A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn


January 28, 2010
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Have you ever seen a true werewolf fight?

Been to any of the underground Alpha dominance fights they hold around Brooklyn? They change the location after every fight, so you might find it hard to get into them. It’s kind of like you have to be in the know or know someone who knows someone who knows someone involved with organizing the fights to find out where they are.

Yeah, well I have.

It ain’t a fight unless there’s a ton of blood spilled, and someone’s almost dead or completely incapacitated at the end of it.

It’s not a fight until one werewolf, Alpha werewolf, gives in.

Can you imagine?

Take the most competitive, the most macho person you know. The toughest, bad ass and the most stubborn son of a bitch you know and roll them all into one hombre. Now pit that hombre against themself. Watch the pride and egos swell and surge.

We’re not allowed to deliberately kill one another, even in a dominance fight.

Werewolf lineages, low birth rates and all that. But werewolves are allowed to beat the absolute living crap out of each other to within an inch of death.

Go figure.

Alpha werewolves do not fuck around with that shit. They play hard and they hit harder, even in human form.

That’s the other thing about the dominance fights, they’re only held between Alpha werewolves and they’re held in human form.

No shape shifting allowed.

So you’re talking about a being who can take the hits and cope for far longer than any human could.

The beatings are mega powerful and they go on, for like forever. And one of them is ‘expected’ to give in. To take the beating, and then admit, someone else is the winner.

It’s beyond bitchy.

The tension in Crescent is so sharp, I’m beginning to think it can slice skin open just because we breathe and move in it.

But Black Dog isn’t an Alpha werewolf.

He’s a shape shifter, not that I think that holds some sort of advantage to him and disadvantage to Paris. It just means, that when my Alpha, Paris, beats his human ass to a pulp, he’s not going to going to be able to crawl away half as fast as a loser in a regular dominance fight.

I just hope Paris doesn’t murder him.

Black Dog circles around Paris, his arms up like he thinks’ he is actually going to be able to land the jabs he hopes to throw. He’s even got the boxer stance happening and is bouncing from foot to foot, lightly.

The crowd at Crescent have all but stopped whatever they were doing before this. A semi circle has formed around the shape shift and the Alpha werewolf. Paris has his shirt off again. He’s ripped. Broad shoulders, that show off a running display of back tattoos. Arms that look heavy and full of nothing but raw power. He’s just eyeing Black Dog.

Daring him.

Black Dog smirks back at him, moving far too much for someone who should not be nearly as confident as he appears to be for someone who’s going to get ripped to shreds.

This isn’t a sanctioned fight, isn’t about dominance or leadership. It’s about fighting, for the sake of fighting.

So that means, the normal rules of dominance fights don’t apply.

I guess that’s why I gasped, when Black Dog suddenly shape shifts. It’s like a slow blink of an eye. His body flows like fluid until before us all stands a giant creature.

Kind of looks like an Egyptian jackal. But that’s not right, the ears are wrong.
Then it comes to me.


More commonly known these days as a spotted Heyena.

Teeth bared like salivating wolf fangs, but a small face, and spotted fur, short ears and strong fore legs and hind legs.

Black Dog’s lipwereri throws back it’s head, and unleashes a haunting howl, that sounds like laughter filled with death.

Most of the wolves in the crowd, raise their hands to their ears and shrink back automatically, as if the laughter alone is like poison touching them.

But not Paris.

The man stands his ground, doesn’t even flinch at the horrible sound.

Instead, he launches himself straight at Black Dog, before he can finish putting his head back down from the howl.

As fluid, as the shape shifter, his figure shape shifts in flight, off the ground. His clothes tearing to pieces as the Alpha werewolf breaks out of his skin.

It’s like watching muscle rip open, replacing all that was human about him, with nothing but the Alpha werewolf.


January 26, 2010
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I think I found my happy place.

Everyone should have a happy place like this.

It’s under fresh cotton sheets, in the crook of Paris’s arm. Our bodies touching and the warmth that flows from him, keeps me heated too. His heart beat is like a persistent soundtrack in my ear as he plays with my hair, brushing his fingers along the top of my head. The morning light streams into the room, through the not quite tightly shut wooden slates.

Hmm, I don’t want this feeling to end, feels like comfort.

He’s trying to convince me I need to stay in Brooklyn for awhile, while he deals with Black Dog in Manhattan.

I turn around, out of the crook of his arm, lean on my arms and face him. This is not the way I want to start my morning, after finally, getting him back to his place, after the whole Black Dog thing. By the time we’d gotten back, I was more than in need of release and shape shifting wasn’t going to take the edge off that kind of need. In fact, it can make lunar lust worse, some times, especially during lunar week. Like it’s not hard enough to get through in one raggered piece.

He pulls me in closer to him. So we were touching, again skin on skin. Pushing the sheet down off my back, so my lower back is exposed he walks his fingers across my body. Sliding his hands down to cup my bottom.

I can feel his body responding, already recovered from our first round, ready to go again.

“It’s this thing with Black Dog.” Paris sighs heavily. “He saw you at Crescent the other night and I think he liked what he saw.”

For now, it appears, Black Dog is happy to leave the Manhattan Pack alone. His hands move my legs apart as I lay, half on his body, looking back at him. His fingers brush over sensitive skin and I move my thighs further apart.

“His eyes, they bleed red, when he’s….excited. He calls it blood lust. Never really told us why it happens or what it means, But I’m pretty sure it means attraction. It happened after he spotted you. He probably sees this as an opportunity to mess with me and mine.”

Blood lust.

I’ve heard of this before. It’s not a common trait in most werewolves these days. I think it is the one thing that kind of has been weeded out of the werewolf lines through the generations. Not sure how. But I think it’s more common in other paranormal beings than it is in werewolves.

Only I thought it always kind of resembled another emotion, that of rage.

I can’t help but feel cold inside after that thought. Even with Paris’s hot touch on my body.


January 24, 2010
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“Stay here.” Paris instructs me, kissing my forehead again as he opens the door.

I move over to the glass wall touching it with a finger. The frosted glass goes clear making everything inside the club visible again.

The muted thud and thump of the music in the room matched the movement of the werewolves of the floor and surrounds, who moved together and around each other, with more and more flesh on flesh becoming available.

Got to ignore the heat stirring in me.

It’s early but I’m glad I’m not the only one giving in to needful things so soon. I keep my finger pressed to the glass, watching as Paris and Addison now fully dressed stride through the crowd with purpose.
The movement of their bodies like a disharmony to the rest of the club.

They are tense, alert and angry. Not a good mood to be in a wolf club in. Our collective feelings, werewolf moods if you will, the atmosphere, we kind of all share it. If the Alpha of the pack isn’t happy, then those that aren’t consumed by their lunar lust, or distracted by the flesh and sex show around them, will rise to alert mode too. It’s natural to follow the leader.

You could instantly get an army of werewolves revved up to riot, based on their pack leader’s mood.

Even though we are the modern day version of an ancient lineage, and we do things differently now to times past, there are some things you can not take out of the werewolf.

Like, the need for hunting and meat.

We all struggle with it around lunar week. So when someone challenges the status quo for a fight, you’ll tend to find most werewolves, are more than up for it. Because it fills a need in us.

If the Alpha of the pack is unhappy, there is usually a damn good reason for it.

I watch Addison point in a certain direction of the club, but it is too hard to make out between the strobing lights and the masses of faces who he is pointing to.

I press my hands flat to the window, watching. Dating Paris is still rather new and I don’t really know his pack all that well yet.

Addison and Paris are joined by two other werewolves, obviously part of Paris’s second in command, security guys, whatever you want to call them. They are the back up. Which must mean this Black Dog character is bad news.

They walk out onto the packed dance floor, making their way through the thick, throbbing crowd before stopping in front of one individual who stops dancing. A male about five feet eight. He looks ordinary enough. They are talking and Black Dog is clearly pissing them off, I can see Paris’s shoulders tense even more, even from where I am, so far away from it all.

Then the strangest thing happens.

Black Dog looks over Paris’s shoulder and straight across the room, right at me. I suddenly get the feeling that his gaze on me isn’t unlike being caught in a gun sight. He raises a hand and waves at me.

I jumped back and the glass instantly frosts up again. It’s not that he saw me, that made me jump.

It’s just, I swear for the briefest nano second, Black Dog’s eyes glowed red.

Lunar lust

January 22, 2010
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“Shut up and strip.” I command, as Paris walked into the small glass cubicle room. The door latches closed and the clear glass frosts over the walls.

Paris tilts his head and chin downwards, his dark blue eyes staring straight at me, like I’m pretty prey he is going to pounce on.

He is taking too long for my liking, stripping his shirt off. Unbuttoning the collar, and all the buttons down the front.

Come on!

A wry smile ghosts across his lips. He looks somewhere between a desperate man for a drink and something kind of dark and evil.

My gut is doing flip flops really fast. Like butterfly wings beating against it madly, to let them out. So instead of succumbing to his intensity which when he uses it on you, is incredibly hard to ignore or not react to, I decided to play with.

Kind of.

By fighting back with my own sensuality. I’m a female, it’s not like I don’t know a thing or two about the male werewolf species.

I pick up my drink and slowly sip it. Keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

Leaning back on my elbows, on the low rise glass table, in the glass cubicle room. I’ve chosen to ignore the black leather couches for the purpose of reclining suggestively.

Paris yanks his shirt off his arms impatiently.

In our last telephone conversation before the club, he told me in no uncertain terms what he wanted to do with me. He was having a rough day and he was ready to let off some sexual steam, so to speak.

My eyes run over his very muscular, arms. They looked pumped and strong. His chest, lean and solid. I think he’s been dieting or skipping meals because the line definition of his abs, is like playing, a little visual maze game on his skin. Running all around and over it.

He arches an eyebrow up, silently questioning me.

“Not enough.” I reply with a big smile back at him, slowly kicking off my high heel shoes, as I use the edge of the glass table top, to slip them off in response.

He’s late you see.

Said he’d meet me at Crescent. But he was late.

I’ve been sitting pretty and bored, in this room for three and half hours and of course, I didn’t have my mobile phone on me, because the werewolf clubs don’t let you take your phones in on lunar weeks. You have to check them into the cloak room like they’re dangerous weapons or something.

So I’ve been sitting and waiting for him. Drinking and waiting till he showed up.

By the time he arrived, I was wanting more than a verbal apology.

Much more.

I know he wanted more too.

But I’m going to drag this out.
Test him.
Tease and taunt him.

I hadn’t even hit the dance floor in his absence to join the warm comfort of bodies around me. So since I’d played good girlfriend, he owes me. And I’m making damn sure he knows it.

He started on his pants and I let my eyes drop as he pushed them down his solidly, muscular legs.

I smirked when he stood before me stark naked.


He was rock hard, all over.

His hands are curled into fists by his side, I can see the tension in his body. He wants to move towards me. But I’m challenging him by taking command. And by complying with my little game, he’s agreed to be challenged.

Challenging an Alpha male, do you know how competitive they are?

He’s either going to play by my rules now or try in someway to reverse the situation and make me break first.

I’m betting it’s the later. Because I’m going to push his patience level out the window. He’s such a control freak.

“Happy?” He askes roughly.

“Not even close.” I smile back at him, finishing my drink.

“And yet, I’m naked here and you’re not.”

I let out a little laugh and sip my drink.

“I said I was sorry.”

I put my empty glass aside beside the table.

“and I’m going to make you.” I smile, sitting more upright. Hanging my legs over the edge of the table. Putting me directly in front of him.

At hip height.

There is only the briefest of space between us. I look up at him.

He moans deep in his throat.
I haven’t even touched him.
But this is all about anticipation. Building on the impatience and the want and need we both have.

I slide closer to him.

He remains standing still. Waiting for me to call the next shot. Showing his obedience to me.

But before either of us can do anymore, the door openes and we both looked over at Addison in the doorway. His best friend.

“We have a problem.”

I’ll say.

Addison continues, ignoring our dark looks at him. Or the fact that Paris is stark naked before us both.

“Black Dog is back.”



January 21, 2010
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The atmosphere in the werewolf friendly Manhattan club, Crescent, is building as the night goes on in New York. Taking us higher to our calling with the moon’s radiance.

Temperature is on the rise and skin, coated in films of sweat, like droplets of hunger are on display for all to see.

Some werewolves enjoy more than just the electric current in the air, of a pack playing together in the clubs during lunar week. They need more than a sexually charged atmosphere, that doses them in unbridled lust and wanton pleasure. It’s hedonistic to say the least and yes it is one of those things I enjoy in my life.

Being part of a collective feeling of burning fire and raw passion.

We do not hesitate.
We do not back down form acknowledging the werewolf in us, needs an out.

Needs to feel the love of pack and consummation of it’s energy matched by another kind of energy.

So when Paris’s hand slides up my naked leg, and cups the curve of my bottom, pulling me in tighter against him, I move eagerly with him. Press towards his solid body of heat. My want is his want and he wants exactly the same thing I want.

Our passion is on the rise, and is threatening to come undone in a ravenous wave that threatens to take us over and loose all sense of control.

But hey? Isn’t that the best part of it all?

I get pressed into the cool glass wall behind me, that I hadn’t known was there, until the solid reality of it reminds me, that I will be able to stand, if need be. My throaty laugh at this thought and the image of Paris’s solid arms, already encasing my legs, raising my hips, gets a special little treat from him.

The glass is frosted, but when it’s touched, it goes clear, so when my back hits it, the glass goes transparent and we become a live screen viewing for all to see.

He attacks my lips, causing my smile to falter, as his tongue takes control of my dirty little mouth. How dare I laugh his power tells me, I’m supposed to groan, and moan and sigh with every movement between us. Dry humping or not. Insert evil grin of pleasure here please.

But now I’m too focused on matching his magnificent mouth and letting it plunder mine to realize, I’m already making those small, pathetic, noises. The throbbing base of the music in the club is vibrating through the glass wall at my back and it’s shockingly just adding, to the sensation of my, already tender state.

I’m feeling targeted by Paris’s dominance over my body. I’m feeling loved.

And I want.
And I need. My Alpha werewolf.

But he’s not going to rush my haze of my pleasure. He’s going to take his time, because he wants to enjoy this rise of emotion in us, as much as me. Having held on to our control in the daytime, even as the moon appeared to approach the nightfall, we let it out so we can breathe together.

Everything’s ten times better during lunar week. Heightened till it seeps out your pores. Heightened so much you just don’t think you can take it.

My poor mouth, lipstick is smeared and my lips are tenderized within an inch of life. Paris bends his head, to continue his sensual assault on my state of half undress.

We stager slightly away from the glass wall again. It frosts up. Blocking us from view of the patrons of Crescent. A mixture of Manhattan Maen werewolves and a handful of humans.

The shoulder strap of my top has fallen, beyond low on my arm. Giving him the perfect opportunity to push the top further down. Paris’s eagerness pushes me back up against the glass wall causing us to be on display again.

Not that either of us minds, we’re so into each other that nothing could phase us.

As we join together, there seemingly is a sigh, lightly wavering through the air, from those around us, who see our union is only building. Heightened hearing during lunar week, means we can hear the sighs like whispers in the air.

More and more, as we touch, suck, kiss and grope continuously for one another, it brings pleasure to those in the club, sensing the Alpha’s fulfillment, my rapture as we ride together.

Now I gasp for air.

Air that is hot and infused with a sense of awareness, that we are not the only ones enjoying our time in the club, or each other.

My skin tightens as eyes watch us. I can sense them all around, looking towards our fascinating little glass cubicle room.

But I dare not take my eyes of the Alpha male in front of me. Paris has no intention of stopping, or making apologies and I find I don’t want him to either.

We’re not leaving this thing, alive, until we got what we came for.


January 19, 2010
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Crescent is a werewolf owned and run nightclub in the meat packing district in Manhattan.

Actually it doesn’t officially have a name, but the Manhattan pack have dubbed it Crescent and so that’s what it’s come to be known as.

Even the staff answer the house phones with “Crescent night club”. I think the owners, have decided to go with it.

It’s a got a sunken dance floor, and lots of blue lighting along the walls and darker areas. The dark corners are never black, they’d all manner of hues of deep blue. The area towards the dance floor is more light blue lighting.

It’s got sleek modern lines and two full bars at either end of the club. But the big feature of this club is two walls of glass cubicle rooms on either side opposite the dance floor.

Private rooms.

Paris wanted to take me here, cause he wanted to try something out.

The glass cubicles, are all frosted glass, but when you touch them, they go clear and you can see straight through them. But if you’re not touching them, they remain frosted over and unable to see in.

Bit of a novelty, but a fun one!

I walked in to the glass room and looked around, it had two black, soft leather couches on either side of the small room, and a small glass table in the middle of it. I looked at the wall that would be facing the dance floor and put a hand to it. It went clear and we could see everything happening outside our room.

Paris moved up behind me and pinned my front to the wall, with his body. Moving my hair away from my neck he started kissing me and unzipping the back of my dress, decidedly, slow.

I could feel his hardness press into the small of my back. Uh oh. I had a pretty clear idea what he wanted to try out.

“Should I have not worn underwear?” I ask with a smile on my lips.

He’s an Alpha male who gets rather, hmmm, possessive leading up to and even during lunar week shall we say. No, he just likes to indulge in the build up, like all us werewolves. He’s no different in that respect.

I was literally pinned to the glass wall, watching the dancers on the floor and people walking past, glancing towards us and the other rooms.

He unzipped the back of the dress, the whole way down. Till it hung loosely, on my body. Still covering me, at least for a moment or two longer.

He slipped his hands in around my sides, and cupped my breasts under the light material.

I tried to turn my head to the side, to look back at him.

“What do you think?” He asked me softly, his breath floating and tickling my skin. Like a warm summer breeze of happiness. His tongue ran up and down behind my ear and I fought the urge not to shiver in response.

“I could just do you here, and we’d have an instant audience.”

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