Everyone had warned Julian about the dangers of living with a werewolf. There were reasons they kept to themselves, people reasoned. They were just too different. It wasn't like they cared about "monoforms" either, people told him. It wasn't just that they were ostracized—it was a mutual thing. Better to just stay separate; less conflict that way.
But Julian didn't buy into any of that kind of racism. Peter was cool. Peter was awesome, in fact—he'd never had a better friend. And Peter's tendency to walk around their apartment without a shirt on most of the time didn't hurt either, although Julian hadn't precisely mentioned that small fact to him. They got along well enough, in any case. Peter was smart, funny, and pretty much like any other guy Julian knew, except for the fact that he sported a good deal more hair than usual on the full moons, ate his meat substantially more raw than Julian did, and spent his Friday nights at werewolf bars. Other than that he was fairly... ordinary, really.
Or so Julian had always thought.
Julian had always considered himself and Peter to be friends—which was why he was hurt when, with barely a word to him, Peter came home one evening and locked himself in his room. Julian didn't even notice that anything was wrong until he knocked on Peter's door for dinner and received only a growl in response.
"Peter?" he called cautiously. "Peter, did you hear me? I said dinner's ready. Are you coming out?"
As a response, Julian received only a slightly louder growl and a loud thump as something—a shoe, perhaps—was thrown against the other side of the door. Surprised, Julian backed off and went to eat dinner by himself.
He intended to ask Peter about it the next morning, but knocked on the door only to find himself given the same reception. He knew Peter would be late for class, but as much as he coaxed, even that couldn't get his normally-responsible roommate to budge. Julian was seriously beginning to worry, but as long as Peter was keeping the door locked, there wasn't much he could do. Instead he gathered up his belongings, threw his backpack over one shoulder, and headed out to class.
Wolf students and human students didn't usually mingle much around campus—at least not outside of classes—but certain wolf members of the student body generally tolerated Julian because Peter supported him. So when Julian set himself down across the table from Cherise and Tanya, two wolf-women friends of Peter's, he got only a mild eye-roll as a response, instead of bared teeth.
"Hey, um," Julian started as he sat down and began to poke at the suspicious-looking dining hall food, "do you guys know what's up with Peter?" He tried to sound casual, but knew he would come across as more interested than he should be.
"What's wrong with him?" snapped Cherise. Julian knew she didn't really like him; she didn't like any monoforms. She was at least as nasty to them as they were to her, and seemed to revel in it.
"It's just that he locked himself in his room last night, and wouldn't come out even this morning. He didn't eat anything. I'm a little worried."
Tanya rolled her eyes beneath a giant pile of curvaceous blond hair. She had out a nail file and was slowly filing her nails to points. "That'll be Christina," she muttered derisively.
Julian thought he knew who she was talking about. A fairly pretty wolf-woman, although not someone he knew closely. He seemed to have a mental image of dark eyes and long eyelashes. "What about her?" he asked. "Did she dump him, or something?" He hadn't known that Peter was going out with anyone. Like him, Peter had always been defiantly single, and Julian had thought- well.
Cherise snorted at Julian's obviously woeful lack of perception. "She's in heat," she snarled at him. When Julian only looked blank, her sneer grew. "He's in rut, you idiot. That stupid bitch has been in heat the past week and she's stinking up the place. All the guys are smelling it and it's making them randy as all fuck. I haven't gotten a wink of sleep the past two nights for the pestering. Don't know why Peter's not out there with the rest of them, chasing her tail. Or someone else's; god knows there's any number of lady wolves who'd be happy enough to lift their tails for him."
By the smirk on Tanya's face, Julian thought that maybe the two of them were included in that group. He finished his lunch hurriedly and thanked them for the information.
Back at the apartment that afternoon, Julian considered his options. He'd looked up werewolf reproduction on the internet as soon as he'd gotten back, and he'd gathered that Peter was probably in quite a bit of mental distress at the moment. He'd tried to talk to Peter through the door, but hadn't gotten anything more than some further muffled growling and a strict barked warning to leave well enough alone.
But Julian was not the type to leave a friend alone, particularly one he'd had a crush on for over a year. And if he was right about what Peter wanted, if it was even possible... well, he had no excuse not to try, did he? It was as good an opportunity as he'd ever had, and he wasn't about to waste it.
Julian knew that there was very little that would get Peter out of his room, but he also knew how incredibly sharp the werewolf's sense of smell would be at the moment. And so he slid himself onto his knees outside of Peter's door, opened his fly and began to stroke himself.
He'd wanted Peter long before they'd moved in together, and he often suspected his roommate of certain sidelong glances that were less than innocent. Months and months of wanting made it easy to take himself in hand, grab and rub and pull at his shaft, and picture Peter doing these things to him, as he had pictured a million times in the shower or lying in his own bed in the dead of night.
His palm was warm and dry—he hadn't brought his lotion with him, because he hadn't wanted even the faint scent of the hand cream to mask his own pheromones. But it was enough for now as he pulled up in long, smooth strokes, his forehead falling to one side to rest against the firm wood of Peter's door.
"Peter," he murmured, moaned the name, caressed it with his voice. He flicked the head of his cock with his thumb, and again, gasping into the thin crack between the door and the jam. He allowed his other hand to come up to his chest, reaching under his shirt and pinching at his own sensitive nipples. Again he pictured Peter doing this to him, pictured the wolf's strong hands working their way up his sides, the warm wet mouth coming to hover over his nipple—hot, harsh, biting down.
So long, he'd wanted to feel Peter's hands on him. He'd imagined it so many times. "Peter," he whispered, and his hand clenched, pulling ruthlessly at himself, the sort of rough teasing that he imagined the boy would use. The hand that had been at his nipples slipped down, sliding across his ribs, dipping into his pants. He imagined it as Peter's hand as it skated over his hips, sliding down the back of his pants to clench one buttock and squeeze—yes! Peter would be possessive like this, would want to claim him, would probably suck hickeys onto his neck until he was wearing a necklace of purple bruises.
His hands were starting to sweat, allowing the one pumping his cock to slide a little easier. He tried to keep both the strokes and his breath steady as he allowed his other hand to slide further back behind himself, sneaking and slipping, a single fingertip sliding down the crack between his buttocks, lower and lower...
It slid into him remarkably easily. This was one thing he had prepared. He hoped the jelly he'd used wouldn't give off any smell, but he'd decided it was better safe—and ready—than sorry. His forefinger plunged in with no resistance at all, sliding into his hole and up his passage until he'd buried it knuckle-deep. Julian slid his eyes closed, losing himself in the fantasy. "Yes," he moaned. "Oh yes, Peter, fuck me..."
He allowed a second finger to push in beside the first, nudging tentatively at his entrance and then—meeting no resistance—sliding inside him. Oh yes. This was what he'd wanted. He'd had his own fingers inside himself before, as well as various toys and even the occasional man, but none of them were as good as how he knew Peter would be. Nothing would be as good as Peter, he thought, adding a third finger as he began to fuck himself with the digits. Peter would be the best. Peter would know how to take him right, would give in to his animal side and fuck him raw, split him in half with his lust.
Julian speared himself viciously with the fingers and hissed. Yes. Yes! "Oh yeah," he moaned. "Oh, Peter, give it to me! Fuck!"
He almost toppled over as the door he'd been leaning against suddenly swung inwards, revealing a dark figure towering over him. Julian craned his head back to see and gasped.
He'd only ever caught glimpses of Peter in his other form—had never seen him this fierce this close. Peter as a werewolf was still remarkably human; his large torso and burly arms and legs more or less the same, albeit substantially hairier. His fingers and toes ended in sharp-looking claws, but the appendages themselves were not quite paws. The most different things about him were the bushy silver tail that snaked out from the end of his spine, and the wolf's head on his shoulders, complete with bushy mane of fur that lay in a luxurious ruff about his neck and shoulders.
Peter's fangs were bared in a possessive growl, and the glint of animal lust was strong in his eyes. Julian sat dumb for a moment, staring at him, one hand still clutching his member while three fingers of the other sat buried deep inside himself.
Without a word, Peter grabbed him roughly by the arm and yanked him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Before Julian had even regained his balance from being pulled to his feet, Peter had shoved him again, this time further into the room. Julian stumbled, falling, and landed face-down on Peter's bed on the far side of the room. Before he even fully registered this, Peter was standing behind him, one hand in the center of his back, pinning him down, the other yanking down on the waistband of his pants and underwear, pulling them down to his ankles.
Julian braced himself in anticipation, but nothing happened. After a moment, he struggled to twist his head around to see, only to find Peter clutching at his face with one hand, eyes squeezed shut, looking in pain.
'He's forcing himself to stop,' Julian realized. 'He knows what he's doing and he can't control himself, but he's trying to.'
Julian was touched, almost as much as he was frustrated. He wriggled his now bare ass, trying to look inviting. "It's okay," he murmured. "I know what I want. I get it. I understand. Just do it!"
No more encouragement was needed. All the air left Julian's lungs in a single aborted yelp as he suddenly found himself full of nearly nine inches of werewolf cock. Peter had barely sheathed himself fully in Julian's ass before he was pulling out again and slamming roughly back, the force of it driving Julian forward on the bed, nearly bashing his head against the wall.
Julian reached across the bed and grabbed a pillow, throwing it in front of his head just in time as another thrust threw him forward, the sheer force of it frankly astonishing. Julian had never felt so filled, so possessed, in his life. The cock inside him felt enormous, stretching and plundering him, leaving no corner unfilled. Julian felt almost like he could feel Peter's cock in the back of his throat, like he was choking on it.
It was everything he'd imagined and more. He felt utterly and entirely taken, captured, owned. Peter grabbed his hair roughly and yanked his head back, leaning down to bite at the exposed joint between his neck and shoulder. Though Julian knew he must be holding himself back, trying to bite softly, his body still flared with pain where the sharp fangs sank into his flesh.
Peter showed no signs of stopping. Julian's hips were canted over the edge of the bed, with Peter standing behind him, and the angle gave Peter the perfect leverage to thrust away, driving forward like an animal, over and over. Julian's own stiff cock was rubbed mercilessly against the rough bedsheets as his asshole was ravaged over and over and over, Peter's cock plunging into him again and again.
Peter grabbed Julian's hips, lifting them up to meet his thrusts as he continued. Julian let out a strangled, breathy groan as his cock hit new depths, deeper than he'd thought possible, plundering every last crevice of him. He hardly thought it could possibly get better, until Peter reached under him and grabbed his exposed cock with one hand.
Julian saw stars. He reached back blindly with one hand, seeking Peter's hips and pulling him, yanking him forward, trying to get him to thrust harder, faster! Then he had to quickly throw his hands forward once more to brace himself as Peter got the message, growling low in his throat and positively flinging Julian forward with his thrusts, the entire bed rocking and protesting below them as Julian was drilled into it. Julian wondered if it might break from the sheer force of it.
Finally Peter put one hand on Julian's hips and the other on the back of Julian's head and held him down, pinning him roughly to the bed. Four brutal thrusts later and he was coming; Julian could feel the hot rush of semen into his anus that seemed to go on and on and on and on.
When it was over, Peter collapsed on top of him, a warm, heavy weight. After a few moments, a sleepy hand groped for Julian's erection and—finding it—pumped it in quick, harsh strokes.
Julian was so worked up that he barely needed the encouragement, and came quickly over Peter's fingers. Afterward he lay panting on the bed, still face down, as the haze of lust slowly cleared.
Peter grunted and rolled off of him, lying full out on the bed. Julian kicked off his pants and underwear, which were still around his ankles, and stretched out beside him. A satisfied smile curved his lips as he lay his head down against Peter's chest. The werewolf's heartbeat was gradually slowing back down to something approaching a normal pace.
For a while they said nothing, letting the heat and the soft, slick touch of their skin speak for them.
"Thanks," Peter said eventually. "Sorry I was so rough."
"No problem," Julian replied, snuggling further into Peter's chest. It seemed a little less hairy than before, and he looked up to find Peter once again sporting his human face. The werewolf grinned down at him. His teeth still looked decidedly fang-like.
"Am I right then in guessing you might be up for doing this again later?" Peter asked, his voice half humor, half hope.
"Mmm," said Julian, feeling warm. "If you let me see your wolf form again, I might even be willing to suck your big wolf cock."
Peter gave a chuckle like a contented growl and wrapped his hand around behind Julian, fingers tracing the rim of his wide, fucked-open hole. Already his cum was trickling out of Julian's ass, staining the sheets. "I look forward to it," he murmured.