Tristan moaned and leaned his head back against the tree, doing his damned best to remain standing. He jerked when he felt fingers exploring his balls. Ilka took more of him in, and when the blond moaned, it added to Tristan’s pleasure.
The Fin chuckled, enjoying Tristan’s reaction, then began jacking him off slowly. As he pulled at the Frenchman’s beautiful cock with his fist, he leaned forward and took more of it in him. This early in the game, he could already taste some pre-cum. Despite being only 22, Ilka had been sexually active for a long time, and realized that Tristan was a virgin the moment they kissed.
This one’s going to be easy, he thought to himself.
Pulling out a little, he began licking at Tristan’s pre-cum, genuinely enjoying the bitter, salty taste of it. In the dim light, he could see and hear that Tristan was hyperventilating, and enjoyed the sight of his abs contracting and expanding.
Ilka leaned forward once more, taking Tristan’s shaft as deep into his mouth as possible. Grabbing a hold of it, he used his other hand to begin exploring the Frenchman’s ass, rubbing the space between his legs. They were shaking.
He sucked harder, making smacking sounds with his mouth, and thrilled when Tristan began thrusting forward. Hands grabbed his head, not letting him pull all the way out. He pulled Tristan’s pants all the way down till they bunched up around his ankles. Pulling away from the cock, the Fin took one of Tristan’s balls in his mouth and was rewarded with an even louder moan. Looking up, he could see that Tristan’s eyes were closed while his head lay back.
Perfect! he thought.
Taking the other ball into his mouth, Ilka slowly took the wallet he found in one of Tristan’s back pockets.
Lifting his left pant leg, he stuffed it into the sock along his inner leg, then pulled the pant sleeve back down.
That done, he returned his attention to Tristan’s cock: jacking it harder and faster to get it over with.
Tristan’s grip on his head had gotten tighter, and he began thrusting harder. From the amount of pre-cum he was producing, Ilka could tell he was about to cum. A part of him wondered where that strange smell was coming from: an unusual combination of nuts and cookie-dough.
The grip was starting to hurt, so Ilka grabbed the wrists to pull them away.
Tristan wouldn’t let go. With a growl, he started pushing his cock deeper into Ilka’s throat, till he heard choking sounds. A part of his mind told him to stop, but he was past the point of no return.
He felt Ilka start to struggle, but he couldn’t stop. Opening his mouth, he howled. He could feel hands beat at his groin, struggle with his wrists. Opening his eyes, he saw the blond looking up at him in confusion, eyes red as he struggled to breathe. The sight of it made Tristan’s heart beat faster, made him more excited, and he howled even louder.
Close! He was so close! He pumped harder, feeling a hard constriction give way before his cock’s tip. One final thrust, and he moved past it, entering a tighter, hotter, wetter space.
Ilka began choking as Tristan’s cock shoved past the tight constriction of his glottis.
For Tristan, it was too much.
He came, howling louder as his spunk shot out of him and into the mouth beneath him. More struggling ensued, and he gasped as he felt the tightness around his rod give way to air.
Looking down, he saw that the blond had pulled back, eyes and mouth wide with terror as he struggled to get away, face bright and red with tears.
Tristan’s spunk still flowed out of his cock, more weakly this time, as ecstasy gave way to dawning realization.
“Ilka?” he choked out; to his surprise, his voice sounded deeper than it ever had, coming out more like a growl.
“Ilka?”
The blond began scooting away on all fours, babbling something hysterically. Tristan took a step toward him, but Ilka gave out a scream and ran off into the woods.
“Oh my God. Ilka!” and Tristan ran after him.
In his panic, the Fin ran deeper into the park, but despite the darkness, Tristan could see him perfectly. Tristan fell, tripping over his pants, and cursed as he got up and put them back on. He was relieved to find that his voice had returned to normal.
He set off again, but something smashed into him, knocking him backward. He looked up and nearly passed out. It looked like some sort of huge animal, crouching before him; with purple eyes that shone in the dark.
Beneath those eyes were sharp teeth. The creature stood on two legs, and part of Tristan’s mind registered the fact that it wore the latest pair of Nike running shoes. It was crouched forward, however, resting its upper body on muscular arms.
Something like an electric current passed through Tristan. He rolled over on all fours, and crouched lower, growling at the strange creature before him. Teeth bared, he hissed, and lunged forward with a fist that had suddenly grown claws.
The other creature pulled back away from the swipe, then backhanded Tristan, sending him flying away. Tristan rolled on all fours again, and turned to face the other creature once more.
“Arrêter!” growled the figure before him. “Stop it! Enough!”
That took Tristan by surprise. The creature got up on its hind legs once more, and he realized that it was no animal. It had the body of a man, clad in jeans and a long-sleeved blue sweater. The head, however, was like a wolf’s… only it was changing as he watched, becoming more like a man’s. It finally resolved into that of some middle aged man with a closely trimmed, pointed beard.
Despite the strangeness of the situation, a part of Tristan’s mind screamed: gorgeous!
He stepped forward involuntarily, holding his hands out, wanting to touch the man. As they came into his line of sight, he saw that instead of seeing his own hands, there were claws in their stead. Tristan gasped, holding the claws up closer to his face.
What the hell? he wondered, as he began to cry.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” the other man said, as if reading his thoughts. “You’re an Other, a Changeling of the Werewolf Clan. Like me. Don’t be afraid.”
Then they heard yelling. It sounded like several people heading their way. Through the trees, beams of light came toward them, and Tristan could hear Ilka’s hysterical voice heading their way.
“Run!” the other man said, crouching low again and losing his human features.
His voice was so commanding that Tristan obeyed instantly, crouching on all fours and following his leader.
Leader? his mind screeched at him.
Obey! his body commanded, and he ran like the wind.
A logical part of him wondered what the heck was going on, wondered how it was possible that he was able to run at great speed on all fours. There was no discomfort, however.
He was aware that his body had lengthened, as had his arms, and that he was running this way as if he had done it all his life. His body seemed to be functioning on automatic, picking up scents, sights, and sounds that he had never before noticed.
Although he normally had a bad sense of direction, he could suddenly tell they were headed northeast, and could smell the Superior Lake ahead. His senses were on fire, and information was coming in from all sides. It was almost as if he had a 360º view all around him.
The… person he ran after slowed down as they reached the lake, so he did likewise. The trees around them began to thin, and there were more pedestrian paths about, but he couldn’t sense other people.
“Change,” barked the man he followed.
Without hesitation, Tristan’s body began to contract before he even realized it. His fangs pulled into his gums, and he got up on his legs once more. He was conscious of the fact that his body had obeyed the man before his mind had even realized it. Almost as if the man had pressed some sort of remote control, and he was a puppet without a will.
They had come out onto an open field that led to the lake, and Christian jumped when a car sped past. How had he not sensed it?
“We’re beside the Route d'Auteuil aux Lac
s,” the man explained, his voice sounding more human with each word that came out of him. “As you return to your human form, your senses become a little more dull.”
“Oh.”
The man ignored him and took out a cell phone, speaking English. It was too fast for Tristan to catch the exact meaning of, but he thought he understood enough.
“Please don’t hurt him. It wasn’t his fault. He… uh… he and I were talking… and uh…”
“How old are you?” the man asked.
“Twenty-three.”
“You’re pretty old to be having your first time, aren’t you?”
Tristan blushed.
“You have no idea what’s going on, do you? It’s alright. Nothing will happen to your so-called friend. He filched your wallet, did you know?”
Tristan didn’t quite get what the stranger meant, till he reached for his back pocket. Realizing that his wallet was missing, he had another insight.
“You were watching?”
“I only got to you at that part. Smelled you from afar, so I thought I’d investigate. Good thing I did.”
“Oh my God, I don’t believe this is happening!” Tristan suddenly felt sick. He found himself shaking, as he sank onto the grass while hugging himself. “What the hell is going on here? And who are you?”
“Arnaud Berenger Lupin. You?”
“Oh shit.”
Everyone knew of Arnaud Lupin. He was a genuine French aristocrat, as well as one of the world’s leading geneticists. He had served as the medical advisor to Nicolas Sarkozy, the former president, and was on the board of directors for the Pasteur Institute.
Technically, he was also Tristan’s boss.
Strong arms wrapped around him, and a deep, comforting voice told him it was going to be alright. Tristan had only ever been held like this by his parents before. He remembered when his father used to do it, and how safe it had made him feel. Unable to stop himself, he cried.
When his tears finally stopped, Mr. Lupin still held him, rocking him back and forth in the grass. Tristan reveled in the way the bigger man’s hands stroked the back of his head. His face rested on Arnaud’s shoulder, and he could smell the man’s clean sweat. It was very pleasant.
He finally developed the courage to hug his superior, marveling at the hard musculature he felt beneath the shirt. Tristan stuck his tongue out and licked at the beads of sweat that shone on Arnaud’s neck, and delighted in its slightly salty, slightly sweet taste. It did something to him.
Tristan kissed the neck, growing hard again, and he could feel Arnaud’s response. He reached out toward the older man’s groin, and was thrilled to feel it hard beneath the jeans.
“You haven’t told me your name,” Arnaud whispered, breathing hard into Tristan’s ear, as his embrace tightened.
“Tristan.”
“Eh? Tristan what?”
“Tristan Richelieu Beauchene, monsieur.”
“Shit!” Arnaud pushed him away and surged to his feet. “You’re the new guy we put in my department! You’re the one with AB negative blood, aren’t you!?”
“Uh, oui.”
“Shit!” Arnaud said as he stalked off.
Tristan sat on the grass, watching him walk away, feeling even more confused than ever. Arnaud vanished through the trees, and still Tristan sat there, looking at where he had gone.
He was still sitting there some fifteen minutes later when a car pulled up on the Route d'Auteuil aux Lacs, mere meters away. It stopped, then honked. When Tristan didn’t respond, the window rolled down, and Arnaud stuck his head out, motioning him to get in.
With a smile, Tristan got up and did just that.
CHAPTER 5
Lord Alfred Blakely was nervous as he was ushered into the room. As a leading member of one of the Clans, he was not used to the feeling, but among the loose community which made up the Others, the Shreen were the top of the food chain. Even Changelings like himself were afraid in the presence of the Shreen.
“How goes the project?” asked the room’s sole occupant: a severe-looking Asian woman with paper-white skin, and whose eyes were such narrow slits, that few ever saw her pupils.
“Madam Ching,” Alfred said with a bow. “It is still quite early, but so far, the institutes have expressed their desire to cooperate.”
Ching Shenchi did not even look up from the laptop she was typing on. Neither did she invite the British aristocrat to sit. It never even occurred to her to do so.
“It has come to my attention that there was some… excitement last night over on the Bois de Boulogne, something involving a hysterical young man who claimed to have seen a… ahem, a werewolf. The police were even called in. Have you lost control over your Clan, Changeling?”
“No, madam Ching. We have taken care of it, I assure you.”
The woman looked up at last, and raised a thin eyebrow at him.
Alfred continued, “His blood sample showed levels of some psychotropic drug. Cocaine, I believe. So typical of youths these days, unfortunately. The press were not even remotely interested, I assure you.”
Ching Shenchi nodded in approval, “I trust such incidents will not happen again? The Council is very busy dealing with the Americans, and will not tolerate distractions.”
“Of course, madam. I assure you: everything is perfectly under control.”
“Indeed? The US military now has genetic evidence that some of us exist. And just last night, one of your Clan was seen in a public park. Was not the decree clear? The penalties for exposing ourselves are even harsher now. If you cannot control the members of your Clan, the Council will have to step in. Do you understand?”
“Of course, madam. I assure you: nothing like this will ever happen again.”
Ching returned to her laptop and began typing away. After a few seconds, Lord Blakely realized he had been dismissed. Bowing, he made his way toward the door and let himself out, breathing a sigh of relief as he closed it behind him.
* * *
Arnaud stared at the data with growing excitement, his hands trembling at the implications of what he was seeing, “Are you sure, Marie?”
“Oui, monsieur,” the technician beamed. “I checked and double-checked this morning. Even though it’s a Saturday,” she said pointedly. “The sample has remained stable for the past three days.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. What’s different now?”
“You’re almost two centuries old,” the technician, Mme. Marie Beauregard sighed a little enviously, “but you’re still a man, and just as ignorant as a mere human male. Fortunately for you, though, I’m human, I’m female, and naturally possess superior intelligence.”
“True,” Arnaud beamed, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. “So. What is your explanation?”
Before she could reply, the door to the lab opened, and someone walked in.
It was Tristan.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Tristan stumbled a bit over his words. “I thought... Dr. Lupin? Could I have a word with you when you’re available?”
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?” Arnaud asked.
“I, uh… I’m sorry,” Tristan mumbled, turning red. “I’ll uh… I’ll make an appointment for next week, instead. Madam,” he bowed to Marie, then walked away.
“Like I said,” the chief technician sighed as she watched Tristan walk away, “you’re just as ignorant as a human male.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You are one of the pure, with ancestors on both sides who were Changelings. As I understand your life-cycle, after two or three centuries, your kind find it harder to maintain your human form. By the fourth century at the latest, you can no longer transition, becoming the other thing permanently. Similar to the way caterpillars permanently become butterflies,” she smiled.
She continued. “It’s what the reserves are for, non? But others, especially the Half Breeds – which the British Clans call the Impure – do not undergo permanent transition, able to s
witch till the end of their life-cycles. Look at the neurochemical analysis of your brain. What do you see differently?”
“Elevated levels of… the same.”
“Look again,” she said.
“Oxytocin and vasopressin?”
She smiled, “It’s associated with higher forms of love, in case you forgot. Found in those who have monogamous relationships and genuinely trust their partners.”
“But…”
“Regardless of the species,” she sighed, “males will always be dumber than females.”
“So you think I don’t have to change permanently?”
“Who knows? Only time can tell. This is all so new.”
With this news, Arnaud ran out of the lab.
“It’s true, then,” Marie sighed to herself as she began shutting down the equipment. “Love truly does conquer the beast.”
* * *
Arnaud’s sense of smell found Tristan’s trail, showing that the young man was making his way toward the main exit on the Rue du Docteur Roux.
He sped up, and sure enough, the beautiful one with the sad, blue eyes was hunched over as he made his way toward the main gate. It had just started raining, but his new recruit didn’t seem to notice.
Arnaud was tempted to just let him go. It would be unprofessional. What would people think if they found out? Besides, he was 192 years old. He sighed, and walked back into the building.
* * *
Tristan’s heart was breaking.
What was he thinking? Mr. Lupin had taken him to his place the night of his First Change, then made love to him. At least that’s the way he had thought of it. But that was the last he saw of the man till today.
Tristan sighed. What the hell could someone like him have to offer a man like that? He made his way past the gate and onto the street, just as the rain fell. Tristan felt grateful, for it hid the tears he could no longer hold back.
As he turned right on Boulevard Pasteur, a car honked at him.
He jumped.
Then he smelled the special scent. It was him. Arnaud.
The front passenger door opened, and he jumped in, smiling for the first time in days.
Impure and the Beast--A Sexy Supernatural Gay M/M Shapeshifter Novelette from Steam Books Page 3
