A
Altoz
Guest
Bath: 2001
Doug felt somewhat overheated, given the fact that it was the Northern Hemisphere summer, and he was walking home after assessing a potential slayer who had newly emerged on the Watchers Institute's tactical map. Her name was Farida and one day, if Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane and several other more prominent potentials all served and died, she would take up the cudgels and dispatch vampires into eternity when her turn came. He was talking to Rupert Giles on cellphone, concerned at what he heard. Apparently, the slayers re;lationship with special ops US army soldier Riley Finn and his Initiative allies hadn't worked out. Added to which, there was some kind of hyperdaemonic 'goddess" named Glorficus loose in Sunnydale. Could this finally be the time he ended his long apprenticeship as a European Watchers Field Agent and got assigned to the Hellmouth? As the sun set, Doug realised that he'd managed to miss the next train to Westbury, and given that it was not a terribly bad night, he thought he'd walk. He debated whether or not to drop into Mandalyns for a nice meal, but then realised that it was probably shut by now. He checked the bus station app and realised that he could make it to the city centre and catch the next bus out to Westbury ten minutes from now. He couldn't quite work out why it took over an hour to get just eighteen kilometres out to the village.
It was pleasantly cool on the double-decker as he paid for his ticket and watched the countryside roll by. Oddly enough, there weren't all that many passengers on the top tier, apart from a blond, muscular looking guy dressed casually. About twenty minutes into the journey, the man changed seats, sitting right behind him. Doug got the feeling that he was being checked out and sent a telepathic probe in his direction. He raised an eyebrow at what he got back. The voice that greeted him was deep:
"Well hello there. wiccaman."
Doug turned in his seat: "Hungry like a wolf, eh?"
"It's just after wolfmoon." Full moon, he meant.
"Do you feel like you're going to revert to wolfside?"
The blonde shook his head: "No, did that a couple of nights ago, so that's me fixed until the end of the next lunar month."
"So...?"
"Despite wolfsiding, there are certain hormones sloshing around inside me at the moment."
Doug nodded: "Yeah, I heard an increased libido was...oh."
'What would you do if I told you I was a man-eating werewolf?"
"I'd say that was a terrible double-entendre?"
"And that I want to feel those muscles across your back, peel those Calvins off you and feel you writhe underneath me?"
"I'd say this is our mutually lucky night. There's a Watchers Safe House in Westbury and it's deserted at the moment."
"Monroe"
"Doug."
"Actually, I'm interested by this." Monroe replied
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Given the whole power gap and paranormal aspect, it's rare that we go outside the para community."
"Witch-lyco relationships aren't exactly that uncommon, though. Ever done with one of us, Doug?"
"Nope. Does that make me the werewolf's gay virgin tribute, then?"
"I thought of several descriptions that might fit you, but virginal wasn't one of them."
After several hours of man eating and assorted other activities of that kind, Monroe was savouring Doug's left foot;
"Mmmmm. Even your feet smell nice. I'm impressed."
"Wow, that was seriously intense."
"Glad you liked it."
"No, seriously, that empathic link we had was somethin' else."
"So is your body, my friend. That muscle, those limbs, the way you gasp when you're getting close, and that really shapely rear."
"Flatterer."
"So how does a built battlewitch like you turn out to be a power bottom in bed?"
"Ahhh, I like to hand over the drivin' once in a while, particularly to someone who pushes my on button."
"This is the first time I've been back in the old country for a while."
"Hang about, thought I spotted Tibetan mandalas on your backpack. You're one of the lyco community we've heard about in the Himalayas, aren't you?"
"Dan and Bayarmaa's one? Yeah."
"Dan as in Daniel Osborne, formerly of California? Well, well. Small world."
"I suppose you could call me a Buddhist werewolf lay preacher."
"You're excellent at the lay part."
"So, our mission is to insure that no werewolf preys on non-lyco humans."
"Yeah, but what about the other way round?"
"Dan told me he'd had a run-in with one werewolf hunter, but the slayer and her friends drove him off. "
"Oh, that sick Cain bastard? The one who skins werewolves alive and sells the pelts in Sri Lanka? The Watchers have been tryin' to have that disgusting practice outlawed over there for ages, but Wolfram and Hart has a larger bankbalance and Columbo's a fairly corrupt place. Anyway, given that the number of confirmed lyco attacks on humans is in double figures and actual fatalities are in single ones, Cain seems a decadent scumball to me. Doesn't he have any inhibitions at all when it comes to killing someone who's a human when the full moon's not in the sky?"
"Not only are you seriously hot, but you're pro-lyco as well."
"Yeah, well, most lycos seem level-headed when it comes to humans. They voluntarily cage or chain themselves up, and you're only wolfsided one day of the month, and only then at night. And the pain! I had to leave the room when the Institute helped out with one young female lyco's transformational irregularities. I mean, I heard her heart stop. Her liver and kidney packed up, her bones broke and reformed and her pituitary gland was working overtime trying to rein it the agony she felt. The spine and the vertebrae shifted and the face elongated to something lupine. No wonder lycanthropes are full of anger and rage when you turn wolf."
There was softness and compassion in Doug's voice and Monroe was touched by it: "A hunk with a heart. I'm impressed."
"Most lycos recognise they're semi-human. Unlike vampires, who view themselves as some form of post-human 'apex predator' who are naturally 'entitled' to prey on the great unwashed."
Monroe leant over and kissed Doug: "That was one seriously enchanted evening. And frankly, if it wasn't for my mission, I'd be tempted to stay. So, how does it feel to lose your werewolf virginity?"
"Enough to realise that lycanthropes have it so damned bad it almost breaks my heart."
"You're going to make some lucky lyco a great packmate one day." As Monroe hefted his backpack, Doug leant back in bed, troubled by their conversation. Pulling on some clean underwear, he began to consult the Watchers Institute database on lycanthropy and was intent on it for hours...
THE END
Doug felt somewhat overheated, given the fact that it was the Northern Hemisphere summer, and he was walking home after assessing a potential slayer who had newly emerged on the Watchers Institute's tactical map. Her name was Farida and one day, if Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane and several other more prominent potentials all served and died, she would take up the cudgels and dispatch vampires into eternity when her turn came. He was talking to Rupert Giles on cellphone, concerned at what he heard. Apparently, the slayers re;lationship with special ops US army soldier Riley Finn and his Initiative allies hadn't worked out. Added to which, there was some kind of hyperdaemonic 'goddess" named Glorficus loose in Sunnydale. Could this finally be the time he ended his long apprenticeship as a European Watchers Field Agent and got assigned to the Hellmouth? As the sun set, Doug realised that he'd managed to miss the next train to Westbury, and given that it was not a terribly bad night, he thought he'd walk. He debated whether or not to drop into Mandalyns for a nice meal, but then realised that it was probably shut by now. He checked the bus station app and realised that he could make it to the city centre and catch the next bus out to Westbury ten minutes from now. He couldn't quite work out why it took over an hour to get just eighteen kilometres out to the village.
It was pleasantly cool on the double-decker as he paid for his ticket and watched the countryside roll by. Oddly enough, there weren't all that many passengers on the top tier, apart from a blond, muscular looking guy dressed casually. About twenty minutes into the journey, the man changed seats, sitting right behind him. Doug got the feeling that he was being checked out and sent a telepathic probe in his direction. He raised an eyebrow at what he got back. The voice that greeted him was deep:
"Well hello there. wiccaman."
Doug turned in his seat: "Hungry like a wolf, eh?"
"It's just after wolfmoon." Full moon, he meant.
"Do you feel like you're going to revert to wolfside?"
The blonde shook his head: "No, did that a couple of nights ago, so that's me fixed until the end of the next lunar month."
"So...?"
"Despite wolfsiding, there are certain hormones sloshing around inside me at the moment."
Doug nodded: "Yeah, I heard an increased libido was...oh."
'What would you do if I told you I was a man-eating werewolf?"
"I'd say that was a terrible double-entendre?"
"And that I want to feel those muscles across your back, peel those Calvins off you and feel you writhe underneath me?"
"I'd say this is our mutually lucky night. There's a Watchers Safe House in Westbury and it's deserted at the moment."
"Monroe"
"Doug."
"Actually, I'm interested by this." Monroe replied
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Given the whole power gap and paranormal aspect, it's rare that we go outside the para community."
"Witch-lyco relationships aren't exactly that uncommon, though. Ever done with one of us, Doug?"
"Nope. Does that make me the werewolf's gay virgin tribute, then?"
"I thought of several descriptions that might fit you, but virginal wasn't one of them."
After several hours of man eating and assorted other activities of that kind, Monroe was savouring Doug's left foot;
"Mmmmm. Even your feet smell nice. I'm impressed."
"Wow, that was seriously intense."
"Glad you liked it."
"No, seriously, that empathic link we had was somethin' else."
"So is your body, my friend. That muscle, those limbs, the way you gasp when you're getting close, and that really shapely rear."
"Flatterer."
"So how does a built battlewitch like you turn out to be a power bottom in bed?"
"Ahhh, I like to hand over the drivin' once in a while, particularly to someone who pushes my on button."
"This is the first time I've been back in the old country for a while."
"Hang about, thought I spotted Tibetan mandalas on your backpack. You're one of the lyco community we've heard about in the Himalayas, aren't you?"
"Dan and Bayarmaa's one? Yeah."
"Dan as in Daniel Osborne, formerly of California? Well, well. Small world."
"I suppose you could call me a Buddhist werewolf lay preacher."
"You're excellent at the lay part."
"So, our mission is to insure that no werewolf preys on non-lyco humans."
"Yeah, but what about the other way round?"
"Dan told me he'd had a run-in with one werewolf hunter, but the slayer and her friends drove him off. "
"Oh, that sick Cain bastard? The one who skins werewolves alive and sells the pelts in Sri Lanka? The Watchers have been tryin' to have that disgusting practice outlawed over there for ages, but Wolfram and Hart has a larger bankbalance and Columbo's a fairly corrupt place. Anyway, given that the number of confirmed lyco attacks on humans is in double figures and actual fatalities are in single ones, Cain seems a decadent scumball to me. Doesn't he have any inhibitions at all when it comes to killing someone who's a human when the full moon's not in the sky?"
"Not only are you seriously hot, but you're pro-lyco as well."
"Yeah, well, most lycos seem level-headed when it comes to humans. They voluntarily cage or chain themselves up, and you're only wolfsided one day of the month, and only then at night. And the pain! I had to leave the room when the Institute helped out with one young female lyco's transformational irregularities. I mean, I heard her heart stop. Her liver and kidney packed up, her bones broke and reformed and her pituitary gland was working overtime trying to rein it the agony she felt. The spine and the vertebrae shifted and the face elongated to something lupine. No wonder lycanthropes are full of anger and rage when you turn wolf."
There was softness and compassion in Doug's voice and Monroe was touched by it: "A hunk with a heart. I'm impressed."
"Most lycos recognise they're semi-human. Unlike vampires, who view themselves as some form of post-human 'apex predator' who are naturally 'entitled' to prey on the great unwashed."
Monroe leant over and kissed Doug: "That was one seriously enchanted evening. And frankly, if it wasn't for my mission, I'd be tempted to stay. So, how does it feel to lose your werewolf virginity?"
"Enough to realise that lycanthropes have it so damned bad it almost breaks my heart."
"You're going to make some lucky lyco a great packmate one day." As Monroe hefted his backpack, Doug leant back in bed, troubled by their conversation. Pulling on some clean underwear, he began to consult the Watchers Institute database on lycanthropy and was intent on it for hours...
THE END