by Amira Rain
“Look at my hand,” said Tate.
Megan looked down at Tate’s left hand where it lay on the sheets—or at what would have been Tate’s left hand, if it were not now a large paw with black fur extending up onto his wrist. Her breath caught in her throat, her entire body went into a jolt as if she had touched a live wire, and in a flurry of linen she shot straight up from the mattress and bounded, shrieking, onto the chair at Tate’s desk on the other side of the room. In flying there, she brought the comforter from the mattress with her, and wrapped herself up in it as if it could offer her any protection from the creature that Tate Dunster was.
Tate sat up on the bed, watching Megan watching him. He slumped his shoulders and looked inexpressibly sad at the way the girl he loved was now regarding him with a stark, panting, and very human terror.
“That’s how I knew,” said Tate, “how to do it, everything to do: how to touch you, everything you’d like best, how to make you come, without you ever having to tell me. I even knew exactly how to be inside you to get you there with just my dick, which I know no other guy ever did for you. We can feel your feelings, know exactly what you want and how to give it to you. It’s something else we do. We can fuck twice as much as a human guy, and we can always make you come every time. More than once, even. That’s why we’re the best lay there is. It’s what nature gave us.”
Megan felt ready to cry, but the tears would not come. She could only feebly push out the words, “Oh my God…Tate… Oh my God…”
Of all the new and different things that had come into her life since starting college, this was the last thing that Megan expected. Lycanthropes had begun to “come out” to the human population long before she was born, but they mostly lived secretive, closeted lives except in the presence of each other—because of exactly the way that Megan was reacting to Tate at this moment.
“Human fear hurts us,” said Tate. “I’m sitting here, looking at the girl I love being terrified as hell of me, and it hurts me. And for me it’s twice as bad because I don’t just see your fear. I feel it. I feel the fear rolling off you right now, and it hurts.”
Megan’s own words failed her, but Tate’s words finally brought out her tears. She watched him quietly, though still fearfully, through weeping eyes.
“Listen,” said Tate, “I’m not the Big Bad Wolf and you’re not Little Red Riding Hood. It’s not like that. We’re just another race of people, like another species, that’s lived alongside you for as long as there have been humans. Your kind and mine grew up together, you might say—then we grew apart for a long time.” He looked for any sign of understanding through the tears.
“We have rules and we live by them for everybody’s safety. Most of us live outside of the cities. There are little towns tucked away, where it’s either mostly us or there’s enough of us that it’s like safety in numbers. You and your folks have probably driven by places where we lived and not even knew it. You can live your whole life around us and not know it—unless we’re close enough to you, or we have enough trust with you, so we can come out.”
Megan listened, biting her lower lip. She’d had a moment like this once before, with a gay friend. “Coming out” was exactly the way to put it. This was exactly what Tate was doing. Her boyfriend was coming out to her.
As if to echo what Megan was thinking, Tate said, “It’s really the highest compliment we can pay you to let you know what we really are. It’s saying we trust you enough to know you won’t hurt us or put is in any danger. Like I said, we can sense human feelings. We know who could be dangerous to us and who might be okay.
I wanted to get you in bed because you’re so beautiful and you gave me a hard-on—which I had a tough time not showing you in class—but because I could sense you were okay. And we can sense how you feel physically, too. I could tell I made you wet just like you made me hard, and I knew how good we’d be when we were alone and it wasn’t just me naked.”
Megan knew that Tate could sense at least a little bit of the tension flowing out of her. She harked back in her mind to when they first started to get acquainted. “Back in class, when I first saw you—and I had no idea what—who you really are… My God, if I’d known then, would I even have…”
“Yeah, there was that chance I had to take. I knew I wanted to go to bed with you right there on the spot. Out of all the people in that class, my instincts went right to you. That’s how we are. When you’re a wolf you go with your instincts. The toughest part about posing naked in front of you in that class was not getting a woodie right there. I thought modeling nude would be my easiest job, but it turned out to be the hardest because I had to make myself not get hard because of you.”
All at once Megan was aware that she was no longer frightened. The shock and fear that had propelled her out of bed with Tate was the human fear of the strange, the different, the unknown; and the fear of the wild animal locked up not only inside him but inside of all humans. What might it do? Could it hurt her? Could it destroy her?
Listening to Tate speak, hearing the sincerity—the undeniable love—in his voice, and seeing it in his at-the-moment very human eyes, Megan could find nothing of a monster, or a beast or an animal. This was still the boy who had brought her the most wonderful feelings she had ever had in her young life. This was still Tate. And under the folds of sheets at his lap, possibly erect and throbbing for her at this very moment, was the beautiful instrument of those feelings.
Tate moved the sheets away from his lower body and showed her exactly what she thought was there. It stood up, hard and long and thick, calling out to her, its blunt head crowning in the foreskin with a ruddy hue. “Do you know I won’t hurt you?” he asked.
She licked her lips and nodded yes.
“Do you know I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you, ever?”
She nodded yes again.
“Do you know I love you, and I want you in my bed and I want to be in yours, and I want to be in you more than anything in the world?”
A last tear traced its way down her face. “Yes,” Megan said softly.
Tate held out his hand. “Then please, don’t be scared. You don’t ever have to be scared of me. Come back to bed with me. I want you so bad. Let me be in you all night.”
Nothing was left of Megan’s fear now. What swelled inside her now until she thought it would burst was need—her need for Tate, his mouth on hers, his arms crushing her, his hands feeling her all over, his body on top of her and pinning her down. And that huge, throbbing piece of wood pumping inside her, filling up her wetness and adding his own wetness to hers. Dragging the comforter with her, Megan moved back across the room and fell onto the bed next to him. He took her mouth in a sweet, savage kiss and rustled himself on top of her at once, plunging his wood deep into the wet place between her legs and making her moan long and sensuously into his kiss. The feeling of Tate screwing her again and again for the rest of the night surpassed everything else she had felt with him up until then. Megan let herself go and loved him.
Tate took Megan to places where humans were seldom allowed to go and showed her things that humans were seldom allowed to see. He showed her a world that most humans did not know existed, even though they knew of the existence of lycanthropes themselves. She loved it, and she loved him. Their relationship lasted for the rest of Megan’s time in college. Then, as graduation neared, Megan knew she needed to decide what the rest of her life would be about.
And they both realized that what they wanted for their future was a mate of their own respective kind. Tate loved Megan, but he wanted one day to raise a pack with a lycanthrope mate. He did not want his pack to live in two worlds. Megan also wanted a human life, not a life divided between one species and another.
She too wanted to live in just one world, and she could not live her whole life in Tate’s world. Like being in college, Tate was her adventure—her great, grand adventure. And there comes a time when all adventures must end. Sadly, but gratefully and wisely, Tate and
Megan parted after she graduated.
Megan found another love with Andrew Ames, an economics classmate who wanted to open his own restaurant. His dream came true. She married him and became the co-manager and hostess of his bistro. But Andrew’s ambitions proved bigger than their marriage. He began an affair with Sarah Danforth, a wealthy, older, divorced blonde who patronized the bistro.
He fell in love with her—and with what her money could do for him—and gave up his marriage to Megan, breaking her heart. It took a long time for Megan to get over the loss. They sold the bistro, and Megan took the money and kept their apartment, and began to sort out her life. What would she do now? Where would she go, and what would her future be?
In time, Megan grew nostalgic for the way she had felt when she was with Tate. Returning to him was not an option; he had moved on as she had. But she still knew things about the lycanthrope world, and people in it. She had a way back into that world—if she wanted it. And she now decided she wanted it.
Megan began to frequent an online social media group called LycoNet, which was exclusively for lycanthropes and humans who liked them, whom the shifters trusted. She began to look for a new werewolf partner, just for the mutual enjoyment of their company and for the lycanthrope sex that Megan looked forward to experiencing again.
And that was when she discovered the Maguire Twins of Rendall Glen, just an afternoon’s train ride away. When she first saw their profile on the website, her heart leaped like an eager, excited dog. Two of them. Twins. And they were utterly perfect—more perfect than any human male could ever be, she thought. Perfection times two.
But once she actually read their profile, her excitement was at once tempered with the realization that these were werewolf twins who enjoyed having sex with the same females of their kind, or the same human women, at once. They preferred threesomes, even foursomes with two females. While Megan had enjoyed the three years of her loving, sexual adventure with Tate, there was only one of him. These Maguire twins were two, and they were accustomed to sharing.
This would be another new thing for her, another new frontier to explore, another new thing to dare—assuming she actually dared it.
Tate had been as much as a girl in her early twenties could handle, and then some. Now she was actually contemplating sleeping with two superhumanly hot werewolves. Was she even capable of such a thing? Could she even handle it? Was she ready to find out?
Fate made the decision for her. LycoNet notified Nash and Pearce Maguire that she had looked at their profile, and in turn they looked at hers. To her wonderment, one evening Megan found a message from them in her in-box—and a request for a chat.
Trembling, shaking, feeling as if matches were being struck inside her, up and down her body, Megan logged on for a text chat. They responded at once. The text chat soon gave way to a video chat. The brothers wanted to talk face to face, and Megan, still trembling at the thought of them, obliged.
In their images on her laptop screen, Nash and Pearce were everything that Tate was and perhaps more. They were much as she imagined Tate must be now, wherever he was, some twelve years after they said goodbye. It both excited and somehow strangely calmed her to see them, and to hear their voices. It was almost like being in old familiar territory again.
“Like we were saying,” said Nash, “when Pearce and I were just out of being pups and ready for females, we learned in a hurry that we always wanted the same ones. For a while we were really competitive about it, both being Alpha types.”
“Except I’m the bigger Alpha,” Pearce cut in.
“So you say,” Nash half-snapped at him.
“So I am,” Pearce groused back. Rolling his eyes and frowning at his brother, he picked up, “After a while—and after a few times being at each other’s throat about it—we decided we couldn’t go on like that. We are brothers after all. We had to work something out, find a way to be brothers and have a sex life without killing each other. The solution was obvious.”
“Instead of competing,” said Nash, “we’d share. Since we had the same taste and wanted the same partners, whoever one of us had in bed, the other one would join us. And that’s how we’ve always done things.”
“We take a female to bed together,” said Pearce. “She gets twice the fun, and we don’t end up trying to kill each other. It’s worked out great.” He cast a sidelong glance at Nash. “We haven’t wanted to kill each other in years.”
Nash returned Pearce’s glance, and Megan smiled at the obvious love that was greater than any competition between them.
“And when it works out really well,” Nash added, “we hook up with two at the same time. That’s when it gets really fun. Neither one of us can stay with just the one we start with, so we switch off. We swap them. While I’m doing one and Pearce is doing the other, I’ll reach over and kiss and play with the one Pearce is doing, and he’ll do the same to mine. And then we’ll switch. He’ll do mine and I’ll do his, and we’ll play with the other female while we’re doing it.”
“It gets to be a hell of a lot of humping and a hell of a lot of coming for everyone,” said Pearce, wickedly grinning.
Megan listened to all this and felt a heat on her skin, a raggedness in her breath, and a moisture in her lingerie. It was almost as if she were in bed with them already. She had to struggle in her head to keep herself clear and composed. In some corner of her mind she remembered Tate posing in that drawing class as if he were posing for her alone, and concentrating hard to keep his tool at least partly soft. She knew better than ever now how he must have felt.
And that was when Pearce very pointedly, very directly, asked her, “So, do you have a girlfriend you think might be interested in joining the three of us?”
The question startled Megan. She blinked, speechless, at her screen, her mouth hanging open. She could give only one coherent response: “Uh…um…”
“We don’t mean to put you on the spot,” said Nash. “It’s just we haven’t had a four-way in a while and we’d kind of like to have one again. They’re fun.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Megan answered apprehensively.
“Isn’t there someone?” Pearce asked. “Someone that you’re really close to, that you really trust, who can really be trusted. Someone, maybe, who’s curious about us, who might have as good a time with it as you?”
“Well…” Megan began, considering. There was only one name that came to mind. But she couldn’t ask her. Could she…?
“Maybe if you could just bring her in on it the next time we chat,” suggested Nash.
Megan considered further. “Maybe I could… I mean, maybe she might. I don’t know. We tell each other everything. She knows all about the relationship I had in school. She might. I just don’t know. Neither of us have ever done anything like this, and she’s never been to bed with one of you at all. She might not go for it.”
“But there is someone, right?” said Pearce, grinning with narrowed eyes. “And you can ask her, can’t you? What’s the worst she could say?”
Megan broached the thought. She could say, Megan Brosnan, we’ve known each other since we were in high school and I love you like a sister, but you have got to be out of your freaking mind.
Aloud, Megan answered, “I don’t know. All I can do is ask.”
“Then ask her,” said Pearce. “And bring her along next time we talk.”
“I’ll ask her,” said Megan, with a bit of trepidation. “I can’t promise anything, but…okay, I’ll ask her.”
“Good,” said Nash. “And you never know. People can surprise you.”
Megan reflected on the truth of that. People could be surprising. It was surprising enough, years ago, when she was in bed with her boyfriend and he showed her his paw. Yes, people at times could be full of surprises.
“They sure can,” Megan said, the memory echoing in her mind.
“Before we let you go, there’s just one other thing,” Nash said.
“What’s that?” Megan asked
. What more could they have to say after they proposed to bring her girlfriend into a ménage?
“Your ex-boyfriend from school, Tate, wasn’t it?”
She arched her eyebrows a bit. “Um…yes, Tate. What about him?”
“We liked your story about how you met him,” Pearce chimed in. “The art class, the modeling…”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that,” said Pearce. “We were wondering if you’d like to have a little…deja vu.”
“What do you mean?” asked Megan.
Smiles blossoming on their faces, the brothers traded a glance, then looked back at her. “This,” said Pearce.
Then they did it. Together they stood up—and began to peel off their clothes. Megan’s jaw dropped open. Her eyes widened. They were actually undressing for her, right there in front of their computer, in front of her. The shirts came off. The jeans came open and down. Just like Tate in school, they were wearing no underwear; the male parts came unfurling and bobbing out.
