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Written and posted with permission from Leo_Todrius (who also provided the kickass thumbnail icon!)

You can find his profile and awesome stories here: leo-todrius.sofurry.com

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Lykos - Wild Things

Chapter 7 - Point of convergence

"You know, I'm kind of confused," Drake said, scratching the beard on his chin with a finger. He had been experimenting with his facial hair in the last couple of weeks; right now he was wearing it very bushy on his cheeks and chin - and it was of course connected to his proud sideburns - but with his upper lip shaven. However, he was missing his moustache, so he was seriously considering getting it back... and with the hair growth rate of a werewolf, it was only a matter of hours. "I mean, do we really need something like that?"

The other three male members of his pack looked at him with various degrees of perplexity and confusion on their faces. The four of them were sitting on the edge of Wyatt's bed; and, as it often happened, they were all naked and sporting red and pointed canine erections. "You are not talking about the sex, right?" Chance asked. From the tone of his voice, he seemed worried.

Drake stared back with wide golden eyes and shook his head, his ponytail bobbing against his shoulders. "What? No, of course not!" He gestured at his hard-on. "You know I can never say no to you guys... Even though it's kind of sad that the girls can't be here with us."

Wyatt clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Yeah, it sucks... But you know Moira, she always refuses to listen to reason. 'You know how difficult it is for me to find the right herbs for the contraceptive potion in January?'" He then added in a high-pitched and totally unconvincing imitation of the keeper's voice. "'The stockpile I have is for the full moons, not for you to play beast with six backs'. And yeah, in case you're asking she totally said that." The alpha sighed. "Well, at least they know how to have some fun by themselves. Hope you didn't mind letting them use your room, my dragon."

Drake shrugged. "Are you kidding me? I'd do anything for them." His eyes wandered for a bit outside the window, where a mantle of snow covered the large backyard of Underhill house and the outskirts of the nearby forest with an immaculate, almost otherworldly layer. Even there in California the world had been plunged into a cold hibernation, and even if it had been fun playing in the white during the last full moon as primal wolves, the part when he had to undress himself before the transformation hadn't been exactly pleasurable, despite the fact that - as a werewolf - he had a higher tolerance against cold than a normal human. "But yeah, I can't wait for spring to arrive. Even though..."

"Even though?" Chance repeated. Facial hair had finally managed to conquer his boyish face, too, giving him a pointy, devilish goatee that complemented quite well his features and the grin of innocent malice that often dawned on his mouth and his eyes.

Drake smiled back. "Even though the cold outside makes indoor cuddles even more pleasurable." He caressed the big, beefy arm of Patrick - who was sitting alongside him - before burying a hand in the thick, dark brown pelt covering his chest and his sexy musclegut, making the deaf bear shudder in pleasure. Drake lifted his eyes and looked at him, so that Patrick could read his lips. "Want me to touch you some more, Pat?" he asked, and then winked at him.

Patrick seemed taken aback for a second, before a big, adorable smile of pure contentment bloomed in the middle of his bushy beard; the naivete and innocence of that expression weren't hindered by either his facial hair or by the pointy fangs in his mouth, and Drake felt a desperate need growing inside of him: he wanted to give pleasure to the big wolfman next to him, to make him feel happy and loved. With a clawed hand-paw, Drake pushed down Patrick delicately so that the two of them could lie on Wyatt's king-sized bed, their muscled arms hugging each other's bodies.

"Come on, Chance, we can't let them have all the fun!" Drake heard Wyatt exclaim. Chance let out an ecstatic noise and wrapped his slender limbs around his alpha, before starting to suck at his tongue as if his life depended on that. Drake, while caressing Patrick's hirsute back and kissing him gently on the lips, couldn't help but smile: it had been four months since that night in the woods when he and Wyatt had professed their love for each other under the starry sky and had become boyfriends, but - apart from Drake feeling even closer to his golden-furred alpha - nothing had changed in the dynamics of the pack: everyone still made out and had sex with everyone else, if they felt so inclined, a thing that had made the beta feel relieved and also a bit guilty, until Wyatt had assured him that it was perfectly natural for werewolves - even married ones - to feel the urge to bond with their packmates on a physical level, and that there was nothing bad with that.

Patrick, of the other betas of his pack, was the one Drake liked making love with the most: Angela, even after five months, was still wary at the idea of having sex with him - probably due to her past as the omega of Talia's pack - and Chance, on the other hand, was so eager and horny it wasn't even funny. As for Kaylee, she was cute and adorable (and they had enjoyed their share of hot and messy moments together) but her childish features and behavior often made Drake feel like a pedophile.

Patrick, however, was perfect: he was big and furry - two qualities that the old Drake, the one who still hadn't been lost in the woods yet, would've never thought he could appreciate, let alone in a sexual partner, but that the new Drake enjoyed wholly - with his prominent and firm belly and his thick beard, that was a real pleasure to stroke and scratch. His skin under the pelt of brown fur was sensitive, and he was a great kisser, passionate and caring: they had oftentimes just lied on Drake's bed, perfectly content in just caressing, kissing and touching each other, strengthening their bond as packmates in a quiet, tender way that never failed to fill Drake's heart with a warm, fuzzy feeling (and that was guaranteed to make the two of them cream their pants near the end of the cuddling session anyway).

The best thing about the bear, however, was that he looked genuinely grateful every time someone was paying attention to him. At first, Drake had thought that Patrick's self-esteem was so low that he would've latched to anyone showing him a modicum of affection, but that was clearly in contrast with the behaviour the big burly young man was showing to the world (and that, considering his heartbeat and his smell, was most certainly authentic): someone at peace with himself, someone who had found his place, not to mention a Zen-like serenity and happiness. In other words, the truth about him was way simpler: the sensations that Patrick had been feeling since he had become a werewolf by Wyatt had been multiplied a hundredfold by the change, and the link he was sharing with his packmates made him experience not only his own increased feelings, but also those of everyone else. If he hadn't become a wolf, his empathic qualities would've certainly allowed him to be a great keeper with extreme ease.

Patrick, however, was usually able to control himself, even in the middle of those sudden and intense peaks of emotions; during sex, however, it was inevitable for his defences to be lowered. After a couple of kisses, his face was already bright pink, his forehead glinting with sweat and hot, heavy breaths escaped from his lips. Drake - a devious grin on his face - lowered a hand to tickle at his ball sack, and Patrick opened his lips in surprised bliss, letting out a choked moan; his partner took that opportunity to plunge his own tongue in his mouth, teasing and exploring it. After a couple of seconds Patrick kissed back, his body relaxing under Drake's arms: it was like hugging a giant, warm, cuddly teddy bear plush. Drake broke lip contact and looked at his partner. I love you, he spelled silently.

Patrick's reaction was heart-melting: his big, gentle golden eyes filled themselves with tears of happiness and gratitude, and he buried his head in Drake's chest. Drake smiled and caressed his broad shoulders, but then it was his time to moan in horniness and ecstasy: Patrick, in fact, had started licking one of his sensitive pierced nipples, his brain sending wave after wave of endorphins through his body.

After days of playful pestering from Wyatt's part, Drake had capitulated. "Okay, fine, I'll get a piercing, even if I still don't get why you are insisting so much about that," he had sighed after what was probably the five thousandth request; although, to be honest he felt very curious and a bit aroused at the prospect of cold metal being inserted in his flesh, slipping through his skin and bonding with him as if it was a new part of his body. "But I don't want earrings or something everyone can see. I mean, with my job and everything..."

Wyatt had shrugged, his eyebrows furrowed. "Because I think you'd be even hotter with a piercing or two; and in any case, you work for my dad," he pointed at his own bronze claw earring, dangling from his left ear thanks to a short chain. "And he and mom have no qualm whatsoever about this, in case you haven't noticed. I'm sure they won't mind you getting a stud in one of your lobes... But again, your body, your choice. As long as you get one, it's fine for me."

Of course, after Drake had said that, he had realized why Wyatt hadn't objected that much: after all, if he didn't want something for the whole world to see, there were only two parts of his body left... Fuck, I've just fallen for it hook, line and sinker, he had thought, seeing the manic grin on Wyatt's face. And since my dick is out of question, this leaves me with only one option...

In hindsight, having both his nipples pierced with steel barbells had been an awesome idea: the pain had been nothing compared to the wounds caused by the direwolf and had lasted maybe a couple of seconds, his heightened regenerative powers had healed the damage in a matter of hours... And what was more, that part of his body had become even more sensitive than before: they were always kept turgid and erect by the metal bars, so much so that sometimes even the sensation of the fabric of his clothes brushing against them was enough to make his pants tent, a thing that Wyatt had noticed almost immediately. "It seems like I found the perfect way to tame you, my dragon," he had told him that night, teasing his pierced nipples with his fingertips until Drake's canine cock had sprayed a generous portion of yellowish cum. The beta had tried to hold back as much as he could, but the sensation of being stroked and touched there was so good that he had started panting and whining in pleasure after just a couple of minutes.

And now the moist, warm caress of Patrick's tongue was making him feel even hornier: his dark grey tail swatted against the mattress, his clawed toes kept relaxing and contracting, and his pointed, bloodshot cock dribbled tears of pre all over the white sheets. Drake grabbed the sides of Patrick's plump face and planted a hot, messy kiss on his lips; their beards stroking against each other gave them the very same pleasure they could've gotten from their dicks frotting. "What do you want me to do, Pat?" Drake spelled. "Anything you want, I will do."

The deaf bear grabbed one of Drake's hands in his meaty paw, and guide it down and down, until the leather pads under his fingertips were resting on one of his ample, furry butt cheeks, mere inches from his ass crack. "Are you sure?" Drake asked in a quite surprised tone. Patrick just beamed at him and nodded; then he pointed at Wyatt and Chance - who were busy doing a sixty nine on each other - and nodded again.

"Um, guys?" Drake turned around to speak to his other two packmates. "Sorry to interrupt you, but I think Pat has an interesting idea..."

Wyatt stopped sucking his youngest beta's cock and licked his lips. "Huh?" he asked. He crawled towards Patrick (much to the dismay of Chance; who, however, soon discovered that Drake was sitting right next to him and started tasting his red shaft with gusto) and kissed him passionately for a few seconds before asking "What do you wanna do, Pat? Is the idea of a foursome the one I'm smelling?"

The giant wolfman nodded and grabbed his notebook from under one of the pillows; he browsed through it, and after finding a blank page he quickly sketched something on it. Wyatt stared at the drawing with a hand massaging the blond stubble on his chin, his brow furrowed like an art critique in front of the main work of an exhibit. "Seems like a pretty standard idea," he observed, without even bothering to hide the disappointment on his face. "I was hoping for something with a little more spice... How about you and Chance sucking each other while me and Drake fuck your asses?"

Patrick's golden eyes filled themselves with a deeply saddened stare, so much so that Drake had no other choice but to hug the big bear. "Pat is trying to be of some help, Wyatt. As his alpha and his friend, I think you should respect his wishes... I mean, who cares about what we do, as long as we are together and we're having fun doing so, right?"

Wyatt looked back at him with a look of mild disbelief on his face; he blinked a couple of times, his eyes wide. "You... you are right, my dragon." The boy walked to Patrick and made out with him in a slow, gentle, considerate manner. "I'm sorry, Pat. Can you forgive me?" The mountain of a young man beamed at him and patted him on the back, to make him understand everything was alright; Wyatt, smiling back, turned around to kiss Drake too. "I honestly don't know what I would do without you, my dragon."

Drake lowered his eyes a bit, a sheepish grin on his face. "I'm just trying to be a worthy beta, that's all, really..."

Chance, meanwhile, was staring at the whole scene with puppy eyes, his tail tracing slow, ample arcs in the air. "Hey, that's not fair! I want a kiss too!" he exclaimed.

While Wyatt satisfied the wish of his youngest packmate, Patrick climbed down the bed and bend over, placing his open palms over the mattress; he then looked at Drake with an intent stare, clearly expecting something from him. The newest beta of the pack got back on his clawed paw-feet and walked right behind him. "Are you... are you sure you want me here, Pat? Wouldn't you prefer Wyatt instead?" he asked with a tentative smile.I mean, he is our alpha, he should have the first choice...

Patrick, however, shook his head with remarkable decision. Even if he had been able to, there would have been no need to say "I want you in my ass," since his eyes were spelling that very same sentence clear enough.

"As you wish, then," Drake started smearing his natural lube over the pink pucker of the bear, just in the middle of his hirsute ass cheeks. He could feel Patrick shudder in pleasure and anticipation, and for a moment those sensations were inside of him, too; it wasn't telepathy or something a neuromancer like Moira could've possessed, of course, but only the proof of the bond the members of a werewolf pack possessed: a red string connecting their souls and trembling in accord with their heartbeats. Something fragile and unique and wonderful.

Wyatt kneeled on the mattress, his red erection bobbing in front of Patrick's face. "I'll take the front seat, then!" the alpha exclaimed with a big grin. "Take a good whiff, Pat. I know you love the smell of my cock...". The bear smiled at him, his nose tracing the contours of the flashy tube, inhaling the rich aroma of wolf pre through his nostrils; his pink tongue slithered past his lips, licking the pointed tip gently, before his mouth enveloped the erection and started sucking at it like a pro. Wyatt buried his clawed hands in Patrick's hair, his mouth ajar showing just the tips of his fangs. "D-damn, you know how to please someone..."

Chance, in the meanwhile, was sitting on the floor between the bed and the furry legs of Patrick, his boyish lips wrapped around the fat throbbing cock of the bear and one of his hand-paws pumping his own erection with horny vigor; from what Drake could see of his face, he was over the moon.

Well, I should probably do my part, too, Drake thought: he felt the asshole of the bear relaxing under the gentle pressure of his prick, the muscles surrounding the tight entrance massaging the pointed tip like a suction cup. Drake thrust forward with decision, and after a brief initial resistance he slid inside with ease; Patrick let out a long, heavy sigh through the cock still parting his lips, and wriggled his butt cheeks a bit to help his packmate bury his erection even deeper.

Drake closed his eyes, his lungs filled by a satisfied breath; he stood still, just enjoying the moment. I can feel Patrick, and also Wyatt and Chance through him, he thought, a smile baring his pointy teeth. Right now, we are one being. He could feel Wyatt facefucking Patrick and Chance sucking him, and conforming with the rhythm they shared was as easy as breathing.

The arousal and bliss coming from the bear through their bond washed Drake's soul in powerful waves; he felt his grasp on his own humanity slipping and didn't care, gleefully allowing his wolf side to take control: his eyes burned gold, his fangs pushed down the boundary of his upper lip and his voice, now gruffer and more guttural, growled in pure sexual pleasure. "Your furry ass was hungry for my cock, I can sense it," he murmured, a long canine tongue licking his lips. "You can't hide your desire... it's in your sweat, it's in the sweet smell of your total and complete submission. You big slut... Bet you were dying to feel my doggy meat up your tight pucker, huh?" He knew Patrick couldn't hear him, and didn't care in the least; after all, he knew that both Chance and Wyatt enjoyed the dirty words, and playing bad cop once in a while was incredibly liberating.

Chance let out a broken whimper; the olfactory and auditory stimuli of the orgy were clearly driving him over the edge: his dreadlocks were plastered all over his neck by musky sweat, and his slender prick was basically humping his own hand. Drake looked down at him, and his predatory smile widened. "Don't worry, Chance, you're still the horniest bitch around," he murmured in a slow, lustful tone. "Your ass must feel really empty right now. But don't worry, my cock is always ready for a ride in that cute little boy cunt of yours... I'll be sure to save some of my special wolf cream just for you."

The teenager cried again, this time in desperate resignation, before his balls spilled their content all over his legs and the floor. "I-it's not fair, big bro... I wanted to last a bit more..." he whined, before going back at sucking Patrick. Drake snorted at him: Chance was still too young, too submissive and weak-minded... But he still had plenty of time to find his balance, to become a better lover and a better wolf.

Patrick, on the other hand, was perfect: he was kind, compassionate, positive, he knew how to please his packmates and his primal form was strong, imposing and something to be feared. He was what any other beta could only hope to be. Sure, he didn't have the necessary nature to rise as an alpha, but that was not for every wolf to be, after all. Drake slowed the rhythm of his thrusting a bit, wanting Patrick to enjoy the treatment as much as he was.

"I love when you let your wolf come out like that, Drake." Wyatt was staring at him with a huge smile on his face from the other end of Patrick, who was pressed between them like the ham inside a human sandwich. "You certainly deserve to be my dragon."

Drake smiled back, baring his fangs up to the gums. "Come closer, my alpha," he ordered. The two bent forward over the large body of the bear until, thanks to their extreme nimbleness, their lips touched, and Wyatt's tongue slithered inside the mouth of his beta.

Drake lowered his eyelids: his sight was in the way right now, enjoying the moment using his nose, his ears, his tongue and his skin was everything he needed. The fragrance of Wyatt's hair, the aroma of his saliva, the familiar texture of his tongue and lips, their padded fingers intertwined in a primal dance... Everything was perfect. Wyatt was his alpha, his boyfriend, his mate; he was strong, he was crazy, he was adorable, he was willing to die for his pack's sake... And the wolf inside Drake recognized all of that, and was grateful to him, because Wyatt was the one who had created him and allowed him to exist, an act that could have never been repaid, not even in a thousand years.

All the aggressiveness that was piling into Drake's heart since he had let the wolf come out melted like ice under the sun, replaced by a warm wave of passion and contentedness. Drake heaved a sigh right into Wyatt's mouth while his cock throbbed and coated the insides of his packmate in yellow sticky cum; his orgasm started a chain reaction to the two bodies connected to his own, and suddenly both Patrick and Chance had their mouths full of pure werewolf spunk, salty and spicy.

Wyatt licked his lips, panting a couple of times. "I was hoping we could last a bit longer, but... damn, this was so intense! It was like fucking with everyone at the same time!"

Drake smirked at him. "Poetic and educated as usual, huh?" The other shrugged.

"Hey, I can't think of any literary quote about a nice foursome on the top of my head..." The two wolves pulled out their cocks, giving Patrick some room to breathe and stand up again: the bear looked tired and a bit out of whack, but the smile on his face went from ear to ear. While Drake helped Chance getting back on his feet too, Wyatt looked at his biggest beta and asked "So? Was that a good idea? You look like you had some fun..."

Patrick nodded and started gesturing furiously in the air, before realizing that Angela wasn't there to translate for him... So he just resorted to encircling his three packmates in a hug with his powerful arms, and giving them wet, sloppy kisses. The four wolfmen fell back on Wyatt's bed, laughing in child-like joy. "I love you, guys..." Drake murmured, staring at the ceiling. He could feel his eyes getting watery, but didn't care: after the orgasm, the wolf had retreated back to the safe spot inside his soul, letting him enjoy the afterglow fully. "Becoming a werewolf is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

His three packmates nuzzled him gently. "I bet there are no people in this world, right now, that are feeling as happy as we are," Wyatt murmured. "Chance, go and see if the girls are finished... We're all sleeping here in one bed, tonight. I want all my pack with me, I want to feel you close."

"Yes sir!" And the dreadlocked boy, after the parody of a salute, darted outside the room.

The three remaining werewolves just lied on the bed engaging in slow, lazy cuddles. "Oh, yeah, now that I think of it, my dragon... What were you talking about before we started having sex?"

Drake furrowed while he stroked the prominent belly of Patrick. Before the sex? It seemed so long ago... But then he realized what his alpha meant. "Oh, yeah, that... Are we really heading to a werewolf convention tomorrow, Wyatt?"

* * * *

"You know, after having seen the one in Denver, this is kind of a letdown," Drake observed. The passenger area of Meadows Field, with its huge and curved glass-wall, the model of a strangely-shaped plane hanging from the ceiling and the small and cosy armchairs scattered here and there, looked more like the waiting room of some multiplex than an airport.

Wyatt shrugged. "Yeah, but isn't Denver the largest airport of the United States of something like that?" The alpha set down his backpack near one of the armchairs and sat there as if it was the throne of some ancient king. Even though he usually wore nothing but short pants and t-shirts from March to October, the winter climate was a bit too rigid for that kind of clothing choice; that's why he was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a light grey sweater, and even donned a checkered scarf around his neck. This, coupled with his glasses, earring and unruly hair, gave him a trendy, hipstery look.

Drake stood right beside him, the faithful beta next to his alpha. Despite his handsome beard, the open tan leather jacket (a Christmas gift from his packmates) complementing his impressive physique and the skin-tight white t-shirt doing nothing to hide the outline of his nipple piercings, the dark-haired werewolf had the same kind, good-natured - even a bit shy and dorky - look on his face as always; sure, he was a lycanthrope, a powerful and mighty creature of the night, but in his heart and soul, despite the newfound strength, he was still the same young man who had lost himself in the woods last August... just a bit better (and a lot furrier). "Speaking of Denver... There are many direct flights from here to Colorado, right? Are you sure you don't want to attend Grand Mesa, Wyatt? I mean, I'm sure Richard would be happy and proud," he whispered in a tone of voice almost inaudible, at least to a normal human.

Wyatt looked up at his beta with his warm chestnut irises. "I'm not going to lie to you, my dragon, the idea is tempting. I mean, even during our brief visit last month we experienced so much; and those twins? Good lord, they were... damn, even I am at a loss of words." The golden-furred alpha took a little time to sigh and regularise his breathing, probably in order to avoid popping a boner in the middle of the airport at the mere thought of Liam and Kieran. "And I sure that with wolves like them and Marco around I'd be able to learn a lot and become an even better alpha, but... I already have a pack, Drake. If I could just bring all of you with me to Echo Creek I wouldn't waste a minute, but I can't, and I'm not just talking about the girls: Chance is still attending high school, and I certainly can't ask you and Patrick to pay thousands of dollars of college expenses, even if there are financial aids for people like us who choose to go to Grand Mesa."

Drake nodded; having that conversation with Wyatt wasn't easy, since the idea of being separated from his alpha more than what they already were normally with him attending his community college was downright painful, but he still felt the need to get things straight. "Well, that's the thought that is bugging me, Wyatt: that we are the ones who are keeping you from going there and from realizing your true potential as an alpha, and..."

Wyatt sprang back on his feet and kissed him, cutting off his objections; a couple of tourists carrying huge cups of mocha cappuccino looked at them with surprised expressions on their faces, while the two werewolves displayed their passion for each other in the open for some long seconds. "Don't you ever say something like that again, Drake," Wyatt growled at him after their lips had broken contact; the tone of his voice was bubbling in barely repressed anger. "You are the ones who make me feel happy and satisfied of my life, and without all of you I wouldn't even be an alpha in the first place. Remember Marco and his pack in the parking and at the airport, that link they shared? That's everything I want: and if you, Angie, Pat and the pups are here, I don't need any other place, my dragon... I'm already where I want to be."

"Huh? Is there something wrong?" Angela and Patrick were walking towards them from the coffee corner with four big plastic cups full of steaming hot beverages in their hands. The big, burly bear was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt hugging his musclegut, a pair of denim jeans and sturdy work boots; Angela, on the other hand, was donning a simple yet very elegant green dress along with a coordinated jacket over her otherwise bare shoulders - a choice in style that made her look like a young actress parading on the red carpet - and the inevitable scarf wrapped around her neck. While he received his decaf from her pale slender hands with a warm smile, Drake realized that he had never seen her without one of her scarves, not ever during bonding time or the primal moons.

Wyatt shook his head. "Nah, we were just having an exchange. Of saliva." Drake coughed in embarrassment over his cup, but he couldn't avoid to notice the strange, bitter look in Angela's eyes; was she disapproving them? No, it wasn't that... She seemed sad and miserable, even if her heartbeat and breathing sounded perfectly fine. "Thanks for the tea, Pat," Wyatt was saying in that very moment; Patrick beamed at him and gave him a thumb up with his free hand. The alpha sit back on his armchair, and his three betas took seats around him. "So... Are you excited about the WolfCon?". Drake furrowed.

"Wait, are you telling me it's seriously called WolfCon?" he asked in an incredulous whisper.

Angela chuckled a bit over her cup of spiced chai latte. "No, not really. To be honest, it doesn't have a proper name." Drake was relieved by the fact that the young woman was looking okay and was even looking at him in the eyes. Well, she's not angry with me, at least... But there's still something wrong with her. I'd love to know what's bugging her and to see if I could be of some help, but somehow I have the feeling that she'll just avoid the issue if the others are around. "As you can understand, organizing something like that is a very complex and delicate job... You can never know who could be around," the girl added in a quiet tone.

Drake nodded in return. Of course he knew who Angela was referring to: hunters. Suddenly, he felt stupid and reckless for having discussed private matters with his alpha - and having even mentioned Grand Mesa by name - in the middle of an airport, albeit at a tone of voice too low for a normal person to hear. Although, if they really hunt our kind, they can't be ordinary people, he thought with a small, unpleasant shiver. The news he had heard, even on TV, about dozens of people mysteriously dying of some form of allergic reaction in the airports all over the nation in the past days came to his mind. "Yeah, I guess drawing attention is not safe at all," his forest green eyes darted around in a sudden fit of paranoia, but the people strolling around the big waiting hall of Meadows Field didn't look particularly menacing or suspicious. "Um... wait. Where are the pups?" he asked, realizing all of a sudden that the excited voices of Kaylee and Chances weren't assailing his eardrums. Patrick looked around and then pointed a meaty index finger towards the opposite wall: the two teenage werewolves were busy inspecting the area near the bathrooms, and even from the distance it was clear they were smelling around in a decidedly canine way. "Should I go and tell them something?" Drake asked.

Wyatt shrugged. "I'll do it myself, they need to be scolded a bit. Although... sometimes acting like a wolf is inevitable for us. Want a demonstration?" His right hand darted, and before anyone could notice he was scratching Angela behind her left ear; the young woman murred in pure bliss, and her left leg even started twitching and tapping against the floor.

A few seconds later, though, she gently swatted away the fingers giving her pleasure and turned bright red, while trying to hide her face behind her cup of chai latte. "P-please, my alpha, don't do that... It's very embarrassing," she murmured.

Wyatt smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Angela... What can I do to be forgiven?"

Angela's face became even redder. "W-well... How about a kiss?"

The alpha turned around to stare at Drake, a manic and playful expression on his impish face. "Um, I dunno... I should probably ask my boyfriend first..."

A smile dawned in the middle of Drake's bushy beard. "Come on, dude, it's Angela we're talking about, you don't need my permission!"

"Yeah, you're right!" Wyatt bent over with his lips ready, but Angela turned her face around, transforming what could've been a make-out session in an innocent kiss on the cheek.

"I d-don't know what you have in mind, m-my alpha, but I'm perfectly satisfied with something like this," she clarified, her face still burning in abashment.

"Oh. 'kay, then." If Wyatt thought that her behavior was weird, he didn't show it. "Well, time for me to go and reprimand some unruly puppies!" He walked towards Chance and Kaylee - who, apparently, were busy examining the contents of a trash can nearby - while Angela let out a heart-breaking sigh and nestled herself against Patrick, who in turn encircled her shoulders with a meaty arm.

"Is there something wrong, Angela?" Drake asked, unsure on what was happening in front of his eyes. What's happening to her? Is she sick? Angry towards Wyatt for some reason? A sudden and extremely plausible suspicion bloomed inside his head like a poisonous flower. Is she angry with me? "Because if it's my fault, I sincerely apolog..."

The girl let out a small, alarmed sound, like a small rodent that sees the shadow of the wings of a falcon hovering just above his underground burrow. "N-no, Drake, don't say that!" she exclaimed; the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes were too honest and spontaneous to be forged. "Of course it's not your fault!"

Drake took an uneasy sip from his decaf and grimaced: it was bitter and rapidly getting cold, just like he was feeling in that very moment. Well... If it's not my fault, then, whose fault it is?

* * * *

"I still don't get why it's such a problem for you, really," Drake told Wyatt while the two were waiting near the conveyor belt for their luggage to appear. "I mean, travelling by plane felt so good, both last time and this one. It was just like being inside a big, warm blanket..."

Wyatt glanced at him. "Told you, I don't want to be forced to sleep. When we went to Montana, I was hoping to be able to talk with Yom a bit more, for example..."

Drake patted him on a shoulder. "Yeah, I know that feeling. They're a lot like us, huh? Marco created his own pack instead of following his alpha just like you did, and they clearly love each other very much. I hope we'll be able to meet them again in the future, share our experiences... I'm sure we could learn a lot from each other."

Kaylee hugged them from behind. "Are you talking about those guys, right? The ones from the photographs?" she asked with a giant smile on her face. She was wearing a blouse and a pleated skirt that suited her quite fine: she looked like a high school student taken straight from some Japanese anime.

Wyatt looked at her with wide eyes. "How the hell did you know? Do you have some kind of radar?" The girl kissed him playfully just behind his ear.

"Remember, I'm always where someone is talking about hot guys making out with each other," she exclaimed, nodding her head as if she was explaining the two the most important scientific discovery ever.

Drake scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I... didn't meant that when I was talking about 'learning', to be honest, but... Oh, well. Did you sleep well on the plane too, Kaylee?" he asked her, trying to change the topic of the conversation as soon as possible.

The Asian girl gave him a quizzical look. "Um... Now that you mention it, no, not really. I keep having the strangest recurring dream: I'm in this weird place enveloped in fog and there are black eyes staring at me... Just staring, nothing else. And there's a voice in my ears, repeating the same words over and over; it says 'There's a hole in the floor at the bottom of the wall', whatever that means." The girl shivered, even if the interior of the Phoenix Sky Harbor was pleasurably warm. "To be honest, it's creepy... I should probably ask Moira about that when we go back home, maybe she can give me something to help me sleep better."

Wyatt scoffed at her. "Knowing that old bat, she'll just tell you to grow a spine and stop badgering her with stupid requests. Oh, there's my suitcase."

An hour later the six werewolves got down a bus, just in front of a huge, modern quartet of connected white buildings labelled "Lindquist Hotel & Convention Center"; apparently there was a shuttle service from the airport to the site of the convention, even if - at least from what Drake could ascertain from their smell - none of the other passengers had been werewolves. "The Lindquists are a family of keepers," Angela was explaining to him in a very small voice. "Very rich keepers, of course. That's why we can do something like that here... No chance of some uninvited guests sneaking in." The sextet walked under an imposing and a bit tacky stone archway that led into a short drive lined with cherry trees. "Although, they organize our meeting when there's at least another convention going, so that we don't draw unnecessary suspicions."

"Last year was fun, there was a comic convention!" Chance, who was walking alongside them and carrying around a giant duffle bag, exclaimed. He was wearing his trademark leather jacket and a pair of black motorcycle boots. "Unfortunately, this year is not going to be as interesting..." The boy sighed and pointed at the huge banner hanging over the main entrance, that spelled: IT'S EASY BEING GREEN - VEGAN FOOD & CUISINE.

Angela looked at him with a small smile. "Well, at least it's the perfect cover. Our kind is not exactly famous for following the vegan diet."

Drake and the others entered the main hall of the convention center: it was choke full of people of every race, gender and age, from a couple of little kids munching on carrot sticks with passion, to a parade of young, dangerously slender women who looked like they had just marched out of a model agency, to some older men dressed like old time hippies. Drake took a deep breath, and a powerful combination of sweet and spicy aromas filled his nostrils; it was a smell so intense, it covered any presence of other lycans... if, of course, there were some others of their kind there, which he was seriously starting to doubt. "So... Is there something we have to do now?" he asked Wyatt.

The golden alpha looked at him in amusement. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Drake pursed his lips. "Well... You know, do we have to go somewhere, say a password, something like that? Like, I dunno, asking for a Happy Meal with extra happy?"

Wyatt chuckled. "I don't think anyone would get that reference... And no, we just have to go and get our passes." While fishing a crumpled envelope from the back pocket of his jeans, he walked steadily to the main reception desk, where a woman in her late twenties with an elegant grey suit and an air of supreme boredom on her face was busy explaining a group of chatty elderly women how to reach something called "Tofu Pavillon".

Drake's nose caught the slightest hint of a familiar smell, and he inhaled deeply, trying to determine the source of that scent: it took him less than a couple of seconds to understand that the receptionist, behind her weary expression, was a wolf, too; and indeed, after the band of old ladies had started trotting towards their macrobiotic destination - but not before having thanked the woman behind the desk at least five hundred times - she showed Wyatt a more friendly expression. "Six badges for the VIP zone," the young man mused.

The woman took the envelop from his hands and set it apart without even glancing at it. "See you guys later," she mouthed at him, placing on the desk in front of her a handful of purple square cards. "Take the door over there, please," she then added in a higher tone of voice. The door in question was at the very right end of the hall, small and inconspicuous enough not to be noticed by the vegan convention attendees.

"And... that's it?" Drake asked while the pack walked through the long, narrow corridor just behind the door. "It doesn't seem particularly difficult to enter, are you sure that the hunters aren't..."

"Nah," Wyatt interrupted it. "You're underestimating keepers, my dragon. Sure, we werewolves are fast, strong and all kinds of awesome, but have you seen what Moira and the others can do, right? There's a reason why the world at large still hasn't discovered our secret during all these centuries, and the reason is because keepers have always been by your side... And by the way, remember what Seamus told us when we were escorting him to Montana? That he didn't except for keepers to challenge him of all the people around him? Just because they are not strong as we are, that doesn't mean they are not as powerful." Wyatt nodded to his own words. "I may not like Moira very much, but I would never, ever call her word into question... But please, don't tell her I said that."

At the end of the corridor, and behind another anonymous-looking door, there was a rectangular room with carpeted floor and cream-colored walls; the place itself looked bare and unused, with no furniture whatsoever except for a small desk in a corner. There were, however, three people - all of them lycans - standing in the middle of the room, busy in an unpleasant exchange of words.

Two of them were still teenagers or in their early-twenties at most, probably of Latino heritage; their faces were adorned with a matching set of pencil-thin beards and cholo mustache, and they could easily pass as brothers. The expressions on their faces, however, were downright mean, and they were so busy bullying their victim that they didn't even notice the arrival of the pack.

The third person, however, was the one really standing out: he was a man in his early thirties, with a stocky build and a woolly, bushy red beard, so glorious that would've probably scored him a honorary membership in any ZZ Top fan club. He looked vaguely annoyed, but didn't seem to react to the mean words that were being thrown at him in the least, and he couldn't have been taller than four feet and five inches.

"So, shorty, what are you supposed to be, a weremidget?" one of the two teenagers was saying him, his arms crossed over his chest and a smartass, insolent face.

His friend elbowed him. "Oh, come on, that's not politically correct anymore, dude! You should call him dachshund!" The two burst into a mean laughter, while the bearded guy just looked at them without saying anything.

Drake snarled, baring his lengthening fangs, and Wyatt - feeling the rage and the tension of his beta - grabbed him by a shoulder to keep him calm. "Don't worry, he can handle that," he explained with a small smile on his face.

Meanwhile, the two bullies were starting to get angry, since their intended victim didn't look intentioned to fight back in the least. "Cat got your tongue, Frodo?" one of them hissed. "Well, considering your size, it was probably a kitty..."

Drake didn't even notice the small person moving: one moment he was staring at his assailants, and the second later he was viciously yanking their testicles in his short, callous hands. The two teenagers yelped in pain like small puppies, their amber eyes wide open in incredible pain. "I may be a dachshund, sure," he told them in a smooth, pleasant voice, a satisfied grin nestled in his beard. "But at least I'm not neutered." His grip tightened a bit, and one of the bullies started crying in silence. "By the way, Frodo is a hobbit, not a dwarf, so calling me Gimli would've been more appropriate. Also, the 'were' in the word werewolf means 'man', which I guess makes me a midgetwolf. Before going around insulting other people, at least learn your English, punks." He released his fingers, and the two ran out of the room with loud yelps of pain and humiliation.

Drake stepped forward, an expression of genuine admiration on his face. "I'm sorry for what they said to you. I'm Drake, by the way."

The small, bearded man turned around and showed him a warm smile. "Heh, don't worry, I'm quite used to that... The main disadvantage of being as tall as I am, is that you're in the line of sight of a ton of assholes. I'm Alexander, by the way, but feel free to call me Xander; I'm part of the pack that organizes this convention every year, and the second best Peter Dinklage impersonator in this hotel."

The grip of his hand was as strong and vigorous as Drake had imagined, and for a moment he could feel his balls contracting in a fit of imaginary pain. "Why just the second one?" he then asked with a curious grin.

"Because that's what happens when the real Peter Dinklage is the guest of honor of the vegan conference," he explained with a snicker. "By the way, first time here, right? Never saw you around before."

"Well, I became a werewolf just recently..." he explained. Xander nodded.

"You are a good guy, then. Those two douchebags are new to the wolf business too, but... well," he snorted in disgust and disapproval. "In many cases, the power goes straight to your head."

Wyatt suddenly cropped up from behind his beta, making peace signs with his fingers. "Hey, Xan! Nice to see you again."

Xander's smile got wider and even more sincere. "Wyatt, my friend!" He gave the alpha a pat on the back. "I was starting to think that you weren't going to make it, this year!"

Wyatt snorted. "Please, and missing the sight of you chastising some newbies?" Xander gave him a thumb up, then glanced back at Drake.

"So... Got yourself a new packmember, I see." Wyatt smiled proudly at that.

"And not only that, he's my mate and boyfriend." Xander nodded in approval.

"That's great news! He looks like a good guy. Now that I think of it, we had a new addition to the pack, too," he fished a small walkie-talkie from a pocket of the vest he was wearing. "Dakota, can you come here for a second?"

A mere minute later, when Xander was greeting the rest of Wyatt's pack, the door on the other side of the room burst open and a teenage girl jumped inside, panting like crazy. "I'm... sorry it took... me so long..." she apologized in a soft, husky voice.

Dakota looked maybe sixteen years old, and she was one of the cutest girls Drake had seen in his life: her strawberry blond hair was neatly tied in a long, straight braid, and her pale cheeks were dotted with adorable freckles; her lips were full, and her big, almond-shaped eyes shone of a vibrant green. She was wearing a light blue sweater and a pair of jeans, a very simple choice of clothing that did nothing but emphasize her fresh and natural beauty. "Um... hi!" she said, waving her hand frantically when she noticed the pack. "I'm... anf, I'm Dakota, n-nice to meet you all!"

"Can you cover for me for a bit?" Xander asked her. "I'm accompanying Wyatt's pack to their rooms." Dakota fumbled with her fingers, her eyes darting around in nervous glances; when she realized she had been spoken to, she stood at attention.

"Y-yes sir!" she exclaimed. "You can c-count on me!" She looked so awkward and at the same time so eager to please that Drake had to force himself not to hug her right on the spot.

Someone let out a small yip: Chance was staring the girl too, with transfixed eyes and a small stream of saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth; the slender tail of the boy slithered outside his body, lowering his pants a bit, and started wagging. Drake put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Chance, get a hold of yourself, you're drooling."

Chance shook himself from his stupor-induced trance and his furry appendage disappeared once again. "S-sorry, big bro..." he babbled, his eyes still on Dakota. Behind his back, Kaylee was eyeing him with extreme disapproval.

"What a cutie," Wyatt said to Xander while the bearded werewolf escorted them through the corridors of Lindquist hotel. "A bit too young, though, considering the average age of your pack."

Xander shrugged. "The circumstances in which Dakota was turned into a werewolf are... let's say very peculiar, and not in a good way; unfortunately the recovering process still isn't over. What Dakota needs the most right now, more than a pack, is a family" He shook his head, apparently not wanting to say anything else on the matter, so Drake tried to think of something to make the conversation going.

"So... Are you the alpha of your pack, Xander?" Despite being less than four feet and a half tall, he had already proved himself to be strong and fast... And since his own alpha didn't actually look the part that much, Drake was ready to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

Xander let out a hearty laugh, patting his hands on his muscled thighs. "Oh, no, that's a position that requires a certain stature, you know," and then he chuckled again at his own self-deprecation. "My alpha should be around here somewhere. She's usually very busy making sure that everything is going as smoothly as possible." He had yet to finish speaking, when someone jumped out of the corner of the hallway and swooped in on Wyatt with a delighted cry. "...okay, there she is."

"Awwww, my cute little Wyatt! Let me snuggle you a bit!" Xander's alpha was a tall, voluptuous woman with smooth dark chocolate skin and an imposing mass of black hair carefully braided into tight cornrows; she was brushing the side of her face against Wyatt's with a delighted smile, her eyes closed. "Who's the most adorable alpha around, huh?" She was wearing a tight dress with a colorful flowery pattern that hugged her curvaceous ass and ample bosom, that was squeezed against the body of the other alpha. Should I feel jealous?, Drake thought with an amused grin. I mean, a hot woman is groping my boyfriend...

It took him a few seconds to realize that Wyatt wasn't the only one being groped; he slowly turned around with his eyes wide, and discovered that right behind him, a meaty and powerful hand on one of his ass cheeks, was the epitome of a musclebear, looking at him with bright azure eyes and a huge smile of pearly white fangs.

If the attire of the woman could be described as skimpy, what the burly, massive man was wearing was downright outrageous: his leather pants looked like they had been sprayed on his legs, and certainly did nothing to hide the outline of his impressive package; on the upper side of his body he was wearing nothing but a black harness, hugging the meaty muscles of his chest in a leathery and steely embrace. Not that it mattered, of course, since the pelt of wiry dark fur covering his firm musclegut and his juicy pecs was so thick that it looked like he had somehow managed not to revert his last primal transformation completely, and the only way to understand where his nipples were was to look at the piercings nestled into the chest hair. Far from being the simple steel barbells Wyatt was sporting, those rings were so huge they looked like they weighed at least one pound each.

"Hey, handsome," the musclebear said to him in an alluring tone. Despite being built as a powerhouse, his magnetic grey eyes were as gentle as Patrick's, and his short black beard just as bushy and sexy. Drake felt that he couldn't sustain his gaze and lowered his irises, the skin of his face blushing a bit.

"U-um, hey..." he murmured. Damn, he must be an alpha, too... He is so strong and masculine I can't even bear to look at him.

Two sausage-like fingers caressed the skin of his chin before pushing it upwards in a gentle but very firm gesture, forcing Drake to raise his head again. "I like guys who are a bit shy, you know..." he murmured with his sultry baritone voice, and Drake had to bit his lip with his fangs and focus on the small amount of pain in order to avoid his cock to transform into a sheathed canine shaft on its own accord.

"Come on, Joy, let me go!" Wyatt, in the meantime, was wrestling against the dark-skinned woman, who was still determined to pet and cuddle him. When he finally noticed what the musclebear was doing to his beta, he let out an enraged snarl. "Hey, Clyde, don't you dare trying to enthral him! He's my boyfriend, you know!"

The leather-clad werewolf let out a disappointed groan, but nodded. "Sorry," he murmured, sounding genuinely regretful. "Can I at least take him for a test drive?"

Wyatt's eyes narrowed. "Clyde..."

The musclebear lowered his eyes. "Alright, alright... How about a small taste, then?"

Wyatt sighed. "Okay... As long as you don't get greedy."

"What are you talking abou..." a confused Drake started, before the powerful right hand of Clyde wrapped around his chin and a fat, moist tongue invaded his mouth. Drake let out an alarmed moan, but then he felt his body relaxing and his mouth and lips reciprocating the kiss; their beards brushed one against the other, crackling as if electricity was traveling through every hair and making Drake's horniness mount inside him in an irresistible wave. In a sudden bout of energy he released the wolf, and his new nimbler canine tongue started wrestling against Clyde's still human one, tasting the spicy, strong flavour of his saliva, with just the vaguest hint of cigar.

"Bet you're happy now, Kaylee!" Drake heard Chance exclaiming through the haze of arousal.

The girl clicked her tongue. "Um... Not really. Uncle Clyde is a bit too old for my standards, you know..."

And to think I wasn't even sure about coming to this convention, Drake somehow managed to think. He smiled, wrapping his clawed paw-hands around the neck of the alpha musclebear; maybe he was enjoying the moment a bit too much, and he already had some ideas on how to obtain Wyatt's forgiveness... but that was something for the future. Right now, the only thing that counted for him and Clyde was the feeling of their beards rubbing together, their tongues dancing, their hands caressing warm skin. Everything else could wait.

(next chapter: The dragon and the small flower)