Werewolves were real to anyone who had seen them. 

It was difficult for those living safely in society to believe that people could transform into monsters under the light of a full moon but there were some who knew better, individuals who had heard the screaming and saw an aftermath of carnage.

Werewolves hunted where they could kill and eat without interference—where people withered and faded with their missing posters, and everyone else ignored the scent of blood in the air. 

And it was safer to target victims where no one would go looking for them—nor would they risk death like any other man. 

If you slit their throats, they’d bleed.

If you burned them, they’d melt.

They didn’t, however, take the form of giant wolves once a month as the stories said. Instead, they changed at will into abominations of Hell and Earth, a creature caught in between, who craved human flesh as the only way to sate their infernal hunger. 

And Creed didn’t believe it until he saw them kill firsthand. 

The images of skinless faces and throats ripped open were hard to forget, and he attempted to avoid the alleys after last night, which was hard to do in the city, especially downtown. 

Creed leaned against the building closest to the vendor he’d chosen for dinner—a small wooden stand serving fried foods. 

There were people ahead of him, a couple laughing deliriously at their phones and a man dressed too heavily for summer. He stood several feet from them, just out of reach of the street lights, close enough to hear when his order was ready but far enough for the couple’s laughter to be tolerable. 

He glanced up at the moon, shaded red against the pollution-stained sky, no stars, only rivers of grayish-green clouds, and Creed closed his eyes. 

Thoughts ripped through the black behind his lids, things he’d rather forget—lots of blood and those dark human eyes watching him. 

Then, he heard it. 

A distant scream.

It was so faint that no one else turned their heads. 

Creed left the wall and walked to the nearest alley, listening. 

And he waited, hoping he’d imagined whatever it was, until he heard it again, the resonating end of another scream, one so desperate and high pitched, it was apparent that Death was approaching.  

He glanced over at the food stand.

The couple had retrieved their order and were walking toward him, heading for the subway entrance at the end of the block, but were too wrapped up in their conversation to notice him. 

After they passed, Creed stepped into the alley.

The smell of piss and trash was overwhelming, emitting from a homeless person’s bundle of blankets and junk tucked between a dumpster and a protruding section of the building. 

Rats scurried through the darkness ahead and watched him walk by with hundreds of vermillion eyes hiding behind a curtain of shadows. 

The screams faded away, replaced by a sound similar to the devouring he witnessed last night—heavy gulps, bones popping out of their sockets, and the messy tearing of flesh. It was a feast-like noise accompanied by a gentle humming, or rather, a moaning of gluttonous bliss.

Creed continued down the straight path until he saw an exit sign.

Its neon light filled the dead end in a sea of red, bathing the kneeled individual in a beautiful shade of blood, though Creed only saw its backside and the hand of its victim. 

He stopped just as the figure twitched and cocked its neck in a swift, popping movement—wide eyes staring at him. 

The werewolf shifted, its body reconfigured as though by force, its spine visible and pushed past its protruding shoulder blades. It made a sound, some horrible mix of growling and a drowning cry, before stepping forward, avoiding the half-eaten man and sinking into the shadows separating Creed from the carnage. 

He braced himself.

But the werewolf emerged with the face of a young man, lovely, wild, and painted with blood and flesh, rivers that fell down his slender, tan neck and stained the flesh of his chest. 

His sleeveless shirt was too loose and too big for him, revealing the rosewood color of his hard and swollen nipples, still blushing red as if they’d been sucked raw shortly before his meal, and though the boy was well-toned and of average height, he looked small under Creed’s shadow.

“Oh. I remember you,” He said in a lascivious whisper, inviting himself into Creed’s arms despite the man’s efforts to avoid him. 

The boy pressed his body close, minding the silver chains draped around his neck, and nuzzled his bloodied face into Creed’s chest, moaning as he ground his hips against the man. 

Creed shoved him away, but the boy’s long tongue slithered across his palm and in between his fingers with a lustfully-red smile. 

There wasn’t a man in existence who wouldn’t get hard while watching the boy lick and suck his fingers as if he hungered for the taste of cock—and Creed suspected the corpse lying in pieces at the end of the alley made the mistake of falling for those honeyed eyes. 

His clawed hands slipped under Creed’s shirt, rubbing the trenches separating each muscle. He seemed to enjoy the solid body beneath his palms and looked up at Creed, practically preening. 

“I was hoping we’d meet again,” He said, following the kiss placed on Creed’s abs. 

Then another. 

And another—his lips descending, leaving behind a trail of blood.

“Why?” Creed watched him closely, his hand moving to the boy’s head by reflex, through that soft tuft of curls. His muscles tensed, thinking he could snap that small neck if he wanted to, then remembering the boy could also do the same. 

“Because I want you.” The boy’s voice melted like honey, dripping down to Creed’s aching cock. 

But he snatched the boy by the hair, summoning a sudden gasp and stopping him from undoing his pants anymore.

“Don’t get any ideas.” Creed narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t help but follow the blood sliding off the boy’s chin, the rise of his slutty chest, or the taunting roll of his hips.

“Too late.” He grinned, baring every bloodied point. 

“I’m not interested in dogs who bite.” 

The boy licked his lips. “What about boys who fuck?” 

His comment amused Creed, and they stared at each other until the boy felt confident enough to lean closer, continuing to grind the air like a bitch in heat. 

Creed carefully loosened his grip, though not completely letting go in case the boy decided to get bold. He watched him nuzzle into his groin, tracing the thick swell stretching across his thigh before continuing to undo the man’s pants with vigor. 

And when he finally freed the man’s cock, he moaned longingly as the heavy, throbbing flesh smacked his cheek and wet his skin with precum kisses. 

The boy returned those kisses with little pecks of his own, allowing the heat of each vein to linger on his lips. His tongue—long and dark with blood—played with the tip and cleaned the cum from its slit. He stroked Creed’s shaft and took everything into his beastly mouth, the corners of his maw stretching wide enough to expose every fang. 

Creed tightened his grip on the boy’s hair. 

“You try anything other than choking, and I’ll break your neck.” He bucked his hips.  

The boy gagged, but Creed forced his cock further into his mouth, smirking after he saw a shiver roll up that firm, tan backside. The response made his cock throb and thicken against the boy’s tongue, his tip rubbing the back of his throat. 

He watched the boy’s eyes roll back, intoxicated by the scent and taste of his cock. 

The filthy sound of saliva and cum matched the tempo of Creed’s hips, and he made certain the boy couldn’t pull back or escape by fucking his mouth as if it were a cunt he intended to breed. 

His muscles tensed beneath the hands that groped his abs and waist with a sharp squeeze. The boy tried to pull back, but Creed punished his resistance and shoved his cock deep into the boy’s throat, keeping him at the root and watching him struggle for air with tears in his lustful eyes. 

Creed felt a burning in his chest that descended between his legs, a desire to fuck this bratty bitch straight—to make him sob for mercy or beg for more until he passed out from exhaustion. 

His load filled the boy’s mouth, his throat tightening with every gulp. Some escaped from the corners of his lips and nose, falling down his neck and dripping onto his knuckles while he pinched his nipples. 

The boy’s hips flinched after one final dry thrust, and Creed knew he’d cum in his pants from nothing more than sucking his cock.  

And the realization enthralled him. 

He yanked the boy’s head back with a wet pop of air and floods of cum hanging off those jagged teeth. 

But Creed kept his grip strong and held the boy in place while he stroked the rest of his load across that pretty face. 

It wasn’t surprising to see the boy welcoming more cum with a wide maw and hungry tongue. He lapped his lips clean then leaned in to lick Creed’s cock like a thirsty slut—his face red and throbbing, a color similar to his abused nipples.

Creed inhaled and faced the sky as a slow pour of euphoria flowed beneath his skin. He stared at the stars, past the yellow stains of city lights, then looked down at the boy after he felt a kiss on the tip of his cock. 

“Done already?” The boy teased, his eyes peering up at Creed like distance pyres. 

“If I weren’t, you couldn’t handle the repercussions.” Creed zipped his pants—much to the boy’s chagrin, though he seemed to enjoy the chase and stood with a messy face, following the man out of the alley. 

“Give me a ride?” He asked sweetly.

“You’ve got legs.”

“And your cum all over my face.” 

The boy stepped in front of Creed and embraced him in a position that stuck out his hips, giving the man a good look at the spandex material hugging panty lines into the firm curve of his ass. “Please? I promise not to bite.”

“And the others you were with yesterday night?” Creed said. “I have a feeling they’re gonna remember me too.” 

“They might.” The boy took his arm and held it tight with his clawed fingers. 

Creed kept his eyes forward. 

The streets were dark and quiet, though occasionally they’d hear sirens, music or—howling. 

The boy didn’t respond, maybe he wanted to, but he was silent as they walked into a lot tucked between two crumbling buildings, where Creed had parked his car—a black Cadillac standing out next to rusted parts and trash. 

The boy’s brows perked. “Oh. Mysterious and rich.” 

Creed opened the passenger door. 

“And a gentleman,” The boy said, slipping onto the leather seat. 

He laughed after the man ignored his comment and shut the door. 

Creed got into the driver’s side and started the engine with a sudden growl that vibrated their seats and tore out of the lot at a speed that made the boy giddy. 

The music started low, but the boy turned the volume to a thrashing level and turned to Creed with a grin still damp with cum. “I’m Rio.” 

Creed kept his eyes on the road and reached into the back seat before tossing Rio an old shirt. “Creed.”

 The boy wiped his face then paused to take a whiff of fabric—and Creed noticed his thighs tightening together. 

“You really are a dog.” He nearly smiled, hoping to hide the growing swell in his pants.

Rio closed his eyes. “Mm. It…smells familiar, like summer nights in the countryside.” 

“Where do you live?” Creed asked.

“23rd and Westwood.” Rio fell onto Creed’s shoulder as if they were lovers on a late drive. 

“Don’t travel far for a meal, do you?” Creed responded, taking a sharp turn and causing the boy to bounce off him. 

“Only when I’m alone,” Rio said. “But, I’d rather be alone.” 

He glanced over at Creed, admiring his hard features under every passing streetlight—a solid, clean-shaven jaw and coldfire eyes surrounded by dirty blonde hair braided and knotted past his shoulders like a Norse God. And Rio let the man’s presence sink into his skin, pulling him closer with unseen claws dug into his flesh. 

“Well,” Rio continued, his voice a whisper beneath the blurring music. “I used to be.”

The boy reached across the console and took Creed’s hand, his lips caressing the man’s fingers, knuckles, then over the tender pulse of his wrist. “You’re dangerous. I can tell.” 

Creed felt his cock throbbing in the same rhythm as the boy’s lustful breaths. His hand tightened on the steering wheel, pushing veins against his skin. 

“Then why so interested?” The car stopped at a light, giving Creed a moment to glance at the beautifully vicious boy, whose eyes shone brighter than a century of full moons. 

“Because I’m dangerous too.”