Page 105 of In This Iron Ground
Damien
Yeah, just left the bar. Want me to come over?
Hakan
Yeah
Damien looked up at the sky. It was almost a full moon night.
It was a myth that werewolves had to fight against themselves and the moon. It was true that they had instincts that differed in kind and strength from humans’ but, born werewolves especially, made no distinction between the two. They came from the same source. Themselves.
However, an outsider like Damien could differentiate between instincts which occurred in humans and those which were common in werewolves, and the influence the moon had on these.
On a night like this, with the moonlight bright and on the cusp of fullness, Hakan would be easier to tip into shifting, to tease into losing control.
Damien took a detour.
His dorm was on the way to Hakan’s apartment, and he stopped there for half an hour. He showered with a scent-neutral gel, washing away the smell of the people at the bar. He dried thoroughly and didn’t put cream or deodorant or aftershave on.
He dressed in sweatpants and a shirt he had slept in. They wouldn’t smell of anything but heavily of him.
He pulled on an old, clean hoodie and went outside. The moonlight greeted his mischievous smile.
He tried to enter the apartment as silently as possible, but Hakan was already waiting for him. His eyes flashed yellow in the low light.
Hakan made to move towards him but Damien held up a hand. Hakan halted immediately.
Something took over Damien. The night, or the jasmine flourish of his burgeoning confidence. Maybe it was just knowing he was safe with Hakan.
Damien took off his shoes, his socks, his hoodie. He left them in a pile on the floor, uncaring. He straightened again, leaning against the door. He looked at Hakan, whose eyes were still animal green, yellow.
Damien ran one hand slowly up his clothed chest, pressing his fingers to his neck, rubbing the scent there. He tipped his head back, exposing the line of his throat. For a moment, a low growl sounded before it was cut off abruptly.
Damien tried not to smile.
Damien’s other hand brushed up his thigh, down, up again. Up, until he was cupping himself, already starting to get hard from the taste of anticipation in the air. From the look in Hakan’s eyes.
Damien let himself make a little noise of pleasure. Hakan took a step forwards. Stopped. Damien jutted his hips forwards as if he were in the midst of being taken over by pleasure. He squeezed and rubbed himself until he was fully hard, tenting the material of his sweats. The small flower of a wet spot bloomed on the material.
“Hakan,” Damien whispered to himself. This time, Hakan’s growl sounded much closer to a whimper.
Damien could only imagine what he smelt like. What the drumming of his heart echoed.
Damien removed his shirt. The painted wood of the door was cool against his shoulder blades. He yanked his sweatpants down until they were pooled at his feet.
He was exposed for Hakan. And for himself.
Damien pulled his dick slowly, looking at Hakan’s half-moon shift from beneath his eyelashes, head tilted back. Hakan’s mouth was open and panting, filled with sharp teeth.
“Take your clothes off,” Damien said.
Hakan took his clothes off, barely looking away from him.
“Come here.”
Hakan was pressed against Damien in a moment, picking him up so that Damien’s legs were wound around his waist. Hakan’s favourite position.
“Are you gonna fuck me here? Gonna fill me with your cock and your come?” Damien’s mouth said. He felt both apart and completely anchored in himself.
