HOWL 2.3

It’s kind of a nice turnaround, he’s discovering, Adam unsure and a little afraid, and Eric, for once, knowing what he’s doing.

“You’re a hunter,” Adam says. His voice is dull, but his eyes are some kind of strangely shocked-furious.

“Um, yeah,” Eric eloquently admits.

“Of course you are,” Adam groans. “Because I can’t pick up just any repressed straight boy in a bar, it has to be one that wants to shove sharp things into me.”

“I don’t,” Eric protests, and is surprised to find that it’s mostly true. Mostly.

“You don’t?” The skepticism is palpable in Adam’s drawled reply.

“Not really. As far as I know, you haven’t hurt anyone, so.”

“I thought hunters killed monsters indiscriminately?”

“Some do.”

“You don’t?”

“I think killing monsters that deserve it is time better spent.”

“I’m not sure that answers the question,” Adam says flatly.

Eric just shrugs.

It’s kind of a nice turnaround, he’s discovering, Adam unsure and a little afraid, and Eric, for once, knowing what he’s doing.

“Well, hell.” Adam sighs.

“So,” Eric starts, not really sure if he’s joking or not, “you gonna go brag to all your pack buddies about bagging a hunter?”

Adam’s face closes off, the emotion sloughing off like excess water. “No.”

“Why not?” Eric watches him for a second, then says, “You’d think that would be worth some bragging points.”

“I don’t live with my Tribe anymore,” Adam says blankly.

“Oh.”

They fidget in awkward silence, neither sure how to react to the obvious No-Conversation Zone they just stepped into.

“Which are you?” Adam says.

Eric blinks. “What?”

“Which tribe, which clan. Whatever.”

“Which family?” Eric says. “My people are St. John. I’m Eric St. John.”

Adam nods. “Your icon is the eagle, right?”

“Yeah.” Instinctually, Eric glances down at the leather band around his wrist. “So how come you left the cuff on when we were…doing it. You took everything else off.”

Grinning, the other man shrugs. “I dunno, I liked the way it looked on you. All cute and subby.”

Face burning, Eric walks over to the bar and sets the knife down. “So I have to ask, do you always turn furry in front of people you just met?”

It’s Adam’s turn to blush, though he doesn’t turn as red as Eric. “Not usually, no. But I don’t think things through so well when I’m angry.”

“Why were you so angry?”

“It’s a long story.”

Laughing dryly, Eric gestures to the snow outside the window. “Looks we got time.”

Adam fixes him to the spot with a look. “Tell you what, you ask a question, then I’ll ask a question. Sound fair?”

Thinking it over, Eric replies, “That depends on the question. There are some things I can’t tell you.”

“Well, yeah, same here.”

“Okay,” Eric says. “Sounds fair.”

Adam walks over to join him at the bar, sitting across from Eric like he did at breakfast. “You go first.”

The questions that immediately spring to mind Eric would rather die than ask, so he scrambles for something else to say. “Uh, how many of there are you? My people thought that werewolves were extinct on this continent.”

“Not many,” Adam says. “My Tribe is the only wolf tribe left in the Americas, and it’s not that big. My turn. What was a hunter doing out in the middle of nowhere without a partner?”

“Not all hunters have partners,” Eric says, though the reminder of Regan’s abandonment brings a familiar burn of resentment to his chest. “Next question, how did you transform like that? The only were I’ve had experience with was a loup-garou, and it changed with the moon.”

“True weres can call their beast at any time,” Adam says. “And we retain complete control of ourselves when we do. It’s only half-breeds like the loogaroo that are bestial and bound to the moon. Do you really do nothing with your time but hunt monsters?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Eric shrugs. “Hunters travel all over killing things that need killing. It’s our job. Just like how men with office jobs spend most of their time at the office. We spend most of our time hunting. How come your fur is white?”

“Pardon?”

“Your hair is kinda brown, but your wolf fur is white? Why is it different?”

“The Tribe has lots of lore on that, ranging from it being a manifestation of my soul, to different wolves look different depending on their birth.” Adam shakes his head. “I was born under a Hunter’s Moon, which is a big deal in wolf culture. The more superstitious among the Tribe think that’s why my fur is so pure white. No one really knows. It’s just one of those things.”

Adam trails off, staring at the granite of the bar, eyes dark. It’s obvious to Eric that the other man is far away inside his own memories.

“Adam?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s your question.”

“Oh, right.” He sits back, shaking off whatever he’d been thinking about. “Okay, lemme see. The One-Inch Punch, is it real?”

“Yes.”

“…That’s it?”

Eric tips a shoulder.

“Oh, come on,” Adam presses. “Can it really punch through things like I’ve heard?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” is Eric’s only response.

Adam grumbles, but waves a hand at him.

But now that it’s his turn, Eric isn’t sure what to ask. There are obvious questions burning at him, but he’s still too embarrassed to voice them. “Um…what powers do you have?”

Rolling his eyes, Adam says, “I’m strong, fast—really fast, can call my wolf at will. When I’m my wolf I can move without making a sound, and skim across water without disturbing it.”

Eric stares at him. “Really?”

With a half-mocking smile, Adam tips a shoulder. Eric shakes his head, but fair is fair.

“It’s your turn again,” he says.

“I’m thinking.” Adam drums his fingers on the bar. Suddenly he grins. “Before me, how far had you ever gone with another man sexually?”

“Hey, man, that wasn’t—”

“We never said the questions would be about our people,” Adam points out. “So answer.”

“A hand job,” Eric mutters, eyes creased and face burning. “What about you, ever been with a girl?”

“Nope.” Adam shakes his head. “There aren’t many female wolves left. Sex among the Tribe is almost unilaterally same-sex. For opposite sex you have to go outside the Tribe.”

“Are you saying all werewolves are gay?” Eric asks, incredulous.

Adam laughs. “No, not biologically anyway. Situationally, kind of because female wolves are encouraged to play with each other, and males wolves are too. Most wolves tend to be born male, so family history is a huge consideration in opposite-sex relations. Almost all breeding pairs are arranged by the Tribe, and most end up with male offspring anyway. Every now and then the Tribe gets lucky.”

Eric sits back, processing. “That’s so…uh, different. And the guys in your tribe are okay with this?”

“It’s the way we’re brought up, so it’s not a big deal. Guys have sex with other guys, unless they’re fucking human girls. Knocking up a human girl is a huge taboo, though, so even the really straight ones don’t do it that often.”

“I can’t even imagine that,” Eric says.

“That’s ‘cause human culture has so much ingrained homophobia,” Adam says. “Wolf culture doesn’t. There aren’t enough girl wolves to treat them as callously as human men treat their women. Besides, most female wolves are more powerful than male wolves anyway. The Chief of Chieftains, the Tribal leader, is a guy right now, but usually it’s a woman. And that’s way more than one question.”

“I, uh,” Eric stammers, “I have one more.”

Something must show on his face because Adam says slowly, “Okay.”

“Why…” Gritting his teeth, Eric forces out, “Why do you…why can’t I—”

“Why are you so sexually drawn to me?” Adam drawls.

With a jerky nod, Eric manages, “Yeah.”

“Because you’re a natural submissive,” Adam says.

Eric stiffens. “Excuse me?’

Adam grins. “Don’t get bent out of shape about it, that’s just what we call it. Some human males are just naturally drawn to werewolves. It’s, like, in your DNA.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Eric protests.

“Doesn’t it?” Adam counters. “I mean, think about it. Your species has hunted mine pretty much to extinction. It’s only logical that sooner or later we’d develop a way to fight back. Even with our powers, humans have always had the advantage of sheer numbers.”

“I guess, but why…”

“Okay, think of it like this,” Adam says. “The majority of human males are straight, right? And historically it’s been mostly men that fought in wars. So it stands to reason that wolf biology would develop a way to make the majority of the people fighting them, in effect, powerless. It’s evolution, man. Pheromones, or whatever. Straight males find themselves wanting to submit to wolf males.”

“Does it effect everyone?” Eric asks.

“More or less,” Adam says. “Kind of. Some feel it stronger than most.”

“Oh,” Eric says quietly.

Silence weighs down the kitchen after that.

“It’s my turn,” Adam says lightly.

“I think I’m done with this game,” Eric says.

Adam leans forward, leering. “I know what else we could do.”

Raising a hand, Eric pushes against his chest. “I don’t think so.”

Laughing, Adam sits back on his stool. “That’s okay. I can wait.”