Free The Wolf Subdued by Riley Colton Page B

replied,
greedily undoing the man's belt. He could still smell the redheaded
woman on the big man's crotch and the scent only served to thrill
him further.
    "That I go both ways? None of the
guys in there knew that."
    "I told you I didn't care," Frankie
said, his hands underneath the man’s skintight shirt and reveling
in the hard lines of his muscled abs. “I told you I’d have you,
that I’d fuck you, and that I’d try to convert you. You might not
survive... no, probably won’t survive. It’s an honor I’ve chosen to
bestow upon you. You serve the Goddess with your sacrifice and it
doesn’t matter if you enjoy it or not,” Harlan said as he kissed
the man fiercely again. “Though I supposed if you do enjoy me
fucking you silly that’s just a plus, right?”
    Frankie laughed, ignoring the
implicit threat as if it were some sort of game. “What if I want to
do the fucking?”
    Harlan’s hand drifted down the man’s
stomach, into his pants, and onto his member. “No. I think you’re a
cocksucker, aren’t you? You like flesh in your mouth. You like the
taste of a man’s sweat.”
    “How did you do that trick with the
glass? Shit... you didn’t spill a drop,” Frankie asked again,
apparently mesmerized by the short fight in the bar. “You fight
like a natural and make it look way too easy. You do
MMA?”
    “It doesn’t really matter,” Harlan
whispered in the man’s ear, pushing him down with a gentle
shove.
    Frankie skipped all pretenses and
went right to Harlan’s crotch, deftly unzipping his pants and
pulling out the member. Harlan was hard - he was always hard before
the full moon, and Frankie took it in his mouth like a champ,
swallowing the whole thing to the base. Harlan’s head bumped back
against the wall hard, but he ignored it as the big blonde man
pulled hard at his dick. Harlan ran his hands through the man’s
hair and then, getting a good grip of the golden mane, and thrust
against it. Frankie took it in stride, sucking harder and faster as
Harlan pushed. Suddenly, though, a scent in the air caught Harlan
by storm and he panicked, pushing the big blonde man away from
him.
    “What the hell, man? I could have
bit your junk off,” the dejected cocksucker complained.
    “Quiet fool,” Harlan ordered, the
old painful memory coming back to him in a flash. He saw the blood
and fur, the horror of his pack dying while he could do nothing
about it.
    “Are we doing this or what man?”
Frankie asked, getting to his feet.
    Harlan ignored him, searching the
dark night around the club for the source of the scent. Had he been
in wolf form the hair on his back would have stood strait up and as
it was the hair on his arms and legs did. He uttered a guttural
growl full of anger and past hatred but the human form wasn't
nearly enough to transmit it well enough. Harlan turned from the
muscled man, crouched low, searching for the cause of the new
smell.
    “What the fuck, dude?” Frankie
complained. “You’re taking this werewolf shit a bit too far. It was
cute and all, but fuck.”
    "I smell you, vampire," he growled.
"I know you are there. Show yourself."
    Something blurred past him, between
he and Frankie, and knocked him to the ground. Frankie gurgled
wetly and Harlan looked up at the ripped mash of skin and cloth
where the vampire had raked his clawed fingers across the man’s
chest. The big man went into shock at once and slid to the ground,
convulsing.
    "You hunt my father's land, wolf,"
the faceless voice said from the night. "You hunt where you do not
belong."
    The accent was foreign and old, very
dignified sounding. He wondered what royal court the vampire's
father had turned him from so long ago. They old ones were the
worst, he thought, steeped in their traditions and images of
Stoker's Dracula. Even in the modern age they tried to carry on.
Harlan preferred the newer generations, the ones who didn't hate
the packs so much, but it was it was. There wasn't much he could do
about it. Once