A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Teeth, Claws and a Werewolf Heart | September 1, 2014

“You can’t win a fight against me Bg, you know that.” Paris says not even slightly phased by my partial shape shift.

As if I’m a threat to him!

My claws are just itching to slash at his skin, because I am so damn pissed at him.

There was no reason to make me having a wet dream into an issue. Only he sees it as cheating. That I’ve cheated on him with another wolf, because it wasn’t his name I called out. Because it was a lycan who was making love to me in a dream, I don’t even remember.

Because that lycan is our friend, Booker Parish and Booker and I once upon a time, long time ago, dated and were in love.
Or so we thought.

“Oh I can win a fight against you Paris D’arenberg. Just not a physical one!” I growl at him. “I’m not the one who wants to fight here. I’m the one who woke up in the middle of a fight with you that she didn’t know she was even having! All because of some stupid, subconscious dream.”

“The subconscious doesn’t make that which matters to us any less real. You were clearly having sex with Booker in your dream. You orgasmed because of him, not me!”

Learning control over my orgasms is something we’ve been working on the whole time we’ve been together. It’s not like Paris and I lack a decent and active sex life. Far from it. And only when I am truly being punished do I not get to come.

But this wet dream with Booker Parish, that I don’t even remember the slightest detail from, is something else.

“Are you still in love with him?” Paris sounds more unhappy than angry as he asks me this. “is that it?”

I feel a breath leave me and my shoulders relax, the blood is rushing around through my veins pounding in my ears, deafening me. My claws retract painfully and shift back to my hands and I gulp for air as my teeth shift back to my human teeth.

Paris sees the small shape shifts and I wonder if my eyes have changed back. I can’t tell without looking at a mirror.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He mutters beginning to pace.

I honestly have no idea how to answer. So I do the only logical thing I can do.

“No, of course not.” I reply and he looks over at me and tilts his head.

“You seem to forget little wolf, I can practically taste it when you’re lying.” He looks away again, before saying “You’ve still got werewolf eyes.” Which is another way of saying, I’m still on edge, ready to fight, because my werewolf self, is still emotionally wound up and invested in this thing beating in my heart with confusion.

“I’m not lying. I’m in love with you, I want to be with you. I’ve no desire to be with Booker again.”
Paris walks over to me slowly.

“Maybe that’s what is. What I can taste on you.” He says still keeping a bit of distance from me.

“What?”

“You might be in love with me, but on some level, you desire him.”

My mouth opens to retort something back, but I find myself speechless. Because it makes sense what he says. Booker and I may have not been a long term relationship. But he was my first love, and my first lover.

We’ve lived around each other ever since. We’ve watched each other have partners, pack mates, boyfriends, girlfriends and still when we look at each other.

We spark and we’ve both known better than to let any of our friends, see that.

And then I had to go betray that, by having a wet dream about him. And I don’t even know why.

I haven’t seen booker in something like a month. It’s not like we interact with each other every time I’m in Brooklyn or doing something for the Breukelen.

We have different placing’s in our pack and this means we move in different circles. Sometimes they cross.

“You should uh, go.” Paris says softly backing away from me.

“What?” I can feel tears welling in my eyes.

“I had no idea you felt this way about anyone, let alone Booker.” Paris says.

“I don’t feel this way, whatever way, about anyone else, just you.” I implore. My fucking werewolf head, such a trouble maker if ever there was one.

“I want to believe that Bg, but…” Paris sighs. Oh he is really messed up about this. And I don’t know how to fix this, to fix us. “I get that we’re similar looking, the physique, and maybe I’m just a substitute for him, that’s why you were attracted to me.”

“No, no, no.” I rush out. Although maybe, subconsciously it was why I initially liked him.

“I think over the weekend, you should go back to Brooklyn and really ask yourself if it’s me you want or deep down, it’s Booker. And at the end of the weekend, tell me your choice, so we can move past this, however we need.”

Continued in… Breukelen Heart Beats

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