Bitten

He couldn't decide whether to lift his chin and offer his throat or pull away. He couldn't figure out why it mattered, either. Anton's lips worried a mark on his shoulder, pressing against it and making it ache.

"This is hard -- my body is changing." He wasn't used to this, to everything being new, different. Hell, somehow he'd hoped that when they'd gotten home...

"I know. And it wasn't your choice." Anton growled, baring his teeth. "But you have me. You aren't alone in this."

"Tell me. Tell me again about what's happening. When it happened to you." He had heard the story, but it made him feel more grounded, like everything wasn't helter-skelter.

"I was cursed at birth, but the change didn’t take me until puberty. I didn't have anyone to help me through it, but I survived. I learned what it meant. I learned to use it." Anton placed biting kisses over his shoulders and neck. "You can control it except for when the full moon commands you, and then the wolf has free rein."

"I want to run with you." He lay beneath Anton and his lover stretched and pressed down into him. "I want to. I feel like I can't focus."

"We can change now. All you need to do is think about it. Remember last time? You started with your tail. You change back the same way. Follow my voice." By the time he was done talking, Anton had changed into the wolf, barking for him.

Think about it. Right. He moaned, reached for Anton, fingers sliding on the soft, heavy fur. Anton growled softly, the sound happy, and pushed into his touch.

"Beautiful." He wanted to howl with pure pleasure.

Anton barked at him, calling to him.

Greg knelt down, rubbing his face against Anton's ruff. His mate. His mate. His body rippled, moaned, things inside him stretching. Anton kept barking, the sound urging him to change, to be the wolf. Help me. He tried to speak the words, but he couldn't, his lips stretching, spreading out.

Anton rubbed against him, mouth opening, holding over his muzzle for a moment. The scent of his mate flooded him and he rippled, growling deep in his throat.

Barking, Greg leapt from the bed, running around the small room. He sat and shook his head, then headed for the door.

Out.

Out.

Out.

Anton followed, running to beat him there. The door was closed; they’d locked it early, and now Anton scratched at it, setting up barking.

He answered, howling, head thrown back.