Cherie woke up to the smell of huckleberry jam and vanilla pancake. He sat upright on his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He yawned, stretching, popping his joints out. He shook his limbs as he got out of bed, heading to the shower. Today was going to be a good day, he just felt it deep in his bones. After all, he was turning nineteen and he could finally see Wolf again. Ever since he left Wolf that day, he never went back, upholding his promise to the wolf-man. As much as he wanted to go to Willow’s Perch and anger Wolf so badly just to have him punish him, he held back. That was agonizing to do. He hated it. He rarely obeyed others—he liked rebelling and being mischievous. That was more of his nature. Sure, it left him getting beaten by others, or getting reprimanded or being chastised, but he didn’t give a shit. It was harmless fun. At least, that’s what he told himself.

After finishing his shower, he slipped on a pair of long pants and a loose fitted shirt, running down the stairs. Merissa had just finished making breakfast, hunched over the counter as she added fruits to the pancake. She glanced up when she heard Cherie and she grunted, “You’re up early. What gives?”

Cherie gave her a charming smile as he sat at the counter, crossing his legs together. He snatched the plate of pancakes and grabbed a fork lying beside the pitcher of water. Merissa scowled at him, swatting his hand with the spatula she grabbed from beside the stove. Cherie yelped and shook his hand, laughing. “Geez, Nana, you’re gonna cripple me. C’mon, be nice. It’s my birthday today.”

Merissa stared at Cherie before she said, “Huh. Your birthday…” She shuffled to the wall that had a calendar hanging there and she frowned. “Oh. You’re right.”

Something inside of Cherie twinged. It was an odd feeling. He couldn’t tell if his grandmother was being serious or not. He found himself frowning slightly as he stared at the pancakes. True, his grandmother was old, nearing eighty, and it sometimes left Cherie’s mind that she probably was going to die. It wasn’t like she was going to live forever—she was human. Cherie instead turned his attention to the pancakes and began eating it. Merissa was always such a good cook and baker—everything she did was perfect and Cherie could never be bored of what she made.

He cleared the plate fast and he placed it in the sink, saying, “Thank you for breakfast!” and he made a run for it, not wanting to do the dishes. He heard Merissa shouting at him, yelling at him to get his ass back in the house, but he was already running to Willow’s Perch. He wanted to see Wolf, wanted to feel Wolf, wanted to hear Wolf—

Willow’s Perch was cold, somehow colder than being outside of the forest. There were icicles hanging from the branches and some snow powdering the dark ground already. The air smelled icy and clear, freezing Cherie’s lungs, but that cold ache felt wonderful. His boots crunched under the hardened leaves and twigs as he shivered, rubbing his hands together. He could see his breath in the air.

In the distance, he could hear some low wolves’ howling which sent pleasant shivers up his spine. He continued walking, his attention alert to make sure he could either spot or hear Wolf approaching him. As he walked deeper into Willow’s Perch, he noticed that it was forebodingly quiet. He paused, surveying his surroundings, wondering why the wolves decided to stop howling. He bit his lower lip, tucking his hands under his arms as he headed to the main clearing where he usually went to pick the berries. The bushes were covered in heavy ice and thick mounds of snow—it was weirdly sightful and pretty. Cherie approached the bushes and kicked it, watching the snow flutter to the ground.

Then he felt heavy paws slam into his back, knocking the air out of his lungs as he hit the hard ground. He cursed as he felt his knees and elbows being scrapped and he angrily turned around, grabbing a fistful of the wolf’s dark fur, growling, “What the fuck was that for?”

The wolf transformed into Wolf and Cherie, now no longer holding a fistful of fur, was holding a handful of Wolf’s dark hair. Wolf had a lazy smile on his lips, his silver eyes teasing. He spoke in a low voice, “Aww, is the boy mad? Did I anger him? Poor baby couldn’t handle a little push.” He laughed, a throaty, husky sound, and Cherie’s anger instantaneously evaporated. Wolf noticed the sudden change and his expression became guarded. Stupid wolf-man.

“I’m back,” Cherie said, still holding onto Wolf’s dark hair. Surprisingly Wolf’s hair felt soft and thick against his fingers, which was odd. He expected it to be coarse and bristly, considering that Wolf was a hybrid wolf, living in the forest. Even his hair had a pleasing smell, like wintry pine or even an earthy scent.

“You are back. Surprisingly. I thought you died.” Wolf had an impertinent grin on his face. As much as Cherie really wanted to slap that grin of Wolf’s deviously handsome face, he also wanted to kiss those lips more.

“Can you fuck me?” Cherie asked and Wolf’s brows knitted, a harsh scoff leaving his throat.

“Kid, what did I say last time? Why do you keep pursuing such things? I am a wolf and you are a boy.” Wolf said as he pried Cherie’s fingers off his hair.

“It’s my birthday today,” Cherie added, and Wolf looked amused.

“Birthday, you say? So, you’re asking for a birthday wish, aren’t you, you naughty little brat?” Wolf chuckled softly, canting his head to the right. “You’re so damned weird, Cherie.” He leaned forward, his breath hot against Cherie’s face. “But I don’t fuck virgins.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Cherie snapped, annoyed.

“So, you’re a whore,” Wolf said, pulling back. He sat on his haunches, staring at Cherie with his silver eyes. His silver eyes traced over Cherie’s body slowly, a teasing smirk on his face. “Look at you, shaking. Scared?”

“Cold,” Cherie countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “And fuck you. What is it, then? You won’t fuck a virgin and you fuck a whore? Who you plan on fucking? A tree?” Cherie asked. He was angry, frustrated with how Wolf was taunting him, but he felt his anger boiled over when Wolf laughed at him. Laughing at him. That bastard. “What’s so funny?” He angrily demanded.

“A tree?” Wolf chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodness, child, no. I’m teasing you. I do prefer someone with more…experiences, but if you’re a slut…hm.” He shrugged. “Too dirty for me.”

Cherie growled, feeling his hands twitch. He wanted to wring his hands around Wolf’s neck, wanted to choke him and strangle him. This wasn’t going the way he expected. But what did he expect? Did he really expect that Wolf would give in just like that? Maybe. Maybe not. Besides the point, he didn’t like this push and pull. At least, not when Wolf was doing it. He didn’t like that Wolf was trying to have an upper hand in this. Cherie was the human—he technically was the natural predator of Wolf, but clearly it wasn’t playing out like that. Rather, it felt like they were equals and Cherie loathed that. He didn’t want to be an equal to Wolf. Didn’t want Wolf to mock him playfully and get him on the edge. No. He wanted to either control Wolf and get that fucker to fuck him or, better yet, he wanted Wolf to dominate him. Truly dominate him. He wanted Wolf to slam him into the ground and undress him with his mouth. He wanted to feel Wolf’s hand stroking his length and have those long fingers probe his rim. He wanted Wolf’s fangs to dig into his throat, hard enough to draw blood. He wanted to see the stars. He didn’t care if those stars were perfect—hell, those stars could be fucked up and broken so long Wolf was fucking him.

“What are you thinking about?” Wolf asked him as he ran his thumb over Cherie’s bottom lip. “You look rather tense. Tell me what you want. Exactly what you want. Perhaps I’ll give it a thought or two. But you better convince me good.”

Exhaling hard, Cherie glared at Wolf. “I told you before what I wanted. I want someone to fuck me hard—”

Wolf cut him off, pressing his thumb over Cherie’s lips, silencing him. “That’s not precise enough, little one. I want you to explain explicitly what you want me to do. Not this imaginary ‘someone’.”

Cherie swallowed hard. He set his jaw, feeling his stomach churn with wild emotions. If Wolf wanted explicit, he’ll give him explicit. He grabbed Wolf’s wrist and kissed the palm of his hand. Wolf’s expression was unreadable but watchful, those silver eyes preying on him, not once looking away. Cherie kept kissing Wolf’s palm before he dragged his tongue over Wolf’s forefinger, slipping it into his mouth. Cherie sucked on Wolf’s finger slowly, watching Wolf’s expression which still was deadpan. He scowled at Wolf which caused Wolf to grin; Cherie decided to go further, now sucking on three of Wolf’s fingers.

Wolf’s fingers tasted strangely good. They tasted like the earth and pine, leaving his tongue feeling tingly, his synapses firing like crazy. He groaned softly, licking and lapping at Wolf’s fingers, sucking them loudly, and Wolf’s breathing grew heavier.

Good. That was what he wanted. Cherie continued sucking and licking at Wolf’s fingers, speeding his pace up, letting his eyes drop to Wolf’s lap. Wolf’s member was limp. This angered Cherie so he bit at Wolf’s fingers, causing Wolf to yelp and jerk his hand back, hissing, “The fuck was that for?!”