HOWL 2.4

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeats, sounding almost tender. “Nothing. It’s just how you are. Say it.”

Eric needs time to think about everything he just heard, and to call Esperanza. Surprisingly, Adam gives it to him. The big man—wolf, whatever—busies himself in the kitchen for a moment, and then heads for his bedroom. When he’s out of sight, Eric picks up the house phone and dials Epsy’s number. After reciting the code to her and hanging up, he picks up when she calls him back, pissed about being called from a civilian line.

He smooths that all as quickly as he can so he can get to his real message.

“Tell my father not to worry, or to come looking for me,” he tells her. “I’m completely fine, just snowed in. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but if whatever job he wanted help with dries up he should just hunt without me.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Espy grouses, “but there’s no telling Evan St. John anything.”

“I know,” Eric says softly. “But please try.”

She promises to do her best, and hangs up. Not one for good-byes, Esperanza St. Thomas. Sighing, Eric hangs up the phone and wanders over to sprawl on Adam’s couch. Normally he wouldn’t act so at home in someone else’s house, but he doubts the owner will care that much. Actually, Adam would probably be thrilled if he loosened up. Or maybe Adam thinks he’s loose enough.

Eric’s face burns, just at the thought of it. Of course, it’s not only the thought. There’s still the white-hot ache of cock in his ass. Even though his passage is currently empty it feels like Adam’s still up in there, thrusting away.

Groaning at himself, he flops the crook of his elbow across his eyes. Maybe it’s childish—I can’t see you if you can’t see me—but it helps him think. And he needs to decide if he believes Adam’s story or not.

Everything he was told makes sense, in a twisted kind of way. He lives in a world where vampires suck blood to survive, and wolves can become men with a thought. Why couldn’t a persecuted sub-species develop a sure-fire mechanism to totally disarm their enemies? After all, it’s awfully hard to fight with that all-consuming desire to submit coursing through the blood. Eric knows from experience that when that filthy hot rush heads toward his cock he can barely stand unaided, let alone hold a weapon.

The part Eric’s not sure about is Adam’s profession that it only targets straight men. Eric’s not arguing the effectiveness of such a weapon. He could name off the top of his head at least ten heterosexual males that would rather die than take another man’s dick. Hell, he’s only planning to make it through this experience himself by fiercely suppressing the memory of Adam’s fingers against his skin. No, back in the day the ingrained homophobia of straight men back would have been a horrific weapon if utilized.

What Eric doubts is the mechanics of it. How could Adam’s ‘pheromones, or whatever’ target only straights? How would that even be possible? Sure, Regan’s prattled on before about the differences in brain composition between gay and straight men, that there’d even been some success in locating the so-called ‘gay-gene.’ But there isn’t a straight gene. Eric is no scientific genius, but it seems to him that a pheromone designed to increase arousal in males should increase arousal in all males.

If Adam’s telling the truth, and that’s a pretty big if, there’s more than just biology at work. Something supernatural is behind Adam’s pull to him. There has to be.

Eric suddenly realizes that he’s in uncharted territory. The sexual habits of the rogue vampire are well-known in hunter culture, but until today none of his people even knew that the wolves still existed. With a sinking feeling, Eric knows he has a unique opportunity to gain invaluable information. He’s sure that it’s not occurred to Adam. If it had it’s unlikely he would have been so forthcoming.

Taking a deep breath, Eric moves his arm. He stares at the ceiling, unblinking, as his thoughts swirl around in his head. He isn’t naive. He knows what testing the limits of Adam’s power and culture would involve. But if he could go through with it he would have a gold-mine of information to take back to his father.

Slowly, more from physical limitations than mental ones, Eric eases off the couch. He pads down the hall to Adam’s room and knocks on the door.

“Hey, come in,” Adam calls.

As soon as Eric steps inside he can smell it. Sex. The remnants of Adam fucking Eric still lingers heavy on the air, and it almost makes Eric’s knees weak with shame.

“What’s up?” Adam asks.

Eric licks his lips. “Everything you told me earlier. It was the truth?”

Adam nods. “As my people know it, anyway.”

Looking at the floor, Eric considers his next move. Come on, St. John, he admonishes himself, Regan does this all the time.

“So, it’s normal?” he finally gets out. “There’s nothing…there’s nothing wrong with me that I want to let you touch me?”

His voice almost fades away by the end, but, actually, he thinks that helps his performance. He can feel it when Adam gets up off his bed and comes toward him. The other man rests his hand on Eric’s shoulder and speaks gently.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just evolution.”

Eric shakes his head, and Adam’s grip tightens.

“Look at me,” he demands.

Eric does, putting as much shame and vulnerability into his face as he can muster. Maybe it’s too convincing because Adam’s eyes crinkle.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeats, sounding almost tender. “Nothing. It’s just how you are. Say it.”

Eric whispers, “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

If he does say so himself, he adds just the right touch of disbelief, despair, and reluctant hope. It seems to affect Adam, at any rate. He steps away, rubbing his hand through the back of his hair, at a loss. Suddenly he perks up and heads to his bedside table. He pulls something out and tosses it to Eric. It’s some kind of ointment in an old-style wrinkled metal tube.

“What’s this?”

“Orajel of the ass,” Adam says, projecting false cheer into his voice. Eric just stares at him.

Sighing, Adam clarifies. “It’s a numbing agent. Rub it around and inside your rectum and it won’t hurt so much. I really am sorry about that. I get carried away.”

“Thank you,” Eric says.

He turns to head toward the bathroom then stops. “Do you mind if I shower?”

“No, not at all.”

Making himself sound shy, Eric says, “I don’t suppose you have anything I could wear?”

Adam shakes his head. “That’s not a great idea, wearing my clothes. Mingled scents makes wolves crazy horny.”

Eric can’t stop his eyes from sliding to the bed. Adam grins sheepishly.

“Yeah, I was just about to pop in some laundry,” he says. “I’ll just pick your clothes up while you’re in the shower.”

“Okay, that’s cool. Thank you,” Eric adds after a beat.

“Uh, don’t mention it,” Adam says.

Before he overdoes it, Eric retreats. Once the bathroom door is closed behind him, he collapses against it with a sigh. He can hear Regan’s voice in his head.

“Tough-looking guys are the easiest,” he had told Eric once. “They all have this he-man vibe. Just act a little lost and vulnerable, and they’ll be tripping all over themselves to do anything you want.”

At the time, Regan hadn’t been using the ‘you’ to refer to Eric, he just had bad grammar. Regan was the partner who was king of infiltration, and they both knew it. It had never been Eric’s forte.

Lost and vulnerable, he thinks. No fucking joke.