Lycosexual
"Children of God, brothers and sisters in the Lord's eye," began the vicar, "thank you for coming tonight to be witnesses to the Conferment of these two children."
Scott looked up at the two on the gallows, illuminated from the light of twelve burning crosses suspended above them by poles. He knew those. One was his friend, Rupert Stilinski, and the other was Derek Hale.
"Since the last full moon, these two have passed into adulthood and it is our duty to place them before the Eyes of the Lord, so that He may judge them," continued the vicar, "as he did judge the people of Lycos and Gomorrah, long ago."
He didn't have to listen to the vicar. After the lycanthrope scandals in London broke, the story of Lycos and Gomorrah had become the vicar's favourite. There hadn't been a single Sunday sermon when Father Patterson hadn't talked about the sin of lusting after one's own sex.
"Then the Lord rained upon Lycos and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven," continued the vicar, "and He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground. But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.
"And all those that fled were turned into beasts, as was befitting of them," continued the vicar. "To this day we hunt the lycanthropes and the lycanthrophiles, those humans who have sold their souls to these bestial devils. He turned to the children. "The light of the moon shall reveal the werewolf in his true, hideous form! As Children of God, we will condemn the werewolf to death."
A scream startled Scott. He looked between the two figures and noticed that one had started to contort. It was impossible to tell which robed figure was which, as the white, pointed penitent's cap covered their entire heads.
The wooden knocking sound of a trap door opening made Scott clench his teeth. He watched as one of those on the gallows fell and dangled from the noose.
Scott turned his eyes away from it all. Derek Hale's parents cried. He didn't hear any outcry from Rupert's father, but he didn't expect any; Rupert's father was the President of the local chapter of the anti-werewolf society, the Gubbio Society.
Tears streamed down Scott's cheeks. As unlikely as it was, he prayed that Rupert had not been the one to die. Derek Hale with his girlfriend and his boasts of the size of her breasts was not the likely werewolf. Yet Scott hoped that of the two, it had been Derek and not his best friend.
It was still warm, so neither of them wore their black school blazers. The larger of the two had stuffed his in his rucksack, a part of its black fabric stuck out of the zip. The other held his, slung over one shoulder.
"I can't believe it's your sixteenth birthday, Scott!" exclaimed the one with the short-cropped blonde hair.
Scott nodded. He brushed his dark hair back. It irritated him slightly, the way it dangled into his eyes, but his friend had assured him all that time ago that it was fashionable. A part of him had liked how his friend had taken the time to style it for him.
"You're not still thinking about Derek, are you?"
"Well, if someone like Derek can fail..." began Scott. He shuddered. "Rupert, what chance do I have?"
Rupert sighed exasperated. "You're going to do fine," he told his friend. "Why would you transform anyway? Are you...?"
"No!" protested Scott quickly. "No way!"
"Then you've got nothing to worry about," laughed Rupert.
Scott still felt uncomfortable. It had been five days ago, the same day Rupert had restyled his hair for him. He remembered how the sky had been clouded over, black, pregnant with rain.
Raindrops had splattered on the ground, slowly turning the pavement dark. Lightning had bleached the world, before they had time to run for cover. Hail had accompanied the deluge.
The two of them had run, though there had been little point. Their school uniforms had been soaked, black blazers and trousers shiny with moisture. Water had turned their white shirts transparent. Droplets had slicked hair down over their foreheads.
Underneath the porch, Rupert had walked up to him, uncomfortably close, to restyle Scott's wet hair.
A little bit of Scott stirred as he remembered how close Rupert had been. He may have misremembered it, but he was sure that his friend's lips had been so close. There had been something unusually intimate about it.
"I guess you're right," he said, though he still remembered how his penis had slowly grown in the wet fabric.
Scott had constant dreams about that day. In his dreams, Rupert would finally lean in close and they would kiss passionately, their lips locked together. Rupert would lay him down and make sweet love to him, and Scott would wake up in the middle of the night, his sheets tented by an erection.
Rupert opened the door to the Lodge. "Dad, I'm home!" he called out, though there was little need.
The ground floor of the Lodge was one large open space. Couches stood sentinel in front of a fireplace that in the winter would glow with fire. A red banner hung above the fireplace.
In an oval near its centre was the symbol of the Gubbio Society: something that looked like a cloud but was actually supposed to represent five hills on a red shield that had a blue band at the top. If Scott had known his heraldry, he would have known that there was red label in the blue band with a gold fleur-de-lis in between each vertical stripe of the red label. From where he sat, it looked like there was a crown above the shield, but it was in fact a castle made of five towers or a crown made to resemble one.
Rupert's father, a large burly man with a beard that made him look like a Norse god, sat at the head of a long dining table in the middle of the room, his back to the banner. Other men sat at the table and all of them turned to look at Scott and Rupert.
"Rupert, I see you've brought the birthday boy along!" he exclaimed. He waved for them to approach him. "It must feel good to be a man now, right?"
Scott smiled awkwardly, as he approached. "Yes, sir," he replied humbly, almost inaudibly.
"Don't be so shy," said Rupert's father, as he poured out two glasses of wine. "Here, I thought we could mark this special occasion with a little tipple."
"Oh, no thank you, Mr Stilinski," said Scott. "I don't drink..."
Rupert's father laughed. "Ah, but it's not just any tipple," he said. "We've had a discussion and we all here think that you and Rupert should become members of our society."
"Really, Dad?" asked Rupert excitedly.
"Yes," he said. "Who here agrees with me?"
A chorus of assent rose from the other Fellows of the Society.
"Doesn't someone have to have passed their Conferment before they can join?" asked Scott.
"Not necessarily," responded Rupert's father. "So how's about it? Will you join?"
Scott looked down at the two wine glasses. He looked around him. All of them men around him had a glass of wine too, as if they expected Scott to accept. He wondered. What made them think he was worthy of being a member of the anti-werewolf society?
"I accept," he said, as he reached out and grabbed a glass.
"To the Gubbio Society!" called out Rupert's father.
"To the Gubbio Society!"
"You know, the Lodge smells more like dog than usual," said Scott, as he closed the bedroom door behind him.
Rupert laughed, as he opened a drawer and picked out an extra Sega Dreamcube 360 controller. "Don't know what to say," he said finally, as he plugged it into the Dreamcube 360 console.
Scott dumped the chocolate and drinks down on the bedside table, before he plumped down on Rupert's bed with a heavy sigh. "Man, that wine was damned strong," he said, as he leaned against the headboard. He slowly undid the tie around his neck and one button.
A controller landed on the bed near him. He looked down at it incomprehensibly. Scott leaned over and took the controller, as the game booted up.
"You alright, Scott?" asked Rupert curiously, as he flopped onto the double bed beside his friend.
"I'll be fine," said Scott dismissively, as the Sonic Smash Fighters Brawl logo appeared on the screen.
Scott picked Tails whilst Rupert took Beat from Jet Set Radio. They played a few bouts. After four games, they had drawn, winning two each.
"You are so cheating with Tails!" protested Rupert angrily, when Scott scored another victory.
"No way," said Scott, as he undid his tie completely and flung the striped fabric away from him. He wiped his forehead and felt how damp it was against the back of his hand. "Geez, it's hot."
Rupert looked at Scott. He smiled. "You look hot," he said.
"Wait, what?" slurred Scott.
"You're such a doofus," said Rupert with a shake of his head, as he dropped his controller. He leaned in close and wiped a smear of chocolate from the side of his friend's mouth, then, he licked the chocolate off his finger.
Scott watched wide-eyed as his friend's wet, red tongue licked the finger. "W-What do you think you're doing?" he asked worriedly, as he felt himself harden.
It was such an innocent act, yet Rupert always had that way with him. The most innocent things seemed to set Scott off.
Rupert sighed exasperatedly, before he leaned over. He rested one hand on Scott's crotch, as he lowered his head and pressed it against Scott's lips.
Scott tried to protest. He resisted slightly, but soon he felt Rupert massaging his cock through the fabric of his trousers. A slight moan escaped him and his lips parted. He felt Rupert's tongue slip into his mouth.
All his life, he'd been taught that he could not fall in love with another guy. It was wrong to lust after someone of your own sex. He pressed a hand against Rupert's chest, the warm, lithe chest, and pushed his friend. His arm felt weak, but he had to. He pushed Rupert off him.
"What do you think you're doing?" asked Scott angrily. "You... you can't do that!"
Rupert looked at him teasingly. "Really?" he asked coyly. "But you started it. I could smell your lust."
"You're a werewolf?" exclaimed Scott in surprise.
"No," responded Rupert, "but you are."
Scott shook his head, as he sat up. "No, I'm not a werewolf, I can't be!" he protested quickly. He made to get up, but then realised he couldn't. Would he really betray his friend? Would Rupert's father even believe him, anyway?
Distracted, he didn't notice that Rupert had moved in close before it was too late. He felt his friend's warm hand against his chest. His heart seemed to flutter.
Rupert pushed him back down onto the bed and kissed him again.
Scott, to his surprise, found himself kissing back. He leaned into his friend's lips, savoured the flavour of Rupert's tongue in his mouth. His cock pulsed and his heart raced with excitement as he felt his friend undoing the buttons of his shirt.
Delicate hands stroked him through the fabric of his vest. Hands stroked upwards, across his shoulders and pushed the cheap white fabric of his shirt off.
Rupert broke off from Scott's kiss and looked at his friend wordlessly. He then shifted himself down the bed.
Scott watched, unsure what to do. He gasped as Rupert undid his trouser button and then the zip. "Rupert," he gasped, as he watched his friend pull at the elastic fabric of his boxer shorts. "Please..."
The smile on Rupert's lips widened, as he tugged. With pleasing cooperation, Scott bucked his hips and allowed him to pull both trousers and underpants away.
"Oh my," exclaimed Rupert, "you're pretty big, aren't you?"
Scott licked his lips wordlessly, as he sat up and let his shirt fall off his shoulders. He gasped as Rupert pressed those beautiful lips against the head of his throbbing cock. "Rupert," he moaned.
As he watched Rupert bob up and down on his cock, he had to confess that he had dreamed about this. In the nights since the day they'd been caught in the storm, he had dreamt of how it would feel if Rupert had made love to him.
He groaned, as he felt Rupert suck him. His friend's wet tongue traced nearly every vein on his straining manhood, eliciting breathless gasps of pleasure from Scott.
Tendrils of pleasure ran through his body. He felt the dopamine coursing through his brain, or imagined he did. His penis tingled with pleasure, as his balls slowly retracted into him.
Rupert slipped off Scott's cock, leaving a trail of saliva. "Huh, not yet," he said, as he undid his trousers and yanked his pants down.
Scott's eyes widened as he saw his friend straddle him, half-naked. His friend's cock stood proud. It was a good length, not as big as his was, but sizeable enough. He reached out to touch it and felt how warm it was against his hand.
Slowly, Rupert lowered himself down onto Scott's dick. He pressed himself down against the cock, slick with saliva and precum. Then with a hiss of pleasure, he pushed down, letting the head of his friend's penis slip into him.
Scott had never felt anything like this before in his life. His friend felt so warm and tight around his dick. It felt so good and so right.
He watched as Rupert started to bounce on his lap. Scott groaned as he felt his friend's insides massage his dick. He felt the muscles clenching and relaxing. The slapping of butt cheeks against his lap seemed to echo all around them. He could hear nothing else, but the wet squelching of his dick.
His hips started to buck involuntarily. He found himself lifting his hips with every down thrust. Scott grabbed Rupert's hips and held them firmly. He watched, mesmerised by Rupert's bobbing cock.
"Scott!" gasped Rupert.
"Damn," growled Scott, as he found himself slowly taking charge, thrusting forcefully up into his friend's arse. "Fuck!" he cried out, before he rolled his friend onto his back.
He heard a surprised cry from his friend, as Scott shifted their positions. He grabbed Rupert forcefully, lifting his friend's pale hips. Rupert's legs on his shoulders, Scott started pounding away into his friend's arse, his teeth clenched as a bestial growl rumbled through his body.
Scott grabbed the hem of his vest and pulled. He tore the fabric apart and let it fall behind him. "Fuck," he swore again, as he gyrated his hips, pistoning his cock forcefully into Rupert's arse.
His breath came out in ragged pants, as his muscles seemed to bulge with the exertion. Scott leaned heavily on Rupert. He pressed his lips savagely against Rupert's lips, as he unbuttoned his friend's shirt quickly.
Rupert's eyes widened, as he felt Scott's stubble rub against him. His friend had been clean-shaven not too long ago. He reached out and pressed a hand against Scott's muscular chest. His fingers splayed across the hairy chest, thrilling at the feel of the dark hairs.
He groaned into Scott's kiss.
Scott reached down and enveloped Rupert's cock in a leathery grasp. He began stroking his friend's dick gently at first, but then more roughly, as his body warmed.
A strange smell assault Scott's nose. At first, he had no idea what it was. It smelt so musky. He inhaled sharply. Whatever it was, it drove him wild. Then he realised, that was the smell of arousal. It was so thick in the air. How could he have missed it?
A little bit of pain shot through Scott's head. He snarled and thrust deep into Rupert, as he felt his head stretching. It felt as if he was being pulled in two directions.
Rupert watched as Scott's face stretched forward and the ears elongate. It darkened, as hair grew thick across the skin. "Scott, oh, Scott!" he cried out, as he felt his friend's dick strike his prostrate. He wrapped his arms around Scott's furry shoulders and delighted in their softness.
Something struck his arse sharply with every thrust. Rupert had seen the dicks of other werewolves; they all had knots at the base of their dicks. "Tie with me, Scott," he gasped. "Tie me. Make me yours!"
Scott yelped as he felt a pinch in his rear. He looked behind him and saw his arse covered in luxurious dark fur. It looked so soft. He turned back to look at Rupert. He could see in his friend's eyes that Rupert had known all this time.
A whine escaped his cold, black nose, as he thrust deeply into his friend. The stub of what was to become his tail wagged.
"Tie me, Scott!"
"Yes," growled Scott. "Fuck, yes!"
He thrust, jamming the expanding base of his cock against his friend's arse. Scott pushed frantically, hoping to tie his knot into his best friend. He wanted to be together. He wanted to mark his friend as his.
The hole stretched slightly. He felt it giving way. It slipped in and he felt the anal ring squeeze tightly on his knot.
With a bark of surprise, he came. He spurted his hot semen into his friend's arse and heard him cry out. His brain seized with a pleasure that prickled his head. Scott smelt the musky smell of his friend's semen and heard it splatter against the bare human skin.
Slowly, Scott bent over and lapped at Rupert's seed. It was true, what the vicar said. The semen could not go to waste. He would lap it all up.
As Scott lay down on his friend, he felt Rupert's arms wrap around him. "I'm sorry, Rupert," he whispered, as he nuzzled his friend's bare neck. "I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner."
Rupert laughed. "It's alright," he said. "What matters is that we're together now."
There was no response from the werewolf. There didn't have to be. His silence was implied affirmation.
As he lay there, he realised everything. He heard the conversations below with his new sharpened hearing. Scott smelt a strange scent in the room that didn't seem to belong to Rupert or Rupert's father.
Now he knew.
Rupert's father, holding a shepherd's crook, led the procession away from the church. By his side was the village priest, dressed in his full vestments. Behind them were six drummers that played a lively marching beat. Twelve men followed the drummers; each one bore a pole topped with a burning cross that blazed brightly in the darkness.
They marched past the village green. Villagers gathered outside the local pub with pint in hand. They cheered and raised their glasses.
Mr Stilinski broke away from the parade and walked up the path. He carried the ceremonial shepherd's crook made of wood but tipped with silver, which marked him out as the President of the Gubbio Society's local chapter.
Before he reached the open door, it slammed shut in his face. He flinched, despite knowing that it would happen.
"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, we implore you to open this door and hand us the accused," he called out. "I shall knock three times and if this door is not opened on the third knock, we shall break this door down!"
Many doors in the town bore scars where he or his predecessor had knocked using the silver tip of his crook.
"Honest neighbour," called out a voice from inside, "I shall send out the accused as you wish, but remember the Twelve Martyrs falsely burnt at the stake!"
"We do remember and honour their memories with crosses that blaze brightly in the night!" replied the Chapter President. "If the accused be innocent, no harm shall come to him."
The door opened and Scott stepped out dressed in a white robe.
"Are you Scott McCall?" asked the Chapter President.
"I am he," responded Scott.
"You shall come with us where you shall be tried by the light of the full moon, so that none may mistake ye as a werewolf," announced the Chapter President.
Scott nodded confidently, as he looked at the Chapter President, as he brushed a lock out of brown hair out of his eyes. He walked down the path towards the procession, a smile on his lips.
The Gubbio Society was his friend. Conferment was rigged in their favour. No werewolf ever died at the gallows and those that were exposed were always relocated with a new identity and a new life.
Werewolves walked amongst the humans.