Omega Moon

I sat up in my chair as I listened to the professor give his lecture. I was a literature student on the cusp of finishing my first year and despite everything that had been going on I had managed to keep my grades in this class quite high. Perhaps I was just naturally talented when it came to words or perhaps it was the person leading the class.

Tall, tanned and handsome, Professor Damien Lock stood leering at the fresh faced young men and women before him. He had just turned thirty and had a face full of stubble that coated his strong jaw, his hair was short and thick, tamed by a handful of gel and pushed back so that his green eyes could stand out beneath the thick, black brows that I’d seen frown at me far too many times. I had spent several nights fantasizing about the older man, reaching into my briefs and tugging at my shaft as I thought of all the ways he could take me. Sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of his hairy chest poking out of the undone button of his collar, on those occasions I often found myself retreating to my dorm to release the tension building between my thighs.

My sexuality had kicked in the same time my werewolf gene had. Almost overnight I found myself – a young man with a history of ex-girlfriends – craving other men and yearning for them to throw me up against a wall and have their wicked way with me. These emotions felt so natural that I didn’t waste my time questioning them. I didn’t want to deny what my heart, head and crotch were feeling.

Maybe if I hadn’t been a werewolf then I would’ve struggled to ‘come out’ and accept myself but none of that other stuff really seemed to matter when I had to spend several nights a month controlling an insatiable bloodlust.