I’m in the middle of working on the novel, but found myself captivated by an idea, and rode it quick and hard to a finish just in time to submit it to one of the dozen erotica calls due yesterday.
I’ve been spending some time recently talking kink with another dominant sadist and there is nothing like those kinds of conversations to spark erotica. The new piece, “A Wolf’s Yearning”, centers a stone genderqueer werewolf who is undone by hir yearning for a tough, smart, butch who wants to be hir boy. It’s all about the werewolf’s inner struggle with a new kind of desire for a bottom, one that makes hir a lot more vulnerable than ze has tolerated before.
As I’ve discussed before, I love exploring the vulnerability of tops and the strength of bottoms. This is a piece that sinks into that, where the werewolf character’s vulnerabilities and fears are revealed.
Here is a taste. (As a heads up, it includes descriptions of intense sadism and sadistic desires.)
Usually, hir sadist was in accord with hir wolf—they both wanted to rip bottoms to shreds. The bottoms begged for it. They came looking for exactly that kind of destruction, death-urge plain on their faces. Rocky had spent many years honing the fine edge of hir control over hir deepest sadism. Ze rode the chaos of it, using hir dominance to keep a firm leash on hir beast, holding hirself back from the kill that the prey panted for. Most of the time, it took all ze had to keep from killing hir lovers. They wouldn’t have objected, or helped hir keep the scene under control. Ze had to do it all by hirself. And keeping hir wolf in check was no small job.
It was different with Frankie. When Rocky was around her, ze found hirself wanting something else entirely from this painfully handsome midsized butch with crinkles around her eyes. There was something in her strut, that cocky grin of hers, the proud set of her broad shoulders, the calm surety in her brown face. Frankie wasn’t prey. Perhaps that’s why Rocky’s wolf wanted something so different with her.
Ze wanted to claim her.
No, “wanted” wasn’t a strong enough word. Rocky yearned to claim her, with all the fervent vulnerable ferocity that only a wolf could bring to something new and frightening.
Ze wanted to rub hir scent all over Frankie. To take her clean smell away and replace it with the scent of Rocky’s desire and sweat and dominance. Ze ached to feel Frankie writhe, solid underneath hir fat body, holding on with all her might to Rocky’s huge arms. Ze would nestle her close, wrap her in those arms so tight and safe, and bite down on her bared neck, marking her, dark and raised and intensely sensitive to the touch.
After their fifth date, Rocky dreamed of her. Ze woke sweat-soaked and growling, claws extended, surrounded by the sheets ze’d torn all to fuck in hir sleep. Erotic dreams were hell on a werewolf’s bed linens.