A hot shower is the closest thing to a balm I can manage, short of a barrel of IcyHot.
My muscles burn from shifting back to my human form. It’s too much like the all-over body ache I get every time I think I should sign up for a 5K. It wasn’t as bad when I was younger, but now my body has a harder time going from the exertionin my wolf form. My knees fucking crack in the morning too. Supernatural abilities notwithstanding, everything gets harder with age.
Partly an effect of the aconite, my shift back is slower, achingly drawn out across my morning. When I peel off yesterday’s dirty clothes for a shower in the brewery’s basement, it’s clear the hair stays just a little too thick on my arms and chest, nails like claws, the arches of my feet lingering as the bones figure out where they’re supposed to go.
And the uh . . . wolf dick.
I hadn’t really noticed that when I got dressed in the woods before.
It’s thicker and longer than my human counterpart’s, with distinctive veining. I’m sure I had the thought in my early twenties that it’d be great if I could keep the wolf dick around while human. Younger me definitely thought no one would notice anything other than its girth and length and that it would just be abstractly better for my dating game.
I’ve never had my wolf dick get hard though, now that I think about it. The sensation is a little different, radiating the need to be touched up my veins.
The entirety of the sex talk I got from my dad was that masturbation was a sin. I still cringe remembering him saying that the point of the knot was to never waste a drop of semen. Not that I really wanted more of that conversation with him—I wasn’t about to explain how many times I wiped the history of “creampie” searches from our family computer history.
The haze of my transformation clouds whatever reason I was aroused in my wolf form. It’s not uncommon that I don’t fullyremember what happens when I shift. What happens is often more instincts than conscious thought, and they’re harder to recall.
I’ve never jerked off in wolf form before. Mostly because of the claws.
There’s something extra-sensitive about my wolf cock that makes me audibly hiss and groan when I start to stroke my hard length. I’m thankful for how loud the water is in here. The kind of pleasure I’m feeling just getting started would be enough to make me come in moments normally.
I continue stroking, sure that I won’t last long. But it keeps going, like I’m not putting enough effort in.
I doubt my phone is waterproof enough to search up something to watch as I lean back against the steamy shower wall. My hands work faster with the shower water falling against my chest.
God, the way Elise’s thighs looked in her denim cut offs. So thick you could smother yourself between them.
A zing of pleasure arcs through my cock, up my stomach.
Fuck, Jesus. I can’t be thinking about my ex-wife like this. She’ll kill me, for one.
But it’s hard to keep myself from reminiscing. We were wild for each other. Before long, I’m thinking about one of our picnics where she wore a sundress and just those lacey panties underneath, tracing the design until it was wet, while she fed me grapes and tugged the neckline of her dress down. Her soft breasts under dappled sunlight, licking her nipples until they were red, the way they moved above my face as she straddled and rode me right in the grass.
Thinking about her makes my cock feel on the edge of something too big for me to handle, like I’ve never climaxed before. I haven’t. Not like this.
As precum starts to bead at the head, I go to palm my balls when I graze against a shape I’m unfamiliar with, a rounded swell near the base of my cock.
Holy fuck.This is a knot. My knot.
That would mean I’ve met my mate.
9
Elise
In the morning, there are fresh scratch marks on my cottage door.
I don’t remember any scratching sounds during the night though. It makes me think briefly of the wolf sightings, but maybe I’m just anxious and ready to leap to conclusions. Maybe I’m just paranoid.
Briefly, it makes me think about whether I’ll still get my damage deposit back on the cottage, since technically I’m still renting. It’d be nice to be able to keep that when I move on from Mystic Falls. Admittedly, I’ve been dealing with my anxiety over this whole situation with an excess of preparation, reaching out to as many people as I could think of. I’ve put a couple feelers out into moving somewhere else, working in a restaurant for my old culinary school friends, or being a private chef for old clients again. Anything that will help me hit the ground running in a week.
I don’t really know what I’m more scared of: the idea of running into a wolf, like I keep hearing about, or my ex.
I’d rather be hiding in my cottage through all of this, but I think if I choose to do that, then one of the Hayes boys will sense that my drama with Shawn is too big to be in the same room as him and too easy to guess.
I haven’t seen Shawn at all since our little chat the other day. We didn’t lay down any ground rules for how we’d be gettingthrough the next week or so until the wedding, and I’m going to be around a fair bit. I can hope he understood implicitly that I want to see as little of him as possible, but one can never know.
I also don’t really know how he got to Mystic Falls. He hasn’t got a car in the driveway at the Hayes House. There isn’t exactly a bus route around here, so I can’t imagine what other options there are. But I’m not about to go ask him.
