As Ambrosio's canine teeth elongated and found Mr. Wolfe's jugular, Mr. Wolfe couldn't help thinking, how wonderful that natural enemies should become devoted mates...
His thoughts became merged with images of blood, beating hearts and a sky full of love.
Ambrosio stayed in him, by tooth and by cock.
It was the only way to come.
They both screamed their pleasure as bliss overtook them a second, even more powerful time.
* * * *
Ambrosio worried about Mr. Wolfe. He knew they had almost twenty-seven days until the next full moon, but his husband was such a perfectionist he wanted each assignment finished before his wicked transformation. Ambrosio assured him that if their assignments went longer, he could handle the workload but Wolfie refused to burden his husband with the sole responsibility.
Each time he went through the change, he became ill afterward.
I have no idea how he coped before I came along. I guess he just sort of managed.
Ambrosio stood naked in the kitchen, examining the contents of their fridge. He could rustle up a frittata. For an ordinary mortal, eating eggs on a daily basis would be catastrophic. Not that he is.
He pondered the idea a little longer, then decided on pancakes instead. A frittata would take too long and he wanted to get back to his sexy husband and their wonderful, warm bed.
"Ambrosio!" Wolfie called out.
"I'm in the kitchen, darling!"
"Then I'll come down and get my hug."
Ambrosio grinned as he began removing eggs, butter, milk and blueberries from the fridge.
As soon as Wolfie was in his arms, nothing else mattered. Not the phone call a few minutes ago alerting him to the fact that there'd been an attempted break-in at the Sotheby's warehouse. Not the messages he'd received from the workers at the LAX facility.
No. Loving Wolfie came first. Feeding him and preparing him for another long day was paramount.
He touched his wedding ring and realized he hated taking it off each morning more than he ever thought he would. It bothered Wolfie too. Wolfie would keep staring at the white patch on his finger. Ambrosio couldn't do much about it. The rule had been Wolfie's after all. Ambrosio was proud of his ring. It didn't bother him so much that Wolfie took his off for work too, but it tickled him to no end that Wolfie minded Ambrosio not wearing his.
My Wolfie is so possessive. So sweet. So...
He jerked his thoughts back to the pancakes. He'd put a little too much salt in the batter. He added more flour and sugar and sprinkled in Wolfie's favorite pumpkin spice blend.
"Hmmm." Wolfie came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Ambrosio's body.
Everything about Wolfie was a turn-on. He was the loveliest looking man Ambrosio had ever met. He surrendered himself to Wolfie's kisses, then gently pushed him away. Ambrosio turned his face, nuzzling his man's cheek. No sign of the coarse wolf hair emerging yet.
A week before the full moon, Wolfie's hair sprang from his body like wildfire across parched grass. He became self-conscious of his long nails and suddenly misshapen knuckles and his wiry hair.
Ambrosio craved his husband even more during those days, if that were possible. Wolfie's need for sex was relentless in that final week. Ambrosio relished the countdown to what he called Cockaggedon.
He tossed blueberries and a few chopped hazelnuts into the pancake mix and began preparing the pan for cooking.
"Something's wrong." Wolfie could read Ambrosio so easily. His words were a statement, not a question.
"Breakfast first, bad news second."
Wolfie arched a brow at him. "Will it give me indigestion, this news of yours?"
"Maybe," Ambrosio admitted. "Does that mean morning sex is off the table?"
"Morning sex is never off the table in this house," Wolfie said, watching him spoon dollar sized mounds of batter into the spitting-hot frypan.
He loved the scent of pancakes. He loved the scent of all food, but rarely desired to eat it. The last thing he recalled actually eating was their blood orange wedding cake Wolfie had made from scratch. Ambrosio liked coffee and wine; sake in particular.
On the rare occasions they gave up their obsessive solitude and dined with friends, he could fake eating food, but could easily manage steak tartare when he found it on restaurant menus.
Wolfie loved raw meat, but often looked...well, wolfish, when he got his teeth into it, and tended to suffer indigestion after eating too much of it. He didn't like blood in his raw meat, one of the few differences between them.
He flipped the pancakes over, ladling them onto a plate.
Wolfie was pacing now, awaiting his breakfast and whatever news Ambrosio had for him.
Ambrosio whipped up a couple dozen small pancakes for his husband, satisfied with the results. He inhaled the aroma of the hazelnuts and turned to their massive French country table and carried the plate toward Wolfie.
They exchanged glances, Wolfie pushing a cup of coffee toward Ambrosio.
Ambrosio preferred his morning brew sitting on his husband's lap.
Wolfie grinned as Ambrosio crossed the table and sat on him. He could feel Wolfie's cock hardening against his ass and reached down to kiss him.
"I love you, Wolfie said.
"I love you, too." Ambrosio rocked a little, enjoying the sway he held over the cock trapped between his butt cheeks.
Sighing, Wolfie lifted him up slightly, allowing his now hardened cock to spring up, poking at Ambrosio's tailbone.
Hmmm...I hope he's not going to take too long eating breakfast. I have plans for his juicy dick.
Wolfie ate appreciatively, but quickly. "Okay," he said as he shoveled a huge forkful of food into his mouth, "What's going on?"
"Virginia called. That idiot blogger posted photos of some of the clothes from the Beckett collection on Twitter and boasted about going to the warehouse."
"Oh, no." Wolfie stared up at him.
Ambrosio swiveled around so that he was now sitting sideways on his husband's lap.
"Did we have a break-in?"
"An attempt." Ambrosio reached around behind his butt to
