Touched by the Moon Pt. 09

09.

Losing Control

Werewolf sex was messy.

A werewolf orgy was...even more-so.

Sam had already suspected that would be the case, so she was absolutely thrilled to find out that just off the mud room at the back of the diner was a small walk-in shower: tile floor, concrete walls, enough room and faucets for three or four people to share the space--the room was snug, but functional. After an encounter like the one they'd shared, Sam insisted that the ladies have first dibs; thankfully, the men didn't argue.

That was how Sam found herself crowded into the little shower room with Susie and Claudia, soaping up and washing off the leftovers of what had transpired in the dining area. The steamy air was warm, but it also felt electric to Sam, with tiny tinglings sweeping across her bare flesh--she could've sensed where the other women were with her eyes closed. She could still feel what they were feeling, a sensation that she was still trying to get used to. It felt similar to what she imagined mind-reading might be like, becoming attuned to their emotions in real-time.

Susie was embarrassed, but kept looking over at Sam while she scrubbed her hair. Given how much Susie kept licking her lips, it made Sam think of the impromptu kiss they'd shared across the bar. When Susie caught Sam looking, she almost jumped and turned away, focusing hard on her bathing.

Claudia was a different beast altogether. She wasn't afraid to look right at Sam and not turn away, but even though there was a hint of challenge from the older woman, what Sam sensed was more of something more akin to disbelief.

"What is it?" Sam said.

"So you're a Dominant, now?" Claudia's tone wasn't hostile, but there was a very obvious hint of doubt. "Is that right?"

Sam let the hot spray pour over her head and down her shoulders and back; it felt like a baptism in liquid fire, making herself into a new creation. The issue of nakedness was so distant by that point Sam wondered why she'd cared about it at all. "That's right." She straightened and slicked her hair back across her scalp.

"What's it like?"

Claudia's question surprised Sam. She paused, watching the steam clouds rise. "It's like..." Sam pursed her mouth. "It feels like hearing what you're thinking, almost. I can feel what you're feeling, but something in my brain is processing that into something I can understand. Right now, you're both tired. You're both still afraid, probably about tomorrow, but less-so than when you got here. You're both still turned on after what happened--" Susie blushed, while Claudia gave a little grin "--and I think you're surprised at what I'm saying, which makes sense since I would totally be the same way."

The two submissive women, already close enough to touch, drew in even closer. Susie felt the same as before--apprehensive, uncertain--but now Claudia was completely focused and attentive, hanging on Sam's every word. She was taller than the girls by several inches; slightly softer in her midsection, which made sense, given that she was older; her breasts were bigger, and hung down ever so slightly askew, as the left breast was the tiniest bit bigger than the right. "'Turned on,' huh?"

Sam didn't flinch, but rather gave a little smile. "Nothing wrong with that."

"So what's with you and Wren?" Susie asked, leaning in closer. She cast a look at the open doorway, as if worried someone was listening in.

"Well..." Sam's voice faded out for a moment. "He's cute. His truck is a death trap, but he's nicer than some other guys I've been with before."

Susie's eyes went a little wide.

Claudia laughed. "You said you never had a pack back in California?"

Sam shook her head. "Never. This is the first." By that time the soap--and no small amount of what she'd washed it with--was all rinsed off. She cut off the faucet and reached around the corner for one of the towels hanging on a row of hooks outside. "I didn't plan on it happening this way, but too late to back out now." She shrugged while wiping her face dry.

The other women shut off their showers and took the towels Sam offered in silent thanks. "Something else I wanna know," Claudia said.

"What's that?" Sam said.

"What's in it for you?" The brunette's eyes were especially focused at that moment. "You're still a stranger here. Sucks what happened to your dad, I get that, but you don't have to stick out your neck for any of us. So--why?"

"Because I do have to." Sam didn't back down. Claudia might not be a Dominant, but the woman didn't show fear easily. Sam could feel that the other woman was indeed afraid, but it was buried under so much stubbornness and bravado that very little of it bubbled up to the surface.

"I saw how Tennessee looked at me," Sam answered, more softly. "I know what Phil said about what he did to all of you--if he got the chance, Tenn would do the same to me. Maybe worse, because it'll hurt my dad even more to see it." Sam scrubbed her hair for a moment, trying to compose her thoughts, and finally just blurted out the first words that came to mind: "Tennessee's a bully. If he tries to touch me--or either of you--I'll rip his fucking balls off."

Claudia's eyes got a little wider. "Serious?"

Sam pulled the towel down to her shoulders. "As a heart attack."

The submissive women both shared a look, and Susie finally smiled. "I like her."

"You'd better," Claudia answered. "Don't forget that she kissed you."

Susie blushed again and hurried out of the room, tucking the towel tight around her body. Claudia just gave Sam a toothy grin and walked out next. "C'mon Susie, don't be embarrassed! Lots of girls are into that sort of thing these days!"

It was a strange, surreal moment, one that left Sam wondering just what she'd really gotten herself into. But there was no going back. The full moon would arrive in twenty-four hours. Sam had to be ready for it.

The Meet broke up not long after that. Everyone agreed to return again the following day--there wasn't talk of conflicting schedules, of other responsibilities outside of the pack. No one raised any objections. For better or for worse, tomorrow would decide the fate of the little group, and of Sam, as well.

Most filtered out in ones and twos while Bubba and Susie cleaned up. Sam lingered as well, since she didn't have a ride home unless Wren's dad showed up again. She hadn't even gotten dressed yet, but sat by herself at the bar, still draped in her half-dried towel. She felt antsy and irritable, soaking in so much of the emotions of others that she wasn't sure what to do about her own. The moon wasn't helping things, and being so close and so full rest Sam was distracted by all sorts of other feelings.

No wonder Tennessee had turned the pack into his own collection of private playmates--Sam could feel that very temptation lurking at the back of her mind, taunting her like a little man with a pitchfork on her shoulder. Was being a werewolf nothing more than obsessing over dicks and holes and bodily fluids?

Sam tried to focus on other things. She thought about Phil, about her coming fight with Tennessee, about that frightening transformation she'd undertaken out in the woods. Her mind was as irritable as she was, as thoughts and memories flickered and flashed behind her eyes as she stared down at the bar.

"You alright?"A familiar voice broke Sam out of her distractions, but for the first time in awhile, she didn't welcome the sound of it.

"No, Cowboy, I'm not." Her hands curled into fists and unfurled again, over and over. "I feel sick. I'm angry. I'm afraid. I'm horny as hell. And I want to hurt someone." She looked up at him, her mouth twisted up with distaste. "That sounds alright to you?"

To the man's credit, he didn't flinch. "Reckon I didn't have to be no Dominant to know that." Wren sat down on the stool next to her. He was dressed in just his boxer-briefs, as if it was perfectly natural to be walking around half-naked in public--not that Sam had any room to comment on that, seeing as how she hadn't even gotten dressed yet. His dirty-blond hair was loose, and some of it fell across his face as he leaned in closer, looking her right in the eye. "I know just what you need, Sam." He spoke in a hushed voice, almost like he didn't want to be overheard.

"Okay--what do I need, Cowboy?" Sam didn't want to smile, but the playful look on his face, combined with his demeanor and conspiratorial whispering made it hard to resist. He was charming, if a bit rough around the edges in places.

Wren looked around the bar, which was currently empty--Bubba was somewhere in the back, and Susie was sweeping the front step outside. He leaned in closer. "Ya need to get out awhile. That'll cure what ails ya." He jerked his chin towards the tinted windows at the moonlit night, and the dark line of trees in the distance. "Being penned up in here ain't good fer ya."

"But your Dad--"

"--ain't a problem," he said, cutting her off. "He knows well enough I'll call 'im if I need a ride. So don't worry yer purty little head over that."

Sam turned her head and stared out at the trees for a time. The longer she looked, the more Sam began to feel like they were indeed beckoning to her, calling her back. After growing up with no nearby woods or forest at all, it surprised her to note just how strong the calling was--she could feel the urge like an itch crawling around under the surface of her skin, impossible to scratch or soothe.

"Okay, let's go, then." Sam pulled the towel off and left it sitting on the bar. Walking around it, she didn't even wait to see if Wren was following her, and walked right by a surprised looking Bubba who was coming out of a rear storeroom. Sam made it to the mud room, slid into her furry form on four legs and hit the swinging door at a jog, sniffing once as she emerged into the cool outdoors to take a long, deep breath. She heard the door swing again behind her as the other wolf appeared, but Sam was already running, picking up speed as she made for the deeper shade of the trees.

Damnit, Sam had to admit that Wren was right. As soon as she got outside, she could feel her tension start to fade; by the time Sam passed into thicker darkness under the trees, it was nearly gone. Her eyes were focused and her nose was so fine-tuned she could've run with her eyes closed and avoided stumbling or running into anything--not that she tried, but it was always a little surprising to find out just how alert her senses were when she slid into her fur coat. It felt like walking around with a blindfold on, only to finally pull it off and realize just how alive the world around her really was.

She ran, and Wren in his silver fur was right behind her the whole time. It didn't matter how long they ran--a minute, an hour or even longer--the world melted away and Sam was free to live in that eternal moment. The air tasted sweet and cold on her tongue, and she savored it. The earth and clay were wet and thick between the pads of her feet, and the smells around her were almost overwhelming at times, hard for her half-human brain to keep track of.

Finally, Sam reached the point where she didn't want to run anymore. Surrounded by tall pine trees under the glow of the moon, she slowed to a walk, then stopped altogether. Wren, still full of energy, bounded onto a toppled tree and looked down at her, his eyes shining in the dark.

Sam slid back into her human skin and stood up. The air was cool, and she broke out in gooseflesh, so much of it that she hugged her arms tight about her belly. The trees were so close together and the shadows so thick that they could've been anywhere--it was hard to believe that civilization was just a short distance away. She cast her eyes to the dark sky overhead. "What the fuck am I doing, Cowboy?"

When Sam looked back, he was sitting on the tree, ankles crossed, looking completely at ease in spite of the darkness and the cold night air. "Reckon yer doin' what you think ya gotta do, Sam. That's a noble cause."

Sam sniffed. "I'm not noble. I'm in too deep and I'm too stupid to get out now. Tennessee is going to rip me to pieces."

His smirk was empty, mirthless. "Gettin' cold feet, now?" Wren pushed to his feet. "Can't say as I blame ya, neither."

"You could," she countered. "I'm the one who got myself into this mess. What the fuck am I doing?" She repeated herself, but now she sounded angry. "If Tennessee doesn't kill me, he might make me wish he had. I don't even know how I got away from him last time!"

"What, ya'll need somebody to fight?" Wren hopped up onto the tree on the balls of his feet. "Ever fight anybody before?"

"Well..." Sam hesitated.

"Wanna fight me?"

"What? No!"

"Well, why not? Don't think you can take me?" He bared his teeth and did his best snarl, or the best he could manage in a human guise. "I'll give ya a good show, trust me."

"Cowboy, I don't--"

But Wren was already sliding, already changing. He hopped onto the ground on all fours, hackles up, fangs bared. The way he stepped towards her looked genuinely threatening enough, at least enough so that Sam backed up a step.

"Cut it out, Wren."

He snarled, that time much more convincingly, and snapped his jaws on empty air.

"Stop it!" Sam bared her teeth and focused all of her Dominance onto him--she could sense his fear, but it was fear for her, concern of what was going to happen if she wasn't prepared to face Tennessee Watkins and win. That fear was pushing him to irrational behavior, and she squashed it like grinding a bug into the dirt with her heel.

Wren lost his angry look, the raised fur and bared fangs. He even whined and lay down in the dirt, covering his nose with both paws, looking up at her with as close to an apologetic look as a wolf could have.

"Cut that shit out," Sam said, scolding him, not trying to hide it. "Beating up on you isn't going to make me any less afraid."

When he sat up, Wren was back in his bare skin again. His eyes were downcast, but he managed to find the strength to look up at her. "Sorry, Sam," he said, sounding contrite. "Jus' wanted to help, is all."

"I know, damnit." Sam sat down on the cold, moist ground with him, legs crossed. To her surprise, he tried to pull her into his lap, and she let him--his arms, his touch and skin, it all felt good. She looked out into the darkness of the trees and sighed. "I know," she repeated, more softly. "Maybe that's why I have to try this--I just want to help."

He pressed a kiss at her temple, making Sam close her eyes. "Won't nobody blame you if you chicken out, darlin.'"

"I'll blame me," Sam grumbled. "Stop trying to talk me out of it, Cowboy. I'm nervous enough as it is."

Wren was quiet for a long time, as if she'd cowed him to silence, but Sam didn't believe that for a second--he might have been a submissive, but Wren had never struck her as the kind to take being bossed around very easily.

"Something I want to know," Sam said to fill up the silence. "Something I never asked you about."

"What's that?"

She twisted, looking up at him from over one shoulder. Sam thought he looked rather attractive from that angle; it was a good look for him. "When you first took me home--why did Dez call you 'Wilbur'?"

He tensed up, flexed his jaw. Rather than look back at her, he kept his eyes focused out at the trees, lashes low, glaring at something only he could see. "Reckon ya know who Wilbur was, Sam."

Sam nodded. "From the book, right? Charlotte's Web."

"That's the one." Wren licked his lips. "Wilbur was a pig."

Again, Sam nodded.

"The way I heard it: a 'pig' is what ya call a feller what gets passed around ta other fellers. Wilbur's the nickname Tennessee and his boys called me when they were...ah...passin' me around." He spoke very quietly, as if saying too much at too high a volume might summon the men from out of the shadows.

It took Sam a moment to realize what Wren was referring to. When she did, she gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Shit. Wren--"

"Don't, Sam." Wren seemed as tense as a tightened string, ready to snap at the slightest pressure. His eyes were closed and his teeth were bared like he wanted to snarl again; every muscle in his neck and shoulders seemed to be pulled taut.

Sam wasn't sure what she was or wasn't supposed to do. All she could do at that moment was turn around in his lap and hug him tight. She didn't--couldn't--say anything, so she buried her face into his neck and squeezed him as tight as she could; the man was shaking, as if the night's chill had suddenly sunk into his bones and hollowed him out.

Whether they stayed that way for half a minute, or ten of them, or even longer, Sam was never quite sure. Eventually his shaking slowed and he was able to hug her back, squeezing her so tight that she fought not to grunt or to start wheezing from shortness of breath.

"That was 'fore Phil put a stop to things." Wren sounded remarkably calm, given what they were discussing. "That's why I called 'im and left my daddy out-a it--he didn't need to know."

"That's why you got so angry when you saw Tennessee again."

Wren nodded, not seeing fit to explain further.

"I'm sorry, Wren. I shouldn't have asked."

"Shit, girl, it is what it is. It ain't that way anymore--that's what matters most ta me."

"Right." Sam looked him in the eye for a long moment, then gave into another impulse: she took his face in her hands and kissed him. It took his breath away--she could hear his sharp intake of breath through flared nostrils, feel the lingering tension in his body tighten again, but it melted away quickly under the assault of her warm mouth and naked body. Wren's fingers were tight against the skin of her back and bottom, and he clung to her, as though she was the only thing keeping his old memories at bay.

Sam couldn't make the memories go away. But she could counter them as much as possible. When he broke the kiss and looked away, she turned him back again. "Look at me, Cowboy, look." His eyes were narrowed, but Wren didn't flinch or turn away a second time. "He can't touch you anymore. Nobody touches you ever again that I don't know about. If this works, Tennessee Watkins is gone. You'll be mine, you hear me?"

Sam could feel his anger, his frustration and lust, the way the moon was throwing all of his self-control for a tailspin. She had the same feeling, and now, she welcomed its cold light and the way it set her heart to pounding. It wasn't a rational desire, it wasn't what the human part of her knew to be the right decision--it was the wolf, the predator in her that was claiming him for herself. Instinct told her to take him, and instinct would be obeyed.

Reaching down between her legs, Sam found his cock and coiled her fingers around it. Wren grunted and his eyes closed, but that was from surprise, not displeasure. She could feel him swelling in her fingers practically by the second, that curious mix of human and lupine flesh; her mouth was already watering, imagining how good the tie was going to be. "You want to fuck me again, Wren?"

His hunger was shining in his eyes. "Fuck yes, I do," he whispered.

Sam started stroking him, as lewd a thing as she could do, holding his eyes, watching his body tremble with his breathing. "You're gonna bend me over and make me howl, aren't you, Wren?" His hard dick slid through her fingers, slippery and thick. "You're gonna tie with me and make me your bitch tonight, aren't you?"