Stuff My Stocking: M-M Romance Stories that are Nice and Naughty (5 page)

CRYING WOLF by Jade Archer

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas… all I’ve ever wanted for Christmas… is some wolf-man loving in shifted form. Maybe someone (or something) gets lost at night in the dark, freezing, snowy woods… and there is some light and a cabin up ahead…?  Oh please Santa!

P.S. a light d/s dynamic makes for a perfect gift wrap! ;)

{PHOTO INSERT:  A beautiful creature lies on a bed. He has the body of man but the head and long furry tail of wolf. He wears only a seductive grin.}

***************************

(This story is set in the
Portals
series universe)

Wolf whined softly in the back of his throat and took another desperate, but increasingly hopeless look around the forest.

It was so dark. So cold. The deep blanket of snow was broken only by the tall, black trunks of the trees crowded in around him. While they offered a merciful reduction in the wind chill factor, they also felt slightly…sinister—like crones crowding around to watch him stumbling to his demise. It was well below freezing anyway. The difference was probably only a few extra minutes of misery.

You’ve really done it this time, you stupid mutt!

This wasn’t good. Running away from the slave caravan in the middle of winter certainly wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. But what on Rigial had possessed him to do it naked? At the very least he should have tried to steal a cloak, or a blanket, or…something. Maybe a loincloth. A fur lined loincloth. If his cock and balls climbed any higher up into his body, he’d have trouble swallowing.

Unfortunately, apart from his own, admittedly hirsute hide, he was as bare-assed naked as the day his mother had whelped him. And he could smell the snow storm that was coming—sharp and ominous. The sensitive black tip of his nose quivered and he couldn’t hold back another whine of distress. If only he could actually shift into full-wolf form—which would better preserve his body heat. But of course, being defective, he couldn’t.

His desperation to escape his Masters had made him stupid. More stupid than normal. More stupid than the handlers told him he was every day. Damn, he wished he could have proven them wrong. Just once. Running away into a blizzard probably wasn’t going to accomplish that though.

Sadly, even if he did die out here, the truth was they’d probably find him and still manage to get their pound of flesh. He could just see it. He’d end up a frozen Wolf-boy Popsicle to amuse the masses at the next carnival or street fair. Well, at least until spring when the weather warmed up and he began to melt…and stink. Mind you, this far north that eventuality was many months away.

Wolf fought hard not to cry at the depressing track his mind insisted on taking. Numerous “training” sessions had beaten him into realizing tears were futile. He didn’t want to appear any more pathetic than he already was either—although he hardly imagined the nightsquarrels and owlings would care. And finally, but probably most importantly of all, tears would freeze almost instantly in this weather, and he was already quite miserable enough as it was.  

Still, he was forced to wipe at his eyes and down his long muzzle moments later. Damn it.

Flagging badly, but determined not to give in—to keep going until there was no more go left in him—Wolf climbed to the top of the next snow drift and…stared in amazement. In the distance, warm yellow light spilled out across the snow. The log cabin it came from—with its thick plume of enticing smoke that whipped away into the forest beyond—lay in the valley below like a beacon promising welcome and survival.

It was, of course, a great big steaming pile of horse manure and lies—no one was likely to welcome Wolf. He was too freakish, too “defective” as so many had jeered and mocked—eternally caught between wolf and man and not able to shift into either. When no Master would have him, he had ended up a travelling curiosity in the cesspit they diplomatically called a circus.

But perhaps he could hide in a shed. Or shelter in a root cellar. It was certainly worth a try. And if he was caught…well he’d escaped once now. He could do it again.

Surging ahead, eager to escape the bone numbing hypothermia already setting in, Wolf hadn’t managed more than a few hurried steps before pain exploded up his right leg. His foot connected sharply with something hard and unyielding beneath the deceptively smooth surface of the snow. It was probably a rock or thick log buried beneath the white death all around him. But Wolf really didn’t have time to wonder.

He stumbled forward. With nothing to catch hold of and slow his decent, he tumbled down the steep slope unchecked. While he’d long since lost feeling in his pads and lower limbs, apparently his numb body could still register bone jarring jolts of agony as he fell headlong down into the valley.

Wolf knew the black spine of rock he had spotted sticking up at the bottom of the slope would break his fall—and probably his neck as well. But miraculously, the gods smiled on him. He never registered the impact. The world went black and he lost consciousness when his head hit a submerged tree branch he never even saw coming.

****

Cy added more wood to the already blazing fire. Although the stray he had rescued from the snow had long since stopped shivering, he didn’t want to take any chances. The cabin was well insulated, but the approaching storm would soon have the temperature dropping even inside the warm shelter.

He gazed down at his unexpected house guest. Normally it would be unwelcome house guest, but there was something about the little wolf-boy as Cy looked him over from pointed ears to cute padded toes—lingering for a long while on the mesmerizing curve of his firm ass—that made it hard to wish him anywhere but right where he was.

Wolf-boy certainly made a very attractive addition to the hearth rug. Cy could imagine long hours spent admiring the new addition to his home. Well, admiring in a very tactile way at least.

The boy had been hard to ignore outside too. When the early warning wards at the edge of the forest had been triggered, letting Cy know someone was encroaching on his territory, he hadn’t paid much attention. With a storm rapidly approaching and the temperature dropping at an alarming rate, the likelihood of anyone making it into the valley alive to disturb him had been minimal. And he had no intention of leaving his warm little nest on a wild goose chase for a corpse.

But when the wards at the top of the ridge had been breached, Cy had found himself compelled to focus his senses—to brush against the presence approaching his home. And from that point on he’d been lost.

Something about the soft whine he’d discovered as he stretched out with his magic called to him. He’d almost felt as if someone was shoving at him, forcing him along as he tracked down the intruder. And he was so glad he had followed the insistent demand. The boy was fascinating. Cy had never seen anyone like him.

Fur covered the boy’s whole body in a soft, silky pelt of brown and black, but it did little to distract from the firm, toned body beneath. A thick bushy tail sprouted from the base of his spine and currently lay limply across the floor. Cy longed to reach out and caress along its length—investigating where it rooted into the boy’s body. He wanted to explore what lay beneath too—nestled between the boys tight ass cheeks.

But truly, it was the boy’s face that was the most captivating. He had a wolf’s pointed muzzle and sturdy head that tapered down to a very human, very male body. A thick brown ruff of fur protected his nape and upper shoulders. His ears where sharp triangles. His nose a very canine soft black flare at the tip of his snout. In other words, he was mesmerizing.  

Cy could see wet tracks down the boys muzzle. It was obvious at some point he’d been crying. Cy loved tears. And something about the wolf-boy made Cy want them. He wanted the soft whine again too. But this time they needed to be edged with arousal and desperation for release. A release Cy wouldn’t grant until the boy was begging—crying out for his cock. 

As Cy knelt down beside him, the boy began to stir. A low moan escaped the long muzzle as the pup stretched out his neck and slowly regained consciousness. It ignited a tiny flame of awareness in Cy’s belly—a very primitive, very aroused awareness that called to something deep and instinctual. It demanded possession. Cy tamped it down, but didn’t dismiss or push it away completely.

“Hush. You’re safe, little wolf.” With a gentle brush of his magic, Cy began checking the boy over.

The boy slowly open his eyes and raised his head to focus on Cy as he worked. But after a moment of stunned silence, the wolf-boy gasped and pulled away.

Cy instantly raised his hand to the deep scars that ran from his hair line down the left hand side of his face in three thick, ugly gouges. Damn it all! How could he have forgotten to cover the scars? It had been so long since he had been in the company of others he had almost lost sight of why he shunned the outside world.

The wolf-boy ducked his head and cowered away. Cy felt every muscle he possessed clench in anger and humiliation.  

“You needn’t be afraid. My scars are not contagious,” Cy snapped as he very purposefully lowered his hand away from his face. He didn’t want to frighten the boy, but he refused to hide in his own home.

The boy cringed further away from him and a tiny whine escaped. Something about the reaction gave Cy a moment of pause. He’d spent most of his adult life being ostracised for something completely beyond his control until he’d simply given up on society in disgust. But something about the way the pup whined and bared his throat made Cy feel like he’d kicked a puppy.

Cy studied the Wolf-boy cowering in front of him. He looked…frightened. Cy couldn’t help himself. He reached out to touch the boy's head. But again the pup jerked away, whining softly—his ears collapsing down against his head and his beautiful thick, bushy tail tucking in between his legs.

“Hush,” Cy commanded firmly, but not unkindly.

He reached out and very gently ran his hand over one silky ear and down into the pup’s thick neck ruff.

After years of deliberately avoiding the stupidity of the outside world—a world so vain and enamored of physical beauty it refused to see past the superficial imperfection of his face—Cy found it difficult to find the words he needed.

“My apologies, little wolf. I…should not have snapped at you.”

Wolf-boy looked up at him suddenly, clearly startled by the admission and apology. The boy even forgot to avert his eyes. Cy’s heart sped up as he stared into the brilliant gold colour that reflected open amazement at him.

“I’m sorry, Master. I…I wasn’t…” The pup’s voice was low, with a slight growling accent. His eyes pleaded for something, but Cy wasn’t quite sure what.

“I know my face is…unpleasant. There’s no need for either of us to pretend otherwise.”

“No!” The denial was quick and loud. “I mean…I was…” The wolf whined—his long, pink tongue licking along his muzzle nervously.

Cy waited patiently—his innate curiosity piqued. What was the boy trying to say?

“Your…your magic it…touched me. In the forest and a…again just now,” the boy finally said.

Cy blinked several times in surprise. Of all the things he’d imagined the boy would say that hadn’t even crossed his mind for a second. He took a moment to study the wolf-boy. If he was telling the truth, if the denial that had come so easily was real, then…

Perhaps his magic was trying to tell him something, Cy reflected. Trying to guide him as it often did since the attack. And perhaps…well perhaps the two of them weren’t as dissimilar as first appearances would suggest. He doubted the boy’s fearful, cringing reactions were a result of love and acceptance.

Very tentatively, Cy reached out with a thin tendril of his magic—imagining himself caressing along the boys back and down towards the base of his tail. The boy whined, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stretched up to meet the invisible caress—unconsciously exposing his vulnerable neck as his leg began a very slight, involuntary scratching motion and his tail wagged hesitantly. He was the very picture of a puppy on the edge of canine bliss. Cy felt his cock twitch as he watched the tip of the pups cock emerge from his foreskin—a hot pink head that begged for attention.

Oh, fuck! Cy’s mind shouted as he groaned and very nearly followed through with the thought. He wanted to roll the pup over, mount him and pound into him right there on the faded red and gold rug until the cum boiling away in his balls flooded into the wolf’s ass. Cum would be a delicious addition to the ash, charcoal, and tiny splinters of wood on the rug. It was that last item that had him pulling away. He didn’t want splinters anywhere near what he had planned.

The boy looked up at him—confusion and a little hurt reflected in his eyes as Cy withdrew the caress.

“Good, pup.” Cy enjoyed the way the boy relaxed instantly under his approval.

A moment of silence stretched out between them as they looked one another over carefully. Cy could see the boy’s eyes repeatedly drawn to the scars, but refused to hide them.

“What…what happened?” the boy eventually asked. When Cy didn’t answer immediately, the boy tensed and lower his eyes again fearfully. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“My father had many enemies at court. Enemies that sent an assassin cat that won’t be hunting ever again.” Cy growled angrily at the memory of that night so many years ago that had changed his life forever.

He’d barely been seventeen—barely been in control of his magic. But mage society was competitive. It was cutthroat and vicious. Weakness and imperfection simply were not tolerated. Cy had gone from being a first-born, talented and destined to rule his father’s holdings, to an outcast and pariah which his own sire was embarrassed to acknowledge.

Cy was so caught up in his own dark, painful thoughts, he didn’t noticed the wolf-boy move. Suddenly, a cold, wet nose touched the side of Cy’s face. He had to work very hard not to flinch. He refused to show any signs of weakness. Never again.