Title: Werewolves

Author/pseudonym: Yeo

Fandom: Original

Paring: Storm/Linden (both original)

Rating: NC-17

Status: repost (earlier posted to the Kix list). It's been changed a bit since then.

Archive: Yes, if you want it.

E-mail address for feedback: egy736p@tninet.seegy736p@tninet.se

Series/Sequel: Yes, but I don't have a name for the series.

Other websites: No. My ISP does not allow this sort of stories

Disclaimers: Actually, since they are original characters... they are mine!

Notes: Read the warnings!

Summary: Storm and Linden try to accept Storm's father's death

Warnings: Original. Slash. Werewolves. Death. Cannibalism. Mention of sex with animals. Flashbacks to torture. I think that's all. Please don't read it while you are eating. Not beta-read.



Werewolves
by Yeo

The old werewolf lay dead. It's throat was ripped open and still bleeding. The younger, victorious, werewolf threw up his head and started to howl. Then, he began to feed, taking large bites out of the corpse.

In a corner of the large room, as far away from the eating animal as possible, a pair of armed guards helped a young man to stand up. One of his legs was bleeding from a deep bite and he felt sick, but he couldn't look away from the sight of his lover. Was this creature really the person that he'd held in his arms last night?

The fight had turned serious so quickly, there had been no time to stop it. Linden had always known there was a dangerous side to the young werewolf, but this was a lot worse than he'd ever believed possible. Yes, his lover had been trying to protect him from the older werewolf, but... Had it really been necessary to kill? And how would his beloved feel in a few hours, after turning back into a human being? What could a man feel, knowing he'd killed and eaten his own father?


~~~~~
Storm woke up, slowly, feeling dizzy and confused. That was a natural aftereffect of the Change. But, why had he Changed this time? What had happened? He usually had such good control over himself that he could stop it before it went too far. This time, he'd obviously lost the fight with his inner beast. But... What was he doing here, on the floor of the Great Hall? And where was Linden?

He tried to get up, but couldn't find the strength to move that much of his body. Then he tried to move his head, to see the rest of the room. The Guards were standing in their proper places. He knew better than to ask them why they hadn't tried to help him up. They all had strict orders to stay away from any member of the Family who was Changed. After all, most Werewolves couldn't see the difference between a trusted Guard and a piece of meat when they were in animal form.

There was dried blood on his face, around his mouth. He'd eaten something. Fresh meat. Probably something he'd killed. But what? Hopefully, only an animal. Most of the humans in the Castle had enough sense to stay away. And the Guards knew he didn't want to eat humans, so they did not bring him slaves to eat. He knew they did it for his father, of course. But the only time they'd done it for him was five years ago and he'd killed half a dozen of the Guards as punishment.

He continued to look around the room. Linden... Where was Linden? Surely he hadn't hurt his beloved? Please, Gods, not Linden! Please...

Something lay in a small heap on the floor. Bloody bones and fur. It smelled awful. Wait... Fur? Then it wasn't Linden. It wasn't any human at all. Right? Only an animal. Yes. Thank God.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.


~~~~
Linden waited impatiently while the Healer cleaned and bandaged his leg. It hurt, but he was used to pain. He'd been a slave for most of his life, before Storm had bought him and freed him. Being bitten by a werewolf wasn't even half as painful as being whipped.

*** Flashback***

The young slave was brought up to the whipping post, naked and trembling. He tried not to cry, knowing it would only amuse the Guards. His arms and legs were chained, to prevent escape. The Chief Torturer stepped forward, with a heavy whip in one hand. The first lash sent a wave of pure agony through his body and he screamed. The second, third and fourth lashes felt like fire across his back. The Chief Torturer was counting out the lashes, pausing between each of them to make sure the slave would feel each lash separately.

By the fifth lash, he'd screamed his throat raw. And after the seventh he was unconscious. But they had woken him up and the punishment had continued. The Master had ordered ten lashes, so that's what he got.

*** End flashback***

It had taken a month to recover from that whipping. And then he'd been sold, as damaged goods, on the Town Market. Gods, he'd been so afraid. Usually, only the most rebellious and unreliable slaves were whipped that badly. After all, slaves weren't cheap and a cripple wouldn't be able to work hard enough to be worth the cost.

Unfortunately, his latest Master had been rich enough that he could afford to lose the money. So Linden had been whipped half to death for the crime of being unable to arouse his Master in bed. Never mind the fact that the man had been old and sickly, or that no one else had been able to get him aroused for months. Linden had been bought speci- fically for his skills in bed, so he should have been able to do it.

No prospective buyer would believe the truth, even if he'd dared to tell them. And most of them wouldn't have cared anyway. After all, a slave had no rights and could be used and punished in whatever way the owner wanted.

*** Flashback (2) ***

He'd been dragged up to the small platform, naked, by a pair of Guards and positioned, forced to bend over with spread legs. The scars were clearly visible from a couple of meters away. Most of the potential buyers lost interest at the sight. The auctioneer called out a quick description, in a bored tone, knowing he was unlikely to get much for someone that badly damaged.

A couple of brothel owners placed low bids. After all, some of their customers were too drunk to notice things like scars. But even they were unwilling to pay much for him. Then...

Then a young man in black leather and bloodred velvet had been there, looking at him, with silvery eyes. Touching him, with soft hands. Placing a bid that was high enough to satisfy the auctioneer and make everyone else step aside.

*** End flashback (2) ***

He still didn't understand what had made Storm buy him. After all, the young Werewolf was rich enough to buy whatever pretty bedslave he wanted. So why would he chose someone with a permanently scarred back? Someone whose body had been used so often that he was almost wide open? Someone whose training as a bedslave obviously hadn't been good enough, since he'd failed to arouse his old Master.

Oh, he knew that Storm cared about him and maybe even loved him, now, but he did not believe in love at first sight. And why had Storm freed him, after that first month? He knew that a single month of sex wasn't enough to repay the cost of his purchase. So, what had made Storm do it? Could the Werewolf really had fallen in love that quickly? And, if he had... Why free the person he loved? There had been absolutely no way to be sure that Linden would stay.

He had stayed in Storm's bed and gone with him to the Castle. Partly because he had nowhere else to go and partly because Storm had been kind to him. The fact that the other man was a Werewolf had scared him at first, but he had quickly realized that Storm wasn't the evil monster that most stories said Werewolves were.

He had to go back to the Great Hall, before Storm woke up. Only the Gods knew how his soft-hearted lover would react to having killed and eaten his own father. Linden needed to be there, to hold and comfort him. The old man had been a cruel and insane monster. But he'd still been Storm's father.

Finally, the Healer was finished. Linden tried to stand up, but the leg was too weak to hold his weight. One of the Guards came forward to help him. That was something that had changed after he'd been freed. When he was a slave, all Guards had been cruel tormentors. Now they were helpful and almost friendly. Of course, he knew most of that was because he was the young Lord's favourite. And now the young Lord was the only Lord of the Castle.

Together, Linden and the Guard walked back to the Great Hall.


~~~~~
Storm woke up with a scream. Oh, Gods, what a horrible nightmare. It had felt so real. His lover had been in danger. There had been fighting and... killing? He had dreamed that he'd killed his father. What sort of sick dream was that? Yes, he hated the old man, but he wouldn't kill him. So why would his mind send him such horrible dreams?

He felt stiff and cold from lying on the stone floor. It was one thing to do it in animal form, covered in thick fur, and something entirely different to do it as a naked human. It was uncomfortable and quite painful. It wasn't the first time, of course. When he was in animal form, he disliked heights and that included beds. So he usually woke up on the floor, after Changing back into a human.

But... Hadn't he already woken up, once, this morning? As a human? Yes. So why hadn't anyone moved him to his own room? The Guards knew enough about Werewolves to know that he wouldn't have the strength to change back into animal form for at least a month. So they wouldn't have been in any danger. And Linden usually made sure he was covered by a cloak or something.

Linden. Where was Linden?

He tried to use smell to locate the young man. But all he could smell was the dead thing on the floor. The stench was disgusting. It would have to be moved away and burned, before it attracted all sorts of vermin. Or maybe the Creature in the cellar would like to eat it. After all, she seemed willing to eat almost anything, as long as it couldn't fight back.

With a shudder, Storm got up from the floor. He really didn't want to think about the Creature. That horrible, pitiful thing that was half Werewolf and half real dog. In human form it had less brains than a two-year-old. In animal form it was as insane as the old man. Which wasn't so odd, since it was the old man's daughter. Storm's thirteen-year-old halfsister.

Storm couldn't understand how anyone could possibly want to have sex with a real dog. But, of course, the old man had been in animal form at the time. Maybe the real question was how the dog had managed to keep the Werewolf from eating her. After all, all of the old man's human bedmates, including Storm's mother, had been killed and eaten. Some of them had managed to stay alive for months, sometimes even years, but the final result had always been the same.

That was the reason he had freed Linden. A slave would have been forced to stay and take the chance of being eaten. A free man could leave and escape. The decision had been painful, but neccessary. He hadn't wanted to become like his father. After all, the old man hadn't been born a monster. Something had changed him. The old witchwoman in the West Tower had mentioned a first love that had gone wrong. An innocent young girl, killed and eaten by the boy who loved her.

He wasn't sure if the story was true or not, since the woman wasn't quite right in the head. But she was the one who had kept him safe during his childhood, so he owed her the courtesy of at least pretending to believe her tales. Unfortunately, if the story was true, there was a possibility that he would one day become the same kind of monster.

So he had tried to make Linden leave. But the young man had chosen to stay. Part of him wanted to dance with joy at the thought of keeping his lover. But the other part of him was terrified at the thought of what could happen if he lost control one day.


PART FIVE
Guardsman Ross tried not to look at the dead body. Or the young Lord Storm. Gods! What was going to happen now? The young Lord had killed the old Lord. Some people would call it murder. There was a fancy word for that sort of thing, but Guardsman Ross had been born as a simple peasant, so he wasn't sure what the word was and didn't really care about it.

The important thing was that the old Lord, the crazy old Werewolf, was dead. Young Lord Storm was the new Lord of the Castle and the surrounding lands. The question was how long he'd be able to keep it. All the neighbours had been afraid of the old man. They'd hated him, yes, but they'd been too afraid to do anything about him.

Lord Storm, on the other hand, was young and soft-hearted. Too soft. Almost innocent, in some weird way. Yes, he was a Werewolf, but he wasn't really a killer. Except... He had killed his own father, last night, to protect his lover. So maybe there was something of the old man's strength in him. The question was if that strength could be directed into fighting to keep the Castle from the Lords of neighbouring Castles.

The young Lord, no, the Lord of the Castle, was standing up now. Looking at the dead body. He wasn't saying anything. No nasty comments about old men. No shocked hysterics. Nothing.

Guardsman Ross looked at his fellow Guardsman, Kyrin. The other man shrugged, looking as if he didn't understand the silence either. Then they both looked at their new Lord, unsure of how to approach him. The old Lord would have punished them for interrupting him without permission. Lord Storm was, usually, less violent. But they still remembered that time, five years ago, when Lord Storm had killed some of the Guards over the death of a slave. They still didn't understand why he'd done it, but they did remember.


~~~~~~
Linden and the Guard entered the room. Storm turned around at the sound of their approaching feet. He smiled, when he saw who it was. Linden! Finally. Thank the Gods! His beloved was safe. Alive and safe.

Linden stared at Storm, uncertainly. Yes, that soft, warm, smile was Storm's usual way of greeting him. But...Should his lover look so happy when his father lay dead only a few steps away? Even Linden could feel a slight stench from the corpse. Surely it would be much worse for the Werewolves' sensitive nose.

Storm's smile faltered when he noticed the odd expression on Linden's face. What was wrong? Had something happened? Wait... Linden had been limping, supported by the Guard. o, no. No. Please, Gods, no. Surely he hadn't hurt his lover last night. Please...

"Linden? Love... Did I hurt you?" he whispered, uncertainly.

"No. No, Storm, you didn't hurt me. Don't you remember?" Linden stepped closer, reaching out a hand towards Storm.

"Remember what? I woke up on the floor, after Changing back to human form. You were gone. I was afraid I'd killed you. Now you're here. Alive. What have I forgotten?" Storm walked quickly to meet Linden halfway through the room and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You... You killed..." Linden looked up at Storm, with tears in his eyes.

"Killed what?" Storm was confused. Surely it had only been an animal?

"You... Your father...You killed him!" Linden whispered.


~~~~~
Linden and the Guard entered the room. Storm turned around at the sound of their approaching feet. He smiled, when he saw who it was. Linden! Finally. Thank the Gods! His beloved was safe. Alive and safe.

Linden stared at Storm, uncertainly. Yes, that soft, warm, smile was Storm's usual way of greeting him. But...Should his lover look so happy when his father lay dead only a few steps away? Even Linden could feel a slight stench from the corpse. Surely it would be much worse for the Werewolves' sensitive nose.

Storm's smile faltered when he noticed the odd expression on Linden's face. What was wrong? Had something happened? Wait... Linden had been limping, supported by the Guard. o, no. No. Please, Gods, no. Surely he hadn't hurt his lover last night. Please...

"Linden? Love... Did I hurt you?" he whispered, uncertainly.

"No. No, Storm, you didn't hurt me. Don't you remember?" Linden stepped closer, reaching out a hand towards Storm.

"Remember what? I woke up on the floor, after Changing back to human form. You were gone. I was afraid I'd killed you. Now you're here. Alive. What have I forgotten?" Storm walked quickly to meet Linden halfway through the room and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You... You killed..." Linden looked up at Storm, with tears in his eyes.

"Killed what?" Storm was confused. Surely it had only been an animal?

"You... Your father...You killed him!" Linden whispered.


~~~~
Storm stared at his lover. Then he turned to look at the dead thing on the floor. His father. He'd killed his own father.

A part of him was happy that the old man was dead. After all, he'd been a monster. Another part, the animal side of him, felt a cold and viscious satisfaction. He'd fought for the position of pack-leader and won. He... The dream! So it wasn't a dream. It was a memory.

The old man had Changed and atacked Linden. Storm had lost control of his own inner beast and fought to defend his mate. The battle had probably only lasted for a few minutes, but it had felt like hours. Biting, scratching and clawing. Breaking bones. Blood everywhere. Then, the feel of his own teeth on a hairy throat. Biting deeply, tearing out large pieces of fur and flesh. Eating.

Gods! He'd eaten his own father. Killed him and eaten him.

The human side of him, where his conscience resided, felt sick. He shivered in horror over the memories. Killing was one thing. He could have justified that. The old man had been insane and dangerous. It was only good sense to kill that sort of person, before it dragged other people down into the madness. But... eating...

Werewolves were meat-eaters. Fresh, newly-killed meat was a neccessary part of a Werewolf's diet. Half-humans, like himself, could eat other food too, but they still needed the meat. He'd tried to stop eating meat, once. But he'd been sick and half-crazy with hunger after only a few days. The greens and roots had only made him throw up. Then he'd been forced to keep a meat-only diet for half a year before he could try even a small taste of greens.

But it was one thing to eat the meat from an animal and something entirely different to eat part of another Werewolf. Oh, he knew it happened, in the wilds. But this was a civilized country. And he was a scholar and a Lord. Not some kind of starved beast that had no choice.

He'd killed humans. Once, while Changed. Another time as a human, using a sword. He had ordered deaths, more than once, when he'd felt it was neccessary. And once, he had eaten human meat. The human he'd killed while Changed. A young slave, bound and helpless, thrown into the room by the Guards. He had torn the boy apart and eaten the corpse.

When he woke up that morning, he had ordered the deaths of the Guards that had sent the boy to him. But watching them hang hadn't made him feel better. Although it had made sure it would never happen again.

And now, he'd killed and eaten another Werewolf. A being like himself. Did that mean he, himself, was destined to end up the same way? Killed by a younger member of the family and then eaten. Maybe. If he ever became as crazy as the old man, death would be a mercy. And maybe that was how he should see this. A mercy-killing. A quick and kind way of ending the old Werewolf's life of madness.

The problem was, this nice explanation didn't excuse the eating part. If he'd used a sword to do the killing, quickly and cleanly, there would have been almost no regrets. But the tearing and ripping and eating...

His thoughts were interrupted by soft hands that touched his face. Linden. His beloved Linden was there, holding him, drying his tears. When had he started crying? He couldn't remember having cried for years.

"Linden... Please... don't leave me alone! Don't let me become like him! Please?" he begged

"Shhh... Don't worry. I'm here. I love you. I will always love you." Linden slowly pulled Storm's face down so their lips could meet. The kiss was tender and salty with tears. It was more an act of comfort than a sexual thing, because comfort was what his lover needed this time.

Storm relaxed and cried, held in the safety of his lover's arms. Together, they would be able to heal and go on with life.



End of this story
Yeo
egy736p@tninet.se