An increasingly violent Roscoe dug his claws into my arms, letting out a roar as he pulled me into the shower like a doll. The werewolf’s gentle disposition shifted, and I responded as if some baser instinct had taken over. With his hefty, muscular body against my smaller frame, he pressed me against the wall, his tongue tracing along the crook of my neck.
A myriad of strange emotions had been building inside of me for days, but they threatened to turn to violent rage as my vision blurred red. Roscoe seemed to understand what was happening, and this felt like more than just sex. It was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind at that moment.
He quickly quelled any resistance my half-turned mind put up, each time restraining me with raw bestial strength. Roscoe was so lazy most of the time that this show of force startled me. The feeling of complete domination made my heart race and stomach knot as though I’d jumped from an airplane with no parachute.
As he pushed forward, the head of his cock sank into me. I thought since we’d done this a couple times, that I could handle him better. That wasn’t the case at all as white-hot agony pulsed from below. I snarled, gritting my teeth while reaching back to stop him from going in deeper, but there was no slowing him down.
He gripped my shoulders tighter while lowering me onto his thick shaft. I tried pushing him out, clenching, anything, but all that did was allow him the freedom to delve deeper. Inch-by-painful-inch, he disappeared inside of me, and the slick squelching of the invader paired nicely with my moans as he began to thrust.
The way he snarled and clawed at my neck, giving little regard to my safety, somehow heightened the pleasure beyond anything I knew. I craved it. We both did. He was leaking so much into me that every time he pulled out a few inches, it would trickle down my inner thigh. The wet sounds and muffled thuds of his balls sent me into an almost trance-like state of ecstasy.
His tempo slowed, but the intensity increased. He would pull most of the way out before shoving himself back in with such aggression that my feet lifted from the tub. After a couple more minutes, he let out a moan so loud and deep it vibrated the tile walls. There wasn’t any more pain as he sped up again.
The werewolf jackhammered faster than earlier, and I moaned more as he rubbed against my prostate in a rhythm that made me come again without touching myself.
“Roscoe,” I yelled out, and he caught my neck with his hand, keeping me in place against the wall with my feet dangling several inches from the floor of the tub. A familiar heat spread inside, my abdomen gurgling with every pulse.
“Feel better now?” he asked, gently biting my neck.
Before I even could respond, his tongue met mine. Sex felt much more different this time. It wasn’t just pleasure anymore. It was an urge, like my body would tear itself apart just to satisfy it.
The thought made me feel gross and kind of ashamed.
After finishing, Roscoe pulled away, his half-hard dick easily sliding out. As the passion cooled, an odd sensation covered myglans. I held my own cock in my hands, examining the foreskin that hadn’t been there earlier.
“What the…?”
“Oh yeah,” Roscoe said, his mouth right next to my ear. “It grows back. Looks like yer quick healing kicked in. Hopefully we can still get yer ears pierced.”
I gently shoved him away. “I need a shower.”
“I’m goin’ back to bed.” Roscoe stepped out of the tub, wiping the tip of his cock with the shower curtain.
“The towels are literally right in front of you!”
“Habit,” he replied with his usual grin.
We left the apartment early that morning, making sure to stay out of sight of the other tenants. They might have already been suspicious that a werewolf was living with me, considering all the missed calls I received from the property manager. I didn’t answer or check the voicemail because what I didn’t hear I didn’t have to deal with. It was like avoiding debt collectors, but sooner or later, I’d have to face it head-on.
The barred entrance of a seedy-looking tattoo parlor with a half-litopensign stood before us, graffiti covering most of the cracking facade along the walls. I wouldn’t have called it an eyesore considering how beautiful the artwork was. There was even some abstract painting near the roof that looked like a blocky werewolf and a topless woman with square tits holding hands on the beach.
“You okay?” Roscoe asked. There was actual concern in his voice which surprised me. I’d kind of expected him to be a little more relentless with his teasing considering how terrified I was.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
Roscoe grunted and pushed open the door.
“Well, look at this ugly bastard,” a tall man at the counter said. He was older, perhaps in his late fifties, with peppered black and gray hair. Tattoos covered his body—some tasteful, others profanity-laden nudes of different women. He wore a skimpy leather vest with nothing underneath, revealing a pacemaker scar that had been decorated with an anatomically correct heart in a cage. “Finally snagged yourself a sucker, huh?”
Roscoe wrapped his arm playfully around my neck and pulled me close. “Cody, meet Brodie.” He chuckled to himself before nudging me forward. “Yer in good hands—well, when he’s sober.”
I turned around, hoping to make a run for the door, but Roscoe caught me by the arm.
“He’d be in better hands had you gotten him here sooner,” Brodie said, getting a closer look at my ears. “You got the kuu?”
Roscoe opened his hand, revealing the earrings. “Yup.”
He took the jewelry and began walking to the back with us following close behind. “All right, let’s get you pierced. It’s gonna hurt like hell, though.”
