Tooth and claw
tooth and claw
(Beta'd!)
author: meeeeee ahem. Randysugardandy
rating: NC-17 overall, this chapter is 15 for sexual referances and swearing (aint it grand)
state: in creation
warnings: um overall warning for later homoerotic and adult situations...^ ^' and non-con (depending on how mad
i go)
foreword: have to thank my gorgeous beta reader izy here, for fixing all the stuff that made No sense and the
spellings and such. LOVE YOU XD
Chapter one
Man's Best Friend.
In retrospect; walking down the alley into the underground was not the best idea, but then Johnny was not very good at wonderful ideas. It had all started with that itch, that itch so deep in the body you couldn't scratch it if you impaled youself with a hairbrush and dug around your intestines for a bit.The kind of itch that dragged you from warm sheets fresh with body heat, from the nice warm body next to you and out into the cold dirty streets.
Johnny had woken with a start-the new moon blasting through the window. He glared at it, grinning at him as if to say 'Don't you dare ignore me, bitch.' and he returned the imaginary taunt with some lude remarks under his breath.
The sleeping body next to him was flushed with a post-coital afterglow, the whore, wrapped up like a pig in a blanket, had gotten more of her fair share of what he had payed for, mind you....had he even payed? Did it actually matter? It was the cycle of the full moon after all and Johnny had lots of energy to disperse, the bitch should just take it for free and just be glad that she got such a good night.
But still Johnny was reluctant to leave the warmth of the womans body, glaring at the way that her long, bleached tresses flowed over her face and spilled onto the pillow. She was not unattractive, but Johnny felt sick watching her, too much makeup now smudged and dirty from fucking.
"What a sad existance." He thought as his pale body shivered from holding back the animal trying to rip free of his skin. Sighing he clambered from the bed quietly and crouched on all fours on the ground, the dark room began to shimmer slightly as his body ached and burned, fur sprouting over pale skin, every muscle shifted and he felt as though he where on fire. It was always like this, before the sudden violent relief as his body became that of a dog. The black shaggy fur so much like his hair shook as he raised his hackles, fangs pulled up in what one might assume might be a grin before leaping out the open window. The light spray of rain, still clinging to the sky after another london shower refreshing his hot body.
Running down the wet streets sent bursts of pleasure through his belly and spine, as his paws slapped wet stones. He could almost taste the busy late night traffic and bright swimming streetlights that clogged the West End of London; it had been like this ever since he could remember, the new moon began to rise and somehow you knew if you didnt run in your animal form, you'd explode.
Johnny had never fit in with his pack for obvious reasons; he was a lycanthrope-dog hybrid; his mother had been a respected member of the pack and a definate favourite of Abbies, people talked in hushed whispers that she would be top bitch when Abbie took control of the clan. But she had disappeared in her lycanthrope form, it happened sometimes; werewolves loved the feel of fur and there paws grinding on dirt as they hunted so much they never turned back. Abbie had not taken it well...
Johnny just hoped his mother had been in serious heat when the black husky had crossed her path.
Leaving the clan had been a last-ditch attempt at a regular life, it had fallen apart pretty much instantly...if you left, you hunted alone; and if a vampire crossed your path, you were on your own. But Johnny didn't believe that; not really. For one Abbie was too fond of him to watch him die at the fangs of a foolhardy vampire. Johnny could only assume it was his resemblance to his mother; the same golden eyes, as he was told. Constantly.
The rest of the pack would be on his side if it came to life and death situations but the the cold glint in their eyes, the name "mutt" edging in on their tongues soured that ideal family existence for Johnny. Sadly he could never stray too far from his pack, not for his own safety but for theirs, if he decided to blab to anyone about the lycanthropes existance, well, at least to someone who wouldn't be considered crazy for spreading the news, it would be a full scale hunt. The kind that had died down over a hundred years ago when only children began to believe in things like the boogyman. So Johnny just kept going; just like now, just kept running down the streets, with no aim or company. It always pained him; wolves were social creatures at heart.
But he hadnt always been in the pack. It wasn't a birthright unless your mother and father were both in, you had to earn it, but Johnny hadnt actually earned it. Another reason the rest of his wolf relatives had been so distant. He had been found when he was ten, abandoned on the streets; and just like a wolf cub, the rejection of the mother meant death in the wilderness.
Wolves of course didn't have social services. Shuffled between homes and from well meaning couples right down to perverts. Some had had affection for him he supposed, being such a quiet child with such unusual features, big gold eyes drew in simpering woman and bastards looking for a pet. But they all ran away as fast as their slow human legs could carry him when they found out his problem...That's when Abbie had found him, he had been sat by a street vender in piccadilly circus begging people for money when Abbie had spotted the golden eyes lurking in the crowd. Abbie had only been twenty at the time. That had been it, no questions, no police search for a lost child. He was part of the London pack.
He was snapped out of his reverie as his sharp senses tingled at the scent of lycanthropes and vampires. A lot of them...Obviously, he mused, his wanderings had taken him to Tooth And Claw, where every supposedly damned creature came for a good time, it was where he was nearest to his own kind. And if humans got in the mix...well, it was definately their last night on the town. And Johnny relished in it, the smell of sex, alcohol and blood pouring from the clubs, the noise spilling from each back alley door, weren't the London pack supposed to be respectable? Ruled over by an iron fist. Of one Abbie Kelemen. The dog sniggered to itself in the form of a low growl, dipping its head in amusement, the name may have been amusing but even before Johnny had left the pack and Abbie had taken control, anyone who dared snigger at his name regretted it, if they were lucky enough to live to do so.
He barked gently as couple sped up at the sight of the huge shaggy stray, the breed of which could never be distingished by passers-by. Becuase Johnny wasn't any dog. And he was no werewolf, but he hated the term weredog.
So he had grudgingly taken upon calling it his furry little problem in his head, and he hoped to god he never muttered that aloud...
He padding down the muddy stone steps of the alleyway and down the dank tunnel of the railway pass, further down into the darkness. Keen golden eyes glinted as tube trains speeded further off on other tracks, but Johnny didnt worry, this railway hadnt been used in years. Eventually he saw a glint of shifting light and heard the rumble and noise of people, the wolfdog padding down the dank steps into the abandoned railway pass. Johnny paused at the sight of the hive of bodies, he and the rest of the mythilogical bastards were now underground.
Deep in the old unused sections of the tube, his mind was dulled and overuled by his senses. The beast cocked his head at the crowd, nose twitching uncertainly as he smelt vampires, wolves and humans stacked together in the hot, stale surroundings, hard edged music blasting from every corner causing Johnny's ears to twitch in irritation. The smell of sweat clung to bodies on the makeshift dance floor further off.
It was a twenty-four hour party he supposed, but Johnny had never seen it in the day time. He didn't dare; that was when vampires nested here, and the fangy bastards got pretty pissy if their precious sleep was interrupted.
The disused railway had been selected as a refuge for the fanged and clawed alike of Londond fourty years ago when the packs had formed, after vicious arguements and lives had been lost on both sides, the lycanthropes and vampires had formed a shaky truce. Tooth And Claw, as it was dubbed by the populace. Each pack fought among themselves for their leader, and to avoid bloodshed, the fight for control was only allowed every twenty years, at least for the lycanthrope packs.
On the higher parapets, the remains of the pipelines overhead covered in rotten planks and some shaky gothic railings erected along the edge, three men stood clad in suits for the occasion. It was the new moon after all; this called for a mixture of running in packs in the lycanthrope's sinued wolf forms, and drinking your body weight. Jonas was the leader of the three, his topaz eyes scanning the crowd. He grinned; fangs glinting in the neon lights, blunter than vampires but no less lethal; one of the few signs of a werewolf that were noticable to humans. That and the eyes, a lycanthrope's eyes glowed catlike in certain lights, and their wolf-like dilated pupils were often subject to much speculation when faced with a hunter. Jonas's eyes where a bright stormy blue, shining slightly from inebriation and the reflection of hazy lighting overhead.
"'Ey Joney.." crooned the stockier of three, Stubbs he was nicknamed on acount of his unnaturally short blunt nails, so uncommon in lycanthropes. No one bothered to call him by his christan name, Nicholas, except Abbie who considered the nickname childish and stupid; but in Stubb's opinion, Abbie thought everything childish and stupid.
"Hmm?" Jonas responded, pointed features split into with a wide, feral grin.
"Look who crashed the party." Stubbs muttered, slurring his S's ever so slightly as he leaned over the rails smiling down at the huge black dog now prowling towards the bar, ears flat at the din of music. The creature had the blunt features of a wolf, but the smaller stature of a dog, it's fur glinting with water droplets. Jonas joined Stubbs leaning over the rail, his grin fading but the mischevious glint in his bright blue eyes refusing to budge. The third man, Gabriel, younger than the others, joined the pair to stare down at the lycan dog hybrid, the light scar that decorated the bridge of his nose wrinkling slightly as his expression tightened.
"'oos that? Johnny?" Gabriel mumbled hiccuping ever so slightly, Jonas cuffed him over the head laughing.
"'course Gab' you don't think a pure wolf would be so puny, would you? No that right there is our little mutt relative!" Jonas growled deep in his throat, chortling as he watching Gabrial press his untidy hair back to its slightly less mournful state. The three turned back to glare at the wolfdog below, they would be having a chat with their mutt cousin soon.
Johnny wanted a drink badly, his throat ached for some burning liquor. But he realised after a second of staring at a bottle of whiskey mournfully out of reach, that he hadn't thought to grab his clothes or his wallet in his sudden urge to change forms...turns out that he had payed the whore...he growled deep and low, scaring a few patrons nearby.
He couldn't go back for his clothes, he just didn't want to face the whore lying in the bed. Anyway, it wasn't his house, just another random brothel like all the other brothels he'd been to. It wasn't easy finding a quick lay without people asking questions, and as Johnny had discovered whores asked no questions they weren't payed to ask; he wasn't about to pay someone twenty quid to quary whether he regularly changed into a four-legged beasty.
After a moments hesitation he took a break to check his surroundings, maybe he could steal some clothes, there was no shortage of hormone-crazed couples running into the lower tunnels for a quickie and perhaps some poor unfortunate human getting a 'Vein drain' as it was nicknamed, shedding their clothes like snakes in a hurry and leaving trails of shirts and trousers behind them. Johnny sauntered between legs, pausing occasionaly as his attention was caught by a particularly short skirt from ground level. Humans looked unsuprised at the large dog trotting through the close knit crowd; vampy's eyed the dog with hesitation, the truce was shaky after all. There was no telling when a fight might break out again, best to be wary.
Johnny scanned the floor, it was dirty and covered in all manner of things, loose change, broken glasses; even a few condom wrappers stuck to the concrete. Johnny wrinkled his nose in distate, his urge to drink beginning to fight reasoning over sitting at the crowded bar starkers. Suddenly a flash of yellow caught his eye, a discarded shirt, a very unfashionable, loud, mustard shirt. He supposed it would do. Gripping the shirt by his fangs, he trotted behind the huge speakers, padding over the thick cables attaching them to some nearby power supply, and then closed his eyes, feeling that aching sensation all over again.
Only three werewolves saw the dog disapear behind the booming speakers, and only a few could hear the pained bark over the din of heavy crashing music. However a larger portion of the crowd noticed a skinny teen wearing nothing but an oversized shirt creep out behind the boomboxes and slip over to the bar to steal a leftover drink.
Jonas growled, the idiot was atracting attention.
"Silly little cousin." he muttered, Stubbs and Gabriel now distracted by a gaggle of human girls smiling up at them.
Johnny grinned as the cool alcohol hit his throat, tasted like brandy; he swallowed the first three gulps but let the third sit in his throat for a while, wanting to prolong the sweet, burning sensation that made everything somehow easier to understand and at the same time, utterly confusing. He began to smile at his own witty musings, alcohol always seemed to soften the day in Johnny's mind, making all those battles for control in the pack, all the thoughts of being alone and the fear of impending outbreak of war so much more bearable.
Something caught his eye from behind.
A figure close by, he could feel the eyes burning into his back; as if there were scorch marks forming on the ghastly yellow shirt. A shiver ran down the weredog's spine, and he turned slightly, black pupils slitting in warning. Staring at the figure with a low growl rising in his throat, he recognised the near translucent skin and glinting fangs immediately as a vampire. A vampire. Watching him. Fuck. Johnny turned back to his stolen drink quickly; finishing off the liqour with a few more gulps.
The figure seemed to ignore the dismisal and stalked over to stand behind the the lycanthrope, joined by three more more of the ghastly creatures. The first smiled, pressing his stomach against Johnny's back, apparently not smart enough to stay out of a lycanthrope's way even in the sanctuary of Tooth And Claw.
"Lost? Little puppy?" the vampire asked, leaning down over Johnny's small figure to grin at the angry face. He stared determindly ahead; Puppy!? He wasn't a puppy! He may have looked like a dirty post-pubescent human, but he was older than he cared to admit...and this vampire thought he had found a perfect mark for the night!?! Johnny's eyes simmered with rage; fear crawling up his spine, and apparently deciding his stomach was an ideal living location, nestling there.
"No." Johnny finally muttered, hoping to keep this conversation short; it was nights like this you regretted running away from the pack...at least they offered some protection.
The vampire's smile didn't falter and a white hand snaked around his shoulder squeezing painfully. "Come on puppy, come and play with us." he muttered as Johnny turned to glare at him, the hand never leaving his shoulder. The three other vampires chuckled as Johnny looked them over; baring his fangs in what he really hoped was a scary look. They wore the same stupid clothes, gothic or fetish; whatever, when would those bloodsuckers give up on the Anne Rice and Dacula novels and act like regular monsters? He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and yelped as it was replaced on his waist, dragging him off the stool and further away from the crowds, eventually pulling him into one of the disused tunnels.
Johnny realised with a shudder; he was outnumbered, overpowered and semi naked.
It was going to be a long night...
(Beta'd!)
author: meeeeee ahem. Randysugardandy
rating: NC-17 overall, this chapter is 15 for sexual referances and swearing (aint it grand)
state: in creation
warnings: um overall warning for later homoerotic and adult situations...^ ^' and non-con (depending on how mad
i go)
foreword: have to thank my gorgeous beta reader izy here, for fixing all the stuff that made No sense and the
spellings and such. LOVE YOU XD
Chapter one
Man's Best Friend.
In retrospect; walking down the alley into the underground was not the best idea, but then Johnny was not very good at wonderful ideas. It had all started with that itch, that itch so deep in the body you couldn't scratch it if you impaled youself with a hairbrush and dug around your intestines for a bit.The kind of itch that dragged you from warm sheets fresh with body heat, from the nice warm body next to you and out into the cold dirty streets.
Johnny had woken with a start-the new moon blasting through the window. He glared at it, grinning at him as if to say 'Don't you dare ignore me, bitch.' and he returned the imaginary taunt with some lude remarks under his breath.
The sleeping body next to him was flushed with a post-coital afterglow, the whore, wrapped up like a pig in a blanket, had gotten more of her fair share of what he had payed for, mind you....had he even payed? Did it actually matter? It was the cycle of the full moon after all and Johnny had lots of energy to disperse, the bitch should just take it for free and just be glad that she got such a good night.
But still Johnny was reluctant to leave the warmth of the womans body, glaring at the way that her long, bleached tresses flowed over her face and spilled onto the pillow. She was not unattractive, but Johnny felt sick watching her, too much makeup now smudged and dirty from fucking.
"What a sad existance." He thought as his pale body shivered from holding back the animal trying to rip free of his skin. Sighing he clambered from the bed quietly and crouched on all fours on the ground, the dark room began to shimmer slightly as his body ached and burned, fur sprouting over pale skin, every muscle shifted and he felt as though he where on fire. It was always like this, before the sudden violent relief as his body became that of a dog. The black shaggy fur so much like his hair shook as he raised his hackles, fangs pulled up in what one might assume might be a grin before leaping out the open window. The light spray of rain, still clinging to the sky after another london shower refreshing his hot body.
Running down the wet streets sent bursts of pleasure through his belly and spine, as his paws slapped wet stones. He could almost taste the busy late night traffic and bright swimming streetlights that clogged the West End of London; it had been like this ever since he could remember, the new moon began to rise and somehow you knew if you didnt run in your animal form, you'd explode.
Johnny had never fit in with his pack for obvious reasons; he was a lycanthrope-dog hybrid; his mother had been a respected member of the pack and a definate favourite of Abbies, people talked in hushed whispers that she would be top bitch when Abbie took control of the clan. But she had disappeared in her lycanthrope form, it happened sometimes; werewolves loved the feel of fur and there paws grinding on dirt as they hunted so much they never turned back. Abbie had not taken it well...
Johnny just hoped his mother had been in serious heat when the black husky had crossed her path.
Leaving the clan had been a last-ditch attempt at a regular life, it had fallen apart pretty much instantly...if you left, you hunted alone; and if a vampire crossed your path, you were on your own. But Johnny didn't believe that; not really. For one Abbie was too fond of him to watch him die at the fangs of a foolhardy vampire. Johnny could only assume it was his resemblance to his mother; the same golden eyes, as he was told. Constantly.
The rest of the pack would be on his side if it came to life and death situations but the the cold glint in their eyes, the name "mutt" edging in on their tongues soured that ideal family existence for Johnny. Sadly he could never stray too far from his pack, not for his own safety but for theirs, if he decided to blab to anyone about the lycanthropes existance, well, at least to someone who wouldn't be considered crazy for spreading the news, it would be a full scale hunt. The kind that had died down over a hundred years ago when only children began to believe in things like the boogyman. So Johnny just kept going; just like now, just kept running down the streets, with no aim or company. It always pained him; wolves were social creatures at heart.
But he hadnt always been in the pack. It wasn't a birthright unless your mother and father were both in, you had to earn it, but Johnny hadnt actually earned it. Another reason the rest of his wolf relatives had been so distant. He had been found when he was ten, abandoned on the streets; and just like a wolf cub, the rejection of the mother meant death in the wilderness.
Wolves of course didn't have social services. Shuffled between homes and from well meaning couples right down to perverts. Some had had affection for him he supposed, being such a quiet child with such unusual features, big gold eyes drew in simpering woman and bastards looking for a pet. But they all ran away as fast as their slow human legs could carry him when they found out his problem...That's when Abbie had found him, he had been sat by a street vender in piccadilly circus begging people for money when Abbie had spotted the golden eyes lurking in the crowd. Abbie had only been twenty at the time. That had been it, no questions, no police search for a lost child. He was part of the London pack.
He was snapped out of his reverie as his sharp senses tingled at the scent of lycanthropes and vampires. A lot of them...Obviously, he mused, his wanderings had taken him to Tooth And Claw, where every supposedly damned creature came for a good time, it was where he was nearest to his own kind. And if humans got in the mix...well, it was definately their last night on the town. And Johnny relished in it, the smell of sex, alcohol and blood pouring from the clubs, the noise spilling from each back alley door, weren't the London pack supposed to be respectable? Ruled over by an iron fist. Of one Abbie Kelemen. The dog sniggered to itself in the form of a low growl, dipping its head in amusement, the name may have been amusing but even before Johnny had left the pack and Abbie had taken control, anyone who dared snigger at his name regretted it, if they were lucky enough to live to do so.
He barked gently as couple sped up at the sight of the huge shaggy stray, the breed of which could never be distingished by passers-by. Becuase Johnny wasn't any dog. And he was no werewolf, but he hated the term weredog.
So he had grudgingly taken upon calling it his furry little problem in his head, and he hoped to god he never muttered that aloud...
He padding down the muddy stone steps of the alleyway and down the dank tunnel of the railway pass, further down into the darkness. Keen golden eyes glinted as tube trains speeded further off on other tracks, but Johnny didnt worry, this railway hadnt been used in years. Eventually he saw a glint of shifting light and heard the rumble and noise of people, the wolfdog padding down the dank steps into the abandoned railway pass. Johnny paused at the sight of the hive of bodies, he and the rest of the mythilogical bastards were now underground.
Deep in the old unused sections of the tube, his mind was dulled and overuled by his senses. The beast cocked his head at the crowd, nose twitching uncertainly as he smelt vampires, wolves and humans stacked together in the hot, stale surroundings, hard edged music blasting from every corner causing Johnny's ears to twitch in irritation. The smell of sweat clung to bodies on the makeshift dance floor further off.
It was a twenty-four hour party he supposed, but Johnny had never seen it in the day time. He didn't dare; that was when vampires nested here, and the fangy bastards got pretty pissy if their precious sleep was interrupted.
The disused railway had been selected as a refuge for the fanged and clawed alike of Londond fourty years ago when the packs had formed, after vicious arguements and lives had been lost on both sides, the lycanthropes and vampires had formed a shaky truce. Tooth And Claw, as it was dubbed by the populace. Each pack fought among themselves for their leader, and to avoid bloodshed, the fight for control was only allowed every twenty years, at least for the lycanthrope packs.
On the higher parapets, the remains of the pipelines overhead covered in rotten planks and some shaky gothic railings erected along the edge, three men stood clad in suits for the occasion. It was the new moon after all; this called for a mixture of running in packs in the lycanthrope's sinued wolf forms, and drinking your body weight. Jonas was the leader of the three, his topaz eyes scanning the crowd. He grinned; fangs glinting in the neon lights, blunter than vampires but no less lethal; one of the few signs of a werewolf that were noticable to humans. That and the eyes, a lycanthrope's eyes glowed catlike in certain lights, and their wolf-like dilated pupils were often subject to much speculation when faced with a hunter. Jonas's eyes where a bright stormy blue, shining slightly from inebriation and the reflection of hazy lighting overhead.
"'Ey Joney.." crooned the stockier of three, Stubbs he was nicknamed on acount of his unnaturally short blunt nails, so uncommon in lycanthropes. No one bothered to call him by his christan name, Nicholas, except Abbie who considered the nickname childish and stupid; but in Stubb's opinion, Abbie thought everything childish and stupid.
"Hmm?" Jonas responded, pointed features split into with a wide, feral grin.
"Look who crashed the party." Stubbs muttered, slurring his S's ever so slightly as he leaned over the rails smiling down at the huge black dog now prowling towards the bar, ears flat at the din of music. The creature had the blunt features of a wolf, but the smaller stature of a dog, it's fur glinting with water droplets. Jonas joined Stubbs leaning over the rail, his grin fading but the mischevious glint in his bright blue eyes refusing to budge. The third man, Gabriel, younger than the others, joined the pair to stare down at the lycan dog hybrid, the light scar that decorated the bridge of his nose wrinkling slightly as his expression tightened.
"'oos that? Johnny?" Gabriel mumbled hiccuping ever so slightly, Jonas cuffed him over the head laughing.
"'course Gab' you don't think a pure wolf would be so puny, would you? No that right there is our little mutt relative!" Jonas growled deep in his throat, chortling as he watching Gabrial press his untidy hair back to its slightly less mournful state. The three turned back to glare at the wolfdog below, they would be having a chat with their mutt cousin soon.
Johnny wanted a drink badly, his throat ached for some burning liquor. But he realised after a second of staring at a bottle of whiskey mournfully out of reach, that he hadn't thought to grab his clothes or his wallet in his sudden urge to change forms...turns out that he had payed the whore...he growled deep and low, scaring a few patrons nearby.
He couldn't go back for his clothes, he just didn't want to face the whore lying in the bed. Anyway, it wasn't his house, just another random brothel like all the other brothels he'd been to. It wasn't easy finding a quick lay without people asking questions, and as Johnny had discovered whores asked no questions they weren't payed to ask; he wasn't about to pay someone twenty quid to quary whether he regularly changed into a four-legged beasty.
After a moments hesitation he took a break to check his surroundings, maybe he could steal some clothes, there was no shortage of hormone-crazed couples running into the lower tunnels for a quickie and perhaps some poor unfortunate human getting a 'Vein drain' as it was nicknamed, shedding their clothes like snakes in a hurry and leaving trails of shirts and trousers behind them. Johnny sauntered between legs, pausing occasionaly as his attention was caught by a particularly short skirt from ground level. Humans looked unsuprised at the large dog trotting through the close knit crowd; vampy's eyed the dog with hesitation, the truce was shaky after all. There was no telling when a fight might break out again, best to be wary.
Johnny scanned the floor, it was dirty and covered in all manner of things, loose change, broken glasses; even a few condom wrappers stuck to the concrete. Johnny wrinkled his nose in distate, his urge to drink beginning to fight reasoning over sitting at the crowded bar starkers. Suddenly a flash of yellow caught his eye, a discarded shirt, a very unfashionable, loud, mustard shirt. He supposed it would do. Gripping the shirt by his fangs, he trotted behind the huge speakers, padding over the thick cables attaching them to some nearby power supply, and then closed his eyes, feeling that aching sensation all over again.
Only three werewolves saw the dog disapear behind the booming speakers, and only a few could hear the pained bark over the din of heavy crashing music. However a larger portion of the crowd noticed a skinny teen wearing nothing but an oversized shirt creep out behind the boomboxes and slip over to the bar to steal a leftover drink.
Jonas growled, the idiot was atracting attention.
"Silly little cousin." he muttered, Stubbs and Gabriel now distracted by a gaggle of human girls smiling up at them.
Johnny grinned as the cool alcohol hit his throat, tasted like brandy; he swallowed the first three gulps but let the third sit in his throat for a while, wanting to prolong the sweet, burning sensation that made everything somehow easier to understand and at the same time, utterly confusing. He began to smile at his own witty musings, alcohol always seemed to soften the day in Johnny's mind, making all those battles for control in the pack, all the thoughts of being alone and the fear of impending outbreak of war so much more bearable.
Something caught his eye from behind.
A figure close by, he could feel the eyes burning into his back; as if there were scorch marks forming on the ghastly yellow shirt. A shiver ran down the weredog's spine, and he turned slightly, black pupils slitting in warning. Staring at the figure with a low growl rising in his throat, he recognised the near translucent skin and glinting fangs immediately as a vampire. A vampire. Watching him. Fuck. Johnny turned back to his stolen drink quickly; finishing off the liqour with a few more gulps.
The figure seemed to ignore the dismisal and stalked over to stand behind the the lycanthrope, joined by three more more of the ghastly creatures. The first smiled, pressing his stomach against Johnny's back, apparently not smart enough to stay out of a lycanthrope's way even in the sanctuary of Tooth And Claw.
"Lost? Little puppy?" the vampire asked, leaning down over Johnny's small figure to grin at the angry face. He stared determindly ahead; Puppy!? He wasn't a puppy! He may have looked like a dirty post-pubescent human, but he was older than he cared to admit...and this vampire thought he had found a perfect mark for the night!?! Johnny's eyes simmered with rage; fear crawling up his spine, and apparently deciding his stomach was an ideal living location, nestling there.
"No." Johnny finally muttered, hoping to keep this conversation short; it was nights like this you regretted running away from the pack...at least they offered some protection.
The vampire's smile didn't falter and a white hand snaked around his shoulder squeezing painfully. "Come on puppy, come and play with us." he muttered as Johnny turned to glare at him, the hand never leaving his shoulder. The three other vampires chuckled as Johnny looked them over; baring his fangs in what he really hoped was a scary look. They wore the same stupid clothes, gothic or fetish; whatever, when would those bloodsuckers give up on the Anne Rice and Dacula novels and act like regular monsters? He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and yelped as it was replaced on his waist, dragging him off the stool and further away from the crowds, eventually pulling him into one of the disused tunnels.
Johnny realised with a shudder; he was outnumbered, overpowered and semi naked.
It was going to be a long night...