Thinking about it now, Kurt realized that he was living a perfect life. It had taken him far too long to get to this point, but years of being awkward, insecure and painfully shy had finally paid off in his last few years of high school. It had taken Glee Club and coming out to finally push him to the point where he had no choice but to be out there and confident in who he was.

Still, until he met Blaine, he'd always felt like something was missing. Sure, Kurt wasn't just good at singing or fashion, he was also proficient at helping his friends save the world on several occasions. Though he sometimes tended to be most softly spoken among the group, when he had something to say, he said it and he didn't hold back. Because he was smart, people usually listened to his opinions, but until Blaine, he had never truly felt like someone actually appreciated them.

He'd been having lunch with his long time best friend, Finn Hudson, the first day he met Blaine. Finn, though a little on the dull side sometimes, had been the long desired object of Kurt's affection. Kurt, however, had finally gotten to a place where it was time to accept the only truth that was evitable to him: Finn was and always would be straight. Kurt had no chance. Plus, it was no secret that Finn harbored a not so secret crush on their vamp-Slaying leader, Quinn Fabray. Kurt found it endearing, actually, since everyone knew Finn would never score with the blood bombshell. Rachel Berry, with her loud mouth and grating personality had a better shot with Quinn than Finn did.

In any case, they'd been having lunch like they normally did, when Kurt accidentally knocked over his box of juice. Before he could retrieve it, Finn was turning towards him to say something and stepped on the box, causing it to explode outward everywhere, the majority of the purple spray ending up on someone Kurt had never met, a relaxed and slightly disheveled boy who was a few inches shorter than Kurt.

"Oh my God," Kurt exclaimed, jumping from his seat, paper napkins in hand to dab away the mess, "I'm . . . I'm so sorry. Oh my God, it's going to stain so badly . . ."

Kurt looked around. Maybe he could fix this with a spell or something and no one would notice, but when he looked up and noticed the other boy simply smiling and chuckling at him, he blushed and pulled his hand away.

"Don't worry about it . . .," the shorter one paused, waiting for Kurt to offer him a name.

Blush deepening and Finn forgotten, Kurt shakily extended his hand again.

"Kurt," he stammered, "Kurt Hummel."

The other boy's grin widened, "Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

Blaine recalled how he'd never seen or smelled anything like Kurt Hummel. The boy smelled like strawberries, and Blaine wasn't even about to deny that strawberries were his favorite. The attraction was immediate and primal for him. He did his best to reign it in and keep it in check, but there was no denying that from the moment he laid eyes on the svelt fashion forward boy, he knew he had to make Kurt his.

Of course, Kurt was a little bit like a delicate flower and Blaine had to force himself to take things slow with the other boy. It wasn't easy, when the animal inside him simply wanted to tear Kurt's clothing off, bend him over the nearest surface and show him what real pleasure was. Blaine was pretty sure, by Kurt's soft, sweet scent, that no one had ever had him and that just made him even more desirable to Blaine.

See, Blaine had a secret, one he was sure he wouldn't be able to hide much longer in a place like Lima. This place attracted the strange and unexplainable, it was the reason Blaine's family had come here. They thought he would be safe.

But how could anything be safe with a Slayer running around with a troupe of super-hero wannabes hanging off her coattails. Blaine wasn't sure, and somehow, he'd managed to land himself right in the middle of it.

The first month he was with Kurt, he managed to beg off spending time with him and Kurt didn't seem to suspect anything and Blaine considered everything to be well and good.

The second month, however, Blaine woke up one morning in the middle of the park, naked, alone and covered in blood.

Next to him was the mangled flesh of a body. The damage was so extensive that Blaine couldn't even discern if the victim had been male or female and he honestly didn't want to know. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could.

He'd killed before. He knew he'd kill again. Kurt and his band of friends would find out.

Blaine knew he would die if they discovered who had killed whoever it was that was now laying dead and macerated at his feet.

No matter the price, Blaine couldn't let that happen.

He could smell something different, something new on the wind, something he had not smelled in a long time, maybe years. The pungent, tangy order wafted on the breeze, teasing at his nostrils like the soft tendrils of someone's hair.

He licked his lips and growled, crouching back into his hollow, hardly daring to flee into the light after that scent. After all, it was too soon. The odor stank of fear and self-loathing and that was not ever the scent of a potential mate.

He could wait. He would wait. The one that would be his was close.

And he had patience.

"You just should have been honest with us," Kurt cried, tears of frustration streaming down his face.

His chest felt tight and he knew his skin was red and blotchy. He probably looked horrible, but he didn't care. He'd never felt so betrayed or frightened. He thought he knew the person chained up in front of him. He thought he knew who Blaine was.

But everything he saw was a lie.

"I'm not a monster," Blaine whispered, his hazel eyes searching Kurt's, seeking approval and above all, forgiveness, "I never asked for this. It wasn't my choice anymore than your magic abilities, or Quinn being The Chosen One. This is just the lot Fate handed me."

Kurt turned away, not wanting to hear logic in that moment. He didn't want to hear anything out of Blaine's mouth that even remotely resembled the defense of his actions, no matter how right he might have been.

"It doesn't change the fact that you hid the truth from me," Kurt whispered back, hugging his arms with one hand, the hand of the other pressed against his chest in a loose fist.

"I was trying to keep you safe," Blaine insisted, to which Kurt whirled around, his eyes ablaze.

For a brief moment wind gusted around them violently, blowing their hair into disarray and causing the leaves of the books on the table to flap and tear from their bindings and then settle into haphazard piles on the floor.

"You were trying to keep you safe," Kurt screamed, his magical fit dying as his shoulders slumped and his eyes lost their fire. The taller boy stared at the floor.

The silence was nearly deafening and ages seemed to pass before Kurt could bring himself to look up at Blaine again.

"Quinn isn't going to kill you," he finally said in a low voice, his lower lip trembling, "I had to beg her not to, but Mr. Schuester convinced her that this was not your choice and you couldn't have been aware of what you were doing. We also found the chains in your home and know you were trying to keep yourself locked up. We know you're not someone who would kill for pleasure."

"I'm not," Blaine agreed softly, his voice pleading, "Kurt, I would never hurt-"

"I'm not ready to forgive you for this yet, Blaine," Kurt snapped, "It's going to take time. I was ready to give you everything. Even if I had known from the beginning about you, about this, it wouldn't have stopped me from handing you my heart. I hope you understand if I protect it just a little bit longer."

He turned on his heel and left Blaine locked up in the library, his heart thumping at a million miles an hour and his head pounding from emotional exhaustion. He needed distance, just for a little while.

Blaine did everything he could to make things up to Kurt, his senses heightened by the fear he could smell on the boy. It was almost too much, too strong and too powerful for him to resist, but he wanted so badly to conquer the animal within to love Kurt the way he should be. Blaine could be gentle, he was gentle.

He could feel that he was slowly pulling down the walls Kurt had built up around himself when one night, after a particularly long talk over ice cream and a patrol through the cemetery, Kurt stopped him with a gloved hand and stared at him.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured, a question in his tone.

Further commentary was cut of by Kurt's lips against his. Blaine's eyes widened in shock at first and then, without realizing it, his arms were tight around Kurt's waist and he was kissing him desperately, hungrily, nipping and biting at the boy's lips, sucking at the little droplets of blood the beaded up on them. He could hear Kurt whimpering and grasping tightly as his jacket.

Back off, this is too much, you're going to freak him out, Blaine chastised himself, but he couldn't stop. Kurt's taste was all he'd expected, vanilla and berries mixed with raw innocence. Blaine wanted it.

He wasn't sure how they'd ended up on the ground in the darkest, most secluded part of the cemetery grinding against each other, but he didn't care. Kurt wasn't pushing him away.

But Blaine could hear the voices screaming in his head that this wasn't right. Kurt deserved more than this and it was still too soon for them, wasn't it?

He pulled away, standing to his feet and looking down at Kurt, panting and then squeezing his eyes shut, desperate for a grip on reality.

"Crap, Kurt," he muttered, "I'm sorry, this isn't how I wanted to do this. Want it to be special."

He opened his eyes and the look of disappointment on Kurt's face was like a kick in the nuts. The other boy stood up and brushed the grass and dirt off his clothes.

"Maybe you're right," he mumbled, though to Blaine, he sounded pissed, "Just because one of us is an animal doesn't mean we have to fuck on the ground like them."

Blaine could feel blood rushing up his neck into his face, anger boiling in his chest.

"You know what," he sneered, "When you're ready to stop being a bitch, you let me know."

He could taste it on his tongue, the time was almost right. He needed to act, and soon, or he'd miss his chance. He couldn't go like this, he had to make contact as a human, or his mate would never accept him. He understood this fate and accepted it, crawling out of his hole and rushing from the woods.

The time was coming. The time was near.

Things only continued to spiral further down after that. Kurt had finally opened himself up to the possibility and Blaine had held back. Kurt knew he shouldn't have felt angry about it, but he had finally brought himself to accept that there was something wild and untamable in Blaine, just as there was in him. Every day Kurt was growing more and more powerful. He knew he could protect himself around the other boy if things got out of control. He hated that Blaine saw him as weak and fragile.

He had been complaining about it rather loudly to Finn, who was too busy staring at Rachel to notice him. Yeah, that had happened. Finn had ended up with Rachel of all people, loud bossy, self-preoccupied Rachel. Kurt hadn't been able to believe it when it happened, he thought he would have been more heartbroken than he had ended up; fortunately Blaine had been there when he found out and soothed most of the pain away.

That didn't change the fact that Kurt hated the two of them together. He could barely tolerate it when Rachel started running off the mouth about things she had no idea about. The girl wasn't special. She couldn't fight, she couldn't do magic and she certainly didn't transform into a deadly creature once a month . . . well, maybe that last part wasn't entirely true.

"Finn," he snapped, "I am trying to talk to you. Can you stop making googley eyes long enough to listen?"

Finn grunted and sipped at his carton of milk before finally facing Kurt with a sigh.

"Look, I don't know what the hell you expect me to say about the fact that you want to do the nasty with wereboy," Finn finally replied, "It sounds to me like he's trying to do this right and you're not letting him. Maybe you should just chill out and let things work themselves out."

That wasn't what Kurt wanted to hear at all. Maybe he had a problem with that, not being able to take the truth as it was doled out to him. But he was stubborn, he knew that.

"Look," Finn finally said, his eyes warm and his crooked smile twitching, "If it's meant to be that you two get to that point in your relationship, it should just happen. Calm down and be chill."

"Pfft, like you would know. We all know the bitch queen isn't giving you any," Kurt huffed, grabbing his tray and flouncing off to look for Blaine.

He was going to get his way, no matter what it took.

Blaine ended up accepting Kurt's invitation to The Bronze that night, against his better judgment, perhaps. But he did want to work things out with the boy. He loved Kurt and knew he always would.

Besides, The Bronze was a chill location on nights he didn't have to perform himself. He liked that the club kept things fresh and there was always going to be a different kind of band or singer playing there every Friday night.

They got lucky that night Blaine thought, nodding in approval at the sign that said it was jazz and blues night. That meant the music wouldn't be so loud that he could actually talk to Kurt and it would definitely set a romantic mood.

The moment he stepped through the door, something felt off, as if the air was thrumming on the precipice of some dark secret. It set his teeth on edge and the hairs on the back of his neck stood out.

Definitely not right, he thought, taking one of the high stools at a table close to the bar and watching as Kurt slipped in across from him.

"Thanks for asking me out," he said, his smile bright even though he could hardly repress the crawling of his skin.

Kurt nodded frostily to him and then Blaine watched him visibly relax and smile, as if he was remembering something.

"Thanks for coming," the taller boy smiled softly, "I'm really sorry about . . . before."

Blaine shook his head and reached across the table, threading his fingers through the other boy's.

"Forget about it, I'm just ready to get things back on track for us," he admitted.

Kurt's smile warmed a little and the boy nodded at Blaine, squeezing his hand.

"I love you, you know," Kurt whispered, his cheeks staining pink. Blaine stared, licking his lips and opening his mouth to answer.

And then the lights dimmed and one of the staff members hopped on stage to introduce the band.

"Thanks kids for coming out tonight," a short bartender chirped into the microphone, swiping a strand of hair out of her face, "Our entertainment goes by the name of The Dark Blue Nothing led by David Karofsky, enjoy!"

Blaine's blood chilled when the band came onto the stage, led by their vocalist, a tall, imposing and seductively brooding David. His eyebrows arched almost comically on his heavy brow bones, casting a dark shadow over eyes of an indistinguishable color from this distance. A heavy line of scruff marked the boy's jaw line and teased at the edges of his throat. A dark red button down gently hugged a bulky torso and hung loosely around well-fitted gray slacks. Dark curls hugged and framed the defined bone structure.

The smell of animal on David was unmistakable. It permeated the air like too many flowers in a closed space. Blaine couldn't stop inhaling, his nostrils flaring at the intoxicating scent. Excitement raced through his veins. He had never seen one of his own kind, never imagined that this heady feeling was possible.

"Blaine," he heard Kurt whisper, "Are you okay?"

Blaine didn't answer. He couldn't. He could only stare, pupils dilated and his breathing turning heavy, at the magnificent specimen before him.

It was almost too easy. He could feel the boy's eyes on him as he began to sing into the microphone, his silky baritone sliding over the piece of audio equipment. He gripped the mic gently, his large fingers wrapping around the bulbous head and then stroking at it gently, the knowing smirk evident on his face.

He could hear the little one breathing, hear the sharp intake of breath at his actions. He could smell the want coming off him. It made his blood burn like fire. It was taking all his self-control to contain the beast in him longing to break free and take what was sitting right in front of him.

But lust and desire were not enough, he needed to know that he owned the fresh young boy sitting there, know that when he finally came for him, he would be ready.

His focus sharpened as the song changed to something a little sultrier. He let his voice vibrate in his chest as he sang, knowing that the mop-topped boy would feel it in places no one else's voice could reach.

It was when the boy's heart beginning to race reached his ears and the distinct, sharp smell of perspiration hit his nostrils that David knew.

This one was ready.

Kurt thought his heart was going to drop out of him any moment. Blaine hadn't taken his eyes off the singer since the man had come on stage, and the mysterious David was staring right back as if his eyes were about to fall out of his head and roll over to them and say hello.

Jealousy roiled in him, the tips of his ear turning red in embarrassment that he was being stood up by the date who was isitting right next to him/i.

"Blaine," he hissed, "Blaine."

He felt his blood curdle when Blaine turned and looked at him with a blank, unreadable expression. He arched an eyebrow at the shorter boy.

"Do you know him or something," Kurt asked crisply.

"No," Blaine shook his head, but Kurt thought he was just playing dumb and that just made him angrier.

"Then stop staring at him like he has three heads, this is supposed to be our date," he snapped, taking a long swallow his drink and slamming his drink down with a firm -smack-.

"Sorry," he barely heard Blaine mumbled and he seethed silently to himself for a few moments.

The silence spread out until it was almost unbearable and then the singer announced that they would be taking a short break between sets. Kurt watched Blaine carefully, but the boy seemed unaffected by the announcement. This made him feel calmer.

"I'm going to get us some fresh drinks and chips," he announced, trusting that Blaine would still be there when he got back.

The moment Kurt was out of sight, Blaine was on the move, his nose and the thrumming in his veins leading him out the back door and into the pitch black alley behind the club. He barely got the door closed when he felt a presence and then a large warm body pressing him up against the wall.

A nose slid up his neck, followed by the wet tip of the body's tongue. Blaine shivered and groaned, his hands searching for purchase and finding only hot, solid body. He could smell the sex coming off the being in front of him, the being that could only be David.

"My God," he whispered as David began to suck at the base of his neck, "D-d-d . . ."

"Say it," the earthy, gravelly voice demanded in a low tone, "Say my name, little one . . . I want to hear you."

"David," Blaine panted, his hands wadding up David's shirt, "David . . ."

"Dave," the voracious man growled into his ear, "Call me Dave . . ."

"Dave," Blaine barely managed the deep guttural groan as he felt a knee slide up between his legs for a brief moment and press.

"I've been waiting for you," the dark creature whispered against his skin, even as large hands slid down his back and cupped the cheeks of Blaine's ass in them, "I've had your scent in my nostrils for months, waited so long to claim you . . ."

Blaine felt his knees go weak at Dave's voice, "I . . . didn't smell you . . ."

"I hid," was all Dave said before his face lifted and his teeth were pulling Blaine's bottom lip between them, nibbling gently before his tongue pressed between them and he was devouring Blaine.

Blaine felt blood suffuse his face. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He could only hold on as the man practically enveloped him in his embrace, his bestial darkness sinking down into Blaine's soul and drawing out the animal within him.

With a growl he moved forward, his strength causing them to stumble into the opposite wall. He heard Dave grunt as his back made contact with the solid surface and he smirked, feeling accomplished as his hands began to claw at the man's clothes.

And then suddenly there was space between them. Dave was holding Blaine away from him, a derisive leer painting his features and a low, throaty chuckle coming out of his mouth.

"Eager, little one," he murmured in a honeyed tone, "But now is not the time."

"When is," Blaine was surprised by the whine in his voice.

He was pulled back into another kiss, this one slow and sultry, stirring everything primal and base in him to the surface, leaving him hard and panting for more when Dave pulled away again.

"Soon, my pet," Dave replied, "Soon . . ."

And then, as if taken by vapors, Dave was gone and Blaine was alone in the alley, shaken to his core and breathless. Kurt was inside, waiting for him, likely suspicious of his whereabouts and all Blaine could think of was that his entire world had just changed.

And he wasn't at all sure where Kurt fit into it.

The rest of the night passed in a haze. Lust, lust for the hunt, lust for the kill, lust for companionship, it blinded him to the point where all he could make out was Blaine's red splash of color against all the cold shades of blue. The boy was already in him, his taste on his tongue and the imprint of his body against his flesh.

Without his clothing off, he could already imagine the boy naked, soft curls sprayed over his breast bone and traveling in a gentle, meandering path between cut abdominals before feathering out to frame a price only he would ever claim.

Frenzied by his state of mind, he finished his set early and raced from the club, his hunger in desperate need of satiation. Tonight was not the night he could have Blaine, and so the kill was all he had.

But he knew the next time he saw the boy was close at hand. It wouldn't be much longer now. And this time, the boy would seek him out.

Kurt could feel it all slipping through his fingers like sand, little rivulets streaming through cracks he could not stop up for trying. He was going to lose Blaine, and he didn't even understand why.

"You could just tell me where you were," he said in a pointed tone to the head of curly hair that was currently bent over a meal.

Blaine had practically ignored, dodged and avoided every mention of their date at The Bronze. Kurt didn't believe for a second that Blaine had simply 'gone to the restroom' while he'd gone to get them drinks. Blaine had come back disheveled, for lack of better words, his lips plumped and bruised and his skin flushed. Kurt could almost smell the pheromones coming off him. The boy was practically in heat.

What frustrated Kurt more was the fact that every time they seemed about to get their shit together, something went down. It made Kurt sick with worry that he couldn't get things to work with Blaine, and even sicker to feel that Blaine didn't seem to care.

"Look, Kurtsie," Blaine muttered through a mouthful of pasta, "I've already told you that I went to the bathroom. I wish you'd just trust me."

"Well, you know, considering the way you were looking at that David guy," Kurt sneered, "It isn't particularly easy to believe you."

"Okay, fine, I admit he was intriguing," Blaine tossed down his fork, "I'm not allowed to find other guys intriguing?"

"No," Kurt crossed his arms over his middle, shaking his head firmly, "No, you're not. I thought we were supposed to be working things out."

"We could if you would stop making things so difficult," Blaine retorted back, his vision starting to go red, "And if you don't even trust me, there's no relationship to be salvaged here."

Kurt gaped at Blaine, feeling as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, sliced up and eaten right before his eyes. His bottom lip quivered and his jaw worked itself back and forth while he tried to hold back tears. Nodding, he stood.

"Fine," he whispered hoarsely, "If . . . if that's how you feel . . . let's just end this, then."

Blaine stared up at him and Kurt realized that there was something different about the boy who was sitting in front of him. This was no longer the Blaine that adored him and wanted to protect him. This was no longer the Blaine he knew at all.

It was like someone . . . or something had taken over, and the person he loved was no longer there.

"That's probably best."

The words cut through his haze and Kurt felt a tear slip down his cheek. He backed away slowly before fleeing, his heart palpitating in painful, surging beats. He was fairly certain it would thump its way right out of his chest.

He almost wished it would.

It was like his senses had come alive and Blaine wasn't sure how Dave had kept his scent hidden the way he had, because now the air was soaked with it. It was as if he knew Blaine would be looking for him and he wanted to be found.

Blaine didn't know what demon had possessed him, but he felt his craving for the large, muscular beast grow stronger with each hurried step he took. Dave was close and Blaine burned for his touch.

He soon reached a sudden, sharp upturn in the land, a cliff face that stretched about twenty feet up and continued on for about a mile in either direction. His nostrils tingled and his eyesight sharpened as he focused them in the dark, grateful, for once, of the wolf within that he could thank for his ability to track things.

Blaine was shocked though, that Dave lived out here. Why out here instead of within civilization? He pondered that as he skirted the cliff face and then paused before a large divot in face of the granite shale mix.

Suddenly, it was as if his skin was trying to crawl off. He could sense danger, smell the tangy metallic scent of blood. He could feel death. He was tempted to run, but urgency and Dave's pungent odor beckoned him inside.

Blaine could not possibly have been prepared for what he saw.

The massive creature was bent over its kill, its jowls dripping with blood, its claws soppy from it as the animal held down the long dead prey. Blaine could make out no defining features, but it didn't matter as his gorge rose and he turned to flee.

But it was too late. Dave had noticed him, his face whipping up and a low, dark growl curling his lips as a long, blood-stained tongue slid out to lick his jowls clean. Blaine watched in horrified fascination as the thick hair that covered the man receded to leave nothing but a solid naked form before him. Dave's jaw still gleamed red in the soft glow of the fire that burned further back in the cave.

Blaine wished he could stop staring, stop running his eyes up and down the thick, hair-mottled torso, stop gaping at the monster that hung between Dave's legs, stop licking his lips over how strong the man's legs looked. Even covered in gore, Dave was magnificent.

"D-d-did . . . you kill someone," he stammered, finally meeting Dave's eyes and slowly backing away.

The low chuckle that met his ears made him shudder involuntarily, but relief flooded his chest when Dave shook his head.

"When you control the wolf inside of you, the need for human flesh is no longer necessary," Dave answered, offering a hand to Blaine.

"Control," Blaine asked, his eyes wide with curiosity, his voice filled with skepticism as he took Dave's hand without hesitation, "You can control it?"

Dave smirked deeply at Blaine and drew him further back into the cave.

"You saw me as a wolf, and now as man, and you do not believe me, little one," Dave replied.

The stark realization of what he'd just seen hit Blaine in that moment. Dave was iin control/i of the wolf and not the other way around. A yearning Blaine didn't even realize he had bubbled up in him and he stopped them in their tracks. He saw Dave arch an eyebrow at him, a knowing look on his face.

"How," Blaine asked, his tone demanding and firm.

Dave pulled the boy into his arms and kissed him, his tongue dipping between Blaine's lips. Blaine felt himself melt in the man's arms and buried his fingers in the man's hair, moaning into their kiss. He felt Dave pull away and nibble along his neck before nuzzling his ear and whispering in a soft, hot voice.

"Simply . . . give in," he growled.

Before Blaine could react, he felt Dave's fingers slide beneath the collar of his shirt and then heard a loud rip as he tore it from Blaine's shoulder. A soft cry issued from Blaine's mouth as Dave sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh. A large hand on the buckle of his belt nearly made Blaine's knees give out.

"Oh, God," he moaned, his fingers digging into Dave's broad back.

He could feel the man's muscles bunch beneath his fingertips and he let out a soft, whimpering shudder. Cool air slid across his skin as Dave continued to rip his shirt away, leaving it in shreds on the dusty ground. There was a clank of metal as his pants fell away as well. Long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers and gripped his ass and Blaine felt the distinct impression of heat pressed against his stomach.

"Fuck," he spat, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

Dave's tongue lapped up Blaine's neck, back up to his ear as he gently began to move forward, pressing Blaine against the hard wall of the cave, his hips grinding against the boy's once they made firm contact with the surface. His lips curled up in a satisfied smirk when the shorter one gasped and bucked against him.

"Are you hard for me, little one," Dave murmured, his hands finally pushing away the last shred of clothing separating flesh from flesh.

His gaze drifted downward over the slender, taut musculature of Blaine's torso to rest on the length that was now curving upward against the boy's stomach. His nostrils flared and his eyes flicked up to meet Blaine's, which were glazed over and unfocused.

Smiling, he knelt before the shorter one and slid his tongue over the gentle creases on Blaine's abdomen and dipping it in the shallow pool of his navel. He felt Blaine shudder beneath his ministrations and growled appreciatively, his hands gliding over smooth, hot skin until they reached the boy's thigh.

He gently pried them open, his mouth working in hot trails along the V of Blaine's hip and down the long limb. He licked his lips when soft, pale skin came into view and he bared his teeth again, moving quickly to clamp them down on the boy's inner thigh as hard as he could.

Hard enough to break skin.

The scream that came out of Blaine's mouth bordered on a howl and traveled straight to Dave's cock. It jumped at the sound and Dave bit down harder until his mouth was filling with the hot copper-tainted flow of Blaine's blood. Thin rivulets of it were starting to slide down the creamy colored thighs and mingle with the dark, wiry curls that mottled the boy's shin. Dave's tongue chased those crimson paths, noting how Blaine's legs were now trembling violently and the boy was whimpering.

Dave gazed up at Blaine through his lashes, and Blaine likewise stared back through the curls that were now obscuring his eyes.

"You taste so good," the larger man whispered, "I want to eat you alive . . ."

Blaine's eyes closed and his head rolled back and Dave smirked, watching the nearly birdlike chest rise and fall as the boy tried to regain some semblance of equilibrium, but Dave didn't have time for that.

He stood again, picking Blaine up by his hips and wrapping the boy's legs around his waist, delving his tongue into the kiss bruised mouth. He stopped when he felt his feet hit a soft pile of blankets and a thin mat on the ground. He didn't often need a bed, but sometimes his humanity craved it and, in this case, utterly demanded it.

He pushed Blaine down into the pallet, his teeth beginning to grate and glide over skin causing Blaine's body to quake beneath him. His fingers found tiny, pebbled nipples and he rolled them firmly between their tips, tugging until Blaine was arching into his hands.

"Dave . . . Dave . . ." he could hear Blaine's faint cried mixed with his own growls as his teeth would sometimes stop to worry a spot enough to cause blood to either rise to or break the surface. Blaine's skin was starting to achieve a muddy brown tint as Dave dragged the seeping liquid around in indiscernible patterns with his tongue.

"Just let go," Dave murmured, "This is who we are."

Blaine heard those words and snapped, a feral growl leaping from his mouth as he used the leverage of his legs around Dave's hips to turn them over and pin Dave down. He snarled when their eyes made contact and dove in for a kiss, his slightly elongated canines nipping at and piercing the flesh of Dave's lips. He gloried in the mingled traces of his blood, Dave's and the blood of the prey Dave was feasting on before on his tongue.

Hardly able to contain himself, his began to drag his nails down the solid, down covered torso, his fingernails quickly creating shallow scratches that beaded up against the cool air. Dave jerked violently beneath him and, once again, their positions were changed as the larger man fought for dominance.

Blaine found himself flat on his stomach, erection trapped painfully between the mat and his body, with Dave's teeth embedded in the small of his back. He screamed in protest and thrashed against the bigger man, but Dave held him down firmly, clamping his huge hands over Blaine's ass cheeks and spreading them open, his teeth continuing to grate over the sensitive flesh.

Blaine squirmed aggressively until one of those hands came down with a sharp crack against his skin.

"Hold still," Dave hissed above him, "Or I'll just shove myself into your tight ass right now. Then you'll really have a reason to squirm."

Blaine shuddered and moaned, the throbbing ache of his dick against the stiff fabric of the pallet making his vision go spotty. He could still feel the sting of the slap zinging up and down his legs and he bit into the flat pillow close to his head to muffle his cries.

A hand in his hair yanked him back.

"No," Dave snapped, "I said let go, not hold back. I want to hear you scream."

Something moist and slippery pressed itself to the pucker nestled between his cheeks and Blaine gasped.

"What," he croaked, trying to crane his neck around enough to see what was going on.

Obviously that was impossible when Dave's face buried in the crevice of his ass, but it didn't stop Blaine from wishing he could see exactly what was going on, because whatever it was felt wonderfully strange, and good in the most primal way.

A small cry escaped his lips when what had to be Dave's tongue slowly slid inside him, pulsing against the rim as the man rolled and flexed the muscle, slathering Blaine's insides with slick, slippery wet.

"Oh my God," he groaned.

His face fell to the mat again, but not to bite the pillow, simply because his neck was beginning to ache from being thrown back in pleasure. Each twist of Dave's tongue only made him that much more desperate for relief from the pain in his groin.

"That's right," Dave whispered, gently pulling away when he felt Blaine was sufficiently moist enough for what was next, "Just let go . . ."

It was taking all his self-control not to just drill himself into the smaller one right that moment, but the ripe smell of innocence tinged with fear was rolling off of Blaine in waves and that held his baser instincts at bay. He wanted to free the beast within the boy, not wound it. Pleasure was the best way to accomplish what he was trying to get.

He knew the only reason Blaine hadn't gone off like the inexperienced teenager he was, was because the wolf in him had the stamina to hold him back. Blaine craved this torture, though he didn't realize it yet. Dave would have to show him what he wanted.

"Turn over," he instructed, his voice laced with a predatory growl.

He licked his lips as Blaine followed his command, feasting on the bright red weeping erection settled heavily on the boy's abdomen. Unable to resist, Dave's fingers wrapped lightly around the girth and moved it in gentle passes over the muscle hardened stomach, leaving shiny, sticky trails on the smooth skin.

"Dave," Blaine panted at him, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for more touch.

Dave silenced him with his fingers, slipping the still bloodied digits between the parted lips. He heard Blaine choke and sputter around them for a second and then suck obediently when Dave gave him a chilling glare. The hand on Blaine's cock vacated the area so that he could bring it to stroke himself, breath hitching at the contact. In all the preparation, Dave had barely been thinking about hard he was. The action also brought Blaine's eyes down and Dave could hardly stifle the immense satisfaction he got out of the grunt of surprise as he took in the sheer growth in size of Dave's dick.

"Yes," Dave whispered, stroking himself and letting his head fall back a little, breaking eye-contact with Blaine's face, "It's going inside you . . . you're going to take it all."

He pulled his fingers out of Blaine's mouth, relishing the feeling of suction around them as they popped out of the orifice. Dave paused his lazy pumping to push Blaine's legs as far apart as he could. His slick fingertips then began to glide around the boy's moistened entrance. Blaine's hips jerked and Dave chuckled darkly as he pressed the wide tip of his middle finger into the boy.

Blaine gritted his teeth against the sudden and foreign intrusion. Dave's large hands on him were one thing, warm and all encompassing, inside him they were entirely another, pervasive and probing. As the finger sank deeper and deeper in him, Blaine felt something beginning to creep up to the surface of his skin, something he could barely contain.

"D-d-dave," he stammered, pushing the mop of damp curls from his forehead so that he could see as he propped himself up on his elbows.

The more Dave tortured him, the more on edge his was. When that single finger began to stroke within him, Blaine felt something snap.

"Fuck," he spat, rolling up and pushing Dave back, dislodging the finger and moving to straddle the man, his hips working greedily against Dave's, feeling the man's dick slide up and down in the crack of his ass.

"Fuck me," he panted, gripping a fistful of Dave's hair and roughly biting the man's cheek, licking away the blood that welled up from the broken skin, "Fuck me inow/i."

His ears rang from the roar Dave gave then as he lifted Blaine's hips up as if the boy weighed nothing and pressed the head of his enormous length to the boy's tight entrance. Blaine buried his face in Dave's shoulder, biting down on the bulging muscle as the ridged head pushed past impossible resistance.

"Goddamn it, little one," he heard Dave pant, leaning them back a little so that he could plant a hand against the mat and push in further, "You're so fucking tight, so fucking wet . . ."

Blaine wrapped his legs around Dave's waist and shuddered, pain wracking his middle, the feeling that he was about to be ripped in half numbing all his senses. The animal inside him recoiled and screamed, clawing at the pain, feeding on it.

The hand he felt wrapping itself against his half-flaccid length was like a branding iron against his skin, too harsh and too stimulating. Blaine's head fell back and he keened, his fingers digging into Dave's back and sending fresh rivulets of blood down the skin.

When he felt his hips finally met Dave's, he gasped in shock. Every inch of Dave was now buried in him. With his chest pressed against Dave's, their sweat and blood mingled, dripping off their bodies and staining the sheets below. Blaine could hear himself snarling as he moved in to kiss Dave, wanting to taste the man on his tongue as the satisfying thickness began to move in him. Blaine wasn't even doing anything; Dave's hands were wrapped around his hips, his muscled arms bulging as they lifted Blaine up and down over his cock, working them in gentle circles and slick glides. The pain, like needles repeatedly pricking his skin, flirted at the edge of Blaine's consciousness as pleasure began to pervade his mind.

Dave guided Blaine's hips until he heard the boy starting to moan. Sweat glistened on the smaller boy's skin, his dark curls plastered to his forehead, his lips curled up in a perpetual snarl.

It's time, the dark voice at the edge of his thoughts whispered.

He pressed Blaine back down onto the mat, repositioning them to straddle one of the boy's legs and bring the other up over his shoulder. Slightly twisted to one side, Dave knew Blaine wouldn't notice immediately that they were both beginning to change. If it was possible, he felt himself growing harder at the sight of the smaller one prone and stretched out beneath him, his back arching as Dave's thigh rubbed along Blaine's cock in time to his sideways thrusts.

"Show me," he panted, bucking again and again into the hot, tight confines of Blaine's ass, "Show me what you are."

He drove in to the hilt and worked his hips in slow rhythmic circles, smirking deeply with Blaine's voice erupted from his mouth in an unbridled, unmistakable howl. The walls of the cave reverberated the sound, setting Dave's teeth on edge. With a quick toss of his head, Dave unleashed himself, drilling the clenching hole again and again until he was careening over the edge, pouring wave after wave of hot cum into Blaine's depths.

Sweat shone in his dark, matted hair, and his tongue flicked out over his canines. His claws were buried an inch deep in Blaine's flesh where he was holding the boy tightly. His thrusts continued as his orgasm persisted, his savage growls bouncing around them. He could hear Blaine's keening cries and he pulled out, white jets still shooting from the tip of his erection, and wrapped a bloodied paw around himself and the boy, stroking them together in a fast, violent rhythm.

Blaine could hardly fathom what was happening to him as his insides suddenly began to burn with Dave's release. Stars exploded behind his eyelids and his hands reached up to grip the pillow above his head. He gritted his teeth and then whimpered when they pierced his lips.

His eyes snapped open in shock and he ran his tongue over his teeth. They'd sharpened significantly, as if he were . . .

"Oh, my God," he cried out, though Dave seemed oblivious.

His eyes made contact with Dave's just as the wolf wrapped a rough hand around them both and began to stroke.

"Let go," came a low snarl, "Be one with me . . . let go . . ."

So this is what Dave had meant. This had been what he wanted. This was how Blaine was going to gain control.

He would gain it by losing it all.

A part of him was screaming that this was not what he wanted, the boy in him who was still thinking about strawberries and wild magic and patrols in the cemetery. But the animal inside of him would not ignored. Some instinct in Blaine told him that this was right; this was the only way he could finally live.

Pleasure built up in his groin, his body flushing with heat when Dave leaned down and molded his chest along Blaine's side, biting down on his ear and licking at the bleeding flesh as he whispered.

"This is what we are," he whispered again, "Animals."

"Yes," Blaine hissed in agreement, burying his claws in Dave's back and, with a roar, letting himself explode over Dave's hand and the sheets and his chest. He felt it spatter against his chin.

It went on as if it would never end, their bodies writhing and moving together, and as the darkness crept into Blaine's vision, he felt himself succumb . . .

Wind whipped through his hair. The moon was bright, but not full. It didn't need to be. He could run the woods and beyond free, no longer in wait, no longer alone.

He bayed at the moon, calling out his happiness and fulfillment. After years of searching, he would no longer roam the savage reaches of the world as a single being.

He looked to his side, his wild companion keeping pace, looking slightly hesitant but elated nonetheless. He could smell the curiosity and excitement on the little one, as well as the trepidation, but he could change that trepidation into wonder. He had all the time in the world.

They ran and they ran, their legs carrying them farther and farther away from the scent of strawberries.

"It's not human," Quinn said decisively, poking at the bloodied remains within the cave with a stick.

Rachel didn't seem less queasy from the announcement, still looking quite a bit green around the gills and sticking close to Finn, who looked near about to toss his cookies as well.

Kurt turned the shredded clothing over and over in his hands. The moon had not been full last night, so there was no way that Blaine could have transformed, and yet this was his shirt, and lying at his feet were Blaine's pants. There were no traces of blood on the clothing and Quinn had just confirmed that the carcass on the floor was not human.

He'd tried several times the night before to contact Blaine, only to be told by the boy's mother that Blaine had left without a word. The next morning he received a call from Blaine's mom. The woman was in tears, crying that the boy hadn't returned home.

He'd immediately called together the Scooby Gang, whipped up a quick spell with Mr. Schuester and it had led them here. To an empty cave. With only Blaine's clothes and the remains of a kill to be found.

Questions rolled around unchecked in Kurt's brain. What had happened here? Where was Blaine? Was he safe?

Was he alone?

He turned when he heard footsteps approaching from the mouth of the cave and a very grim looking Mr. Schuester entered.

"What did you find," Quinn quickly asked, slinging her crossbow over her shoulder.

"I didn't want to say anything just to be sure," the man replied, straightening his vest, "But I don't think Blaine was alone. The marks in the cave and few . . . other things lead me to believe that he met someone here and they left together and by the footprints, I'd say he left with another werewolf."

Kurt felt the world spin around him and he slumped back against the wall.

David, he thought immediately.

"David," Rachel asked, and Kurt realized he'd said it aloud.

"A singer," Kurt mumbled, "From The Bronze. Blaine couldn't stop staring at him and he didn't stop staring at Blaine. And Blaine disappeared for a little bit and came back looking all rumpled and we fought and broke up and . . . oh, God," he whispered, pressing a hand to his lips.

Everyone in the cave was silent, unsure of what to say. Kurt didn't want to be pitied and he didn't want to be stared at.

"Could you all leave me alone," he whispered.

The four of them filed out of the cave and Kurt knelt to the floor, pulling the pieces of Blaine's clothes to his chest, burying his face in them and inhaling their smell.

After a few moments of silent tears, he stood and brushed off his jeans, tucking the clothing beneath his arm and slowly heading to the exit of the cave. At the mouth, he turned and surveyed the small enclosure and then closed his eyes.

"Wherever you are," he whispered, "Don't do anything that will make me have to come after you."

With a final turn on his heel, Kurt dropped the clothes instead of taking them as he intended and left the cave, leaving behind the last remnants of his first love, the animal he would never tame.