short werewolf story pt. 1

im going to publish another game soon. i need to write the sex scenes, fix the grammar and that's it

while you wait, here's a quick werewolf story (around 7k words)

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PART 1

Evan Hayes

I sigh as I look outside the window: it’s winter. It... sucks. I can’t wait for spring, or even better, summer. It’s so fucking cold outside; and I love nature. I can’t go outside and work out, because all of my fucking bones will freeze.

If I am in my human form that is. If I turn into a werewolf, which only happens on the full moon, my (rather beautiful) black fur has the power to protect me from any cold that there may be. But that comes with a disadvantage: I can’t really control much of myself. I’ve hurt people, and I used to hate myself for it. But not anymore. I’ve come to terms that when I do turn into a wild animal, I act like a wild animal, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Do you know why dogs like toys that squeak? Because they sound like dying prey. So before you villainize me, it’s just in my (wolf) nature to kill.

But enough making myself look like a bad guy. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I’m done beating myself over it. I turned around to look at Liam Carter (my mate) as he said “I can’t wait to go on that date,”

“What?” I asked, not having been listening to a word he said. He’s that type of guy that likes to talk a lot. Don’t get me wrong, not once in my life have I found him annoying, but that doesn’t mean I can hear every single word he says. I, more or less, enjoy hearing his voice in the background while I think about random things.

“Dude, have you not been listening to a word I was saying?” He asked, annoyance in his voice oblivious. He doesn’t like it when I don’t listen. Who wouldn’t? I bet he must feel like I’m ignoring him, but that’s just not true. I just simply lose focus.

“Yeah, I, uh, I zoned out. Again. Sorry.” I apologized sincerely. “You know how my brain is sometimes. Anxiety.” While it is true that my mind sometimes starts to wonder off when I get anxious thoughts, that wasn’t the case right now. Good thing he’s an empath. And I am abusing that. Fuck.

“Dude... you really should try and get some professional help. It’s clearly messing with your life a lot.” He said, his face full of worry and care.

“Dude, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Guilty built up in my chest, knowing that I’d use any excuse to not have him lecture me about not listening. I get anxious when I overthink and stuff, but it’s not affecting my life that much. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

“You know this girl I told you about? Maggie?” He asked with a grin brighter than the sun.

“Maggie?” I repeated after him knowing that there’s been quite a few girls after him.

“Maggie Reynolds? You don’t remember?” He asked angrily.

Oh boy, here we go... no self-diagnosed anxiety can save me now.

“Oh, her?! Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about her.” The dude goes out with four different girls a month. “What about her?” I have no fucking idea who that chick is. Chick. Just read.

“So this chick,” Told you “I asked her out on a date, and guess what?”

“What?” I said, too tired to guess. I am fucking exhausted from these dates of his. You know, the first time he told he was going out with someone, I felt like someone had stuck a knife in my chest and ripped me open. Thankfully, I didn’t work out and they never met again. But it kept happening over and over and over again and I’m so sick of it. I am fucking done hearing him say how tight her pussy was. It’s exhausting. After the first few times it happened, I thought it’d get easier, but no! It only hurt more and more after each one, and I have had to act happy and cheerful about it and praise him as he got into yet another girl’s pants.

“Guess!” Now he was getting on my nerves.

“What? Did you fuck her?” I asked with more anger than I intended to.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” He asked back with anger. I have no idea how we’ve been able to even be friends with our semi-anger issues.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just... tried.” I said honestly as I blinked twice, rubbing my eyes as exaggerate . I was fucking tired, but not ‘I wanna nap’ sorta tired. I was tired him telling me about his hookups with others. I wanted to scream at his face I don’t want to fucking hear how you fucked another girl when I’m fucking in love with you, you homophobic bastard. Oh, yes. Remember how I told you at the beginning that he was my mate? Yeah. I don’t think we’ll ever become a thing, because his shit conservative family raised him to hate gays. I fucking hate his parents. But he can never find that out. Or that I’m into guys, especially. No matter what. We’re best friends, but I really believe that if he had to pick between ‘respecting’ his family’s values and me, he’d choose his shit family. To make it even better, I already see him as my family. As a part of me.

“Oh... alright. Well, do you still wanna hear about what happened with Maggie?”

No. Shut your fucking pie hole already. Just shut the fuck up!!!

“Of course,” I gave him a false smile that I’ve learned to perfect over the years being around him. I can’t have him as a mate, but that doesn’t mean I want to lose him as a friend.

“She said yes!”

Wait... what did she say yes to? Oh, yeah. A date. They haven’t fucked yet. Good. I guess.

“I’m so fucking excited, dude! I think she’s the one!” He’s always like this, thinking that he’s found the one. Four girls a month... Four times twelve is... 48. Yeah. He’s said that about approximately 48 girls this year. If not even more. It doesn’t fail to scare me any less every time though. What if he’s right? What if after a few dates, hookups, whatever, they fall in love, they become boyfriend and girlfriend and... and they get married and they have kids and... and I’m sad and miserable and sad and even more miserable every day after day and what am I going to do if he--

“Dude... are you okay?” Looking at me with wide concerned eyes he asked. “You... you looked like you saw a fucking ghost.”

“Y-yeah... I’m fine.” I lied.

PART 2

Liam Carter

With a bouquet of red roses in hand and my best black suit freshly pressed, I knocked on Maggie Reynolds’ door. The sound of my car pulling up must have given me away because she opened it almost immediately.

“Hey there,” she greeted me, her smile warm as she leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

My gaze traveled downward, taking in her long red dress that clung elegantly to her figure. Her lips were painted a matching red, and her eyes were framed by smoky black eyeshadow. A faint pink blush dusted her cheeks—so subtle most wouldn’t notice. But I did. Whether it was my keen eyesight or the irresistible pull to admire Maggie’s every detail, I couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty.

“Hey there. I missed you,” I said, handing her the flowers.

I’ve always known my way around women—what to say, what to do, how to charm them. But Maggie... Maggie is different. She’s not just another girl whose name I’ll forget after a hookup. She’s the kind of woman who leaves a mark, and right now, I wasn’t even sure what to say.

“You, uh, ready for our date?” I asked, more rhetorically than anything else.

“What do you think, handsome?” she teased, her eyelashes sweeping downward to draw attention to her outfit.

It was Friday night, and somehow, she still looked flawless, like the week hadn’t drained her. I don’t know how she pulls it off, especially after dealing with kids all week. Fridays, of all days, must be the worst—kids restless, counting down the seconds until they can leave that prison. Sorry, I mean educational facility.

I remembered how good it felt to finally graduate high school four years ago—like breaking out of a cage. Only to crash straight into the grind of a minimum-wage job at SunStrike Café. Life has a cruel sense of humor, doesn’t it? Kicking you in the balls just when you think you’re free.

I extended my hand, and she took it with a smile. Hand in hand, we walked to my black car—a classic 1967 Chevy Impala. It wasn’t the fanciest ride, but it was mine, and I fucking loved it.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turned on the stereo and let some old-school jazz from the 1920s fill the car. I hoped with all my heart she wouldn’t be tempted to jump out after hearing it.

“You’ve got great taste in music, Liam,” she said, her head turning toward me. Her smile could melt any heart, no matter how cold or hardened it was.

“You really think so?” I asked, knowing she meant it but wanting to hear her say it again. “I can change it if you want.”

I would’ve played anything she asked for, no matter how much it grated on my nerves. I’d do anything to make her happy—anything.

“No, I like it. I promise,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “It’s nice to take a break from today’s music. It doesn’t have the same... feel to it. Like it’s not made with love anymore, just churned out to appeal to the masses. Marketing and money, that’s all it is. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” I replied, maybe a little too loudly, my excitement spilling over. I couldn’t help it. We hadn’t even made it to our first date yet, and she already understood me—like she was my soulmate.

The way she spoke, her words so thoughtful and sure, made her seem so much older than twenty-five. There was a depth to her that most people my age (twenty-two) couldn’t even begin to touch. It was like she saw through the noise of the world to something... purer, something real.

I know what you’re thinking: Dude, be serious. But I can feel it in my bones—she’s the one.

And because she’s the one, I decided to take her to the nicest restaurant in town. Not that there are many to choose from, but this one is a tourist hotspot—fancier, pricier, and worth every penny to show her she means more to me than some cheap burgers.

You’re probably wondering how I can afford it on a minimum-wage job. Well, here’s the kicker: I can’t. But I also can’t afford to look like a pathetic loser, so I did what I had to do—I played poker for some extra cash.

And let me tell you: I can play. I don’t do it often, and rarely for money, because I hate the idea of taking someone’s hard-earned cash—unless they earned it through poker, of course. That’s fair game. Most of the time, I play just for fun. But when it comes to Maggie? She’s worth a few bets and a winning hand.

With that thought in mind, we reached the restaurant.

Evan Hayes

I knew it. I fucking knew he’d bring her here. I’ve got his little routine figured out by now. Three girls get the cheap spots, and then the fourth—the one who feels extra special—he takes her here.

By the moon, I couldn’t hold back a growl. The wolf inside me was clawing at my chest, furious at the sight of him opening the door for her, holding her hand as they walked inside like they were the perfect couple.

Why? Why wasn’t I born a girl? If I were, he’d date me for sure—his bland taste in women all but guarantees it. No, wait... that’s not true. He does have good taste, and I fucking hate it. My blood’s just boiling too much for me to admit it. I can’t stand the hag clinging to him like she’s won some kind of prize.

Fuck her. And fuck you, Liam. I hope this date crashes and burns just like all the others.

Liam Carter

Tonight felt... unreal. Iike I was stuck in a dream. The dinner was nice, no doubt—Maggie looked unsurprisingly incredible, and for once, I wasn’t stuck across from someone who barely cared or was just there for the free food. Maggie really listened. She got it.

She leaned in during dinner, her eyes bright with genuine interest when I spoke, and for the first time in ages, I felt seen. Not just as some guy who had barely scraped through school and had nothing to show for it but empty chatter. She didn’t judge me for the dumb mistakes I made, the things that painted me as just another screw-up among a bunch of others. No, she just listened, shared her own stuff, and in some weird way, it made me feel better about myself than I had in forever.

We started off lighthearted, but soon we were digging deeper, finding connections in ways I didn’t expect. Maggie opened up about her struggles with kids, how they tested her patience every day, and how no matter what she did, it felt like nothing worked. I got it. I really did. School was hell for me, too—teachers who didn’t give a damn, assignments I couldn’t care less about, classmates who never bothered to understand the reasons behind my rebellious act. It all hit too close to home.

“So, I guess we’ve both been the bad kid, huh?” I joked, trying to keep things light.

She gave me a small smile, shaking her head just a little. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. “I wasn’t the one who had to put up with you.”

And then it hit me. She had a point. She wasn’t the one dealing with me back then, wasn’t the one who had to face all the shit—the anger, the confusion, the feeling of being invisible. But somehow, Maggie still understood. And that was everything.

The night went on without a hitch after that. We left the restaurant and found a cozy little bar, the kind where the vibe was just right—quiet enough to talk but lively enough to avoid any uncomfortable silences. After a couple of drinks, we started sharing more personal stuff, things I didn’t expect to say, and yet there I was, spilling it all. Maggie, with all her charm, made this night feel like something special. She didn’t push for details when I talked about my past, but somehow, I couldn’t stop myself from telling her—how school was a nightmare, how I felt like I never fit in, how I got lost in the chaos of it all. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fix me. She just listened, nodding as if my words made perfect sense. For once, someone understood the broken pieces I’d been carrying around.

But as the night wound down, it was time to say goodbye. I walked her to her car, the cool air biting at my skin. That was when she caught me off guard.

“I had a really great time tonight, Evan,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere.

“Me too,” I replied, and I meant it, not just because of the drinks or the mood—it was real.

We stood there for a second, the space between us thick with something unspoken. Her heels clicked softly on the pavement, and then, without really thinking, I reached for her face, pulling her closer, until I could feel the warmth of her body against mine.

When our lips met, everything else faded.

Her lips were soft, warm, everything I hadn’t even dared to imagine. I’d kissed before, but this wasn’t just a kiss. This was something else entirely—a promise, a start, a bond that felt so deep I thought time itself might have paused. For those few seconds, nothing else in the world mattered.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, and there was something in her gaze—something raw—that mirrored what I was feeling. It was like we had shared something secret, something meaningful.

“I’ve never... felt that before,” she whispered.

“Neither have I,” I said quietly, leaning in to kiss her again, slower this time, savoring every moment.

We stayed like that for a little while longer, neither of us wanting to say goodbye. But I knew I had to go home, and she had her own life to get back to.

Driving home, the night settled around me like a heavy blanket. It had been perfect. But then, just as I was about to let myself relax, I felt a strange feeling creep up on me—a sense that something was missing, something I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t the kiss. It was something else, something I couldn’t name.

And as I pulled into my driveway, the sound of the car engine winding down, I knew I couldn’t let that feeling go.

PART 3

Evan Hayes

I couldn’t take it. Watching them so... happy. It tore me apart to see someone else—another girl, no, another person, another being—making Liam smile like that. Like I wasn’t even part of the equation. Just seeing their fingers “accidentally” graze each other across the table, the smirks they shared, and the way he seemed so... fucking comfortable around her. It was too much. Every single time, it’s the same thing, and I’m so done with it.

I don’t want him happy with anyone else. Not a friend, not a pet—hell, not even a houseplant. And definitely not a girlfriend.

I couldn’t watch them any longer. I was terrified my wolf would break loose, tearing through the restaurant to claim what was mine—to do who knows what to that girl for daring to take what belongs to me.

I ran. Faster than I thought possible, my wolf-speed carrying me deep into the forest like I was being chased by some relentless serial killer. I didn’t stop until I reached the highest cliff I could find, where the world felt as far away as I needed it to be.

And there, I broke.

I collapsed, sobbing so hard it felt like my chest would cave in. How many years has it been now? He’s 22, and I’ve known he was my mate since he turned 18. Four years. Four agonizing years of watching him parade around with his stupid dates, pretending like he didn’t belong to me.

I wasn’t just crying—I was wailing. Curled up on the ground with my head buried between my knees, I let my wolf partially break free, its mournful howl echoing into the night. The black moon above stared back at me, empty and cold, as hollow as the shattered pieces of my heart.

“I want my mate...” The words left my lips like a plea, barely hearable over the sound of my grief.

If I’d taken a shot for every tear that fell that night, I’d be dead—supernatural or not. Stupid analogy? Sure. But at that moment, nothing about me made sense anyway. Nothing except the unbearable ache for the one thing I couldn’t have.

When I was done being a pathetic mess, I dragged myself back to Liam’s place. He’d always said I was welcome there, no matter what, and giving me a spare key felt like proof he meant it. My legs were aching, and collapsing onto his soft couch was pure bliss. I still couldn’t catch my breath—whether from crying, running, or both, I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

I didn’t bother turning on the lights. The last thing I needed was brightness, like the kind of brightness their smiles had earlier... fuck. My chest tightened just thinking about it.

I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together. I came here to confront him, but now that I was here, what the hell was I supposed to say?

“Hey, I don’t want you going on dates anymore because I’m a werewolf and you’re mine?” Yeah, that’ll go over well.

Maybe I could just shift a little—grow my claws, give him a roar. That’d make the werewolf thing harder to dismiss, though it might also earn me a one-way ticket to a mental institution. And if that didn’t work? I’d transform completely. Surely seeing my full wolf form would be convincing enough.

The only problem was... what if it terrified him? What if he couldn’t handle it, freaked out, and decided he never wanted to see me again?

That thought hit harder than I expected, settling in my chest like a stone. The risk felt unbearable, but so did the idea of staying silent. Either way, I couldn’t keep living like this. Something had to give.

Now came the truly horrifying part: even if the werewolf thing somehow went over okay, the mate part probably wouldn’t. There’s still this... thing between my legs. The one that matches what it says on my birth certificate: “Evan Hayes – Male.”

And Liam? Liam isn’t the kind of guy who’s okay with two “thingies” touching, let alone the idea of dating another guy.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My chest felt like it was caving in. What the hell was I supposed to do? My hands started trembling as my mind spiraled, imagining the worst-case scenario.

I could already hear his voice, dripping with disgust as he told me to get my dirty faggot ass out of his house. It wasn’t just the fact that I liked men—it was the fact that he was the one I liked. The thought twisted in my gut, making my stomach churn until bile clawed its way up my throat.

How could I face that?

My thoughts disappeared when I heard the door unlocking. When the door unlocked, he was whistling to one of his ancient songs. As he got in, he turned on the light, letting me see that gorgeous face of his. Werewolf or not, I still fear I would have fallen so hard for him. Who wouldn’t?! How can a human be so perfect? So beautiful?

“Oh, hey there, Evan,” he said, and for just a second, the hurt and anger disappeared, replaced by something else—something fleeting—until his next words snapped me back. “What’s up, buddy?”

“You seem in a good mood,” I muttered, not even trying to hide the disgust at the thought of him going on that date. My eyebrows furrowed, and I spat the words at him like poison.

“And you... don’t. What’s wrong?” he asked, and as much as I hated to admit it, seeing his mood sour brought me a twisted satisfaction.

What’s wrong is you going on dates with girls who couldn’t care less about you. They just want a free drink, maybe a quick hookup. And I’m right here, standing in plain sight, waiting for you to notice me...

I faltered, my words catching in my throat before I forced them out. “Maybe it’s the fact that I’m tired of watching you mope around when she doesn’t turn out to be ‘the one.’” My voice was sharp, lashing out like a whip.

His eyes widened, the hurt in them cutting me deeper than I expected. “Dude, are you serious right now? This—this is what it’s about?” His voice cracked, disbelief and pain laced through his words.

“Yes,” I snapped, though the word came out brittle, like glass about to shatter. It wasn’t the whole truth—just the part I could admit without falling apart. Sure, his failed dates annoyed me, but only because every time, I wanted to scream that he was wasting time looking for something he already had. He was my other half. He just didn’t know it yet.

“N-no, this is different. I...” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the exhaustion evident in his voice. “She gets me, okay? She actually understands me.”

“Understands you?” I repeated, a smirk tugging at my lips. “You’ve known this girl for what—a few days? For all you know, she could be some master manipulator,” I added, my tone sharper than I intended, desperate to tear her down.

“She’s not like that!” he snapped, defensive. “She’s a teacher, for fuck’s sake! Teachers aren’t bad people.”

“Oh, right. Because you didn’t spend years hating school and trash-talking teachers?” I shot back, raising an eyebrow as I reminded him of his past.

“Dude, why are we even arguing about this?” he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. “It’s my life! If you don’t want to hear about my dates, fine—I won’t tell you anymore. Screw you!”

His words hit me like a brick wall, stopping me dead in my tracks. What was I supposed to say to that? What logical reason did I have for being this upset about his dates? None. Except for the truth—the one thing I’d been too afraid to say.

“Well, what if...” I hesitated, my voice faltering before I forced it out. “What if you had someone who’s been into you for years? Someone who’s been standing right in front of you, but you’ve been too fucking blind to notice?”

His eyes narrowed, and he let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, come on. If there was someone like that—a girl who’s been madly in love with me for years—do you think I wouldn’t have given her a chance by now? But guess what? She doesn’t exist!”

“She doesn’t,” I said, my chest tightening as I forced the words out. “Because it’s a fucking ‘he.’”

The second the words left my mouth, I realized they sounded way cooler in my head than out loud. His expression froze, the frustration melting into something else—confusion, maybe disbelief.

“W-what?” he stammered, his voice softer now, his eyes searching mine as though he didn’t trust what he’d just heard.

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you didn’t hear me or understand what I just said,” I muttered, my voice faltering at the end as my tough-guy facade crumbled under the weight of the moment.

His face twisted in disbelief. “D-did you just seriously suggest I date a guy?” His tone sharpened, a mix of shock and disgust. “I’m not a fucking faggot, Evan.”

The word hit me like a punch to the gut. It stung harder than I could’ve imagined, sharper than any rejection I’d ever braced myself for. My chest tightened, and a lump formed in my throat, making it almost impossible to speak. He’d made it perfectly clear—he’d never feel the same way. Hell, I wondered if he’d even be able to look at me once he figured out the full truth.

Still, anger flared up inside me, pushing past the hurt. “W-what’s so wrong about that?” I shot back, my voice trembling but defiant. “I don’t get it.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground like he was searching for an answer he didn’t really have. “What’s wrong?” he repeated, stalling. After a moment, he let out a heavy sigh, his words tumbling out clumsily. “I don’t know... maybe because it’s unnatural? A guy isn’t supposed to be with another guy.”

“Unnatural?!” I felt my control slipping, my anger bubbling over. This little shit—(not literally, though his mom’s the biggest bitch on the planet)—had the audacity to tell me that my feelings for him were unnatural? “If it’s so unnatural, then why the fuck did nature curse me with... with this?” I motioned wildly at myself, my voice thick with frustration.

His eyes went wide, and he stumbled back a step, completely taken aback. “W-what?” His voice cracked as his gaze shifted from confusion to something darker. “You... you like guys?”

The question hung in the air like a slap, but it wasn’t the words that cut through me. It was the look on his face. Anger flashed in his eyes, but it was the disgust that twisted my fucking gut.

“No. I don’t like guys,” I said, taking a step closer to him. “I only have these ‘unnatural’ feelings, as you call them, for you. But then again...” My eyes began to flicker, shifting to a deep, unsettling gold. “You dare speak to me about nature?” I snarled, my voice low and dangerous, a growl slipping out as I felt my claws extend and fur bristle along my arms.

“D-dude... w-what the hell...?” His voice faltered, a tremor running through him.

I took another step, my presence overwhelming. “Let me ask you something—do you believe in werewolves, Liam?” A twisted smirk spread across my face as I watched him, the wolf inside me fully awake now. There was no stopping him, no reining it in. I could only hope I didn’t do something... unforgivable.

“N-no...” he stammered, his face draining of color. “E-Ethan, w-what’s happening?” His voice trembled with a fear I’d never heard from him before—like prey realizing too late it had been caught in the jaws of its predator.

And as much as I hated myself for it... fuck, it was turning me on. The way I could make him fear me, knowing I had that kind of power over him...

“I... I can’t let her have you, Liam,” I said, my voice low and strained, the words coming out like a growl. “I can’t let anyone else have you... but me.” I felt the wolf pushing against my control, fighting to break free.

PART 3

Liam Carter

I felt like I was going to piss myself. There’s no way to put into words the terror and confusion crashing through me. First, my best friend is into guys, which—what the actual fuck?! Since when? Second, he’s into me? I mean, I can wrap my head around the first thing. I’ve known him for years, and I fucking love him; he’s like a brother to me. But him liking me?

And third... what the fuck is that? That thing can’t be Evan. No way. I watched in horror as his eyes turned gold, his claws elongating in ways they shouldn’t. My stomach churned. I couldn’t even think about it without feeling like I was about to wet myself.

His face began to shift, the transformation spreading like wildfire. His nose elongated, becoming a broad, wolf-like snout, the skin stretching tight over bone. A dark, leathery sheen spread across it, the nostrils flaring as they expanded, taking in every scent in the air. His mouth twisted, the lips pulling back to reveal teeth—sharp, jagged canines that glinted in the dim light, a warning of the raw power now lurking beneath. His jaw widened, the muscles beneath it thickening with the same feral strength that had overtaken his body.

The ears were next, stretching upwards and outwards, becoming pointed and covered in coarse, dark fur. They flicked, listening for any sign of movement, alert and deadly.

And then there were his eyes—those once warm, familiar eyes now glowing with an intense, piercing yellow. The pupils had narrowed into thin slits, glowing like twin torches, radiating a predatory hunger. They were no longer human; they were something ancient, something that hunted in the night.

His entire face, now fully wolfish, radiated power. The expression was primal, savage, almost predatory—like a predator that had been awakened from a long, deep slumber. He looked... other. Dangerous.

Even the thing between his legs grew, it seems, as it was obvious now.

Fuck, why did I look at...

Shaking uncontrollably, I took a step back, every instinct screaming at me to run, to get away from whatever this beast was capable of. But at the same time... fuck. My best friend’s a werewolf? Like, the kind of creatures they make movies about?! That’s... kind of awesome. If he doesn’t tear me apart, that is.

But he said he had feelings for me. And part of me... part of me believes he won’t hurt me. This is all too much. I feel like I’m going to pass out. And when I wake up, I’ll tell him this was just a nightmare. We’ll laugh about it later, right?

With inhuman speed, he took a step toward me, grabbing my wrist hard enough to make me gasp—and let out another sound I’m too embarrassed to admit. “You won’t be going anywhere, Liam.” The way he said my name at the end of that sentence made my knees buckle. No matter how much I told myself he wouldn’t hurt me, my heart hammered in my chest so violently I thought it might shatter my ribs.

“E-Evan... p-please... d-don’t hurt me. I-I’m still your best friend, Liam, remember?” I gave him my best puppy eyes, and seeing as he was a werewolf, I knew he probably found that amusing. It's not like there’s a handbook for “How to talk to your best friend after he confesses he’s into you and transforms into a fucking werewolf.”

“Yeah, a best friend.” He tugged me toward him, making my head fall against his furry chest. I could feel his hot breath against my ear as he whispered, “And that’s the whole problem, Liam. Don’t you see?” He tightened his grip on me, making it hard to breathe, and now I was certain the rigid pressure against my stomach was his very hard, very large wolf dick. I felt his hand—or paw, I guess—slide from my back to my hair, running through it. “I don’t want us to be just friends, Liam. It... it hurts too much. I want to make you mine...” He growled the last words, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes, feeling the world around me blur into nothing.

Evan Hayes

I felt his body grow limp in my arms, the weight of him suddenly lighter. “L-Liam?” My wolf roared inside me, a mix of confusion and worry clawing at my chest. It didn’t take long to realize—he had fainted.

Seeing this as my chance, I fought back, wrestling control from the wolf’s grip. “This isn’t over, Evan,” he growled, his voice echoing in my mind as I forced him into the shadows where he belonged.

“L-Liam? Hey, buddy?” My voice trembled as I called out to him. I shifted slightly to get a better look at his face, and there he was—completely at peace, his expression calm and soft. Relief washed over me, though my heart still raced from the chaos.

With a deep breath, I leaned down and slid one hand beneath his knees, the other supporting his back, lifting him effortlessly. His hand dangled loosely, his head lolling to the side. It wasn’t anything like the graceful moments from romance movies.

I sighed, carrying him over to the couch. Carefully, I lowered him down, adjusting his position until he looked comfortable. Then, almost instinctively, I sat beside him, gently resting his head on my lap. My fingers brushed his hair, and for a moment, everything felt still.

He looked so perfect. His blonde hair fell softly against his face, framing his closed eyes that usually shone like a clear summer sky. And those lips—full, inviting, so damn kissable. The urge to lean down and press mine to his surged through me, but I held back. I couldn’t do that to him. Not like this.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, suddenly aware of the growing discomfort in my jeans. Damn things—sure, they looked good, but they were the worst when it came to this kind of situation. I shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, telling myself it would go away soon.

A heavy yawn escaped me. Wrestling with the beast inside me had drained every ounce of my strength. My eyelids grew heavier by the second. I told myself I wouldn’t fall asleep, that I’d feel it the moment Liam stirred. If he woke up and freaked out, I’d hear it. If he tried to sneak away, I’d notice the loss of warmth and pressure on my lap.

Still, my exhaustion weighed me down, pulling me closer to the edge of unconsciousness. As much as I tried to fight it, the silence of the room and the steady rise and fall of his breath were lulling me into a fragile peace.

Liam Carter

A yawn escaped me as I stretched, my body still heavy with sleep. Blinking my eyes open, I froze. Right in front of me was a very defined six-pack, so close I could see every ridge and contour. My gaze traveled upward until I saw Evan’s face, peaceful and relaxed in sleep.

What the hell? How did I end up here? And why the fuck is he shirtless?

The memories came rushing back—him transforming, those golden eyes, his growl, and the words he’d said: “I can’t let anyone else have you but me.” A chill ran down my spine, and I scrambled to sit up, realizing I must have fainted.

As I moved, now sitting next to him, Evan stirred. His body shifted slightly, his hand rubbing at his eyes before he opened them, blinking groggily. “Oh... hey, Liam,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Please don’t hurt me, Evan,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. For a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—hurt, maybe even regret.

“Liam...” he sighed, his voice heavy with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not a monster,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Even if I look like one.” His brown eyes lifted to meet mine again, and they held a quiet vulnerability that caught me off guard.

“W-what was that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t need to explain further—he knew exactly what I meant.

“It’s exactly what it looked like,” he admitted, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I’m a werewolf. My whole family is. And you...” His voice softened, almost breaking. “You’re my mate. Don’t ask me why, because, honestly, nobody really knows. I didn’t... I didn’t choose you, Liam. You were chosen for me.”

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t his choice, like it was something forced on him. And yet, for some reason, that didn’t sting as much as I thought it would. It wasn’t his words, but the way he said them—like he was resigned, maybe even unsure. It was like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was me.

“You... so if you were human, you wouldn’t have had feelings for me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Fuck. I cursed internally, wishing I could take them back.

Evan studied me for a moment, his face unreadable as he mulled over his response. “To be honest,” he finally said, his voice low and contemplative, “I don’t know. I don’t know because we don’t feel things the way you do. Maybe I would have. Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“...Evan, I...” My voice faltered as I struggled to find the right words. “You know I’m not into guys. I don’t think I can ever feel the same way you do. I’m sorry.” I looked down, guilt swirling in my chest. “B-but we can still be friends,” I added quickly, desperate to soften the blow. “Dude, I... I just need some time to process all this. The werewolf thing. You being into guys. And you... having feelings for me.” I hesitated, my throat tightening. “One day, I’ll get past it. Maybe even completely. Because you’re still my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you over something like this. Well... the werewolf part isn’t stupid,” I added, awkwardly trying to lighten the moment.

I braced myself for the inevitable hurt in his eyes, but instead, Evan smirked.

“You don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. His gaze dipped down, and I followed it, my stomach twisting. My heart sank when I realized where he was looking—straight at the growing bulge in my pants.

“Then what’s that in your... pants there?” he asked smoothly, no hesitation as his hand moved to cup my traitorous erection.

“E-Evan, stop,” I tried to say, but my voice caught in my throat. The moment his hand pressed against me, a jolt of pure, electric pleasure shot through my body, overriding every protest in my mind. My breath hitched, and I hated myself for the way I gasped, my body betraying me in the worst possible way.

“Hm...” He tilted his head, his smirk widening as his fingers lightly grazed the fabric over my hard length. “Your dick doesn’t seem to feel the same way, Liam.” His voice was still soft and husky from sleep, making his words even more maddening. It wasn’t just deep—it was intoxicating. No, not intoxicating. Fuck. My thoughts scrambled as his hand lingered, his touch light but enough to keep me completely under his control.

I wanted to move, to stop him, to say anything. But I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there, helpless, as every nerve in my body betrayed me—and worse, he knew it.

Seeing that I wasn’t stopping him, Evan’s grip tightened, his hand moving with an almost deliberate slowness. The motion sent a wave of pleasure crashing through me, and before I could stop myself, a small, breathless moan slipped past my lips.

“You like it when I touch you there?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand started to move up and down, each motion agonizingly slow and calculated. My body betrayed me entirely—I couldn’t stop shaking. My arms, my legs, even my breath felt unsteady. But it wasn’t just fear that gripped me.

No, I wasn’t scared of what he was doing. I wasn’t even scared of what he might do next. I was terrified that I’d like it—that I already did.

Evan’s fingers deftly undid the button of my black jeans, the sound of the zipper loud in the tense silence that hung between us. My underwear was revealed—black briefs that did nothing to hide the hardness straining beneath them. His hand slipped under the waistband, his touch hot and electric against my skin. My breath hitched, and I bit my lower lip hard to stifle another moan that threatened to escape.

“Go ahead, Liam,” he murmured, his voice velvet-soft but laced with challenge. “Tell me to stop.”

I looked into his eyes, wide and questioning, as his hand continued its tormenting rhythm. He wasn’t just touching me—he was breaking me, piece by piece, with every deliberate stroke. His gaze was steady, daring me to push him away, to say anything. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t tell him to stop. I couldn’t tell him to get away from me. And I hated myself for how much I didn’t want him to. For how good this felt, even as every rational thought screamed at me to put an end to it.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better—or worse—he moved his hand higher, sliding it under slowly. The tips of his fingers brushed against the sensitive head of my dick, sending a jolt of unbearable pleasure through me.

“Fuck...” he whispered, his voice rough. “You’re already leaking... and we haven’t even started yet.”

His words made my cheeks burn, but before I could process them, his grip tightened. His hand moved deliberately, stroking me with a maddening rhythm. Each motion sent a pulse of lust through me, sharp and undeniable.

I needed to release. I needed to cum so badly it hurt. I needed him to make me cum.

“Come on, Liam... tell me to stop... please...” He looked at me pleading, but both of us knew neither wanted this to stop.