effort to do just that. He’s always on call, that’s a constant. But He has a hierarchy of werewolves to do his bidding and will on various issues and commands. It’s how packs work. You filter the power down to control the over all pack structure. Keep the Alpha appraised, but elusive is the way most packs do it.

Paris is more hands on than leaders of the past, it’s been commented. But his pack respond well to that. He has no problem being seen out amongst his pack at social events, and activities. It reinforces his leadership as a result. Which is fine, when we’re out in the streets, at a nightclub or even in Brooklyn with my pack.

But back at his house, it’s his universe. His world. His time out. He’ll limit the amount of calls and contact he has with pack, when he’s physically at his house. It’s a way of putting a divide in, of keeping his head on straight. Of not getting stressed out.

When I’m there with him, It becomes our universe. And he really hates, for it to be disturbed. During lunar weeks, after our nights out or shape shifting, I often find myself, welcome in his embrace.

I awake, curled up, with Paris behind me, his arms around me, a leg thrown over me. We wake early in the light of a new day.

Cotton sheets, feel like a cool breeze, gently sitting across my body like a whispered thought. I feel the heat radiate from the male behind me, as his hand skims over my side. Over my rump, tracing my leg, parting my legs for him.

I stir awake again and he kisses the back of my neck, running his nose softly behind my ear as if to trace the scent of me behind it, like inhaling perfume. His tongue darts out and and traces the angle of my neck. His breath rushes across my skin as fingers part the hair from the back of my neck.

His teeth sink into the back of my neck as his hands warmly cup my breasts and he pushes up into me. The slightest moan escaping his lips as he briefly stills at the sensation of us together.

Into the otherwise quiet of our surrounds, we are in our own world, away from all the drama and dealings. Expectations and challenges that come with being a werewolf. We are strong here. Stronger.

He is focussed solely on me and at that point in time, as the morning breaks and he wakes me. His body moving with mine, allowing me to slowly stretch, my muscles warming with their new movement, back once again in my human skin.

Feeling renewed and at peace, lost in love and one with my werewolf.

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