12 comments/ 28001 views/ 28 favorites A Pack of Tales Ch. 01 By: NaokoSmith Diolch yn fawr! Sara Rasmussen for your editorial guidance. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series will include two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. A Pack of Tales Ch 1 -- Red Red picked up by the pack (story) She paused in the doorway. Behind the scratched black door in the narrow porch, Red could sense the warmth of the pub; a warmth she needed so much it had gone beyond starvation. More than the physical warmth on this miserable rain-drenched February night, she craved the warmth of other bodies. She needed it so much she had been willing to come out of the shadows, prop the rucksack containing everything she owned in a dark corner by the pub doorway, hunch her shoulders and reach out for the door handle. She pushed open the door and stepped just inside. It was like a wave pouring over her whole body: golden light, the warm air moist with human breath and beer, the smells of food and spirits, of people's hair and sweat and shampoo and of the damp carpet. A sudden burst of laughter caught her like a slap. She paused again, staring into the bar at a few groups of people sitting and standing around the tables and chairs. Her mouth hung open, she was panting lightly. "'Scuse me!" an indignant voice behind her jostled her into stepping all the way in. She walked up to the dark wood bar on slow legs trembling with exhaustion and fear, her mouth still a little open and panting. She knew she ought to straighten her shoulders, act confident and like she didn't care, but she couldn't. Although he had overtaken her and reached the bar first, the man who had come up behind her in the doorway courteously turned and waved a hand, saying: "I think he's before me." Red was grateful for this. She didn't mind that in her damp khaki trousers and rough old army surplus camouflage jacket he had mistaken her for a boy. She couldn't quite bear to say 'thanks' but she flicked her eyes at the man before lifting them to the barman. She knew she was so famished with hunger that she would faint if she had even half a pint of beer. She said: "Half a pint of shandy and a packet of crisps." Her voice was husky with lack of use and broke in the middle of her saying it. "Eh? Speak up!" the barman leaned over in annoyance. He was frowning at her and tilting his head down to examine her. Red's heart began thumping in additional terror. Did he think she was too young -- even for a bloody shandy? She should've asked for the beer. Or did he think she was too scruffy, in her rough clothes, her hair chopped short with the cheap red dye growing out in it, one longer lock at the back in a small plait like the puppy dog's tail; did he think she was a traveller? Or was there something else about her that he didn't like the look of. With a tremendous effort of will she resisted the temptation to put a quick finger up to her neck and make sure it was completely covered in the old green scarf. She enunciated as clearly as she could, "Half a pint of shandy and a packet of ready salted crisps." When he put them on the bar and told her the price, she fingered the coins in her pocket. Nearly crying with shame and anxiety, she said: "Just the shandy, then." The barman rolled his eyes as he threw the packet of crisps back in the box. Red took her drink and went to the small table she had picked out by a window near the door. She sat hunched over her half pint glass, looking fearfully through her fringe around the bar parlour. A few curious eyes floated over towards her but to her relief none lingered on her lumpy figure in the heavy damp army surplus clothes and Doc Marten boots. After a while she put up her finger and loosened the green scarf around her neck. She took a miniscule sip of the shandy and then sat quite still. Her hazel eyes glazed over as the warmth began to thaw out the exhaustion in her tense muscles. When the shandy was half gone, she felt sufficiently comfortable to take off her scarf. She sat over her drink, soaking in the moist air, the light murmur of the people talking, the smells of beer and musty carpet and faintly somewhere food and most of all human sweat and flesh, the warmth radiating from their sweet smelly bodies and friendly chit-chat. It was all becoming vague and dreamlike. She was dozing as she sat there. She couldn't help it. It was so warm and she was so tired. She gave a start when the door opened but she didn't turn her head. She recognized them with her sixth sense: the one that's all the other senses combined. As they came tumbling in she knew instantly what they were and first her heart leapt with joy, then she crushed it fiercely down. Chrissake! Hadn't she been through enough? She gave a small whimper of fear (and of yearning) and turned her head aside. She swallowed against the bile rising in her gorge, trying to push down the memories. Too often heads had turned and noses had lifted with a delicate sniffing in her direction. She had seen eyes go a dirty yellow, shoulders hunch and bristle. Packs of male bodies had swung suddenly away from their food or drink towards her and she would have to leave her food half-eaten and get out as fast as she could go. She had nearly been caught in an alleyway once, only got away because a pair of lost shoppers came clattering down and distracted the pack tracking her. There were half a dozen in this pack and they had three women with them, the women were just human. Red had never met another female like herself. Nor of course had the packs who scented her and came hunting her down. The ultimate trophy: a fucking female to drag around and show off to all the other packs, and for the Alpha to fuck with. She was what she was and so she longed with every fibre of her being for oneness with others, for the pack to meld with. She had been obliged to realise that they could never accept her just as one of them. Her scent made them think of fucking not playing. She was unable to resist turning her head to watch this pack surreptitiously through her fringe. They seemed to fill the room with their muscular, panting, silently laughing bodies, all of them fit and sleek. They were well-fed contented beasts whom the women loved. Three of them were older and the women were older too, three were young. Like her. Young and playful. One was dressed in a navy blue cashmere coat much too smart for the pub. A hand on his slim hip held the coat elegantly open. Red could see that under it he was wearing designer jeans and a white t-shirt. She could smell the fine Italian leather of his shoes right across the room, a smell so tantalising and exquisite that it was making her salivate. Two were just cubs in Levis and trainers which had already been chewed. They were both big and muscular. One was a tousled blond with a soft contented air about him. He was the baby who always rolled over to show his tummy and got away with it. The other had dark hair and eyes and skin like honey, smooth and golden-brown. He eased his powerful haunches onto a bar-stool and gave an absent-minded smile to the barmaid who rushed over to serve them, cutting out the barman. Red thought that women probably hovered so constantly around him that he had never realised it; they were just wallpaper in his world. Red shuffled her feet wearily. She must leave before one of them smelled her. She was so tired. It was so warm. They smelled so wonderful. It would be cold outside, probably still raining. The tears stung at her eyes. She raised an angry hand to dash them away. Crissake! She must get moving. One of the women was looking at her. She was tall and thin with large and gentle eyes. Her black hair was like a cloud of loose curls about her head. She was looking straight at Red with a small concentrated frown wrinkling her brow and a half-smile on her mouth. It was as if she thought she knew Red and was about to come and say: "Does your mam know where you are, sweetheart?" Fuck! She was looking at Red's neck. Red's fingers went up automatically to feel the red leather dog collar exposed to the woman's intelligent gaze. The woman had turned aside and was saying something to the older men. In spite of a hissed expostulation from her, they stopped talking and their heads swung round as one to stare at Red. Red snatched at her scarf and got hurriedly to her feet, moving towards the door she had providently sat so close to. She had stood up too quickly. There were black spots dancing in front of her eyes but she had to get out. She stumbled in the direction of the door. The door was disappearing, a wave of darkness rising up from the floor, she was fainting; she was gone before she hit the floor. When she came to, it was like being in a dream. Her limbs felt heavy and her thought processes were slow. She heard voices as if they were coming from far away. She knew it wasn't a dream because she could smell them: the sweetness of their panting breath, the savage musk of their bodies, the sharp inquisitive alertness of them, a rich bouquet of perfumes that made her want to leap in the air and shake her head and laugh and play -- except that she felt so curiously heavy and slow. "We should take that collar off," it was the barman's voice. "No!" He was interrupted by the thin woman who had been staring at her. Red saw her hand come out and catch the barman's hand. "She'll be fine. Just let her lie there a moment." "Bloody Hell! Is that a girl?" the barman exclaimed. "Whatever is she dressed like that for? Is she one of those Goths, like?" "No no, Goths, they wear black," someone else chipped in helpfully. "She must be a Punk." Red could sense the cubs laughing silently. Their panting quickened and she smelled the hilarity in their breath. "Whatever business is it of yours what she wears," the woman said. "Shut up and go back to your drinking. Give her some air." Her sing-song Valleys accent was cut up by a cross emphasis on consonants. "I'm going to call social services," the barman said truculently. "Looks like a runaway kid to me." Red sensed the pack around her tense up at this mention of the authorities. "Oh yes, do that," drawled the one in the navy cashmere coat and Italian shoes. His voice was careless and smooth with clipped upper class tones. "They might want to know how you came to be serving someone you thought was underage, mind." "It was a shandy!" protested the barman. "Stop worrying, Joe," the woman said in a voice that managed to be both soothing and authoritative. "She'll be alright with us, isn't it. If anyone comes looking for her, send them to talk to Gavin, he's a social worker himself. Boys, go back to the bar but just have a half. Rex, help me to sit her up, she's coming to." One of the older ones and the woman were putting their arms under her armpits to heave her up and prop her against the wall. As if in apology, the barman shoved a cushion off one of the chairs behind her back before going grumbling back to the bar. Red leaned into the softness of the cushion. She still felt completely drained, as if every drop of blood, of adrenaline had gone from her veins. She sat leaning back into the cushion and staring into the bar parlour. Her eyes turned sharply as she felt fingers gently ruffling her hair. Already the hand was being held out near her nose. She smelled soap and cooking and some cheap perfume and beneath the domestic business of the woman, she smelled gentle humour and kindness. She smelled the warmth of the woman's hand. "I'm Christa," the woman said. "This is Rex. You'll be alright with us. Do you understand? No one will hurt you. Listen to me. Listen. He won't hurt you. None of them will hurt you." Red tilted her eyes to the other side and saw the lean male face near her own. He was thin and wiry, tanned even at this time of year by the outdoor life he must lead. The virile strength bristled off his shoulders against the brown collar round his neck. She knew he was the leader of the pack but his brown eyes were quiet and gentle. They were not in the selfish hard yellow of lust, they regarded her with only a hesitant concern, and with curiosity. "I didn't know there were girls," the woman -- Christa, was murmuring. She put her hand to Red's head and ran her fingers into Red's hair, the affectionate caress of the woman who never manages to stop being a mother. Red couldn't help it. The tears spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She sat propped up leaning back on the cushion and crying. Christa put a hand up and wiped the tears away with gentle fingers. "Hush," she said softly. "The cars are just outside. You come home with us now. That's your rucksack the boys found by the porch, is it? Don't you fret, my sweetheart. You'll be alright now." When she woke up in the morning she lay a while drifting in and out of sleep. It felt like it had been a long, long time since she had been clean, warm and dry, snuggled under a quilt in a bed in a house with the heating turned on. She lay vaguely remembering the taste of some meaty stew Christa had fed her the night before. Softly she smacked her lips. She stared through her lashes at the bare walls of the small room in which she lay. "I'll put you next to Rex and me," Christa had said it firmly and clearly to her. She had understood this to mean that she could rely on them to keep the cubs off her and so she slept deep and sweet. Red put her hand casually to her neck. She sat frantically upright, staring about her. Her collar was on a little table by the bed. There was a bowl of water and a box of tissues on the table too. Red picked up the collar: made of thinner leather than the ones around the necks of the men and boys she had met the previous night, leather dyed red and with a heart-shaped buckle. A girl's collar, marking her out to them no matter how she dressed, as if they couldn't smell it anyway. She grimaced as she picked the collar up and buckled it around her neck. In the dim light coming through plain curtains, Red looked around the small room again. It was evidently a little box room which they usually put the human guests in. There was just about enough space for the single bed under the window and a chest of drawers beside which leant her stained rucksack with the rolled tent in the loops at the bottom. Red knelt up in the bed and lifted the light curtains to look out of the window. She was looking into a muddy concrete yard enclosed by a high grey dry stone wall. A five-bar gate with several layers of chicken wire fixed to it stood open in the wall. A single lane of tarmac ran down the green hillside from the gate. There was a small caravan to one side of the yard and three vehicles parked up: a mud-splashed seven-seater four-by-four in which she vaguely remembered being driven back to the farmhouse the night before, two white vans -- one with pictures of spanners on the sides, and a sleek small black two-seater as incongruous in the rough farmyard as a Hollywood film star. Red turned her head and saw the green muddy slope of the Valley disappearing up into some scrubby woodland, and rising beyond into the mist of a chill winter's day. Suddenly they appeared out of the mist: the brindled snout of the leader first, his long lean frame loping down the hillside. Two browner sandy wolves appeared at his shoulder then the rest of the pack came trotting behind. She saw the silent panting laughter going up in clouds from their red mouths with the tongues lolling out between their dangerous teeth. Their winter coats were glossy and thick and their yellow eyes were as bright as the moon. Two had broken off from the back of the pack. A thin black wolf was jostling and snarling at a sturdier baby blond, hassling him with shoves at his shoulders. The blond baby just did what he always did: rolled over laughing to display his pale soft furry tummy. The thin black wolf turned to streak after the rest of the pack. The blond baby rolled to his paws, shook himself and trotted after them. Red caught up her breath, she caught her lip in her teeth. She knelt on the bed with her hands pressed to the thin cold pane of glass. She wanted to tear off her collar and run out to tumble with them, biting and shoving, rolling over to show her tummy in playful submission. But it wasn't possible. She was a girl. When she came into season they would tear each other apart to get at her. When she came into the big farmhouse kitchen it seemed to be full of panting muscular masculinity. They lounged round the long pine table in the light from the windows; the cubs moved about setting out the knives and forks. The three women murmuring to each other around the warm blue cooking range at the far end of the kitchen were muted out by the relaxed menfolk sprawled around the head of the table. Red stood just inside the door. She could feel the cold from the grey flagstone floor through her thick socks although the room was warm from the cooking range. Cutting through her awareness of the pack of men she could smell the meat. It was Sunday. There was some massive chunk of flesh in the oven with the fat bubbling down over it and the juices cooking through it, fibres softening on the bone and the blood settling sweetly in them. Red was salivating and bristling against her collar. The men flicked their eyes at her as she came in but they weren't interested. She sensed the sharpness of their hunger. They moved slowly and carefully, avoiding jostling each other. The tall elegant young one had a curve at the corner of his mouth which might be a smile but was probably the beginning of a snarl. "There you are now!" one of the other women sang out merrily, seeing Red. "Come on in. They won't bite!" She rocked with laughter at this; the pack laughed too but because they were so hungry and the meat smell was so strong, their laughter had an edge to it. Christa was busy cooking. Rex stood up from the head of the table and came over to nudge Red into the room. His eyes had gone yellowish but Red realised it was just with hunger. "This is Nye, Jenks," Rex said. The heads of the other two older men lifted round. Red realised that they were twins. They had sandy brown hair and eyes that were probably brown when they weren't yellow with longing for the meat. They wore shirts with open collars under which she saw matching thick brown leather collars. Rex had gone round to the other side of the table, Red hesitantly followed him. "Max," said the elegant young one in his upper class drawl. He looked down his nose at Red with eyes which hunger had made a muddy green. He still had the designer jeans and Italian shoes on, his t-shirt was so crisp and white, it must be a fresh one. The collar around his neck was a thin band of black leather with a single blue jewel stud in it. With his pale skin and black hair, he made a very striking young man. Red realised that he was the thin black wolf who had teased the blond cub. "Rob," Rex was saying in his husky panting hungry voice, shoving forward the young blond. He was so cuddly and young that his eyes were barely yellow at all. He always took whatever he was given but he was so cute he always got given whatever he wanted. He sniggered softly when Rex's shove pushed him into Red's body. Red tensed up and was surprised when he just ambled backwards without trying to press up against her. He had a plain brown collar. A Pack of Tales Ch. 01 "Rikki," Rex said. "Hullo there," Rikki said with that casual golden friendly absent-minded smile. Oh yes, another one who will trot about after me I suppose. His collar was black with a curious silver flourish, like writing, by the buckle. Red managed an aggressive little grin at him which showed her sharp teeth. He was taken aback at this and tilted his head nervously round to the women at the oven. They were all looking at her politely. She cleared her throat and said in a voice which was even more husky than usual; it had been so long since she'd talked with anyone: "I'm Red. Is this all of you?" There was a sort of ripple through them, partly amusement. "No," Max drawled. "You have yet to meet Col." They surveyed her thoughtfully. She got the impression that Col was so significant he could even distract them from the tantalising sweet bloody savour of meat hanging in the air. She was puzzled because she knew Rex was the Alpha. She felt a renewed twist of fear at the thought of another significant male she would have to negotiate with. What would she be expected to do for him in order to be accepted by the pack? "I wonder what Col will say to you," Max drawled, tilting his elegant dark-haired head and regarding her with the muddy green eyes under a raised eyebrow. Rob snorted with laughter. He hunched his shoulders and squashed his puppyish muscular frame up to make it seem smaller. He pushed his head forward, giving the impression of energy straining at the leash and he affected a bad Irish accent. "He'll say, Foocking Hell!" Rob sniggered. "What the foock is this?!" A Pack of Tales Ch. 02 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Diolch! Sara Rasmussen for the inspiring editorial support. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series will include two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. A Pack of Tales Ch. 2 -- Col Col was perfectly happy (scene) Soft focus romantic hetero scene. Col and Bryony had gone to the cinema with another couple instead of coming up to the farmhouse that Saturday night. Col grumbled and whined because it was a romcom but the women insisted because they knew Gareth secretly loved romcoms. Gareth and his girlfriend wanted to go clubbing afterwards. Bryony wasn't in the mood and she and Col went back to her bedsit early. Col sat on the low futon sofabed when they came in. He leaned back contentedly on his hands. He loved the low bed because it didn't make him feel like someone was going to smack his nose for scrambling up on it and getting mud on the sheets. They almost always came back to hers to spend time together. He liked Bryony's bedsit much more than his flat which had nothing in it but his clean clothes and obsessively neatly arranged music collection. Col could hear Bryony putting a bowl of fresh water for him on the floor of the little kitchenette. He sat with his shoes off, lazily curling and uncurling his toes. He could feel his cock filling out but still soft against his leg, in anticipation of fun to come. He thought he had never understood till now what it meant to be happy. Even before his family realised what he was, he had never felt like this. Childhood -- happiest time of your life; fuck that. There had always been some edge of anxiety to life when he was a child. Then they kicked him out to drag his sorry tail from Ireland to London. That time of his life was all about struggling for survival in a piss-awful world of Alphas constantly fighting to be top dog. He was in despair, thinking this was all that werewolf life could be. He never wanted to go through that again. When he moved away from London and Christa spotted him one night in a pub, he had thought that was happiness. To have a pack where there was no fighting, that seemed fucking perfect. Rex never saw him as a threat, he sensed the frightened raging animal under Col's aggression and took Col in by his side with a gentleness Col was still trying to emulate. Col understood now that that happiness had just been relief from being kicked about in life. Six months ago he had finally chucked in the office work he hated. It was Christa who insisted they must go out to work, meet people, not give in to the impulse to lurk alone in the shadows, darting out to prey on casual passers-by in life. She was right, he had learned a lot, he made pleasant friends and he met Bryony. As soon as he met Bryony he started planning his escape, figuring out what he could do which would allow him the outdoor life he longed for. He set up a business which might give the cubs a chance too, it was fucking hard work but it suited him fine. And he had Bryony: the one with the chestnut curls and gentle eyes lifting in her smile, a woman of curves as sweet as a haunch of venison. She was like a walk in the autumn woodland on a sunny day, full of ripe warm laughing happiness and fun. She was the one. She made him feel right with himself and the world. She came out of the kitchenette and walked across the room. As he followed her with his eyes, Col caught sight of something sticking out from under the low table with the tv on it. It was a chewed red leather boot with a silly ornamental chain still dangling from one bit of the ankle. Fuck! She was mad when she realised she'd left it out the box one afternoon. She had gone shopping with Christa and he had stopped on in her bedsit to watch the football. She admitted afterwards that she ought to have put it away, but she made him buy her a new pair! A grin curled the corner of Col's mouth. His chocolate brown eyes went caramel coloured in hopes of some fun and games. He sat up, hunching his stocky shoulders, pulling his head of thick dark hair back and coiling his short muscular frame up so he could leap on the little boot and grab it, wave it at her and she would pretend to pull it away. They would tug it to and fro, laughing and pushing each other and finally fall onto the bed and fuck like rabbits. He was distracted again by the swish of the cloth as Bryony's dress came over her head. He saw her from behind. She was wearing the white lacy knicker and bra set with the cheeky red bows on the sides which she had worn the first night she brought him home. Col forgot the boot and started panting. With her dress off he got a good eyeful of the curve in to her little waist from her back, and out again round her buttocks and thighs. Those soft buttocks he would press to as he went into her from behind after changing. He could make her squeal like a little pig like that, and he loved it. She was putting the dress away and coming to sit down by him, his lovely one. These days she seemed even more beautiful. Everyone was saying it: You look so well, and Bryony smiled more softly than ever. There was a peachy downiness to her skin, an extra bounce in the shining hair with the red and gold lights in it, a glow about her as if she was walking on sunshine. He put his arms around her and leaned his head in to sniff at her. She smelled fantastic. Like peaches and cream. Like a muddy pond on a hot summer's day. Like sausages. He snuffled around in the soft skin under her ear, he began licking her neck. Bryony giggled, she caressed his thick hair and ran her other hand over his tummy to make him laugh and kick his foot. Col dragged her back on the bed and started snogging her mouth, pushing his tongue in to caress her tongue, throwing one leg over her hips to pull her in so he could thrust the thickening bundle of his erection up against her. He started whining into the kiss as he shoved himself against her, enjoying the buzz he got off the friction on her leg and the tension of longing to fuck with her. Bryony's fingers had gone to the buckle of the black leather collar around his neck but he put his hand up and caught hers. "Leave it on," he growled in the kiss. It was a wild ride fucking with her like a wolf -- although with Bryony he had never managed to lose himself completely in his animal side -- but she was so soft and sweet tonight. He wanted something different. She was surprised but acquiescent. Much as she loved being fucked on her g-spot by the long cock he had when he changed, she adored the pleasures offered by the thick squat cock he had as a man. Col was fumbling about inside the cup of her bra, panting warm breath into her ear. He brushed his fingers over a nipple that had gone hard with the nub standing up like a tiny erection. Bryony gave an ecstatic moan so he pinched the nipple gently but she screwed her face up at that, putting her hand up to push his fingers away. "Sensitive tonight," she mumbled, holding his fingers but keeping his hand against the full round of her breast. "Must be my period coming on." Col's yellowing eyes brightened to hear this. It felt like ages since her last period. He never admitted to it but of course she knew, he loved the coppery smell of blood about her when she was menstruating. In the days when they were working together in the same office it would drive him wild. He had once or twice had to pretend to be ill and rush home to tear off his collar and fling himself around the flat in an impatient blood lust until she could get away to come and play. He sniffed hopefully at her but he couldn't catch that particular scent off her; just peaches and cream, muddy pond, mmm, sausages. He lay with his hand on her breast and his erect cock pressed to her thigh, sniffing at the delicious odours wafting off her body. Bryony had pulled his belt undone and the buttons of his jeans out. She stuck her hand in his boxer shorts. Her fingers played around with his penis, making his hips buck and his shaft fill out more firmly. Col grinned and started panting harder. He sat up, chucked his clothes hurriedly off and reached into the drawer of the bedside table for a condom. He was a little sorry that Bryony was taking off her knickers and bra herself but then suddenly he wasn't any more. She came over to him on the futon bed. Her big breasts swung like bells above that neat curve which went in to her waist and then out round her hips. He panted and whimpered as he held his arms out. She climbed into his kiss, straddling his legs on the bed. Oh it was lovely to hold her warm soft peachy body in his arms, snuggle his head into those big soft breasts, grip her delicious curves in close to his chest. He pressed his mouth to one breast, licking and sucking at the nipple. She started moaning and holding his head to her, quivering with pleasure. She was so excited he thought she was going to cum just from him sucking on her tit. That made him so excited he thought he was going to cum too. Reluctantly he let her breast slip from his mouth. She quivered and moaned. She held his head tenderly to her breast before reaching down to his cock again. Bryony's fingers on his cock made the agitation thrill like electricity in his thigh muscles. She was only holding him ready for her to come and press onto him but the nervous tension had become unbearable. He uttered a yelp of exhilaration as he felt her warm wet juicy muscles embrace his cock. He gave a series of muffled whines as she pressed down about him. Bryony made a long moan of satisfaction. He knew she loved the feeling of the thick girth of his cock inside the sensitive lips of her cunt, the thought of how pleasurable she found that made him even more excited. He gripped her in his arms and sat quivering with pleasure as she began softly rocking on him. He could see her face when they made love like this. She had shut her eyes, the lashes lay like dark snowflakes on her pale cheekbones. She had her full red lower lip gripped in her teeth. Her face was soft and yet tense; so lovely. She was moaning rhythmically through the lip gripped in her teeth. It was achingly beautiful; still to be able to think, be aware of her, to watch her, watch her face as she became softer and softer, more and more open to him. He was so excited his leg muscles were trembling with tension, never mind the gentle thrusting of her cunt around his cock. The muscles were coiling hard in his buttocks and thighs, he felt tight with the longing for release. He started cursing huskily, his accent rounding out his vowels: "Ah, foock! Foock me! Jaysus, Bryony! Foock's sake, Bryony!" Her eyes unlidded and stared into his eyes which had gone bright yellow with lust and longing, a dark grey rim around the pupils. She smiled the softest, sweetest smile as she raised the tempo of her rocking on his cock. She started calling his name: Cùchulain. "Cuhullin, Cuhullin!" He was coming to her call, whining, pressing one hand in the small of her back and gripping the other on her thigh. His fingers clenched in her soft flesh. It was all coiling up in his leg muscles and his balls were bursting to go. She started to go off herself, her face bunched up, she pressed her cunt hard to his groin so his thick squat penis was sunk as far as possible into her. "Cuhull-in!" He gave a soft howl as he jerked himself up into her lovely, warm, open body, gripping her thigh, pressing her down and himself in, so close she was like part of him. ~#~ When he woke in the morning he was immediately aware of her absence. He lay quite still, his eyes shut, scoping the room with his hearing and his smell. He heard small noises from the bathroom and relaxed. He lay with his muscular stocky body spread easy in the low futon bed, his eyes shut, the contented smile soft on his mouth. He wondered if they had the time for a little quickie before they went up to the farmhouse for Sunday lunch. Perhaps with the collar off. His lip lifted in the beginnings of his hard lupine grin. He lay feeling utterly content with the world. He hoped things would never change, he never wanted anything to come and break up this perfect happiness he had finally found: the fun of building up his own business, the pack to run with, Bryony. Then he lifted his head and turned it anxiously towards the bathroom, saying: "Bryony? What the foock?" He could hear her throwing up. He sat up in the bed, saying again: "What the foock is it? Bryony?" A Pack of Tales Ch. 03 A Pack of Tales Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Diolch yn fawr, to Sara Rasmussen for her invaluable editorial support and Sarah for help with the Welsh. Mae winc i Connubium. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series will include two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. A Pack of Tales Ch. 3 – Red/Col Sunday lunch with the pack (story) Red had never felt about a woman the way she felt about Bryony. When Bryony walked into the farmhouse kitchen, Red's head lifted just like the heads of the rest of the pack. They were smiling, even Max smiled. Rob bumbled forward and stood jumping up and down on his toes. Bryony gave his tousled blond head an affectionate ruffle. Bryony was like a fairy tale Princess, Red wanted to be like her. She felt suddenly ashamed of the shapeless dumpy mass of her own body, the scruffy cut of her hair. She wondered with hungry wistfulness if life would have been different had she been like Bryony. Bryony had soft chestnut curls waving about her face and gentle brown eyes. Her skin seemed to glow with the serenity of her smile. She wore some knitted thing that fell around the curves of her big breasts and small waist, outlining them without shoving them in your face. She smelled wonderful. Red could pick out her scent piercing through the sweet savoury smell of the meat. Bryony smelled like love. If you could have bottled love to make a perfume, you would have called it Bryony. Bryony came round the table and sat down at one corner near the cooking range. She was so beautiful that Red could hardly spare attention for the stocky muscular man who had followed her, although the power of his personality was like a searchlight darting over them all. Bryony was like sunlight. Red knew the man must be Col. He stood behind Bryony's chair, leaning his hands on the table so Bryony was enclosed in his arms, as if he couldn't bear to be physically separated from her. "Oh that smells lush!" Bryony said eagerly. "I'm so hungry." "What are you foocking like!" Col laughed. "She's sick this morning, then she's so hungry she makes me stop off on the way here, and then she says foocking McDonalds stinks and is sick again!" "Christa's food smells nice," Bryony said. Her voice was warm and gentle. She was a good girl from a loving home. Bad things had never happened to Bryony. Red had never dared try to be friends with the girls like Bryony. Christa had come away from the cooking. She looked intently at Bryony. Bryony lifted her eyes in that serene sunny smile like spring had come to the kitchen in spite of the dark cold February day. Christa gave Bryony an abstracted thoughtful smile, pressing her hand on Bryony's arm. "P'nawn da, cariadd, (hullo, darling)" Max drawled. Red turned her head sharply at the casual way he spoke in Welsh to Bryony. So did Col. "P'nawn da, Max," Bryony said. "McDonalds isn't that bad," Rob said in his sing-song Valleys accent. "You should foocking know!" Col laughed, going to sit down. He passed his hands caressingly up Bryony's arms as he moved to sit beside her, although he hardly seemed the type to display his affection in public. "Rob had a job in McDonalds once," Rex explained to Red. The whole pack was silently laughing. "Shut up!" Rob protested, but he was laughing too. "I foocking told you," Col said. "Was it twenty-two burgers you were scoffing at the one go when they caught you?" "OMG, the smell drove me wi-ild," Rob grumbled. "They put me in the kitchens, how mad is that?! I was drooling over the burger buns all day. I was gonna quit but they sacked me." Col was speaking to Rob but he was looking at Red. His caramel coloured eyes had narrowed and had darkened to a chocolate brown. He sniffed delicately across the table. "We found Red in the pub last night," Christa said, moving to stand behind her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Oh yes," Col said in an expressionless voice. Nobody else said anything. The other women were starting to dish out the meal but Christa still stood with her hand gripped on Red's shoulder. Now that her attention was focussed on him, Red recognised all the traits of the Alpha in Col: the arrogant thrust of his rough dark-haired head, the commanding glint in his eye, the coiled strength of his stocky muscular frame. He reeked of power and control. Red knew that Rex was the pack leader but he was a relaxed kindly soul, willing to indulge Christa's soft heart. She didn't know why Col allowed Rex to occupy the leadership when Col clearly had the power to make the ultimate decision: you're in, you're out. "Seems to have had a bit of a rough time, butt," Rex said at last. Col's eyes flicked at the older Alpha before going back to Red. The corner of his mouth tightened in a light grin. "You came down to the city from North hoping to lose yourself in the crowds?" he asked Red. She moistened her dry lips and said in the husky voice unaccustomed to speaking, "Yes." "Bit of trouble with the packs in the city so you decided to head up into the Valleys," Col said. Red could only lift her eyes to him in silence, the terror turning them an even paler gold. Col's mouth lifted in his grin, twisted at the corner with what appeared to be a rueful sympathy. "Where's my foocking lunch," he said. "I'm foocking starving." Christa moved off to start carving the meat. ~#~ They all ate very politely and with great care. Everyone but the women handled the knives and forks delicately and with intent concentration. The women sat at one end of the table, chatting as they ate. The pack ate in focussed silence, chewing each mouthful carefully, eyes down on the food. Once Rob jostled Rikki while reaching for the salt. Rikki snarled but instantly pulled his elbow in tighter and turned back to his food. There was a sponge pudding after the meal; just a small portion each. They were only eating it as a light politeness. By now the pack was replete and content, stuffed with a week's worth of meat. They could go a while now on lighter fare. Bryony said she was tired. To Red's surprise, Col said she should lie down in the sitting-room but made no move to go with her. "Foock off," he said generally to the table. "We'll bring you some tea in a minute." They rose in an obedient mass and ambled away, leaving him with Rex and Christa in the kitchen. Christa was putting the big kettle back on the hot ring of the range. When she turned round, Col's bright eyes were fixed on her. His mouth was open in the silent panting laugh. "What the foock have you found now," he said. "Wasn't it enough trouble for you, bringing Max into the pack and now you've got to pick up some ragged-arsed bitch from the street?" "She's so young," Christa remonstrated. "The poor kid's really been through it, you can see. She was at the end of her rope when we saw her in the pub. Fainted, like, trying to get out of the door." "She was running from the pack, you silly cow," Col said affectionately. "She needs a pack," Christa said. "She won't have to run from us." "If a sniff of her gets round, you'll have every pack in the city up here trying to foocking snatch her off us," Col replied. "We keep our heads down – all except you, you've only got to hear the word 'trouble' to go and stick your nose in it." "Like when we brought you in," Rex said. Col grinned and jerked his head in acknowledgement of this touch. "I didn't know there were girls," Christa said, pouring hot water in to warm the big-bellied brown teapot. "What, you thought only foocking men are bastard enough to have this wished on them," Col scoffed. "It comes over you when your emotions get too much for you. Women are better at emotions so less of them change. I've seen some right bitches in London." "She must have been through something terrible," Christa said, swirling the hot water in the teapot and going to pour it in the sink. "Don't you get prying and asking her," Col warned. "Of course the silly bitch has been through it or she'd never have turned. But if you start asking, she'll do a runner." "Isn't that what you want?" Christa demanded, turning with a sparkling grin on him. He gave a silent panting laugh. "Nah," he admitted. "I don't want to hear about what the other packs would do to her. I don't like cruelty to animals." ~#~ Nye, Jenks and their wives lived elsewhere and had driven off in one of the white vans. Bryony had gone in search of something for Col. The cubs took Red with them to a sitting-room at the front of the house: a big room full of scruffy armchairs and two sofas with hair all over them. The sitting-room was tidy; photographs and ornaments neatly set out on a sideboard against one wall, but hoovering would only get so much of the hair off the furniture and the rugs scattered across the wooden floor. Rikki and Rob chucked themselves into a couple of armchairs, producing tablets on which they started playing an internet game. They chatted to each other about the other players and made fun of each other's online names to Red. "Rob wanted to be Wolfman, how lame is that!" Rikki said. His dark eyes were fixed on his screen. He grinned as his thumbs flicked at the tablet. "He had to be Wolfman973!" Max had gone to stand looking out of the window, his hands in his pockets jingling his keys and coins. "Col is ... the Alpha?" Red asked. She had sat down in the armchair nearest the door. She couldn't help it. Even though Christa kept telling her she was safe, she always tried to get a chair near the door. "No, Rex is the Alpha," Rob said. "Ah! Look at that, I lost an arm." "Well you've got nine left," Rikki consoled him. "Col is the Alpha heir apparent," Max said in mocking light tones without turning round from the window. "Mr. Sexy Wolfman69." Rikki and Rob raised their eyes briefly from their tablets at this. They sniggered in anxious embarrassment. "Don't you feel it?" Max enquired. "You wouldn't spread your legs for Rex but you would for Col, wouldn't you." Red felt the blush go hot up her face. "I would," Max said, "any day of the week." Red's ears were twitching. She could feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck. "Or the lovely Bryony," Max continued in that sarcastic careless drawl. He was still looking out of the window. Red could see the faint reflection of his pale face in the glass. He must be able to see the reflection of the armchair she was sitting in – and the door. "Do you prefer sweet Bryony? Even I wouldn't mind a pop at the Bryony cherry." Col shot through the room from the doorway so fast he was just a blur in Red's eyeline. He grabbed Max by one arm and his hair and slammed his head against the wall. He chucked Max down on the floor and fell on him, punching him in the head. Max's black hair shook back with the force of the blow. Rikki and Rob had dropped their tablets with shrill shocked yelps. Red gave a long-drawn howl, backing towards the door. Then the cubs all stepped forward, their mouths open and panting. They twisted their heads and bounced on the balls of their feet, waiting to see what would happen. Red thought, Why didn't Max show his tummy? Max had curled into a ball with his arms over his head. Col punched him in the back, he writhed on the floor. Red was shocked to see that he was laughing. He was crying with pain but he was laughing too, and in the crotch of his tight designer jeans was an obvious hard-on. Col had realised this too. He got up away from Max, delivering a savage kick at his back. "You foocking poof!" he said in intense rage. "I swear I'll foocking kill you one day!" Red backed softly to the door, her gaze fixed on Col and Max. She stopped, feeling the thin edge of a tray in her back. She turned her head, her yellowing eyes wide, to see Rex standing behind her with the tray of mugs of tea in his hands and an annoyed frown on his gentle face. "Do you take sugar?" Rex asked. Red stared at him. "Sit down," he said in a firm clear voice. He raised his voice to the others, "Christa says can you keep the noise down!" Col, breathing heavily and bristling against his collar, stepped slowly away from Max. His lip was lifted up from his yellowish teeth in the snarl. Max lay on the floor crying and laughing silently. Rikki and Rob sat slowly back down again, reaching for their tablets. "Oh shit! I lost my other nine arms!" Rob said indignantly. Bryony had come in behind Rex, she cast a puzzled look at Max and said: "Beth s'yn bod, Max? (what's the matter)" but Col snarled at her, "Sit down and shurrup!" She rolled her eyes round at Red and made a face, scrunching up her nose as if to say, "Boys!" "I don't feel like having tea today," she said to Rex. "Come and sit with me," she said to Red, her gentle eyes lifting in the serene smile. Red sat nervously on the edge of the sofa beside Bryony, clutching her mug of tea so that the burning heat of it pressed into her knuckles. Her nerves were so overstrained that when she had the chance to sit quietly chatting she felt like jumping up and screaming in hysterics. Max had sat up on the floor and bent his head over his mug of tea. Col was crouched in his armchair, peering alternately at Bryony, Max and Red. Bryony was talking about some shopping she had done with Christa recently, different clothes shops. Red responded politely. Bryony started grumbling that her phone wasn't working properly, it wouldn't take pictures any more. Red lifted her head at this and offered to look at the phone. It was only that Bryony had filled the phone memory up, so Red offered to help her download her photos. Bryony said, "Oh thank you, that would be great. Why don't you come by my place one evening next week?" After a while Red realised she was talking about how much she herself loved to take photos and showing Bryony the photos on her own phone. She had put down the mug of tea and was leaning back into the sofa cushions close to Bryony, snuffing up her delicious smell of love. The hairs were stirring on the back of Red's neck. Looking out of the corner of one eye she realised that Col was now watching her more than he was watching Max. Bryony gave a tiny yawn. Col said, "You should have a rest." The cubs' eyes flicked up at this, they got up and left the room and Red hesitantly got up and followed them. At the last minute Col came after her. She stopped in the doorway and turned her hazel eyes to him. They were going a pale yellow with a dark rim round them. She was trembling. He was the true Alpha. Max had put his finger right on it when he said she'd spread her legs for him. It was disgusting, the last thing she wanted, but she would do it if he demanded it of her. She could feel her cunt going wet for him already, the tears rose in her eyes. Col looked hard into her pale yellow tear-filled eyes. His eyes were chocolate brown. "I know what you are," he said very softly. "You're safe with us, kiddo. You're one of the pack, that's all you'll be to any of us. Nobody will treat you any different from the other cubs, not even Rikki, even when you come on. Do you get it?" The relief was so intense she felt her knees sagging, but he had something-else to say. He stared into her eyes and snarled softly, "I know what you are and if you so much as sniff at my bitch I'll tear you limb from foocking limb." The corner of his lip lifted above the yellowish teeth. Later she saw them through the sitting-room door which had been left ajar. Bryony lay sleeping on the sofa like the Princess waiting for the magic kiss. Col sat on the floor by her head, leaning back on the sofa. He just sat there quietly with his eyes closed and an unusual look on the lean hard planes of his face. He looked as if he were at peace with the world. ~#~ There was a light sandwich tea in the sitting-room when Bryony woke up. The cubs were in a playful bantering mood although Max sat some distance from Col with a sly grin on his mouth. It was dark outside, and a wind was blowing the rain in sharp rattles against the thin glass panes of the windows. Red was glad to be in the warm with Christa pouring the tea and passing over sandwiches and packets of crisps. The cubs politely handed a plate of biscuits to each other which they succeeded in not drooling over (although Rob grabbed a large handful and had to be ticked off). Red couldn't help remembering that only the day before she had not had sufficient money for a packet of crisps. Here she was now, sleepy with good food and looking forward to another night in a proper bed. She felt this couldn't last and that she must sort something out for herself, but she was so exhausted and so cravenly grateful to be allowed to be with the pack, she thought she would figure it out in a day or two. When Col said he and Bryony should go, Max suddenly asked for a lift down to the city. "Will you take me?" Rob asked. There was a moment of stillness in the room, then Christa said: "It's Sunday night. It'll be quiet out, won't it?" "Oh God!" Max said in a tone of long-suffering despair. "Why can't you take your own foocking car?" Col was bristling at the prospect of taking someone in the backseat of his car, who would be sitting drooling over either him or Bryony from behind. "Because I don't foocking want to," Max replied. "I'm not taking the puppy, anyway." "If you want a foocking ride, you'll take him and you'll make sure he gets home safe," Col said angrily. "Whatever," Max said, pretending to resigned annoyance. He bent his head down to hide his grin of triumph. Red knew he'd got what he wanted: the ride in Col's car. Christa said Bryony must have some of the joint of meat to take home with her to use for sandwiches in the week. Bryony didn't want to, but Christa was insistent and dragged her off to the kitchen. Max sauntered out of the room saying he must change his t-shirt. It was true that it had got crumpled and there was a boot mark in the back of it. Col said if Max took too long, he'd foocking leave without him. Of course when Bryony came back Max was nowhere to be seen, even though she had been a long time. Bryony looked as if she was upset about something; Red could smell the anxiety off her. She took hold of Col's arm and looked up at him through her lashes, nestling to his side in a manner which made him turn his eyes to her in puzzlement. "Where's that foocking poof?" he growled, giving Bryony's head a casual buffet. Rob tried to defuse the tension by saying, "Here I am!" Col snarled, "You're not a poof, you're just gay. Get in the car." "I'll go and get Max," Red offered. When she got to his door, it was open. Max had changed his shirt and was sprawling on his bed, leaning his head on one elbow and lazily turning the pages of a magazine. All along one wall hung a collection of dog leashes and a couple of coiled whips. Red tried not to stare at them as she said, "Col's waiting for you." Underneath the whips and leather leads and chains was the pair of fine Italian leather shoes; Max was wearing some Chelsea boots with elasticated sides. Red felt the drool collecting in her mouth at the delicious mix of scents coming off the Italian leather across the room. A Pack of Tales Ch. 03 "Diolch, cariadd (thanks darling)," Max said lazily. "Dim problem (no problem)," Red said absent-mindedly, her attention still on the shoes. Then she blushed. Max raised his blue eyes to her and gave a curious smile. "Rydych chi yn siarad Cymraeg," he said. "Gallwch fod yn ffrindiau da gyda Bryony. Yn union fel fi a Col." (You speak Welsh. You can be good friends with Bryony. Like I am with Col.) "Fwcio!" Red said fiercely. She turned and ran off to the little guest room, Max's mocking panting laughter coming after her. Col dropped the two cubs right down in the city centre. If it had just been that bastard Max he would've chucked him out at the train station near Bryony's bedsit. He gave Max the benefit of a softly snarled account as to how much he'd make sure Max suffered if Rob didn't make it home that night, which Max listened to with his usual irritating expression of titillated amusement. Bryony had been very quiet on the drive home, except that she had insisted on stopping off at bloody Asda's to pick up some feminine crap. Col was momentarily hopeful that her period was coming on after all but he couldn't smell any blood on her. He followed her into her bedsit, sniffing anxiously at the scents coming off her. Peaches and cream, muddy pool on a summer's day, sausages and something else he couldn't place, some curious mixed mood she was in. A high mood but not one that suggested he would get his collar off that night. Elation, anxiety. Love. Foocking women, nothing but trouble, worse than the cubs. He sighed as he sat down on the low futon bed. Bryony put down her handbag. It fell over and a pregnancy tester kit fell out on the floor at his feet. A Pack of Tales Ch. 04 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith A special thank you to Sara Rasmussen, my previous editor, from whom I learned so much about better writing. Diolch yn fawr to Bramblethorn for kindly picking up the tales when Sara couldn't continue. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. You should be able to identify which scenes have what kind of sex from the tags and sometimes the category the chapter is uploaded into. All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Chapter 04 -- Max/Rob A quiet night for Max (scene) The first part of this chapter is just 'story'; the second part has gay group sex in a public place, piercings and just a soupçon of masochism. Don't read the second part unless you're sure you like gay male sex. It was still early and a Sunday night so when Max and Rob went into the club, the place was virtually empty. The music bounced softly off the rough white-washed walls and black leatherette banquettes round a small dance floor. The barman was indulging himself by playing '80s disco, to Max's revulsion. Rob ambled up to the bar sniffing hopefully and bouncing to the beat. He was so young he actually thought the music was cool and funky. There were a few bears huddled in one corner (not real bears, of course; older bearded humans). This was even more annoying for Max since it meant he had to stand closer to Rob than he wanted and make it clear that Rob belonged to him. Rob was a delectable young cub whom the bears would be delighted to tutor in their ways. Col would skin Max alive if he allowed Rob to be broken in by one of those old reprobates. Max glared coldly at them and they looked puzzled. In a city this small, the gay community knew each other's proclivities and Rob was definitely not the kind of titbit that tickled Max's fancy. "What do you want to drink?" Max enquired, putting his leg up against Rob's as they stood at the bar. Rob was surprised, but he was an affectionate cub. He snuggled his muscular soft young curves sideways on Max's lean hard body, saying he would have a beer and fishing his ID out of his jeans pocket for the barman. He looked mournful when the barman put a small bottle of lager on the counter, and appalled when he saw how much Max had paid for the lager and a gin and tonic. Max laughed, saying, "if you want a foocking pint of Wye Valley, go out with Col." Rob grinned; he wasn't coming out for the beer of course. A slim man in jeans and a leather jacket had drifted in and up to the bar. To Max's annoyance, he murmured, "Who's the kid, Prince?" Rob snorted lager up his nose at this. Max kicked Rob and shoved him off in the direction of an empty black leatherette booth, saying crossly back over his shoulder, "Just a friend." "Prince!" Rob was snorting. "Like an Alsatian, or what?!" "Shut up," Max said with a grin as he sat down and crossed one elegant long leg over the other. "It's better than Wolfman973. And don't tell foocking Col or I'll never bring you out again." He bought Rob one more drink but no other younger men were out and about that night. Rob was staring hopefully round the club at every occasional new entrant in a manner which made it all too evident that he hadn't come along for a pint of Brains Black and a packet of scratchings. The bears were stirring restlessly in their leatherette den. Max had started thinking about work the next day. He said firmly that he would walk Rob to the train station. ~#~ Gay night at Y Carchar Aur was Thursday. Max wasn't dressed for a scene, he just had on his jeans, a white t-shirt and a Barbour jacket. However he thought he might swing by and have a cocktail in Y Carchar before going back to the flat where he stayed in the working week. He took a short cut up an alleyway between some shops. "Maximilian." He came to a quick stop as the softly-hissed name came out of the shadows at him. He grinned, ducking his head, and his eyes began going a mucky green. He could feel his penis begin to fill out softly in his jeans and his shoulders bristled, he hunched them against his collar. "Hullo boys," he said quietly. "Is that some salami in your pockets or are you just pleased to see me?" Husky panting laughter greeted this sally. Billy and Bryn stepped out of the shadows by a big iron dumpster. Billy was about Max's age and a similar physique: tall and slender. He wore GAP jeans with a denim jacket. Bryn was older, bigger-built, in some nondescript jeans and a short rainproof coat. The yellow light from the streetlamps glistened off the buckle on Billy's collar and the studs on Bryn's. They never arranged to meet. If they saw each other in the clubs they just nodded curtly. Billy and Bryn's Alpha would be even angrier than Rex and Col if he heard they were in the habit of playing with someone from another pack. Especially Max. The necessarily chance nature of their encounters of course only added to the dangerous sweetness of tasting each other's forbidden fruits. The three stood for a moment in the yellow light of the streetlamp which glistened off the rain-soaked cobbles. They had all hunched their shoulders as if against the cold. They peered at each other, unable to repress the grins glinting on their mouths and in their yellowing eyes. "Collars on," Max said in a businesslike voice. Billy and Bryn looked disappointed. Billy cast a quick glance down the alley to the road, where people were passing up and down from one pub to another, and nodded. He stepped back into the shadows of the dumpster. Max followed him, slowly. Bryn came up behind Max. Max felt his shoulders hunch and bristle at the presence of a werewolf from another pack behind his back. He gave a high-pitched, titillated giggle. "Do you boys ever go walking down Cosmiston Lakes?" he murmured as he came up close to Billy. He smelled Billy's cheap aftershave and below that the essential salty sweetness that was Billy: tender and meaty. "What the hell are you talking about, butt?" Billy murmured back, putting his hands under Max's Barbour jacket and gripping Max's lean hard strong waist. "I'm just saying," Max answered, taking a delicate sniff under Billy's ear at the cheap chemical odour of his aftershave. "It's a nice place for a walk. With your collar off." There was a brief silence then Billy gave a regretful sigh. "It would mean swapping phone numbers," he pointed out. He added in a conciliatory tone: "We might make it up into the Valleys one weekend." Bryn had come up behind Max now, tugging the zip of his own jeans undone and taking hold of Max. Max smelled Bryn's deeper sweatier odour with the beefy tones in it. Bryn fumbled when his fingers found buttons instead of a zip. He rubbed his hands clumsily over Max's groin, making Max groan with pleasure. Billy was still holding Max's waist. He had started sniffing so deep and loud at Max's neck that passersby in the road could probably hear him. "What perfume are you wearing?" he enquired. Then in an effort to reassert his butchness, he added: "Some girl's shit or what?" Max laughed. He groaned and grunted at the rough impatient poking of Bryn's fingers trying to get his tight-fitted jeans undone and off his narrow hips. "Tom Ford Italian Cypress," he said, pulling Billy's jeans undone and feeling inside for Billy's long slim cock. Billy ran a warm wet tongue in a lingering caress up the side of Max's neck. He drew his tongue back to murmur, "Bloody hell, Maxi, you're a weird fucker -- even for a werewolf." "Yeah, I know." Max's voice was soft and dark. "I applied to be a vampire, but I was over-qualified." Max made a couple of small dabs at Billy's shaven chin with his tongue, flicking briefly at the corner of Billy's mouth. Billy hissed his breath in with desire -- and anxiety, at this most forbidden of touches. Bryn had got Max's jeans unbuttoned. He paused to run his hands up Max's body under his Barbour jacket and t-shirt. Suddenly he leaned over Max's shoulder towards Billy. Billy turned his face to Bryn's. The two of them started to kiss passionately, pressing Max between Bryn's thickset chest and Billy's lean body. Bryn's hands were gripped on Max's ribs, groping him while Bryn kissed with Billy. Billy's hands were on Max's waist. Max could hear one of them sucking on the other one's tongue or lip and an ecstatic rhythmic whining from Billy. This was charming, of course, and Max had no wish to be anything more than an occasional piece of meat in the lads' marital sandwich, but he was keen to get an early night ahead of the working week. He wriggled in order to remind them of their duties to him. They could get it on with each other any night they wanted but a threesome with a stranger werewolf was something they would only get from Max. The couple parted slowly, panting, from their kiss. Now Bryn was sniffing deeply at Max's neck. He slid his hands back down Max's ribcage and sides, making Max shiver with anticipation. He started pushing Max's jeans and white Dior Homme boxer trunks off. Max wasn't going to get up and wagging with just this so he took a hand away from Billy's body and grabbed one of Bryn's hands which he lifted back up his chest to his nipple. Billy was already leaning back on the wall by the dumpster, whimpering and his hips loosening. He would need calming down rather than whipping up, but the lads knew sufficient of Max to understand he would not get his off without some special attention. Bryn put both hands up to Max's nipples and fumbled at the rings in them. His fingers were too big to get in the rings and that was exciting in its way. Bryn had horny hard hands, rough and scratching on Max's skin. Max started panting. He gave a luxurious long whine as he felt Bryn's fingers scraping over his ribcage then gripping on the rings in his nipples. Bryn tugged on the rings. Max felt the flesh strain against the sharp tugs and his nerves shrilling. He started breathing heavily through his nose: Uh! Uh! Uh! His cock was filling now and pushing at the soft white cloth of his boxer trunks, pushing through the unbuttoned fly of his jeans. Bryn gave his nipple rings a final impatient tug, then sent his hands down Max's long back to his buttocks. He lingered there, caressing the slim flat boyish slope of Max's arse. He eased the jeans and boxer trunks gently down over Max's narrow hips and leaned back, apparently in order to admire the small white moon of Max's arse cheeks. Max was surprised at how exciting he himself found this gentle voyeurism. Grateful to Bryn for this unexpected attention, Max started to finger Billy's long slim cock, to keep him on the go. He did this carefully; Billy was already whimpering and his hips jerking, his hands pressed hard and flat to the wall in the effort to hold himself back. Now Bryn's hard rough finger was parting Max's arse cheeks and poking down his crack. Bryn pulled his hands away and Max heard the crackle as he got a condom and some lube out. The finger was back, lubing Max's hole and pressing it to loosen Max's sphincter up. Max, panting and whining, stretched his lips in a taut grin as he attempted to spread his hips a little wider in his tight designer jeans ahead of Bryn's coming in. Bryn was a big boy: eight inches and as thick as a rolled loin of meat. He did his best to prepare Max but it was with an ecstatic yowl of pain that Max felt Bryn's first thrust at his hole. Max's eyes went wide, his fingers fumbled on Billy's much slimmer pencil as Bryn thrust slowly up and in. Max stooped his torso -- to give Bryn easier access, and so he could lean down and take Billy's cock in his mouth. He focussed on a soft sucking of the now wildly moaning Billy while he felt Bryn's meaty length thrusting slowly in, then pulling back out of his hole. Bryn's girth at the edges of his hole was as ever an exquisite thrill, spreading him as Bryn pushed in. But it could never be enough for Max, even though Bryn had clenched his horny hands in a pinching hard grip on Max's hips. Max knew Bryn was too far gone to be willing to have one of his hands pulled to the rings in Max's tits, and as it was the weekend Max wasn't wearing his Prince Albert. Billy quivered and yelped, jerking his hips. Max now focused on sucking harder and in rhythm, giving Billy some additional encouragement by way of fingering his balls, until he threw his head back with a long soft howl and shot silky streams of cum into Max's mouth. Max swallowed this gift with pleasure, and then allowed Billy's softening cock to slip over his tongue and teeth, from his mouth. Billy quivered and leaned back on the wall. Max allowed his attention to drift back to Bryn, who was whining as he thrust his big meaty cock harder and more quickly between Max's white cheeks. As Bryn shoved and whined, pushing Max roughly towards Billy then jerking him hard back, Max took hold of his own cock and started rubbing hard. He concentrated on the memory of Col grabbing his arm and hair and slamming him into the wall. It was fresh in his mind, like a bone with shreds of meat still clinging to it. He had been saving it up, meaning to dig it out that night for a little self-pleasuring session (assisted by some of his toy collection). His back quivered with the remembered feeling of Col's boot in it and his head went back in an involuntary muffled howl, he suddenly started spurting off onto the rainy cobblestones at Billy's feet. Tears came to his yellow eyes, he gasped, gripping one hand on his cock and the other where it was still clasped on Billy's relaxed hip. For a brief moment he could see Col's furious face and he seemed to hear his voice: You foocking poof! He grinned and wept and shuddered in ecstasy. Bryn was still pounding his arse cheeks and hole in what for Max was a post-orgasmic combination of pain and pleasure. Max grinned and wept as he braced himself against Bryn's thrusting hips and big meaty cock. He clung to the memory of the lean pale planes of the face of his angry Alpha -- the heir apparent, Mr. Sexy Wolfman69. When Bryn was done, the three of them leaned trembling on the wall together. There could be no kisses, they were from different packs, but they pressed their hot spent bodies in each other's arms, smelling the sweat and sperm, Billy's cheap aftershave and Max's Tom Ford Italian Cypress, and the interesting pervasive odour of garbage. Bryn suddenly stepped away. There was a zzzp as he hurriedly did up his jeans. Max and Billy pulled quickly apart as they also heard the sound of some drunken boyo staggering up the alley. They stood affecting nonchalance. They peered down the alley at the stocky short figure reeling up the slippery rain-soaked cobblestones towards them. "Bloody Hell, Max," Billy said suddenly. "Isn't that your Col?" Max took an incredulous step forward, staring at the familiar head of thick hair thrusting its way as if straining at the leash. "Oh my God!" he said nervously, but then he realised that Col was in no condition to leap to the obvious conclusion on finding him in an alleyway with two strange werewolves. Col had seen them. He paused on the cobbles. He was so drunk he was swaying to and fro. He stared at Max and said with great intensity and inopportune clarity: "You foocking poof!" A tremor went through Max. He gave a nervous giggle as he saw Bryn's and Billy's eyes narrow and their fists clench up. "Ha ha ha! Always the joker, Col!" He fluted in an anxious voice. Col tipped his head up as he stood swaying with drink in the cobbled alleyway and Max saw to his horror that Col was crying. A Pack of Tales Ch. 05 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Many thanks to Bramblethorn, who has survived the gay werewolves in an alleyway chapter and agreed to continue editing. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. You should be able to identify which scenes have what kind of sex from the tags and sometimes the category the chapter is uploaded into. All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Chapter 05 -- Red (Max/Rex) Col the worse for wear (story) Red sat up in the bed with a start. Someone had slammed the front door. There was the noise of furniture being knocked over and a horrible yowling. Red's shoulders were bristling, she snatched at the leather collar on the bedside table and buckled it hurriedly on. People were running down the stairs. She dragged her trousers on and followed. As she came into the kitchen, she saw Max standing by the table. He was saying: "He wouldn't let me call Bryony. I think they've split up." Rikki was right behind Red, he gave a shocked howl in her ear. She could feel the emotion bristling off him against his collar. Rob had changed. He was running around the kitchen after Col who was staggering about on the other side of the table. Rob's claws were slipping on the flagstones, he was whining and attempting to shove his tousled blond body up against Col's legs. Rex stood by the kitchen range, Christa hovering uncertainly beside him -- a cup of tea was not going to be enough in this situation. Rex was wearing only his jeans and leather collar, his arms folded across his chest. Col blundered up and down the kitchen, shaking his head on his stocky shoulders and making that nerve-jangling yowling sound even though he was still fully dressed and human with his collar on. "What's the matter with him?" Rikki cried. "He's drunk," Max answered. "Your brother's out in the yard in his cab. He wouldn't come in but he said he'd wait ten minutes if you want a word with him." Rikki hesitated then turned and went out. Max had had a difficult time getting Col away after Col had stumbled on him and the lads in an alley. Col was at the belligerent stage of drunkenness by then. The lads had buggered off as soon as they realised Col was too drunk to recognise them or figure out what they were up to with Max in a dark alley behind a dumpster. Max didn't feel happy about just taking Col back to his flat, or to Col's flat, when Col was clearly in such trouble that he had gone out on a Sunday night and got completely off his face instead of getting on Bryony's face. When Max tried to call Bryony, Col swore about her in language that was disgustingly abusive even by Col's standards. Max's Aston Martin was up at the farmhouse. He had no idea where Col's Alfa Romeo Spider was parked. He wasn't hopeful of getting a taxi willing to take them all the way up into the Valleys with Col looking like he would throw up as soon as the cab started moving. Luckily when he got Col to the taxi rank, Rikki's older brother was there in a black cab on the night shift. Rikki's family had always said that children were a gift from God, however different they might be to other children, but much as they loved him they inevitably struggled with Rikki. They had a town house with no garden and there were several smaller siblings who weren't sufficiently respectful of his tail and ears to make Rikki the wolf a safe playmate for them. Rikki's family were grateful to Rex for taking Rikki into the pack, and to Col who employed Rikki in his business. Rikki's brother was not impressed of course at the state Col had got himself into but Max promised to pay for cleaning the cab if necessary. Once they'd persuaded Col to sit on the seat with the seatbelt on instead of lying on the floor of the cab, it was a reasonably peaceful journey. Col only said: "Foock off," when Max tried to ask him what was wrong so Max left it. As Col stumbled round the kitchen table, he tripped on Rob's bumbling anxious body. He aimed a kick at Rob; he was so drunk Rob dodged it easily, but Col lost his balance and nearly fell over. Rex stalked suddenly through the kitchen and grabbed Col by the collar. He dragged Col to the scullery, shut the door and started pulling Col's clothes off him, cuffing him round the head when Col tried to fight him off. Because Rex was the pack leader, Col only put up a token resistance to make it clear that he was an Alpha too. It didn't take Rex long to strip off his muscular stocky body and unbuckle his collar. He watched the thick dark fur burst out down Col's spine and pour out over his body. Col fell to all fours and raised his lengthening face to open what was now a snout in a howl. Rex opened the back door and let Col out into the garden. Col's nails scrabbled on the slippery lino floor as he threw himself out. Rex had no shoes on but he walked a couple of steps out onto the path round a muddy patch of grass. He curled his toes off the freezing cold ground, his arms wrapped around his hard-muscled bare ribcage. Col was whining and howling, dashing around in the darkness, flinging his thickset furry body at the rough stone walls around the garden. Rex gave a heavy sigh. "What the bloody Hell have you done now?" he said softly. He added even more softly, "son." ~#~ In the morning, Col came into the kitchen while Red and the cubs were having breakfast. Max had driven back down to the city much earlier. The cubs worked for Col. They would normally have eaten and gone out with him long before this. In the circumstances, Christa let them lie in. Col looked terrible. His chocolate brown eyes were sunk in his head. There was a blueish-black unshaven fuzz over his chin. He had a number of cuts and grazes and some dried blood on his face where he had slammed it along the rough stone wall in the back garden the night before. He still smelled of alcohol and his dirty white cotton shirt was lopsided; he had buttoned it up in the wrong buttonholes. Red and the cubs lifted their heads to look at him then bent back down to their food again. Christa put a plate and a mug of tea in front of him. He gripped the mug in shaking fingers and took a sip from it. He looked at the plate in front of him: the two slices of bacon, the sausage, hash browns, three eggs and a fried tomato. He pushed it abruptly away from him. "Why are you still foocking here?" Col croaked at the cubs. "Why aren't you down digging out Mrs. Hughes's garden?" Rikki and Rob slid their eyes at each other, across Red sitting between them. Rikki said slowly: "Okay. What should we do? Start breaking up the old concrete?" Col sneered at him. "Yeah of course!" "You said we needed to hire a pneumatic drill and a skip," Rikki said. A pained frown crumpled Col's forehead; his eyes seemed to sink back further into his head and glower out at them like coals on fire. He took another cautious sip of tea. "Phone Mrs. Hughes and tell her you've been held up by the skip hire company," Christa said firmly. Col put his mug of tea down and fumbled his phone out of the breast pocket of his shirt. He held it in fingers which were still shaking. They all sat watching him watching the phone until Christa said: "Rikki, you can call Mrs. Hughes, can't you?" Rex had come into the kitchen. He was wearing his forester's uniform, he would normally have been long gone but he sat down at the head of the table and put his hands on the table in front of him. Christa put a mug of tea by his hands and stood beside him, holding her own mug and looking at Col. Col's head shot suddenly up from his phone in his hands to her. "You knew!" he said in an anguished growl, "and you never said a foocking word to me!" "I guessed," Christa answered. "I couldn't be sure. I told Bryony to take a test." Col turned his head back down to glower at his phone. "I seem to have missed something here," Rex said. "What's the problem, son." Col's head flicked up when Rex called him 'son', he turned it back down again. He moistened his lips and said: "Bryony's pregnant." They all sat in silence for a minute. Red couldn't understand why that was a big problem. Bryony was human, she would probably have a perfectly normal baby. Red flicked her eyes at Rex and Christa. She could see that they didn't understand what the problem was either. "I said I would go with her," Col's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and said in a tone that was now vibrating with anger not tears. "I said I would pay whatever, if she'd rather go private. But the foocking cunt, she just started crying and carrying on. She didn't make any sense and then she told me to foock off and threw my stuff out after me." "You said you would go with her where?" Christa said. "For an abortion," Col said in a surprised voice, as if it was obvious. There was another pause and then Christa said slowly, "Bryony wants to keep the baby." "What the foock for! We've got it good. She's too young and we're having a good time, what's she want to go and spoil it for?!" "Bryony is twenty-four," Christa said in an expressionless voice. "You're thirty. That's plenty old enough to think about having a family. You've been together two years." "Foock's sake! Bound to be a foocking puppy. How could she want to bring a thing like that into the world?" Red and the cubs dropped their heads and panted lightly into their plates of half-finished breakfast, not looking at each other or at Col. "What are you saying, Col?" Christa exclaimed. "There's nothing wrong with being a were!" "Yeah, tell that to the foocking world. All of us hiding here and there, packs scavenging in the city like foocking dogs; lot of bloody animals!" "It doesn't have to be like that," Christa argued. "We've made a good life here, you're happy, we're happy. Not everyone is against us. Bryony -- she loves you, Col. She loves you for everything you are. You've been building the business, not just for yourself but for the cubs. How can you sit there and talk as if you wouldn't be proud to have a cub of your own just like one of them?" Col looked sharply across the table at the bent heads opposite him: dark, blond, and the scruffy head of the poor little bitch who had been through so much because of what they all were that she couldn't even talk about it. "You don't know how the baby would turn out," Christa said. "Look at our Gavin. He's just human, he's never changed. He's Rex's as much as mine." This was the first indication Red had had that Christa and Rex had a biological child, that the photos on the sideboard in the sitting-room were of a family that was in addition to the tumbling cubs Christa collected around them. "Yeah, that's what Bryony said," Col growled. "But I told her, I can't do it. Foock's sake! I've given up me job. I've got a business to build up, I've got to look out for the cubs." Rob wriggled in his chair beside Red and panted into his plate, not looking at Col. "Why does that mean you can't have the baby? Do you think Bryony is going to make you carry it about with you all day?" "Are you jokin'?! Where's the money to come from? Am I goin' to dig it out the ground, now? The foocking loans I had to take out to get the van and the caravan for an office. Foocking college fees and thinking about day release because you say the cubs've got to be sent to get some foocking qualification. Nye and Jenks to pay whenever there's any plumbing or electrics to sort out. Where am I to find the money for a wife and kids with all of that on my plate?" "You could sell your car," Christa said. "What?!" Col's ears seemed to twitch forwards in outrage at this. Red had seen Col's beautifully maintained red sports car and although she felt like bursting out laughing at the ridiculousness of Col thinking his car was more important than his baby, if only it hadn't been so horribly serious, Red did find it difficult to picture him driving some sort of family car. Rex interrupted at this point, perhaps before Christa dropped her mug of tea and went for some more lethal kitchen implement. "We're a pack, son. Everyone will pitch in. C'mon, butt. Bryony's parents, they've a bit of money, isn't it? They'll want to help you out." "I don't need foocking charity!" Col snarled. Rex scraped his chair back and half-rose in it, glaring down the table at Col, his shoulders hunched against his collar. Col shrank back in his chair, looking resentfully out of it at the older Alpha. "Nobody's offering you fuckin' charity!" Rex said angrily. His shoulders relaxed again, his eyes softened and darkened back to brown. "Ah, you're all at sea, son. It's a shock, I know. You'll think better of it. We're a pack. If there's a cub, we all pitch in." Col scowled at him. "I don't need any foocking help," he said. "I can sort it. I just ... don't need this." "You sit there." Christa was furious. Her ordinarily gentle dark eyes flashed sparks, her thin cheeks were flushed with outrage. "You're so careless as to get a girl pregnant and then you think you can sit there saying: 'I don't need this'." "It was only the once!" Col cried out defensively. "I've always been careful but she took the foocking collar off before I'd got the condom on and then she couldn't ...." He glared suddenly across the table at the cubs' bent heads. "It only takes the once," Christa said scornfully. "I can't do this." Col's voice cracked. He looked at his phone in his hand. "It's not for you to say," Christa answered. "It's Bryony's choice. All you can do is stand by her. Or walk away." Col's head bowed over his shaking fingers with the phone lying silent in them. "I can't do this," he whimpered. He got suddenly up from the table. "We'll go down to the builders' yard," he said angrily. "Rikki, Rob, get in the foocking van. We'll drive on down and see what the foock they've got." He staggered out of the kitchen. Rikki and Rob pushed their chairs hurriedly back on the flagstone floor and scrambled after him. "Don't let him drive!" Christa shouted after them. Red sat with her head bowed over her plate. The tears dripped down off her nose onto a half-eaten slice of bacon. After a while, Christa seemed to realise she was crying and came and sat with an arm around her. "Oh what will happen to Bryony!" Red sobbed. "Is she out of the pack? She's all alone!" "Don't worry, love," Rex said softly, leaning over and wrapping Red's small fist in his fist. "Bryony doesn't need the pack. She's got friends and family who'll be taking care of her. You don't need to be crying for Bryony." The tears continued to roll down Red's nose and cheeks. Bryony: the fairy tale Princess, the good girl who had never had bad things happen to her. She was going to have to go and tell her parents Col had got her pregnant and had left her to have her baby alone. What would they say to her? "Don't you cry for Bryony, sweetheart," Christa said. "She's not out of the pack until she tells all of us to 'foock off'. If you want to cry for anyone, cry for Col. He's the stupid prick who's on his own now." A Pack of Tales Ch. 06 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith * Diolch yn fawr to Bramblethorn for editing this and the previous two chapters. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. You should be able to identify which scenes have what kind of sex from the tags and sometimes the category the chapter is uploaded into. All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. A Pack of Tales Ch. 6 -- Red/the pack Shoes and other things (story) "Red." "Mm, what?" She lifted her head from the tablet which Rikki had loaned her and on which she had been fiddling with one of her photos. "Max has left his door open." She and Rob stared at each other. They both began lightly panting. Rob's soft brown eyes were yellowing with mischievous glee. Red's hazel eyes became paler. "Christ!" Red said huskily. "Are they in there?" "Yeah," Rob said. "I can smell them." A sudden wicked grin curved Red's mouth. Sharp teeth sparkled in the savage smile. Her face took on an elfin prettiness under the scrubby mop of badly cut hair with the red dye still growing out in it. She pressed 'save', turned off the tablet and put it aside. They went up the stairs together: lightly panting, silently laughing, jostling each other softly. Rob's yellowing eyes danced under his tousled thatch of blond hair. Red's pale eyes glinted in her unexpectedly pretty face. "Collars off?" Rob whispered in husky suggestion. Red hesitated, but she had realised that Rob had no interest in her other than as a playful partner in cubbish tumblings. She had never yet had the courage to take off her collar at the farmhouse and now the opportunity seemed too good to miss. She sniggered and nodded, slipping off to change in the little room she still occupied. Christa had offered her a bigger room downstairs but Red clung to the night-time protection of the pack leader and pack mother. Rob was waiting patiently by Max's half-open door when she came trotting back, his tousled furry blond body poised, his snout turned about to sniff for her, his yellow eyes sparkling with fun. This was very good of him for the delicious scent was coiling out of the room into their nostrils, making the saliva drool from their panting mouths. (Or perhaps he didn't want to risk being caught in the room on his own.) With as much detached interest as he could spare from the exquisite perfume tickling his nose, Rob noticed that Red made an attractive bitch: muscular and shapely. She smelled off to him although he knew it was a scent that drove other wolves wild. She had a ginger brown coat and with the silent laughing longing look in her bright eyes, she looked like someone who might be a lot of fun in a muckaround, rather than someone who would always be shrinking towards the nearest door when the others started fighting. He had hoped she might be a pal, ever since he first saw the look in her eye when Max poked his elegantly shod foot into Rikki's tummy to give him a tickle. That was why he had generously gone to offer her a share in this piece of mischief -- and how right he had been. He was very impressed with how quickly she had grasped the potential offered by Max having for once forgotten to latch his door. They paused to exchange a panting open-mouthed laugh and as if saying: Go! leapt side by side into the room. Red flattened her stocky ginger brown body to the ground and ran round the foot of the bed as smoothly as flowing water. Rob bounded onto the bed with a powerful thrust of his haunches and big blond shoulders and then jumped down off it. They each seized one of the pair of fine Italian leather shoes in savage teeth and streaked out the door and down the stairs. Christa looked up from shaking out the sofa cushions. Her face broke into an excited smile. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Red's gone out for a run with Rob." Max looked up from the i-phone which he had been scanning. He walked over to stand by Christa's side and look out the windows. He also smiled, raising one eyebrow over a jewel-like blue eye. "My God, what an attractive bitch," he said. "You'd never think she had such a good figure in those disgusting rags she wears." "Why d'you think she wears them?" Christa laughed. "She doesn't want the males after her, does she?" "That's no reason to go round like a fashion assassin," Max said with arrogant disdain, casting his eyes back down at the screen of his i-phone. Christa watched Rob drop whatever was in his mouth and spring on Red, snapping at the object she was biting. The two cubs started tugging and pulling it over the grassy hillside. Christa was delighted to see Red finally out, innocently playing, rolling and leaping in the fresh outdoors. Red braced her haunches and forepaws, crouching to the ground to get better purchase on the shoe in her mouth. Rob dragged and worried at it, tugging hard and tossing so that Red's shapely ginger brown head went from side to side. Red was play-snarling at him, her lip lifted back from her clenched sharp teeth. She made a sudden rush forwards and Rob fell over. He rolled to present his white blond tummy. She loped off, but slowly, looking back over one furry shoulder with a teasing glint of laughter in her eye. She waggled the object in her mouth; he scrambled up to chase after her and try again to get it away from her. "What's that they've got?" Christa mused. "Need I ask! They've found a pair of shoes somewhere. How nicely they're sharing them." Max lifted his head from the i-phone. He suddenly shoved it in his pocket, moving swiftly across the sitting-room and out the door. ~#~ Red came into the kitchen and paused by the door, flushing up with shy anxiety. There was a stranger sitting at the table with Christa. He was a tall thin young man who lifted dark eyes to her with a gentle smile. He sat round the corner of the table from Christa with a mug of tea in front of him, weak wintry sunshine falling over his head of loose dark curls and his shoulders onto the scrubbed pine table. There was a peacefulness to the two of them sitting drinking tea in the kitchen, a warm quiet feeling which had been absent in the farmhouse the past few weeks. Col's vile temper was like some evil supernatural mist, seeping into every corner. The cubs had not been able to persuade him not to drive the van the day after he split up with Bryony. He'd run it off the road on the way to the builder's yard and struggled to complete the building work he'd had in hand while it was being repaired. He started losing the good reputation he'd worked so hard for. It didn't help when he showed up on the job with a face blue and yellow with cuts and bruises and a truculence like a ton of chips on his shoulders. When anyone tried to talk to him he would blame Bryony, saying she had ruined everything for both of them. If his mobile rang, he jumped. He would answer whoever had called him in an even more vile temper, if that was possible. Christa stood up smiling her gentle smile at Red. "Hullo, sweetheart," she said. "Come on in and have a cuppa. This is Gavin." He stood up and held his hand out. She shook it hesitantly, unused to this adult politeness. He gave her the gentle smile again which she recognised this time as Christa's smile. "Mam's made up to have a girl in the pack," he laughed. Red slid her gaze sideways at Christa who lifted affectionate eyes from the tea she was pouring. It would make Red's breath come short when they treated her not as if she were some sexual prize but as if she were just special in some ordinary way. Christa could do it to all of them. She could make them all feel as if they were her special babies. Presumably this really was her special baby. Red laughed silently at herself for thinking it as she looked at him: a fully grown young man. Christa was explaining that he worked in social services. He had stopped by on his way down the valley from visiting one of the families he was working with. "Always plenty of work for the social hereabouts," he laughed. His laughter rang out unexpectedly loudly in the kitchen. Rob had ambled in. Red saw his brown eyes light up and start to go yellow. To her surprise he dropped his head and hung off and on round the doorway instead of bumbling round to Gavin in his usual puppyish manner. "C'mon, boy," Gavin laughed, clicking his fingers by his knee. Rob walked slowly round the table. He stood a little distance from Gavin although he and Gavin must have known each other for years. Rob had been with Christa since he was in his early teens. Gavin took a step forwards as if he might give Rob a good scratch behind the ears. Then he just put his hands in his pockets. He stood smiling at Rob and at Red. "Why don't you take the cubs for a run," Christa suggested. "Red, won't you go for a run?" "Oh ... I dunno," Red said uneasily. She had not taken her collar off since she and Rob ran off with the beautiful pair of Max's fine Italian leather shoes. Max had been livid and Christa had had to intervene to save the two of them from a savage nose-smacking. Max said they'd have to buy him a new pair but Rob only worked two days a week for Col and Red had no work at all as yet so this was more gestural than actual punishment. And they had secreted the delicious shoes, still only half-chewed, in a special corner behind a wheel of Col's office caravan. "You'll be alright with Gavin," Christa urged but Red only looked uneasy. She said she would go for a walk but keep her collar on. Rob had rushed off to change, ever eager for a good run up the hillside. As Red walked out of the house with Gavin, he shot past them, his tousled big blond body brushing lightly on their legs. Gavin opened the five bar gate and he loped off: a lovely big blond blur in the weak sunshine, tossing his muscular shoulders and haunches as he leapt about the muddy tussocks of grass. Gavin smiled the soft gentle Christa smile as he watched Rob run. He said: "Bummer about Col and Bryony. It would've been nice for you to have another woman about." "Oh well," Red said awkwardly. "She was human." She dropped her head to watch her feet in the old Doc Martens picking a path between the tussocks of grass. They none of them liked to say anything that might be taken as against Col of course. "Mm," Gavin said. Red suddenly flushed up with embarrassment, she had forgotten momentarily that Gavin of course was human too. He only smiled, saying: "I used to wish I was a were -- like me dad. I said it to Col once, 'I wish I was a werewolf.'" Red looked sideways at him, the blush still hot and high in her cheeks. Gavin laughed that attractive noisy laugh like a stream tumbling down the hillside. "Col said, 'No you foocking don't.'" Red laughed too, silently panting, her mouth curved and her sharp teeth showing. "Did you mind," she asked, "when your mam took in the cubs?" Gavin looked surprised. "Oh no," he said with evident sincerity. "Mam's never happier than sorting out some bit of trouble, especially for some young 'un. When I was growing up, the pack was just Da and the Jenkinses," Red looked puzzled, he elaborated: "Jenks and Nye. It was lonely for him and mam, but he's not the aggressive kind. Others wouldn't come and join the pack. It was when I went to college that they started collecting the cubs. Bloody relief to be honest," his laughter rippled out, her ears twitched forwards and back to hear it. "In my first term Mam was always popping by my digs with a load of home-cooked food and trying to get my laundry off me! "I was made up for Da when Col came along," Gavin said. "He wouldn't have me any different to how I am, but he and Col are close. When he and Mam started taking in the cubs I could see Da worrying about the future of the pack. Col's Alpha Plus," he grinned ruefully. "He's always on the watch for the good of the pack. Crap at doing what's right for himself, mind." He sighed. "Rob was the first cub," he said. "It was me who brought him here." Red looked at him. He was gazing up the hillside at the leaping blond blur that was Rob with a smile softening his gentle face. "I heard one of my lecturers in social work talking about Rob," Gavin said, turning those dark eyes back towards Red. "His mam had had him very young and his dad was only a kid 'n all. When Rob hit his teens and started changing, there were three or four other kids by then -- different dads, of course. His mam didn't want to let him go but she couldn't manage him. The social workers were at their wits' end how to foster Rob. I put them onto Mam." He made that warm rippling noisy laugh. "Mam said the papers she had to sign were unbelievable." When he spoke, his accent was usually muted out, but when he said 'unbelievable' he drew the word out like his laughter until he ended it with a bump on the final 'l': un-be-e-lie-ievabul. "There was all sorts of bother about trying to pretend Da was normal, but he wasn't because he was why they wanted to put Rob with him and Mam, but they didn't want any human kids put up to be fostered in a pack!" Red pricked her ears towards the friendly relaxed noise of his laughter. "Suits Rob," Gavin said. "His mam -- and his dad, live up the valley, he can catch the train up to see them whenever he likes. His dad comes down to take him for a pint now and then. He tried taking Rob for a walk in the early days, but y'know how cubs are, Rob ran off on a scent and so his dad said he'd rather just take him down the pub. Oh shit!" he said in a suddenly sharper tone. Red lifted her head and saw on the brow of the hill three or four dirty white woolly blobs. Her heart started thumping and the drool collecting in her mouth, she panted lightly. The wind was blowing from them to the sheep, the sheep's scent was going away over the hill. Rob was rolling in something he'd found on the hillside; he had not yet noticed the sheep. Gavin lifted his hands to his mouth and shouted: "Robi-in!" in a long appealing call. Red was surprised, she flicked a quick look sideways at Gavin. Rob's blond head lifted instantly, although Red could tell that he'd found something really enjoyably smelly to roll in. His ears and eyes focussed on Gavin and he came bounding down the hill to them and thrust his big-shouldered tousled blond body against Gavin's legs. "Bloody Hell!" Gavin grumbled. "What the hell is that you've been mucking about in? You stink!" He sank his hands into the thick ruff of smelly fur around Rob's neck and gave the cub an affectionate fondling around the ears. He looked up at Red and seemed to become embarrassed. "I've known Rob for a long time," he said. "That's why he comes if I call his name." Red said, "Oh no, it's just that I thought his name would be Robert, not Robin." Rob had rolled over on his back and was wiggling about in the mud and grass, whining hopefully as he offered up his fluffy white blond tummy to Gavin. Gavin squatted down and gave him a good tickling. He avoided Rob's groin. Red noticed Rob's long lupine penis was erect with the red tip poking out of his sheath. "His dad was a Batman fan!" Gavin laughed. "That's how young the silly kids were when they had Rob. C'mon boy, c'mon you soppy beggar. Better get you home and give you a treat. Good boy," he said, belatedly, giving Rob another ruffle around the ears. When they came into the courtyard, Col was leaning on the side of his caravan and staring angrily at his mobile phone. He lifted his head and tried to smile when he saw Gavin. "There's no foocking signal here," he said. Gavin went over and put a brotherly hand on Col's shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. "I'm sorry about you and Bryony, butt," he said. It was the first time Col's face had shown anything other than anger since the split. He dropped his head, looking suddenly ashamed. Then he tightened his shoulders and growled: "Yeah, well. Better off, mate. Foocking bitch was nothing but trouble." Gavin only squeezed his shoulder before turning to Christa, who had come out of the house putting her coat on and carrying a handbag. "Where are you going?" Col said in surprise. "Gav said he'd give me a lift into town," Christa said brightly. "To the shops," she added. "Can I come?" Red asked. "I need to buy a skirt." There was a silent pause. Col twisted his head suspiciously at Christa. She flicked a look at Gavin and said in the same bright tone of voice: "Of course you can. I can help you choose one." Rob was bumping up against Gavin's legs, thrusting his big blond body up to Gavin who laughed and scratched behind his ears, saying: "You don't want to go shopping, you daft beggar! Go and change, mam'll give you a treat when she gets back." "What d'you want to go to the shops in town for?" Col said. "Because I'm a wo-oman," Christa laughed, her soft sing-song accent dragging the word out. "I like shopping. Shall I bring you back a skirt too, my sweetheart?" Col made a grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile. A Pack of Tales Ch. 07 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Diolch! to Bramblethorn for your invaluable editing support. And also to many fellow writers for the good tips on condoms. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. You should be able to identify which scenes have what kind of sex from the tags and sometimes the category the chapter is uploaded into. All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I feel I should add that, although I am a self-defined MILF who frequently has to call builders in, no more practical research has gone into this chapter than into my gay sex scenes. It's all out of my imagination, LOL! (Although I do like a nice plumber;)) Chapter 7 Rikki The MILF and the Cub (scene) Yet another driveway ran up through a large garden to the house. Rikki stood by the red brick gatepost, his shoulders mournfully hunched and his hands stuck in his jeans pocket. Was there any point? This house looked well-kept. It was a modern brick-built residence. The chances of the occupants needing some building work looked so slim as to be anorexic. Rikki loathed doing this. Tramp up to someone's door. Ring the bell -- or knock. A woman answers, often with two kids behind her knees, she peers suspiciously out. Smile a wide smile at her. She would often slam the door in his face before he could even speak. It was all very well for Col. With his Irish charm he had them giggling and curvetting on the doorstop. "Ooh, I don't know, Mr. Reilly. Maybe the kitchen does need some work doing to it." When they saw Rikki's golden-brown features, they drew their breaths in with a hiss. They looked him up and down as if he might have TNT hidden in his trainers. If he tried to talk to Col about it, Col would snarl at him and tell him to foock off. Col's bleak looks would not win them favour on the doorsteps. Rikki must do his best. He squared his shoulders with a heavy sigh and trudged up the gravel drive. He made as much noise as he could so they could check him through the uncurtained lounge windows and pretend to be out when he rang the bell. The door opened with unexpected alacrity. Rikki was taken aback to be greeted by an eagerly beaming face. He stuttered and forgot the wide smile Col insisted on. "Hullo there," she said, tilting her head at him. She was a fit lady with a curving figure that suggested regular trips to the gym. She had coiffed brown hair and a light make-up on even though her casual t-shirt and jeans suggested she was only tidying up around the house. She was wearing no bra under her t-shirt. Rikki could see her nipples poking up at him through the soft cotton. He felt his neck bristle against his collar and began panting lightly. "I um, I ... we're doing some building work in the area," he said huskily. "Are you?" She said, as if that was so fascinating she could not believe her luck. "Um, yeah, and um ... wondered if you were wanting anything doing for you," Rikki said. "Well, I don't know," she said. She held the door open wider. "Why don't you come in and tell me more." Rikki stared past her at an immaculate hallway with glossy white painted stairs tastefully carpeted in a thick warm red stair runner. He walked slowly into her house. "Such a cold day," she said. The tones of her voice tinkled about his ears, seeming to say: Oh you poor thing, out in the cold on a day like this. "Won't you have a cup of tea?" "Oh um, yeah," Rikki mumbled. "Yes please," he said more clearly. It was not cold in the house where the radiators were wafting the hot air about. She led him through to a gleaming clean kitchen. The sharp click of the switch on the kettle seemed to bounce off the glass and white wood of the kitchen units. "Do you take sugar?" She waved a bowl of sugar lumps under his nose. "Two," Rikki said huskily. "I keep it rather hot in the house," she said with her tinkling laugh. "Wouldn't you like to take your jacket off?" He took his jacket off slowly, leaning back on the kitchen unit, his muscles bulging out of the short sleeves of his t-shirt. He wasn't sure about sitting down in this clean bright kitchen. He wasn't sure what she wanted. There was no way she needed any building work doing. Rikki wasn't completely unaware of the effect he had on women. He was just an unimaginative cub who had never bothered to think about how women always smiled at him (except when he came knocking on their door looking for work). He had slagged off with a couple of girls at school whose reputations were for that kind of thing but his family's community had strict views on respectful behaviour to women. Rikki had always imagined ladies like this one were a different breed to Sherry Poole and Cristelle Jones. She brought him a mug of tea and stood only an inch away from him. His shoulders and neck started bristling. His nostrils were full of her smell: velvety warm under some expensive soap and shampoo. He felt to his intense embarrassment his cock harden up and form an uncomfortable lump in the tight crotch of his jeans. "Well um, Mrs ... Mrs," he said, attempting to unobtrusively wriggle his cock down his jeans leg. He stared desperately into her sparkly brown eyes, trying to hold her gaze away from his crotch. "Robinson," she said. She smiled into his eyes then looked straight down at the ridged lump at his groin. "Can I help you with that?" She murmured breathily. Now Rikki was panting loud and hard. His fingers were trembling. He put his mug of tea carefully down on the counter. Mrs. Robinson laid her free hand lightly on his cock in the denim of his jeans. Rikki started whining softly. "Let's go upstairs," she said. He followed her up the stairs, panting and unable to think. Her bum was seriously heart-shaped. He couldn't believe anyone would have such a beautiful shaped bum. It was wiggling from side to side at his eye level as she went up the stairs ahead of him. He grabbed at her as soon as they got into the front bedroom. He gripped her torso in his eager hands and stuck one hand straight up her t-shirt onto the nipple of her tit poking into the soft cotton. She gave a delighted gasp: "Ooh, dear! You are in need of a bit of help!" He was sniffing under her ear. She had no perfume on, just the smell of her shampoo and soap, and her own velvet warm odour with a strong dash of saltiness. He curled his tongue at her neck, his eyes went half-closed, his fingers were teasing at her breast, his groin was pressed to her. Like Sherry Poole and Cristelle Jones, Mrs. Robinson was surprised by his licking her neck but showed every sign of enjoying it. She pulled at his t-shirt, he lifted his head so she could pull it off. She started feeling up his golden-brown muscular chest. She murmured appreciative remarks that his brain could no longer process. He carried on curling his tongue over her neck and chin, pushing against her with a swollen cock in jeans that were now dangerously constrictive. "What's this?" His brain snapped into gear as her fingers went to the collar. "No! Don't take that off," he growled huskily at her, lifting his head away. "Oh OK!" she said with that tinkling laugh. "But let's get these off, big boy." She went to unbuckle the belt in his jeans. Since his brain was making a brief feeble come-back, Rikki was able to realise that he would get on a lot better if Mrs. Robinson also shed her clothes. He started tugging fiercely at her t-shirt. He dragged it roughly over her head and threw it behind him, then his lust overcame his feebly protesting brain again at the sight of her boobs. She had, like, melons. They were big on her well-honed fit body, globular in his hands with the nipples sticking up at him ready to go. He whimpered. He stooped to lick at the satin-soft skin of her breast, the nub of her nipple. He ran his flexible tongue eagerly about it. She liked that. She started groaning and saying, "Oh God, oh God! Yes, yes!" Her fingers gripped in his hair and then clawed at the muscles of his back. He coiled his tongue around her nipple. He started moving it down her flat trim stomach, leaving a wide wet trail as he went. "Oh Jesus!" she moaned in ecstasy as she realised where he was going. Falling back on the big double bed, she grabbed her jeans and some wispy thing whose alluring bare covering of her bum had become completely redundant. They were off her as fast as she could drag them down; she flung her legs open wide. Rikki fell to his knees and put his hands to her lean thighs to shove her hips wider open. He put his tongue straight to the wiry bush of her hair, put his fingers to part the lips of her cunt and started lapping up the juice that was already surging in her sex. "Oh my God, oh my God!" she shrieked. "Oh yes, God, yes!" He was mesmerised by the pleasures of her cunt: the taste of her juice, the texture of her smooth muscles, the dips and hollows of her holes and spurs of flesh. He coiled his tongue in the wet warm smooth flesh. He ran the tip of his tongue up and down the bump of her clitoris, making her shout wildly to him. He went stroking down to her vulva, she began to grunt deep and hoarse profanities in desperate encouragement. He pushed his tongue into her sticky tasty cunt and she said, "Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God." Her hips threw wide and her pelvis tilted up to give him better access. He came back out and started firmly caressing her clit again with his tongue. "For fuck's sake!" she cried, in an anguish of ecstasy. Her hand came snaking across to grab his hand and push it from her thigh at her sex. He was dimly puzzled, but then he realised what he could do and pushed one finger tentatively at her soft warm vulva. "Oh give me more!" she screamed. Two of his big fingers were in her, he was licking eagerly at her clit, tasting her velvety salty nectar, thrusting his fingers in and out, she lifted her pelvis convulsively up into his face, going rigid with a scream of delight. She fell back in the bed, gasping out, "For God's sake!" in shocked pleasure. Rikki still had his jeans on, although they were unbuttoned and his belt was unbuckled. His cock was like a rod and his balls were throbbing. He grappled at Mrs. Robinson's hips, pulling her about. "You like it doggy style?" she panted. "OK, OK!" Still trembling with the terrific orgasm he had set off in her loins, she turned herself willingly on the bed, lifting her heart-shaped naked bum to him. Rikki gave a muffled howl. He couldn't spare the time to take his jeans off now, he just tugged them and his underpants down enough to get his cock out. "Condoms are in the drawer," Mrs. Robinson said in a panting post-orgasmic voice. Rikki was surprised that a hot lady like her wasn't on the pill but then he remembered that he had only just met her. If she was in the habit of greeting men like this, he was well-advised to wear a condom with her. Anyway, he was so up for it that he would have worn a dancing squid on his penis if she'd suggested it. He had to turn his eyes from the distraction of her heart-shaped bum, waggling up in the air waiting for his entry, in order to concentrate on ripping the package open. His hands were clumsy, they were trembling. He started growling anxiously, he was bristling so hard against his collar that he was worried he was going to burst out into fur in some strange lady's bedroom in spite of the collar's protection. She turned suddenly on the bed and took the condom from him, looking into his face with her sparkling brown eyes. "It's OK, honey," she said soothingly. "Here, let me. You won't feel much difference, it's lubricated. On the inside." He had no idea what this meant but he was intensely grateful for her considerate assistance. She pinched the tip of the condom and put it to his thrusting rod of a cock, murmuring more appreciative remarks as she rolled the thin latex down his length. Rikki quivered and whined with lust at the caress of her fingers but the kind attention which she showed towards him calmed him sufficiently to get a grip on himself. She lifted her face to him and her forehead creased in a light frown. "What bright eyes you've got," she said in a mildly puzzled tone. He knew they must have gone yellow. He grinned savagely, showing his teeth. She gave a titillated snigger. She turned over and lifted that heart-shaped bum to him with a wiggle. Rikki crouched his hips to get on a level with her and positioned the head of his cock through her hairy lips against her cunt before thrusting in. She was so soft after the finger-fucking he had given her that he slid easily all the way in. She gave a sudden cry, spreading her legs. He realised dimly that she had not expected any more pleasure. She had offered this to him out of gratitude for the tonguing and fingering he had given her. This made him feel a gentler warmth about her that tempered the hot lust surging in his thighs. He thrust his long thick rod into her softness slowly, holding onto her hips and making sure he got her wherever it was that made her cry out and spread herself to him. He panted faster as he thrust, looking down on the nape of her neck exposed by her carefully coiffed hair falling either side of it, the length of her spine running down her back to the heart-shaped bum which his cock thrust into and pulled out of. Now her cries and the spread of her naked legs were becoming more thrilling, whipping him up. He whined as he pressed hard and deep into her, thrusting his rod in every time until his balls were pressing onto her cunt. She was shouting again: "Oh God, oh God, oh Jesus!" Her hips were bucking under him. He felt her vaginal muscles clench about his cock, he thrust up into the grip of her cunt and she gave that scream of delight, her hips quivering in his hands. This was intensely pleasurable. He clutched his hands hard on her hips, curling the fingers into claws. Suddenly she was all loose and he knew he must get off soon. He shoved in harder, quicker, he felt his buttocks clenching up, his cock was thrusting, he felt the energy spurting out and threw his head back in the howl. He drew himself out carefully. She had flopped onto the bed and turned over onto her back. He took the condom off with trembling big fingers and looked round, unsure where to chuck it. She was just lying on the bed with her eyes shut and a huge grin on her face so he chucked it on the floor. He lay down and pressed his head into her shoulder and neck. She put her arms around him. He licked her neck softly and lay, spent, in the circle of her arms, smelling the velvet salty scent of her. She lifted her head and suddenly she said, "Oh fuck! Shit! Get up, get dressed!" She started scrambling off the bed and pulling her clothes on. He hurried to do as she said, looking nervously at her. "Quickly now," she said but she smiled as she said it. "The kids'll be back from school any minute." She hurried him down the stairs and ran for his jacket from the kitchen. She pushed him out of her warm nice house into the cold. "Thank you so much," she said, as if he'd only been telling her about some possible building work he might do for her. Her brown eyes were shining. "Wouldn't you like to know my name?" Rikki asked, bewildered. She laughed. "Better not," she said firmly. "But," she said. "You tell your girlfriend she's a very lucky girl." Her eyes sparkled and danced in her tinkling laugh and she winked as she shut the door on him. A Pack of Tales Ch. 08 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Diolch yn fawr! to Bramblethorn for continuing to edit the story. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. You should be able to identify which scenes have what kind of sex from the tags and sometimes the category the chapter is uploaded into. All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Ch. 8. Red. Christa twisted round in the front seat of Gavin's car to look at Red. "You don't want anything special, sweetheart, just any old skirt?" she asked. "I only want something for when I look for work," Red said. "Stop off at Asda's," Christa said to Gavin. "I'm not going to the shops," she said, turning back round to Red again. "Gavin's going to drop me at Bryony's." "Oh-h-h," Red said. "She won't mind you," Christa said. "Don't tell the boys. Col's the next pack leader, they'll follow him whatever. Us women, we have to think of the cubs." Red felt odd to hear Christa say 'us women'. As one of the pack Red was obliged to follow Rex and Col without question, but Christa was the pack mother and if Col hadn't been such a jerk, Bryony would have been the pack mother after Christa. Red would do whatever Col told her to, but that didn't mean she didn't realise what a jerk he was. The pack all knew although they of course never said anything and snarled if anyone- else said anything. Gavin dropped them at a modern red brick block of flats on the edge of the city. He drove off with a final friendly wave at Red. She was hesitant as she followed Christa up to a heavy security door. Christa pressed Bryony's button and Bryony buzzed them in. They went up some stairs and there she was standing in a doorway smiling to see them. She saw Red, and her head tilted with a frown. Red flicked an anxious look at Christa but Christa just sailed on serenely through the open door. "I'm sorry the bed's still out," Bryony said as she showed them into the bedsit. "It's too heavy, I can't take the risk of putting it up and down now." Red lifted her eyes to Bryony and made a cringing smile, the kind that says you know you are on someone- else's territory but might you have a biscuit? Bryony scrunched her nose up in a scowl, rolled her eyes up as if to say, On your head be it. Red showed her teeth in a lightly panting grin in reply. She would be happy to put up with a nose smack for Bryony's sake. Bryony had a futon sofa-bed, low to the ground. Red sat on the edge of it by Christa's side and lounged back. She liked being so near the ground. Bryony still didn't look pregnant - except that her skin was blooming like an orchard in spring and her hair seemed to bounce with new life. She smiled softly and she smelled of love. "Tea or coffee?" she said. "I don't care!" Christa laughed. "Show me the pictures!" Bryony laughed too, warm and soft like sunshine. "Let me make you a cup of tea first," she said. She came back out of her kitchenette with the tea and some biscuits which she put on the floor at their feet. Red sat up and looked sideways at Christa. Christa wasn't paying attention so she sneaked three biscuits. Bryony had gone to fetch a pretty folder with all flowers and hearts on it. She sat on the floor with a sigh, easing her back down, and took out some grey papery photos. "These are scans of the baby," she explained patiently to Red. Christa was so excited she could hardly sit still. At first the small pictures just looked like a lot of grey and black splotches. Bryony was pointing and saying: "That's the heart. This is the head." Gradually Red picked out the shades and shapes of a bean with a strange alien-like head mushrooming out of it. That was an actual living being inside Bryony, with a tiny dark spot of a heart already beating. Red felt scared. She stole a look at Bryony who was so happy with her bean baby growing inside her. Red didn't think she would ever want to go through a change as vivid as the one taking over Bryony's body but she also thought Bryony was looking very beautiful. Her opinion of Col sank even lower. "I haven't told them at work," Bryony said. "I've had a chat with the union, I'm just thinking over what I want to do before I tell them officially." "Don't you want to go back to work after you've had the baby?" Red asked. "I dunno," Bryony said lazily. "They're so lovely, 'specially now because they're sorry about Col – you know he used to work there too so they know him. Mum and dad want me to move in with them, or at least somewhere nearer to them so they can help out more." "Oh, are they OK about it?" Red said in surprise. Bryony laughed her sunny laugh. "They're so pleased to be getting a grandchild, there's no talking to them about anything else," she said with indulgent humour. "Although they miss Col," she added, a cloud passing through her gentle brown eyes. "Did ...did they know about Col?" Red asked. "Of course," Bryony said. "They loved him. Dad was sorry he couldn't take Col out with the dogs, y'know Col, he's so Alpha Plus he would've shredded them. But dad and my brother used to love going down the pub for a pint with him to talk about the football. Mum used to make such a fuss of him." She sighed. "You'll be bored if you move back to the Border," Christa said anxiously. "I'll babysit if you want to go back to work." Bryony smiled, laying an affectionate hand on Christa's arm. "I'll bring the baby to see you, whatever," she promised. "Is it a boy or a girl? Did you ask?" Red had already caught Christa in Asda's inspecting blue and pink babygros. "It's a girl," Bryony said proudly. "You don't mind if I buy you something small now." Christa laid on a honeyed persuasive tone in her sing-song voice. "How about a blanket?" Bryony laughed. "Mum's already knitted two! Mum and dad are coming out with me next week to look at stuff. They're going to keep it all at their house for now, there's no room here. Why don't you come too, we can all go for lunch." She got up and went to her wardrobe. She came back with a tiny pink cardigan. It had white daisies embroidered into it. "I couldn't resist it," she giggled as she showed it off to Christa. Red could not believe the baby would be so small as to fit into the tiny knitted garment. She felt the wave of love wafting from Bryony, that soft gentle irresistible smell. As Red and Christa were getting up to go and catch the train back up the Valleys, Bryony got an envelope out of a drawer. Red saw that it was bursting full of money: tens and twenty pound notes. "Give this back to Col," Bryony said in a cold voice. "I'll let him know when I want him to start paying – and how much." Christa lifted suddenly sad eyes to the younger woman. "He's waiting for your call," she said. "He can wait forever," Bryony said in that voice that was like a winter snow shower in late spring. "I'm not going to go begging him to come back to me, and have him always bitching that if I hadn't screwed it all up he could have done this and that. He needs to grow up. I want a family man, not a boy racer." Red saw her warm sunny face so cold and sad. Her eyes were full of tears. Red could almost hear the crack of Bryony's heart breaking. But Bryony had other things to think of, her life to plan and her bean baby with its dark spot of a heart growing inside her. The baby needed her to love it and plan for it even more than Col needed Bryony. As much as Col did need Bryony. ~#~ On the train journey up into the Valleys, Christa sat silently on the seat by Red, staring away into the carriage. Red sat holding her skirt in its plastic bag on her lap, looking out at the steep slopes of the hillsides and down into the tumbling river waters below the railway line. She felt a surging glad relief in her breast. Bryony wasn't alone. She had her family, they were there for her like a kind of pack. And like Christa had said, Bryony wouldn't be out of the pack unless she herself told all of them to 'foock off'. Red liked the Valleys better than the city. The green hills reminded her of the mountains in which she had grown up. She liked the Valleys just for themselves too. There was peace up here, tinged with the melancholy memories of times when people had sweated and struggled in the mines and steelworks, only to be forced out and away to look for work elsewhere. The industrial black clouds of smoke had gone but small towns and villages remained, clinging in terraces to the steep slopes of former slagheaps, now green with new grass. A powerful sense of community kept people on here in spite of the lack of opportunities. For the pack it was somewhere to breathe where people didn't ask too many questions. They accepted you if you just got on with it, buying a pint or two quietly with your butties. ~#~ When Red and Christa got into the farmhouse, Col was sitting at the kitchen table with Rex. Rex had just got in from work and had made the two of them a cup of tea. Christa threw the envelope on the table in front of Col. It burst open, the notes slid out of it in an untidy sprawl. "What d'you think you're playing at, boyo?" Christa's voice was vibrating with fury. "Do you think you can buy her back with small change?" Col sat with his head of thick dark hair stooped over the table in silence. "Tell me then!" Christa gave him a sharp smack on the back of the head. His head jerked but he still wouldn't look round at her. "You went down there and stuck this through her door, did you? You didn't even have the guts to knock on it and see if she was alright?" "My mate Gareth who works in the same office," Col said in a muffled voice. "I asked him to give it to her." "There's nice!" Christa said with heavy sarcasm. "Bryony didn't want to tell them at work yet but now your prick of a friend knows he can tell them all about it on the sly!" "He didn't know what it was for!" Col protested. "Oh, and he can't guess," Christa said. Col was silent. Rex sat with his hands on his mug of tea and his eyes lifted sadly to Christa. Eventually Col said: "I tried to sell my flat." His voice was taut with misery and the desolate fear of failure. "I thought I'd give her the money from that, I thought I'd sleep in the caravan. But the foocking housing market's dead. They wouldn't give me a good price on it. I don't know how to get the money for her unless I can sell the flat at a better price. I sold my foocking watch and all sorts of stuff to get that for her. I can't get the work in and I'm struggling to pay Rikki and Rob their wages. I can't do it, Christa. I've got to think of the cubs. I haven't got anything left for Bryony and a baby, I can't give up the business and go back to work for her. I've got to do right by the cubs. You know how we are. We can't sign on. The way they treat you, it sends the cubs berserk. Even if they find them a job, it's in foocking burger bars, it's nothing but trouble." His voice was aching with tears. Christa gave a heavy sigh. "You're nothing but trouble," she said angrily. "Rent the flat out, Bryony will get something regular then." She paused, then said, "You can move into that room at the back since Red won't take it." Col tilted his head sideways and bared his teeth in a grin at her. "Foocking puppy's better off without me in its life," he said bitterly. "It's a girl!" Christa hissed furiously at him. Col's face twisted up. His gaze slid at Red. The hairs rose on the back of Red's neck. She waited for him to rise up from the table and slap her about for daring to go down and see his bitch. He had told her he'd tear her limb from limb if she even sniffed at Bryony. Red couldn't explain to him how she felt about Bryony. Col just gave a heavy sigh, as if he were thinking about everything Red might have been through and here was another one: a vulnerable bitch being brought into a world of pain. A Pack of Tales Ch. 09 Copyright (c) 2013 Naoko Smith Many thanks to Bramblethorn for the continued editing, and diolch yn fawr! to Beatnic_jazzman's family for the help with the Welsh. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series will include two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. A Pack of Tales Ch. 9 – Red Red collected the gravy-dredged plates from the table with a clatter that was drowned out in a wave of beery laughter. One of the men put his hand on hers as she reached for his plate. "I've not finished," he grunted. Her neck bristled against her collar at the touch of his hand. She said: "Sorry," and pulled her hand quickly away. His head tilted up to her with a glistening drunken glint of eyeball. "Not seen you before," he said. "I just started," Red answered, backing away with the plates in her hands. "No need to rush off," one of the other men stood up behind her, blocking her off. "Same again, lads? How about you, darlin'?" He leered at Red. He was swaying. They had been here since mid-morning, reminiscing about the days when this would have been a working lunch – six rounds and all. They were all well beyond a reasonable condition. The door to the carpark swung open and Red took advantage of the distraction to scuttle sideways with her pile of plates. She looked round at the door and saw, to her surprise, Col walk in to the dingy pub dining area. Col's head had shot immediately forward and his shoulders hunched. He sniffed the reek of stale alcohol and microwaved meat meals with a scowl. Red smiled, coming up to him with the plates still in her hands. He relaxed and said: "Came by to give you a ride home. I'll have a half while you finish up." He went over to the bar, perched on a stool and darted a suspicious keen glance around the room. The group of drunken men were by now the only other occupants, sprawled in their chairs like flotsam the tide had left behind. Col examined them sourly out of the corner of his eye. He noted too the scuzzy dirt ground into the carpet and a light stink ineffectively overlaid with air freshener. He flicked a cardboard beer mat about in his fingers, increasingly unimpressed by how long he was having to wait for what a close inspection of the taps suggested was going to be an exceptionally indifferent beer. He watched Red come back out of the kitchen. She had done her best with the ill-fitting skirt she had bought and a plain white shirt buttoned up to cover her collar. She looked as if she had made an effort which would always be undermined by the lumpy shapes of her body, but the men whose plates she was clearing were not choosy about female flesh even when they were sober. "Give us a cwtsch," one of them suggested with a leer when she had to lean over him to pick up the remaining plate. He had attempted to put an arm around her hips but his movement was suddenly restricted by Col's tight grip on his wrist. When he tried to pull his hand away, Col shoved him into the man he was sitting next to. Red snapped into position beside Col with her lip lifted from her sharp teeth. The men were rising from their table in an ugly red-faced bunch. Col had raised his fists with an ominous tearing noise. The men seemed to realise that his muscles had shredded his shirt-sleeves open under his jacket. They looked at his stocky muscular frame and the yellowing eyes that burned like dull coals with rage. One of Col's hands was bunched in a fist but the other was loose in a claw, it was evident that Col was a dirty fighter if he was roused. At last the landlord had appeared. He was at Col's elbow, fluttering anxiously: "No trouble, I hope, guys?" Red could almost hear him thinking that the men had not yet paid their bill. "What the foock is this?!" Col spat sideways at him. "Foocking middle of the day and you let them maul one of your workers around, do you?" The landlord looked at Red. She said: "He didn't see it, Col. It's the first time." "That's foocking likely, a dump like this," Col snarled. "Happens all the time, doesn't it, but you thought she was desperate for work and would put up with it." 'I am desperate for work,' Red thought. She knew Col had lost her the job. "Get your coat," Col snapped at her. "Give her the week's wages," he said to the landlord. The landlord opened his mouth as if he were thinking of protesting. He looked at Col's clenched jaw and went grumbling to the bar. Col stepped softly backwards as if away from a stink of rotten fish, relaxing his bunched muscles. The men sat slowly down. As she got into the front seat of Col's immaculate sports car, clutching a handful of notes, Red couldn't help the tear that slid down her cheek. They hadn't even made her prepare the food. She had been hoping to get some experience pulling pints and then to try for a job in a better place. Col sat without turning the ignition key, glaring at the steep slopes of the old slag heaps around them. "I'll give you a foocking job," he said at last. "You can't," Red answered, managing to keep herself from crying with an effort. "You haven't got enough work for the others and you've got Bry-, Bry-, you've got other things to think of." Col turned his yellowish eyes dully glowing with anger and suffering on her. His mouth twisted. He said: "Would you work in an office?" Red wondered if he meant the place he used to work in, where Bryony was still employed. Perhaps if Bryony was going on maternity leave they needed someone? She was surprised that he would consider letting her go and work alongside Bryony, but delighted of course. They none of them liked indoors work but she said: "Yes." Col got out of the car. She saw him take his mobile out, stare at it momentarily as he was in the habit of doing, and make a call. He stood square and boxy in the gravelly carpark of the dingy pub, his shoulders thrusting forward, the phone pressed to his ear as he talked. Then he came back and drove off without saying anything. Red hadn't been in Col's car before. Col drove beautifully. It was like a balletic skill, his driving; like music, like football played by Barcelona F.C.. He went at an even speed, taking corners as smoothly as the curve of a breast, his hand on the gearstick feather-light, caressing the gears into changing. Manic Preacher was playing on his sound system but his attention was focussed on the road. Red was cocooned in her seatbelt and his driving. Her appreciation of Col was objective, yet she could understand why Max loved to catch a ride with him. The Alpha male carrying you with supreme skill in his dream machine to the tunes of House music. It was spell-binding. Down the long curving stretches wrapped about the roundabouts of the deserted Valleys roads Col handled the red sports car with exquisite skill until, to Red's surprise, he parked up in the city centre. He jerked his head impatiently at a huge square block of government offices. She followed him through the glass doors to sign in at a tall reception desk and be checked through the metal detector gateway of security. She stood by Col in the big lobby where people were greeting other people, looking nervously to the armchairs at the side, and at the palatial staircase which swept down from the back of the hall. Max came strolling down the stairs like Cinderella at the ball, still talking into his iPhone while his lip lifted from his teeth in acknowledgement of Col and Red. He wore a navy blue fine wool suit that fitted him so perfectly it had to have been tailored especially for him. His blue eyes staring at them were as cool as the ice cubes floating in a martini. He had one hand casually in the pocket of his trousers while the other still held his iPhone in place. "You and Toby can handle it," he was saying as he came up to them. He stood beside them listening to the phone. The serene expression of infinite patience sketched on his sharp fine features boded ill for someone. "The speech was vetted days ago," he said. "Something has come up. Tell the Minister I'll see her first thing in the morning." He cut the phone off without waiting for a reply and put it in the breast pocket of his jacket. He favoured Red with a long slow raking once-over that took in her badly made skirt, shapeless jumper, army surplus camouflage jacket and Doc Marten boots. "You seriously expect me to get that thing a job here?" he said. Col lifted his head and glowered up at Max. It was the first time Red had realised that Max was taller than Col. "She can use computers and talk Welsh," Col said, as if this was all that mattered. Max pursed his lips, giving Red another offensive once-over. "Only if I'm allowed to dress it," he said. "Sure," Col said quickly. "You bring her home then." He was already impatiently jingling his car keys in his pocket. "Oh it won't take long," Max answered in his bored supercilious drawl. "There's only one brand for you, cariad." Red looked up at him, his teeth lifted from his lip in the grin. "Jaegar," he said, "but," he went on, "I suppose we'll have to sort out the hair too." "I'm not a Barbie doll!" Red said indignantly. Col turned and bent his dully glowing gaze on her. "Shurrup and do what Max tells you," he snarled. "You want a job don't you? Max can keep an eye on you here. Nobody'll touch you if you're with him." "Personally I always preferred Ken," Max put in, as if they couldn't have guessed. "He used to have such fun with Action Man. My God!" His blue eye lit up with an excited gleam. He reached out and picked Red's arm up by the sleeve to inspect her jacket with appalled incredulity. He gave an exaggerated sigh. "The things I do for you," he said to Col. "Shurrup, you poof," Col said angrily, but he spoke softly in this place where Max trod the corridors of power weaving his silken webs. ~§~ When Red went back to meet up with Max again three days later she felt like a different animal. Max had taken her to just the one clothes shop. He told off bored shop assistants to fetch armfuls of clothes off the racks and sat on a plush chair messaging on his iPhone. Initially, Red felt gawky and embarrassed. The prices of the clothes were jaw-droppingly, distressingly enormous but when she whined about this, Max became angry. Max angry was even more alarming than Red had imagined, and after all he was paying, so she resigned herself to her fate. She told off the dumb assistants to fetch her different sizes and they began to spend less time gossiping and more time telling her how much everything suited her. Max sat messaging and saying, "Yes, yes, that one makes you look like a sheep, no, yes," without apparently looking up from his iPhone. He took her to a salon which was closing for the night. A tall slender young man ushering out the women stylists murmured seductively: "Anything for my Prince." Red sniggered and Max grinned and said: "Shut up and don't tell Col or I won't buy you any shoes." He looked out of the big glass front window. There was nobody passing the salon so he gave the man's buttock a firm caress and said: "I want a Princess Di, darling, not some bloody thousand pound a night hooker." He sat down on the chair by Red's and inspected his own reflection lovingly in the mirror. ~§~ Red came back up to the high reception desk of the government offices, trying not to grip her toes inelegantly in the unaccustomed heeled court shoes she was wearing. She had scored a minor victory over the shoes. Max fell at first sight for a pair of three inch stilettos but Red said she was a werewolf, not bloody Catwoman, and Max laughed and let her have a more sensible pair – although he insisted on some heel. Red had noticed him fondling the stilettos as he replaced them, but she figured he could pop back and buy them for himself. Or perhaps she and Rob could save up and get them for him, size didn't matter, he only wanted to suck on them. Somewhat to Red's surprise, the receptionists seated behind the high desk treated her with eager deference even before she had given Max's name. She cast a quick glance down at the brown tweed coat she was wearing. Under it she had a green felt skirt suit. A soft silk blouse was buttoned high up her neck to hide her red leather collar. She put up a nervous finger towards the top button then fiddled with one of the gold hoop earrings Max had lent her instead. Max didn't have pierced ears. Red chose not to ask where he wore the pretty twisted rope earrings. She just cleaned them very carefully before putting them on. When she had passed through the metal detector, she stood awkwardly near the desk looking at the stairs. After five minutes, she drifted over to some armchairs at the side where people were waiting and chatting. She felt too nervous to pick up a paper. She just sat, wondering why Max was taking so long. Eventually he came strolling down the stairs, talking to a plump man whom he seemed to have met by chance as he came to fetch Red. He looked quickly about the entrance hall. She stood up and walked towards him, trying not to grip her toes in the court shoes. "Cariad," Max said in a husky soft murmur. She had got used to it. They all missed Bryony but Max in particular liked having Red to talk Welsh with. However she was surprised by the warmth of his tone and nearly kneed him in the balls when he took her arm and pulled her to him to press his thin lips briefly on her mouth. "P'nawn da, Max," she said, blushing and bristling against her collar. She managed to suppress that instinctive impulse to punch him. "Oh Peter," Max said casually to the man he had been talking to, "this is my ... my friend," he showed an uncharacteristic hesitation as he said it. Red supposed he could hardly say 'pack sister' to some stray human. Then Max put his arm around her and then he pretended to be embarrassed and let her go. "Red's just come to drop off her CV," he said, "but you will have lunch with me, won't you, cariad?" He said it in an anxious tone, as if she might say, "Rwy'n llawer rhy brysur, bachgen drwg." (I'm far too busy, you bad boy.) His blue eyes were sparkling with hilarity. He had to turn his head from the plump man to hide his silent laughter. Peter looked from Max, apparently suffering a wholly uncharacteristic fit of embarrassment, to Red. He looked at her shyly blushing face turned towards Max. She had unbuttoned her coat and he noted the fine quality of the green felt skirt suit, the soft silk blouse which flattered the natural curving shapes of her sturdy figure. Her hazel eyes turned up towards Max were like hillside pools. Strawberry blonde hair cut in an appealingly short boyish style lapwinged her cheekbones. She brought a breath of freshness, like a breeze from the hills, into the still air of the corridors of power. "Are you from North?" he enquired. "Are you a Welsh speaker too?" Max turned his head back, silently laughing. "Of course she is," he said. "Can you imagine what my mother would say if I brought home anyone who wasn't? Come along, cariad, I'll show you where to leave your CV and then we can grab a quick sandwich for you." "I can drop your CV off," Peter said suddenly. "I'm going that way. In fact ... would you mind if I took a copy of it? I've got a vacancy for a Welsh speaker." "Have you really?" Max's drawl had the perfect pitch of surprise in it. "That's very kind of you, Peter. I am so grateful for the extra few minutes with Red just now. Not that ... not really told anyone." He flashed a grin like a diamond ring. Red handed over the envelope containing the CV which Max had written and printed out for her. She found her hand had been collected in Max's arm. Without even having said a word to Peter she was walking the corridors on Max's arm to a cafeteria. She was aware of people looking surreptitiously at them as they passed. Max nodded to one or two of them. It was weird. It was weird how excited people became at the charade Max was putting on. Max loved it, he pretended to fuss round her like some gallant old man with his wife. "Now you know you don't like mustard, cariad," he said. (None of them did, it got up their noses and made them sneeze.) "Have the ham, that's plain." Red could tell that he could barely keep himself from rolling all over the floor laughing. She liked it in a way but in another way it was horrible. It made her realise that Max and she had become close. It felt like a betrayal of the pack loyalty that was between them, to pose as this travesty of marital desire. They looked like the pattern of the perfect couple: Max in his fine wool navy blue suit and herself in the green skirt suit, eating sandwiches together at a small table. Max leaned over to brush a crumb from her mouth, smiling with proprietary pride. Red knew he was only thinking how nicely he had turned her out. She murmured to him in apparent intimacy when what she was actually saying was: "Cadwa dy ffycin lygaid o fy sgidiau." (Get your fucking eyes off my shoes.) Max was that bit older than her, they were like a couple out of a black and white movie: The 39 Steps or Rebecca, they were just as make-believe. When she went for the interview two weeks later, Peter phoned her up while she was on her way home to give her the job. Max was driving her back to the farmhouse in his black two-seater, grinning like a dog. He had earlier shown Red a twitterfeed: #Clecsllwyd BBW's girlfriend came in today!!! / I saw too. Classy looker. / Frigid bitch, you mean. / Like him then. Red thought that people so unimaginative that they called Max "Big Bad Wolf" deserved him to manage them, although it was nice that people saw her as a classy looker. She wondered at it, that some cheap badly fitting clothes could make men think they had the right to grab at you while a suit that made you look beautiful persuaded them to keep their distance. Was it because Max had marked her as his own? She had rapidly come to realise that in the corridors of power, Max ruled. But the weird feeling of being like Max's girlfriend dropped completely away when Red walked into the sitting-room behind him and Col said: "Angharad. It's time you told us. What made you change." A Pack of Tales Ch. 10 A Pack of Tales Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Thank you so much to Bramblethorn for continuing to support my writing in spite of the many demands on your time. Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. This series will include two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. This scene contains an account of a rape. I hope I have made clear in this account how disgusting a crime rape is and how angry it makes me to see how little support is offered to victims of rape, although I do believe things are getting better. A Pack of Tales Ch. 10 – Red/Christa Red turns (scene) The breath was catching in Red's throat and she was bristling, choking against her collar. Max had come to a halt in front of her and was turning not to her but to Col, as if in supplication on Red's behalf. But Col had called her. He was the upcoming Alpha and he had called her name. She would have to answer. Col had put his hand on her shoulder. He gripped it and pushed her, gently but firmly, to the armchair nearest the door where she usually sat. They were all there: the cubs sprawled on the sofa and chairs, Rex in his armchair by the fireplace, Jenks and Nye had come to hear how Red's interview had gone. Only Christa was absent – in the kitchen getting tea. Col pushed Red to the chair and then went to sit on the end of the sofa by Rex's armchair. Max went slowly across and sat on the sofa between Col and Rob. Red sat catching her breath and sliding her eyes around the room at them all: Rikki and Rob turning puzzled curious faces to her, Nye and Jenks waiting patiently, Max folding his long lean body onto the sofa, his face cold and reserved. Col and Rex also looked at her with the whites of their eyes showing, their expressions telling her they already knew it must be bad. "I ... I," Red stuttered. Finally she took a deep breath and turned her yellowing eyes to stare out of the window. She slid a finger inside the collar of her silk shirt around the red leather collar hidden underneath. She sat up straight in the armchair, the strength and character of her muscular body made apparent in the clothes Max had selected for her, her feet resting squarely on the floor in her elegant court shoes. The short wings of hair brushed her cheekbones, sweet strawberry blonde, appealingly boyish. "It was when I started college," Red said in a monotone. "There was a bus to get us there, an hour's journey. I met her on the bus." Clare. The same age but seemingly worlds wiser. Red knew now that it was just an act but to a shy girl who had never made many friends, Clare seemed like the fount of all knowledge. She was a dark-haired siren with a catch in her laugh. She said she was a witch: "I'm a witch, you know," looking deep into people's eyes and making that catchy laugh. They were not quite sure if she was joking. Why did she pick Red? Looking back with the perspective gained by the time that had passed since, and with the confidence of having a pack at her back, Red said: "She liked me. She liked ... girls like me. We were the same." Except that Clare was popular, with her long dark hair, catchy laugh and the hint of the mystic about her. When the friendships from school shook up and people discovered new friends, Clare picked Red. Red knew better than to obtrude her clumsy person into the circle of people with whom Clare socialised at college, of course. They were on different courses. But on the bus home they would sit together until Clare's stop – which was before Red's - and then Red would sit staring out of the window not daring to question how incredibly happy she felt. They kissed. Lightly, quickly on saying goodbye. Clare would put her mouth to Red's cheek by her ear. Red would feel the blood suddenly thundering in her veins, her heart thumping in her chest, her thighs loosening and she would smile. She hardly knew what this might mean until Clare carefully carelessly started showing her magazine pictures. "Christ, look at this, Red. How do you think they can?" She looked deep into Red's eyes and laughed her catchy laugh, pointing at two women entwined in the glossy paper of a men's magazine. "Would you like to come to my house for tea next week?" The night Red went to Clare's house for tea they were silent on the bus. It was a dark autumnal night, the air heavy with rain. Clare had a hand on Red's leg, holding it gently while she stared out of the window. Her dark eyes were sparkling. They got off the bus with the jostling crowd of other college kids. Red couldn't remember now if she'd spoken to any of the others. Clare dawdled by the roadside, holding Red back by the sleeve until the others had cleared off down the hill, disappearing in the damp dark November night. Clare pulled Red back into the bus shelter by the roadside, a concrete hut with a bench built into it. It smelt of stale piss and stubbed out cigarettes. Clare moved into Red's arms and they began to kiss – tentatively at first, their mouths touching then lingering and pressing wet and warm to each other's mouth. Red started panting and pressing into Clare's body as well as her kiss, the blood running in her veins so hot that she thought nothing of the damp autumnal chill. Her senses were full of woman: the soft soapy smell of Clare drifting on that stale bus shelter stench, the wet kiss of her mouth, the sucking sound she made on Red's lip, the fingers Clare was pushing into the waistband of her jeans, the feel of Clare's ribs to her own fingers groping under Clare's top. "What the fuck is this?!" The furious voice crashed suddenly in their ears. Red sprang away from Clare, her heart thumping now with shock. She could feel that curious bristling feeling she would get in moments of high emotion intensifying. There were five of them. She knew that one was Clare's brother, the others his mates. "You fucking slag!" His words were addressed to Clare but his eyes were on Red. He was livid with fury. The emotions coming off his mates were more complex but their titillated sniggers did nothing to soften his mood. Clare gave a shrill hysterical giggle. She was trembling and Red saw a flash of the whites of her eyes. "Get out of here!" Clare's brother said in a low intensely angry voice. "I told you. If I ever catch you at this again, I'll fucking do you!" Clare was out of the bus shelter and running before he'd finished speaking. Red made a step to follow but he said: "Oh no. I don't think so. I think you need a lesson." Red sat straight in the armchair in the farmhouse sitting-room, staring out of the window. The cubs were no longer curious, they didn't want to know. Rob was whimpering and fidgeting but nobody told him to shut up. Rikki sat staring at the floor with his gorgeous golden features stricken. Rex had turned his head aside so you couldn't see his face, Nye and Jenks sat with their shoulders hunched in an identical misery. Only Col and Max continued to look at Red, Col with the concentrated frown etched into his brow, Max's face cold and reserved. She tried to hold up the rucksack of college papers and books to shield herself. It was snatched from her hands and chucked in the road outside. When she tried to punch them, they twisted her arms back – there were five of them. The violent stripping of her clothes from her, tearing them off if they would not come easily away. Sometimes she used to wonder if her struggling had excited them more. Perhaps if she'd passively submitted to this fate .... She knew that nothing she could have done would have made any difference. They were a bunch of wild beasts, driven mad by collective lust. She was changing under their hands. That bristling feeling had taken over, the hair was bursting out over her body, from her shoulders, down her back. As they held her struggling body down for the second one to shove his dick up inside her, she was loosening and responding. The third one's prick poked her on spots that made her jerk with orgasmic reflex even as she was struggling to break away. They started hitting her on the head with a stone so she would lie still. She lay drifting in and out of consciousness, naked and returning to smooth human form on the concrete floor in the stale piss and cigarette butts. As they left they were laughing, they said: "What a fucking animal! You were wet and up for it. Come back for more next time the moon's full, you freak." She sat still in her armchair, staring with her yellow eyes out of the window. After a while, Nye said hesitantly: "But why did you leave? They were caught, weren't they? Put away?" Red's eyes came back down from the window to stare into his puzzled distressed face. "It was a difficult case," she said. "The police told me it would be difficult to take forward." "Difficult?" Nye's face crumpled in a frown. "Shut up," Max said sharply. "There was someone's son among them." Red's eyes turned to him, a look of surprise coming into them. It seemed it was the first time she had realised so serious a case could not possibly have been difficult to prosecute unless there were some reason the authorities would close ranks and make it appear so. "But your family," Nye persisted, his yellowy brown eyes still turned to her with the hurt expression of a puzzled dog in them. "They would have helped you, surely? Why did you run away?" "Threatened by the community," Max said tersely. "Bumped you out with five hundred quid to get you on your way. Especially when they realised what you had become." Red flicked her yellow eyes at him and at the others: Nye and Jenks stricken with uncomprehending sadness, the cubs restless and unable to meet her gaze, Max's eyes a muddy green in his cold face, Col coiled beside him on the sofa with his mouth bitterly twisted, Rex with his head turned away. Her sister had been the only one who came to the hospital. She came carrying their brother's rucksack stuffed with a few clothes, Red's phone, the album of photos which Red had treasured since she first had a camera. They had always been close and now her sister's head was turned away and her eyes narrowed with hatred of her own selfish shame. Red had the pack now. Rex – the leader, would he give her no sign, nothing to say he would still accept her? Would he too rise up and say she must go? He was of a generation who thought women brought these things on themselves by dressing or behaving foolishly. Her family had driven her away in order that they could continue to fit in a community distorting to protect its sons. She hoped for better from the pack but Rex would not look at her. Col got suddenly up and walked over to Red. He stood beside her chair, putting his hand on the back of her neck and gripping it. She quivered, her thigh muscles softening and her cunt going wet at this. She had never been sexually interested in any man but he was the upcoming Alpha. If he told her to, she would spread her legs for him and for the whole fucking pack. Col gripped his hand on the back of her bristling neck and shook it. "Come on, let's have a kickabout," he said in a rough-edged voice. "Get the ball, Rob. Come on, Jenks, Nye. You too, you foocking poof," and he went over and kicked Max in the leg. "In these shoes!" Max grumbled, caressing the shiny black leather Oxford he was wearing. "Foocking change," Col snarled. "You too," he said curtly to Red. He shepherded the grumbling pack out of the door; except for Rex. In the hallway he shouted: "Bring us a cup of tea!" towards the kitchen. "Fetch it yourself, you lazy bugger!" Christa shouted back. "You foocking cow, bring it now!" Col yelled. He knew this would make Christa run out of the kitchen breathing fury and then she would find Rex crying alone in the sitting-room and sort him out. Col ran hurriedly out of the front door before Christa could catch him. At first the pack were hesitant and gentle around Red. They knocked the ball doubtfully to each other in the muddy yard. (Apart from Max who strolled lazily around the 'goal' marked by two piles of stones.) Jenks tried to set Red up for an easy goal and had the ball taken off him by Rikki. Red committed a savage foul on Rikki, making him crash to the ground howling in protest. "I didn't see anything," Col snarled. "Shurrup, you wimp, play on." Rikki bumped Red over the ball, succeeding in pushing her off it because he was a lot bigger. She ran ahead to help Jenks defend, hovering in the goal with Max and Jenks. The ball smacked her in the face once but she only chested it down to her feet and dribbled it back down the yard to set Rob up. "Goal! Goa-oa-oal!" he howled in triumph, skidding on his knees and pulling his shirt over his head in celebration. His pale tummy was displayed to them all with the packed muscles in hard layers on it. "That's a red card offence these days, sunshine!" Col said. "Get the gate, there's Gavin's car coming up the track." "You'll get worse than a red card when Christa sees your jeans," Max laughed. When they came in, Red slipped quietly off up the stairs to her small room. She sat on the single bed, staring at the wall and panting lightly. After a while, she stripped and took her collar off. Christa paused with her hand raised to knock on the door. It was too late, she could hear the whining and crying inside. She knew Red would be snarling and biting at her own forelegs for lack of anyone else to take it out on. If Christa went in now, Red would go for her. Christa would never get the collar back on her in the state she was in. Christa's face crumpled, she leant her forehead on the door and let two tears squeeze out of her eyes. She straightened up and shook herself. She went briskly down the stairs to continue cooking tea. She came into the kitchen which was annoyingly full of cubs. Nye and Jenks had gone home and Rex was still collecting himself in the sitting-room. Christa shoved past to get to the cooking range, scolding Rikki to make him pull his chair in and telling Max off for cutting the salad so slowly. "I don't like the onion in bloody great chunks," Max whined. "I've got to go to London tomorrow with the Minister, the damn English will make crass jokes about leeks if I smell of onions." Christa noticed that Rob was leaning mournfully all over Gavin. Gavin sat with a mug of tea in his hands, puzzled at the tense mood he sensed which none of these stupid boys had been able to bear to explain to him. Christa scowled at her son sitting with her foster son draped all over him like a curtain. Gavin made a face back that meant: "What?" "Rob, lay the table," Christa snapped. Rob lifted his tousled blond head and mournful puppy eyes from Gavin's shoulder and got reluctantly up. Gavin flicked soft brown eyes at him as he did so. A Pack of Tales Ch. 11 A Pack of Tales Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Sorri it's taken me so long to get back to this story. Mae'n ddrwg (which is the high Welsh for 'sorry', literally meaning: My Bad). Diolch yn fawr to Bramblethorn, my lovely editor. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. This chapter has a short story section followed by a lesbian sex scene. Please leave comments and feedback for me. A Pack of Tales Ch. 11 – Red Diana Max gave Rob a tenner, saying: "Get me a latte." He sat down at a table outside the café-bar in the mild spring sunshine. He cocked his head at Red, who asked for a cappuccino. "Can I have a beer?" Rob said. "Whatever," Max replied, fishing out his iPhone. "Aren't you worried we'll be seen here?" Red asked, sitting cautiously in a chair on the opposite side of the table to Max. Max lifted his head to look at the people strolling through what was known to be the gay quarter. "My girlfriend and I can take a gay guy pal out for a coffee, can't we?" he said, showing his teeth in the grin. Red rolled her eyes. Rob was coming back, carrying the drinks on a tray. A slender young man walking past him was looking at Max. She recognised the man as the one who had cut her hair. Max was busy on his iPhone and didn't acknowledge him. "There's your friend," Red said. "No he's not a friend," Max said. "He's my sub." "Your what?" Rob asked. "My sub, my slave." Max lifted his eyes in a silent laugh at them. "Is that a collar under his shirt?" Rob asked. "Oh God, is he wearing it in public again?" Max said lazily. "He's so proud of it. He's not one of us." Rob and Red slid their eyes at each other, then turned their heads away from Max. "Shut up, stop laughing," he said, grinning himself. Max's eyes went sideways and Rob's and Red's eyes followed. She was tall. Tall and blonde with legs that went on forever. She was a high-stepping pedigree bitch. Her shoulder-length hair rippled back in the sunshine past an open-necked shirt. They all saw the royal blue collar round her neck. "Now that," Max said, delicately sniffing, "is one of us." Rob was nudging Red. Red shoved back at him, the blush rising warm in her cheeks. "Go and talk to her," Rob urged. "You go!" Red was immobilised by shyness, she couldn't even look. She was dimly aware of the sunshine and, just inside the light shadows of the bar, another female werewolf chatting with the butch woman serving in the gay and lesbian café-bar. "Chrissake!" Max said impatiently. He shoved his phone in the breast pocket of his jacket and strolled lazily in. Red and Rob saw him lean on the bar and fall into conversation with her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt so that his black collar became visible. She turned that head of blonde hair and Red saw her nose quiver as she sniffed delicately. Max came out with her, still chatting so easily, and brought her to their table. Red gripped her hands together in her lap, lifting her eyes to look surreptitiously through her fringe but she no longer had a fringe, she was looking straight into crystal-clear pale blue eyes. 'What a pretty bitch,' Max thought. He smiled with affectionate pride at Red's fresh flushed face looking up from the table with the hazel eyes going softly golden. Since they had come on from work to meet Rob, Red had on a smart blue suit - trousers and jacket, and that high-necked silk blouse that suited her so well. She looked chic and well-cared for, and also like the sweet soft little butch she was, ripe for the handling. "Red, Rob," Max introduced them, ushering the other pretty bitch towards a chair. "This is D-D-Diana." Their eyes flicked up at her. "Di?" Rob said hesitantly. "Oh no, what – like Lady Di?" she said scornfully, seating herself with a flick of her skirts. "Diana." She turned her blue eyes on Red and gave her a rapid raking once-over. She tilted her lovely blonde head and Max saw the corner of her tongue flick out and about her upper lip. He put her coffee in front of her. "Are you with Kev's pack?" Rob asked curiously. "You're not with Mick's pack are you?" "Pack?" she turned her eyes away from Red. Her mouth opened in the silent panting laugh. "What an old-fashioned idea. Are you all in the same pack?" Her glance went curiously from the sleekly suited slim Max to Rob, whose t-shirt was straining over his six-pack stomach. "Are you ... you're his ...?" She asked Red, inclining her head at Max. "Oh no, not at all!" Red assured her fervently. Max grinned at how eagerly she had repudiated him. "Red and I work in the same place," he said. He gave Rob's sleeve a tug. "We must go and talk to my friend." "Eh?" Rob said. "You mean your ... thing, your sub? But you didn't even say hello when he came in." "Shut up!" Max said fiercely, dragging Rob off. Red sat dumb in the sunshine, unable even to look at the lovely creature sipping a coffee by her side. "You work for ... Max, is that his name?" Diana enquired. "The other one, the cub, does he work for Max too? Is Max the Alpha?" Her face tilted at Red in a smiling enquiry that showed the tips of her white even teeth. "Rob works for Col," Red said. "I don't really even work in the same department as Max. I mean ... we're in the same Ministry." "Ah, you both work for the government," Diana said. She had an English accent: crisp and confident. There was no regional burr in it to give away what part of England she was from. "Max got you a job there, because you're a pack sister. He must be pretty high up? And he looks out for you all, because you're his pack?" "He's not the Alpha," Red said. "He's just high up in the Ministry." She always felt odd when she came across Max stalking the corridors of power, perhaps alongside the Minister whom he steered so competently through the oily waters of politics, aides carrying papers and briefcases in his wake. People even now treated Red with a cautious deference unsuited to her low job title, because if they met in the corridors, Max would pause and lift his lip in a grin at her. Even the Minister had once hesitantly offered Red a plate of onion bhajis at a function while attempting to find out whether they had fixed a date for their wedding and angling for an invite to it. "Who's Col then?" Diana asked. Red lifted the pretty golden-hazel eyes to her. Back in the bar behind Diana she could see Max kicking Rob to stop him staring at the two of them. Rob ignored him, making a thumbs-up sign at Red with a gleeful grin. ~#~ Long tongues curled wet together in the fierce panting mouths. Their sharp teeth were exposed by savage guarded grins. The two bodies pressed hard and close. Bone and muscle pressed to muscle and bone. Diana shoved at Angharad and the curvy ginger-brown bitch lifted her head with an eager whine. She rolled her body to expose it to the nuzzling nose and curling coiling wet warm tongue. Diana sniffed and licked about Angharad's neck and ears. Angharad made a laughing snuffle. She stopped her pretty snout to rub to Diana's blonde head. She nosed her way along her mate's muscular lean body, giving the nipples teasing playful nips as she went. Diana whimpered – panting, quivering under Angharad's pinching caress. She began snarling, snapping eager growls. Her hips trembled, her belly pressed to the ground, her bottom lifted. She turned her body to give Angharad access. Angharad flicked her tongue delicately at the rose-purple sex Diana presented. She tasted the salty musk juices from the innermost animal of her mate. She made a low whine, curling her tongue rapidly in ways she knew would most excite and please. Diana began making low short snarls, then quick sharp yelps. She growled longer, deeper. Angharad worked her tongue around Diana's moist soft cunt, lapping up the creamy juice which had begun to flow. Diana spread her hind legs, her blonde plume of a tail held clear. She was pressing back to Angharad's thrusting tongue, calling out with longing. Ahhh! she gave a howl. She quivered and shook with orgasm under the other female's gentle tonguing. Angharad kept up a fervent licking till Diana pulled trembling away. Fired up and full of lust after the pleasures of Diana's orgasm, Angharad thrust her body alongside Diana's. Diana lay flat, already changing back, her limbs lengthening, her smooth pale naked skin glistening with a light sweat. Her eyes were a soft blue, vague with satisfaction. She cast an arm around the warm furry burrowing body of the other female, accepting the pressures of the thrusting bundle up against her. Angharad thrust her sex against a thigh now rounded and smooth. Jerking herself rapidly on Diana's leg, she felt the electric thrills tingling in her nerves. She made snuffling yelps, cries of fun. The pleasure coiled up tighter in her sinews, in her muscular frame. With a sudden shoving and a howl, she came in Diana's arms. They lay panting in each other's embrace. They were lying on a warm rug which Diana had providently spread on the ground. The air on their limbs was deliciously chill after the hot fuck they had enjoyed. Around them the noises of the woodland crept back: a bird sang three clear notes, the wind ruffled the pale green leaves. Beside them their clothes had been flung into hurried piles with on top a red and a blue collar, unbuckled and loose. A Pack of Tales Ch. 12 Copyright © 2013 Naoko Smith Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. Big thank you to Bramblethorn for the continued editing. This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. This chapter is a gay sex scene. ***** A Pack of Tales Ch. 12 - Gavin and Rob "I always loved you." Gavin parked up his car, got out and went to the farmhouse door. He was not surprised that there were no other vehicles in the yard: it was lunchtime, but it was a working day. His Da would be sitting on a fallen tree or in the four-wheel base vehicle, eating thick-cut sandwiches stuffed with meat. Col and the cubs would have the same on whatever site they were working at. Max would be lording it over select snacks provided for particular guests at some important do. Red might have sneaked out for a bite and a snog off her new girlfriend; Gavin chuckled at the thought. He just happened to be passing. He said to himself that there was no particular reason he tended these days to come by when only his mam was in the house. When he walked into the kitchen he was surprised not to find her there. It was all tidy, no cups with the dregs of tea left by the sink or on the big pine table. He walked back out, turning into the living-room just to check. He knew she must have got someone to drive her down to the shops or the station. He would have heard the noise of her bustling about if she had been in the house. He went into the sitting-room and found Robin lying over the hearthrug, leaning on one elbow and playing at that game they were all hooked on, on his tablet. He had earphones over his ears and was glaring hard at the screen. Col must've left him behind, perhaps he'd been lazy and slow to get out of bed that day. They had little work in hand and Col probably felt he could do without the additional bother of making up tasks for Rob. Gavin was obliged to walk right up to the fit muscular being lounging over the hearthrug before Robin looked up and saw him. Gavin was laughing and starting to say something teasing. He had lifted his foot to poke Robin in that hard washboard of a tummy. Robin pulled off the headphones and, putting the tablet aside, surged suddenly up from the hearthrug. He came up right in Gavin's arms: young and muscular, trembling with the hormones gushing through him. Gavin never had a chance to think about it. His arms wrapped tight around the young thing who was so close to him. Robin's hard strong grip cinched his chest and pulled him in. Their lips met in the passionate kiss Gavin had been avoiding for so long. Robin's tongue was pressing hard on his mouth. Robin was whining in the kiss. Gavin opened his mouth and sucked on the tongue that came shoving desperately in. He stroked down Robin's quivering back with an automatically soothing caress, while his tongue entwined Robin's in the wetness of his mouth. Robin was still gripping him as if for his life. So reluctantly he eventually withdrew from Gavin's kiss. The minute his mouth parted from Robin's, it came over Gavin what he had done. "Oh fuck, fuck!" he moaned. "Mam's gonna kill me! Fuck fuck." He tried to let Robin go but the cub clung to him. He pulled gently at Robin's arms. "For Christ's sake," he said. "I'll lose me job, butt. Give over." "No no!" Robin moaned. "I'm begging you, Gav! Don't let me go, don't let me go now." His tousled blond head came nestling in to Gavin's shoulder, he pressed kisses to Gavin's thin neck. "I can't!" Gavin said. "It's me job, and mam 'll kill me." "Why should you lose your job? I'm well over age," Robin pleaded. "What, me mam's foster child! And I'm working for the social. What do you think they'll say about it?" "I'm not a kiddy, Gav," Robin said. "Please! please! I've been waiting and waiting, and I've never found anyone but you. I'm begging you, Gav. Gavin." He drew the name out as he said it, in that whining possessive way that tried to claim you: Gavi-in. "You need someone your own age," Gavin insisted, pulling at Robin's arms. "I fucking don't!" Robin shouted, clinging to him. "I'm telling you, I've tried! Going down to the clubs, and Col's told Max not to let any of the older men near me. I don't fancy the other young men and Max warns off the older ones who hang out there." "Too fuckin' right!" Gavin exclaimed. "Bunch of predatory pervs, preying on young lads, trying to get them to go bareback or whatever." "But you're not," Robin said. "You wouldn't screw me over." Gavin fell silent, standing in the powerful embrace, held hard against the curving pectorals of Robin's muscular chest. He couldn't help it. The kid was fucking gorgeous: a big tousled blond lovely with a slow smile like the summer sun. His cock had hardened up as soon as Robin's lips met his, and it was throbbing now with lust. It was just lust! He couldn't do it. He'd kept his feelings secret, even from himself, for so long. He couldn't do it to the kid. The grip of the strong arms around his chest insisted that this was no kid any more. A young animal, maybe, but one who was maturing into a hell of a guy. There was no way that Gavin, with his feeble desk worker's physique, would be able to get some fully fit young werewolf, who spent his days heaving concrete slabs about, off of him. And his will was as weak as his arms. The thought of struggling and being pinned down by the lithe muscular being in his arms was making his cock throb even harder. "Jesus, Robin," he breathed into the ear by his mouth. "What the fuck do you want me for?" "I love you," Robin said simply. "I always have." Gavin knew it was the truth. Going up the stairs on autopilot, he led Robin to his old room rather than to Robin's room. It was just as it had been when he left to go to college: posters on the wall, whatever. He used it sometimes if he stopped over so his mam always kept the bed made up. Only a little single bed, they'd be a right squeeze in that! But that was what they wanted. They stood kissing long and tenderly. Robin was even more excited to be in Gavin's room, Gavin realised he must've been fantasising being fucked senseless in here for years. After a while, he began to undress the cub. He took his time, enjoying it. He caressed the pale skin, the rippling muscles on Robin's body as he pulled off his t-shirt. He pulled off his own jacket and shirt and pressed Robin to his thin bare chest, Robin let out a long whine as his skin kissed Gavin's skin. The scruffy chewed trainers were dragged off. How many times had Gavin laughed and said: "Give over, mam, he can't help it," when Christa gave Robin yet another earful because the kid had gnawed through some expensive designer trainers his dad had got him as a special treat. Gavin pulled Robin's jeans undone and down, and there was Robin's cock jutting proud and eager for him. It looked small because the thighs around it were huge - knotted tree trunks. Like Gavin cared about size. This was no fantasy fuck. He went to his knees and took Robin's cock gently in his mouth and sucked softly, raising his eyes to look in the lad's golden-brown eyes. The hard rod was protruding from the foreskin, Gavin tasted the salt lick of precum already oozing from the head of Robin's cock. Robin was shaking and whining with lust. Gavin stood up and hugged him tenderly. He felt Robin pulling at his trousers, he let Robin pull them down. He stood naked in the embrace of the muscled young werewolf, ashamed of his slack muscles. Robin's hands were gripping eagerly over his body, cupping with a sigh of pleasure on Gavin's flat buttock. "Better get this on before you get your collar off," Gavin murmured, pulling open a drawer in his bedside table to fish out a condom. "I'm a virgin!" Robin protested. "And I can trust you." "Don't be a plonker," Gavin scoffed. "Just get it on. C'mon my sweetheart," he crooned. "Oh fuck," Robin whispered. The huskily murmured endearment overpowered him. He felt molten, soft in Gavin's hands - except for his cock, which was a hard throbbing rod. He heard Gavin rip open the wrapper and firm fingers rolled the thin rubber over his tool. "Oh My God!" Robin moaned. Gavin was putting some lube to his own arse and now his fingers had come up to pull the buckle in Robin's plain brown collar. Robin felt the fur bursting out over his body, the surge of animal lust spurting up in him. He gave a howl as he fell into the narrow bed with Gavin. He buried his snout in Gavin's neck, nipping at it. Gavin made small cries and spread his legs. He was holding Robin's shaft, he positioned the head at his arsehole and Robin thrust in. They both cried out with pleasure. Robin began pushing in and out, hard and fast, Gavin rising up to meet his thrusting shaft. Gavin clung to the warm familiar furry bundle in his arms, feeling the pleasure in bursts through his own body. Fired up by the long sexy caressing he had enjoyed while undressing Robin, he was coming already, and Robin too. With a howl, Robin thrust down hard into him. Gavin began spurting off himself between their two stomachs. Robin was slowly changing. Gavin was lying back in his small single bed, dazed with pleasure. His arms were full of sweating panting human muscle lying heavy over him. He turned his head to look into Robin's face. They kissed. "My sweetheart," he murmured. Robin gave a whine and a wriggle of pleasure in his arms. A Pack of Tales Ch. 13 Please leave comments and feedback for me so I know what works and what doesn't as I write up the rest of this story. Diolch yn fawr to BrambleThorn! This series has two kinds of chapters: story chapters, called '(story)' in the blurb and sex scenes, called '(scene)' in the blurb. The sex scenes will be diverse. You can choose to read them all or, if e.g. hetero sex isn't your thing, to skip some and only read the story chapters and e.g. lesbian sex scenes. (You can identify which scenes are what kind of sex from the tags, the category the chapter is uploaded into and description at the start of the scene.) All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. This chapter is a lesbian sex scene, followed by a short section of story. A Pack of Tales Ch. 13 – Red Of collars and clothes (scene and story) "Let's keep them on," Diana said, putting her hand up to catch Red's fingers on the buckle of her collar. Red lifted her head from where she was licking under Diana's ear. "Oh ... alright," she said. "It's good to think," Diana suggested, patting Red's strawberry blonde hair back. "I like to think about how pretty you are." Her lip lifted from her teeth in her smile. "Oh ... yeah," Red said. She made a pleased quiver and managed to stop herself from asking: 'Do you really think I'm pretty?' Eagerly she returned to the soft downy skin by Diana's ear. She licked at it delicately. She flicked the earlobe with her tongue. Before she could begin running her tongue around the whorls of Diana's ear, Diana had turned in her arms. They kissed. Diana stroked her hair. Red snuffled in laughing fun. She loved it with the collar off, when you only responded to the rising impulses and feelings coursing through your body. This was fun too though. It was different, being aware mentally of Diana's slender long limbs, the leg laid around her hips. Red slid a hand down and began fingering Diana's knickers. Should she start pulling them off? If it was collars off, she wouldn't be wondering. She would know from Diana's panting and growling if her cunt was hot and wet and her bottom going up for it. The noises would drive her mad with desire, she would press her body to Diana's without a thought. She wanted it but her anxious mind held her back. Diana was lying, just kissing her and stroking her hair. Red gave a questing nudge with her hips between Diana's legs. Diana made a moan. She tightened her thighs around Red's hips. Red held her legs together and pushed into Diana's body. Diana put a hand down and gripped it on Red's buttock. Fuck me! Red suddenly really wanted to feel a finger in her cunt. She parted her legs hopefully but Diana rolled onto her back, tightening the grip of her own legs around Red's hips. Red began growling. Feeling was bristling in the back of her neck in spite of the collar. Not bothering with her own or Diana's knickers, she shoved at Diana's sex pressed to her. She felt the sheer cloth of Diana's silky briefs slide on her own cotton knickers. Diana was panting and holding her tight and close. Their human breasts were pressing, tingling with arousal. Red pressed her mouth to Diana's but Diana's head jerked away, she began grunting and clutching Red, tilting her crotch up so that Red pressed down through their knickers on her hot wet sex. The cotton gusset of Diana's sheer briefs must be soaking, Red's tongue flicked in her own mouth at the thought of that salty cream. Diana gave a sudden drawn-out moan through tightly clenched jaw. She pressed hard up, quivered and then lay still. Red lay, still throbbing with lust, pressed to the wet crotch of Diana's silky briefs. She longed for Diana's fingers in her cunt, craved the shove of penetration and the sensation of loved digits in her clutching muscles. At the same time, flickering dimly in the back of her mind, were shadowy figures who had violently entered her against her will. Give it time, Christa had said. Don't be frightened if at first it's hard to enjoy yourself. Don't push things. Have a little fun and slowly you'll get over it. Red wished that at least Diana would put a hand into her wet cotton knickers and rub on her clit. She didn't like to ask and Diana was breathing deep – satisfied, quiescent. Red felt that even if she pressed down on that slender thigh and jerked herself off on Diana's leg, Diana would be disturbed. Eventually she rolled to Diana's side and put her own hand to her warm throbbing pussy. She fingered and played with her erect nub of a clitoris. One of Diana's arms was still loosely about her, she lay in that languid embrace until she had finished her own snuffling and eager orgasm. Eventually she said: "We better get up and shower. You still want to come to the pub, don't you?" "Oh yes," Diana's clipped English voice was softened by sex. She lifted her pale blue gaze from under half-closed eyelids to Red. "We don't have to shower, though." "Uh ... mmm," Red said. She thought of going down the pub with the pack, smelling of cunt juice. They were her own pack and not one of them ever treated her other than as a pack sister. Still. "Um, I think I'll take a shower," she mumbled, moving slowly from Diana's side. Diana watched her when she came back in from the shower. She sat up suddenly in a rush of slender limbs, her small breasts jiggled. Red was taking some jeans off the shelf the boys had put up for her. Red was still living in the little room by Christa and Rex, although it was getting to be a squeeze fitting in the clothes Max made her buy to wear to work. "Why don't you wear something nice?" Diana's tone was coaxing. Red turned her head in surprise. "Wear that blue suit," Diana suggested. "It's the weekend," Red said blankly. "You look so good in that suit," Diana said. "It's a bit tight," Red said. "I'm getting fat," she added with a laugh, looking under her lashes at Diana. Diana just sat in a sprawl of pale slender limbs, with a glint of teeth in her smile. "I should go out with the others for a run. Wouldn't you like to come too?" Red asked. "Collars off," she said. Diana's smile disappeared and her eyes became suddenly cold. "You want me to run collar off with the pack?" "They're not like that," Red urged. "It's such fun! To run with the pack." Diana looked narrowly at her then smiled again. "Why don't we go down the gym together some time?" she suggested. "Um ... yeah," Red said, slowly putting her jeans back on the shelf. "I guess." "I'll go and shower," Diana said. ~#~ Red came down the stairs and into the living room. "You look smart," Christa said in a surprised voice. "Oh ... thank you," Red said shyly. Max's and Diana's heads turned from the sofa where they were sitting. Diana made a satisfied smile, seeing her girlfriend's soft prettiness enhanced by the smart blue trouser suit she wore. Max turned his head back to his iPad. Red hesitated whether to sit with them but Diana had put her long legs up on the sofa, there wasn't much room. She went to the armchair by the door, pausing to try and brush some of the hairs off it so as to save her work suit. Diana had leaned over to look at what Max was reading. "What language is that?" she asked. "Rumanian or something?" Her mouth opened in the silent laugh. Max's head lifted with his piercing blue eyes narrowed. "It's Welsh," he said. "Oh yah," Diana said languidly. "Is that right, that everything here has to be translated into Welsh?" She was still leaning in close to Max and looking through her lashes up at him. "No," Max said. "Things written by native Welsh speakers have to be translated into English." "Wow, what a lot of money must go on that," Diana said. "Why don't you just speak English? There, I just solved your budget problem for you." Max's eyes were always cold but at this they seemed to acquire a chill so Arctic it could freeze your breath. "Goodness me, sweetheart, is that the time?" Christa cut in. "Where's Col, now? Go and look for him, Max. Oh here he is! Let's be going then." Col came momentarily into the living-room, casting a sullen assessing glance around at them all. His eyes lighted on Red in the smart blue suit and narrowed. He tilted his head at her and his gaze slid to Diana on the sofa next to Max. "Where's Rikki?" he asked in the truculent tone of suffering which was always in his voice these days. "He's started going to the Holly Bush," Rob answered. "What the Foock for?!" Col said angrily. "Come on, now, let's be going," Christa said. She bustled forward to start shepherding them out, adroitly managing to get Rob and Gavin separated. Rob looked pleadingly at Gavin but Gavin only shook his head with a grin. "I'll have a chat with her," he murmured as they all jostled through the narrow hallway. He managed to get in a grope of Rob's backside while his mam's sharp eye was on Max's still bristling back. Rob climbed contentedly into the back of Nye's and Jenks's van. Gavin opened his car doors for Christa, Rex and Max. Diana had hooked her arm in Red's and was standing close behind Col, waiting to get into the van. She made a move forwards, as if she expected him to help the two of them in. "I'll go and look for the foocking cub," Col said abruptly, swinging away towards the Alfa Romeo Spider which remained defiantly gleaming in the yard. It provided a job for the cubs when work was slow. They had waxed and polished it so many times recently that Col was surprised there was any paint left on it. "Shall we come with you?" Diana suggested solicitously. Col pretended he had not heard her, pulling open the car door with a barely suppressed violence he did not usually show to cars or women.