charisstoma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charisstoma) wrote2011-01-23 03:02 pm
charisstoma) wrote2011-01-23 03:02 pm
Entry tags:
A Hunting We Will Go
Title: A Hunting We Will Go.
Author: charisstoma
Summary: Jerrol is a nice normal person who’s on a road trip to a cabin in the woods with his parent’s blessing.
Rating: G and darn it this was suppose to be for Sunday Snuggles.
Word count: 1940
It was the normal kind of cat and mouse, except this time the cat didn’t know the mouse was dangerous in its own right. Jerrol at a mediocre 5’7” with brown hair and large doe like eyes the same color was use to it by now or not. How does one get use to being seen as prey by the larger animals in a forest made up of tables, booths, and bar stools? He’d developed tactics though that worked to gain him free drinks.
Of course one did have to watch to make sure the drinks weren’t augmented. He’d seen that happen once and stepped in to save a poor naïve thing. Cops had been called and the victim taken off to the hospital. It had left a bad taste in Jerrol’s mouth. So he always made sure that he was at the bar when the drinks were made or ordered the same as his drinking buddy and switched the drinks. He was careful.
He hadn’t really thought that the small town on a road in the middle of the Rockies would be good for much other than some place warm to catch a meal and a drink before getting back on the road again. He didn’t want to stay long as the storm he was running in front of was laying large thick blankets of white behind it that to judge by news reports were best left until they melted. Not that the local DOT left it at that but it took them a while before things were able to get moving again. No he didn’t want to overstay in this little secluded place that didn’t seem to have much entertainment and wasn’t up to his kind of amusement that depended on transience to avoid unnecessary pleasantness. In, get a few free drinks, maybe a few gropes and kisses then he was gone was his norm.
Jerrol was really unprepared for the atmosphere that was closer to the dim smoky bars of the larger cities he normally did his drink hunting. And the predators were out to judge by the eyes that followed him as he walked to the bar to order his own drink and a warm meal of… hmmm steak with all the fixings. He really couldn’t see what the eyes would want with him. Bundled up as he was he could be a dumpling of a person, gender neutral, only the depth of his voice betraying his sex and even then he could have been a husky voiced woman. Scoping out the floor plan, he opted for the bar stool at the end against the wall and near the door that led back towards where a sign read restrooms and the compulsory Exit glowed faintly. There was no reason for undue caution, probably just locals being nosy but he liked his options to be open.
The scent of musk wafted into his just clearing nostrils as the warmth of coffee and the smell of hot sizzling steak worked their wonders acquainting themselves with his mouth. The heat of the hand that stroked down his spine hitting all of his pleasure points in turn had him arching his back instinctually into the pressure. If he wasn’t careful he’d be exposing his belly soon or worse his neck. The pheromones were doing what pheromones were suppose to do, making him pliant and submissive. That may be what his inner wolf wanted but Jerrol had enough of what had drawn his sire to the woman that gave him birth and tenderly raised him. Human Were crosses weren’t common and the results were runts by Were standards but Jerrol was proof that what was small didn’t mean easy prey. It had taken a week before his sire had been able to wear his mother down until she’d exposed her neck and allowed him to breed her. It had been a happy pairing but his sire had never really gotten the upper hand in their relationship. She was, as his sire called it, spunky and stubborn. Jerrol had inherited that from her.
That didn’t mean that he didn’t freeze in place when the cold of a nose left a trail up the side of his face from jaw to crown. Nor did he turn into the face beside his to see who was sniffing his scent. Those types of reactions would indicate returned interest, so one for and one against. He calmly cut himself another bite of steak and inwardly cursed his lack of attention due to the focus of the hot meat on his plate; one against for his side. Score 2-2, his side sort of winning.
The problem with ignoring something as big as a full male were, was they didn’t like it. If you were lucky they lost interest, if you weren’t they pushed. Jerrol didn’t want to get pushed, violence was foreplay and hard to sidestep once begun. The chuckle followed by a lick tasting behind his ear was unexpected. He really couldn’t help the “ewwwwwweee”, and frantic rubbing to remove the spit. Twisting the chair round to face his .. 6’4” attacker .. “Oh my God I’m toast”, which he really hadn’t meant to say out loud; really.
A big smile curved the lips of the male that had slipped into the chair next to his, caging him nicely from the rest of the room. “Not quite yet but I’ll warm you nicely and you’ll get there,” had been said with amusement twinkling in words that mimicked his blue, blue eyes. “Eat up. You’ll need your energy. It‘s cold out there.”
This time Jerrol was able to keep control of a yapping tongue. ‘Yes, he’d eat up but the energy was for not being rolled on a spit. E was also for escape.’ If only the other would stop tracing a finger enticingly up and down his thigh. Reaching down to grab that finger seemed the best bet to stop it but he was nervous of making that move. There was something so personally intimate about enclosing a finger inside a fist. Too close to what else could be enclosed inside a fist. With a shake of his head, he involuntarily shivered the heat of that thought down to where it caught in the constriction of fabric in his lap. He wished now that he’d studied his sire’s hunting techniques instead of avoiding the embarrassment of watching his parents make out. The score was 2 up and edging towards 3 or 4 for his partner. ‘How was he supposed to run on three legs, one of them hard stuck in his pants.’ Could his mother have even held out against this; pheromones, gentle enticement, good looks, with dashes of humor and now lust. Maybe not, Jerrol did exist after all.
Meal finished, he pulled out his wallet to pay the bill only to be stopped by the hard grip on his leg. “I’ve got it,” was unarguable considering. With a sigh, Jerrol reached to grab his puffy ski jacket, wishing that it was white in this case, so much better for concealment in snow. With a thanks, for he had been brought up with manners, he slipped through the door towards the restroom. If he thought he had the time he would have used the facilities first but the Exit sign’s glow promised freedom and nose deadening stuffiness. Pheromones couldn’t work if they couldn’t get through; one weapon in his downfall taken out.
Thank God, he’d parked two buildings down on the side street as cold numbed lust out of his pants. Two weapons removed from his predator’s arsenal and the strongest ones. Almost Jerrol regretted his escape. It was a kindness perhaps that he hadn’t heard the laughter that rang through the bar he’d just left. No one appreciated a good hunt like the little town of Lupin as advice was thrown out to the hunter who took it with his signature grin.
Safe in his car, Jerrol cranked the engine, and hit the main drag out of town. Buildings growing small in his rear view, he blew out a breath and had the leisure to click on heat and radio. ’Snow was going to be bad. Mountain roads already blocked in many places’ were not comforting words to hear. He hoped he was enough in front of the worst that he could make it to the next town where a friend of the family was suppose to have a cabin close. Stopping at the town to ask directions for the road closed signs were up, Jerrol was told that his vehicle wouldn’t make it but someone would be by soon that could take him up to Kole’s cabin. His car would be safe parked where it was he was assured. Jerrol wondered at the whispers between the women who sat off at a table with him as their obvious topic of conversation. With a shrug, he thought it must be usual in small towns. His sire had grown up close by here and would regale the family on the winter nights with tales of backwoods frolics.
The ‘there he is now’ warned of the 4x4 pulled up in front of the building and Jerrol prepared himself to meet the son of his sire’s best friend. Standing up, he sat down again hurriedly. The predator from the bar was named Kole who came in with a friendly smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. Calling out greetings to the ladies and other pleasantries he stripped off his glove to extend his hand to Jerrol as if one had not just tried to pick up the other in a bar down the road. Jerrol knew this game even though he’d never played it before. He also knew the outcome and it involved bread and a heat source. ‘Well nothing said that they’d have to become mates’, he consoled himself with glancing out the side of his eyes at the driver. The heater was on and the musky pheromones were making their way into his lizard brain, muddling his resolve. He was going to have a long talk with his sire about this. “One does not set your kit up like this. Arranged matings are not done anymore“, he muttered under his breath. A chuckle from the seat beside him made him realize that once again he was talking to himself.
“Nothings going to happen you don’t want and need already. Your father’s letter was right, you’re going to be a handful but well worth the toasting, your words” a finger pointed at him. Baby you’re so into heat, you don’t recognize it. Once you’re out of it, in about a week, we can talk about any future we might decide to have together. I’m thinking there’s going to be one. You taste right even under the wanting.”
Vehicle stopping in front of the cabin, Jerrol let himself be pulled into a kiss that blew his conscious thought away and any movement momentarily impossible. It took a push from Kole towards the farther door to break the glazed look from his face. The cold leak of air from the open side door helped to get matters settled in his mind. Jerrol was going to have a talk with his sire about this. About the time they adopted their first kit, for kits were often in need of a home in the rough world of Weres. Score was 3- 10 Jerrol’s favor. He wouldn’t make it easy for Kole but they would get to grilled cheese on toast, the taste of home, before the week was up.
continues here:
Sometimes the Hunt comes Away Empty
Author: charisstoma
Summary: Jerrol is a nice normal person who’s on a road trip to a cabin in the woods with his parent’s blessing.
Rating: G and darn it this was suppose to be for Sunday Snuggles.
Word count: 1940
It was the normal kind of cat and mouse, except this time the cat didn’t know the mouse was dangerous in its own right. Jerrol at a mediocre 5’7” with brown hair and large doe like eyes the same color was use to it by now or not. How does one get use to being seen as prey by the larger animals in a forest made up of tables, booths, and bar stools? He’d developed tactics though that worked to gain him free drinks.
Of course one did have to watch to make sure the drinks weren’t augmented. He’d seen that happen once and stepped in to save a poor naïve thing. Cops had been called and the victim taken off to the hospital. It had left a bad taste in Jerrol’s mouth. So he always made sure that he was at the bar when the drinks were made or ordered the same as his drinking buddy and switched the drinks. He was careful.
He hadn’t really thought that the small town on a road in the middle of the Rockies would be good for much other than some place warm to catch a meal and a drink before getting back on the road again. He didn’t want to stay long as the storm he was running in front of was laying large thick blankets of white behind it that to judge by news reports were best left until they melted. Not that the local DOT left it at that but it took them a while before things were able to get moving again. No he didn’t want to overstay in this little secluded place that didn’t seem to have much entertainment and wasn’t up to his kind of amusement that depended on transience to avoid unnecessary pleasantness. In, get a few free drinks, maybe a few gropes and kisses then he was gone was his norm.
Jerrol was really unprepared for the atmosphere that was closer to the dim smoky bars of the larger cities he normally did his drink hunting. And the predators were out to judge by the eyes that followed him as he walked to the bar to order his own drink and a warm meal of… hmmm steak with all the fixings. He really couldn’t see what the eyes would want with him. Bundled up as he was he could be a dumpling of a person, gender neutral, only the depth of his voice betraying his sex and even then he could have been a husky voiced woman. Scoping out the floor plan, he opted for the bar stool at the end against the wall and near the door that led back towards where a sign read restrooms and the compulsory Exit glowed faintly. There was no reason for undue caution, probably just locals being nosy but he liked his options to be open.
The scent of musk wafted into his just clearing nostrils as the warmth of coffee and the smell of hot sizzling steak worked their wonders acquainting themselves with his mouth. The heat of the hand that stroked down his spine hitting all of his pleasure points in turn had him arching his back instinctually into the pressure. If he wasn’t careful he’d be exposing his belly soon or worse his neck. The pheromones were doing what pheromones were suppose to do, making him pliant and submissive. That may be what his inner wolf wanted but Jerrol had enough of what had drawn his sire to the woman that gave him birth and tenderly raised him. Human Were crosses weren’t common and the results were runts by Were standards but Jerrol was proof that what was small didn’t mean easy prey. It had taken a week before his sire had been able to wear his mother down until she’d exposed her neck and allowed him to breed her. It had been a happy pairing but his sire had never really gotten the upper hand in their relationship. She was, as his sire called it, spunky and stubborn. Jerrol had inherited that from her.
That didn’t mean that he didn’t freeze in place when the cold of a nose left a trail up the side of his face from jaw to crown. Nor did he turn into the face beside his to see who was sniffing his scent. Those types of reactions would indicate returned interest, so one for and one against. He calmly cut himself another bite of steak and inwardly cursed his lack of attention due to the focus of the hot meat on his plate; one against for his side. Score 2-2, his side sort of winning.
The problem with ignoring something as big as a full male were, was they didn’t like it. If you were lucky they lost interest, if you weren’t they pushed. Jerrol didn’t want to get pushed, violence was foreplay and hard to sidestep once begun. The chuckle followed by a lick tasting behind his ear was unexpected. He really couldn’t help the “ewwwwwweee”, and frantic rubbing to remove the spit. Twisting the chair round to face his .. 6’4” attacker .. “Oh my God I’m toast”, which he really hadn’t meant to say out loud; really.
A big smile curved the lips of the male that had slipped into the chair next to his, caging him nicely from the rest of the room. “Not quite yet but I’ll warm you nicely and you’ll get there,” had been said with amusement twinkling in words that mimicked his blue, blue eyes. “Eat up. You’ll need your energy. It‘s cold out there.”
This time Jerrol was able to keep control of a yapping tongue. ‘Yes, he’d eat up but the energy was for not being rolled on a spit. E was also for escape.’ If only the other would stop tracing a finger enticingly up and down his thigh. Reaching down to grab that finger seemed the best bet to stop it but he was nervous of making that move. There was something so personally intimate about enclosing a finger inside a fist. Too close to what else could be enclosed inside a fist. With a shake of his head, he involuntarily shivered the heat of that thought down to where it caught in the constriction of fabric in his lap. He wished now that he’d studied his sire’s hunting techniques instead of avoiding the embarrassment of watching his parents make out. The score was 2 up and edging towards 3 or 4 for his partner. ‘How was he supposed to run on three legs, one of them hard stuck in his pants.’ Could his mother have even held out against this; pheromones, gentle enticement, good looks, with dashes of humor and now lust. Maybe not, Jerrol did exist after all.
Meal finished, he pulled out his wallet to pay the bill only to be stopped by the hard grip on his leg. “I’ve got it,” was unarguable considering. With a sigh, Jerrol reached to grab his puffy ski jacket, wishing that it was white in this case, so much better for concealment in snow. With a thanks, for he had been brought up with manners, he slipped through the door towards the restroom. If he thought he had the time he would have used the facilities first but the Exit sign’s glow promised freedom and nose deadening stuffiness. Pheromones couldn’t work if they couldn’t get through; one weapon in his downfall taken out.
Thank God, he’d parked two buildings down on the side street as cold numbed lust out of his pants. Two weapons removed from his predator’s arsenal and the strongest ones. Almost Jerrol regretted his escape. It was a kindness perhaps that he hadn’t heard the laughter that rang through the bar he’d just left. No one appreciated a good hunt like the little town of Lupin as advice was thrown out to the hunter who took it with his signature grin.
Safe in his car, Jerrol cranked the engine, and hit the main drag out of town. Buildings growing small in his rear view, he blew out a breath and had the leisure to click on heat and radio. ’Snow was going to be bad. Mountain roads already blocked in many places’ were not comforting words to hear. He hoped he was enough in front of the worst that he could make it to the next town where a friend of the family was suppose to have a cabin close. Stopping at the town to ask directions for the road closed signs were up, Jerrol was told that his vehicle wouldn’t make it but someone would be by soon that could take him up to Kole’s cabin. His car would be safe parked where it was he was assured. Jerrol wondered at the whispers between the women who sat off at a table with him as their obvious topic of conversation. With a shrug, he thought it must be usual in small towns. His sire had grown up close by here and would regale the family on the winter nights with tales of backwoods frolics.
The ‘there he is now’ warned of the 4x4 pulled up in front of the building and Jerrol prepared himself to meet the son of his sire’s best friend. Standing up, he sat down again hurriedly. The predator from the bar was named Kole who came in with a friendly smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. Calling out greetings to the ladies and other pleasantries he stripped off his glove to extend his hand to Jerrol as if one had not just tried to pick up the other in a bar down the road. Jerrol knew this game even though he’d never played it before. He also knew the outcome and it involved bread and a heat source. ‘Well nothing said that they’d have to become mates’, he consoled himself with glancing out the side of his eyes at the driver. The heater was on and the musky pheromones were making their way into his lizard brain, muddling his resolve. He was going to have a long talk with his sire about this. “One does not set your kit up like this. Arranged matings are not done anymore“, he muttered under his breath. A chuckle from the seat beside him made him realize that once again he was talking to himself.
“Nothings going to happen you don’t want and need already. Your father’s letter was right, you’re going to be a handful but well worth the toasting, your words” a finger pointed at him. Baby you’re so into heat, you don’t recognize it. Once you’re out of it, in about a week, we can talk about any future we might decide to have together. I’m thinking there’s going to be one. You taste right even under the wanting.”
Vehicle stopping in front of the cabin, Jerrol let himself be pulled into a kiss that blew his conscious thought away and any movement momentarily impossible. It took a push from Kole towards the farther door to break the glazed look from his face. The cold leak of air from the open side door helped to get matters settled in his mind. Jerrol was going to have a talk with his sire about this. About the time they adopted their first kit, for kits were often in need of a home in the rough world of Weres. Score was 3- 10 Jerrol’s favor. He wouldn’t make it easy for Kole but they would get to grilled cheese on toast, the taste of home, before the week was up.
continues here:
Sometimes the Hunt comes Away Empty