lose an ounce of excitement. He stepped a little away from Lormar, though he kept a small hand on his chest as he peered at Tamarind. That intimate touch made Shakra blush. Shakra had only a sketchy knowledge of sex, and none of it dealing with two males, but he had enough imagination to have a sudden mental picture of the much larger Lormar... and the bright, excited Kyrill... mating...
Shakra turned suddenly for the door, pushing past Lormar. “Now you have someone to keep you company,” he managed to say. “I'll be at practice with Li’Won Shang.”
The heat that was coursing through Shakra's body was almost unbearable. He began to walk away, embarrassed and confused, but his sharp ears could hear Kyrill asking, “What's wrong with Shakra?”
Lormar's reply was amused, “Where is your nose? Your little prince is not a cub any longer.”
Kyrill sounded confused,” What?” and then exclaimed as realization hit, “Oh! With you? I don't share,” he growled fiercely. “Not even with my friend.”
“Not with me, I think,” was Lormar's knowing reply before Shakra was out of hearing range.
Shakra blushed, which made the heat in his body that much worse. Lormar's words were making his mind reel. Shakra was finally feeling adulthood, he realized, but... not with females... and not with... wolves. With...
Shakra made his hands into fists and drove his claws into flesh. He was attracted to Tamarind, to a werelion? As soon as he thought it, he knew that it was true. What else explained his reaction to Tamarind; his unreasoning fascination? Shakra thought of Tamarind sleeping beside him, his warmth, his soft fur, his gentle rumble, and his pleasing scent. The heat within Shakra grew and it centered in those places luckily covered in thick fur.
Shakra found a quiet, shadowed corner behind a roof support and crouched tightly around his discomfort. What was the cure for this? Lormar and Kyrill were barely tolerated, but at least they could claim to be cousins of the same species. If the people found out that a werewolf and a werelion were... lovers? Two males? Two males from two clans who were on the verge of war? Outrage at the perversion would hardly cover their reaction. Shakra wasn't sure how he felt about it himself.
A combination of the fear for his situation, and the cold floor, took away the heat at last and Shakra was left feeling hollow and strange. He needed to talk to someone, someone he could trust with his secret, someone who might scoff and insult, but listen, too, and give him some sort of advice. Shakra sprang up from his hiding place and went in search of Li’Won Shang.
Li’Won Shang was stretched out in a sunlit bay window, eyes closed. A myriad of window panes made the spot very warm. Shakra stopped a respectful distance and waited, knowing that the werelizard was well aware of his presence. The werelizard's crest spines went up, twitched, and then Shang opened his dark eyes.
“You've finally decided to leave your new toy?” Shang's voice was curt. He wasn't expecting an answer as he slowly rose.
“Tamarind isn't a toy,” Shakra replied, keeping his voice calm and not showing his anger. “He's...”
Shakra sat down and sighed, ears drooping. Shang stared, never having seen that dejected look on his prince before. “I need to talk to you,” Shakra told him darkly.
“You do,” Shang agreed as he stretched out again and closed his eyes. “So, my Prince... speak.”
Shakra watched the light sparkle over Shang's dark scales, wondering how a creature near his own age could seem so much older... and wiser. He had always wanted Shang's respect and had worked hard to become his equal. Lessons with the werelizard had been his only real pleasure in his strict and lonely life. To jeopardize that now by admitting perversion, weakness, and a tremendous failing of his teachings...but who else could advise him? Who else could he trust?
Shang's tongue flicked out and tasted the air. His face
Shakra turned suddenly for the door, pushing past Lormar. “Now you have someone to keep you company,” he managed to say. “I'll be at practice with Li’Won Shang.”
The heat that was coursing through Shakra's body was almost unbearable. He began to walk away, embarrassed and confused, but his sharp ears could hear Kyrill asking, “What's wrong with Shakra?”
Lormar's reply was amused, “Where is your nose? Your little prince is not a cub any longer.”
Kyrill sounded confused,” What?” and then exclaimed as realization hit, “Oh! With you? I don't share,” he growled fiercely. “Not even with my friend.”
“Not with me, I think,” was Lormar's knowing reply before Shakra was out of hearing range.
Shakra blushed, which made the heat in his body that much worse. Lormar's words were making his mind reel. Shakra was finally feeling adulthood, he realized, but... not with females... and not with... wolves. With...
Shakra made his hands into fists and drove his claws into flesh. He was attracted to Tamarind, to a werelion? As soon as he thought it, he knew that it was true. What else explained his reaction to Tamarind; his unreasoning fascination? Shakra thought of Tamarind sleeping beside him, his warmth, his soft fur, his gentle rumble, and his pleasing scent. The heat within Shakra grew and it centered in those places luckily covered in thick fur.
Shakra found a quiet, shadowed corner behind a roof support and crouched tightly around his discomfort. What was the cure for this? Lormar and Kyrill were barely tolerated, but at least they could claim to be cousins of the same species. If the people found out that a werewolf and a werelion were... lovers? Two males? Two males from two clans who were on the verge of war? Outrage at the perversion would hardly cover their reaction. Shakra wasn't sure how he felt about it himself.
A combination of the fear for his situation, and the cold floor, took away the heat at last and Shakra was left feeling hollow and strange. He needed to talk to someone, someone he could trust with his secret, someone who might scoff and insult, but listen, too, and give him some sort of advice. Shakra sprang up from his hiding place and went in search of Li’Won Shang.
Li’Won Shang was stretched out in a sunlit bay window, eyes closed. A myriad of window panes made the spot very warm. Shakra stopped a respectful distance and waited, knowing that the werelizard was well aware of his presence. The werelizard's crest spines went up, twitched, and then Shang opened his dark eyes.
“You've finally decided to leave your new toy?” Shang's voice was curt. He wasn't expecting an answer as he slowly rose.
“Tamarind isn't a toy,” Shakra replied, keeping his voice calm and not showing his anger. “He's...”
Shakra sat down and sighed, ears drooping. Shang stared, never having seen that dejected look on his prince before. “I need to talk to you,” Shakra told him darkly.
“You do,” Shang agreed as he stretched out again and closed his eyes. “So, my Prince... speak.”
Shakra watched the light sparkle over Shang's dark scales, wondering how a creature near his own age could seem so much older... and wiser. He had always wanted Shang's respect and had worked hard to become his equal. Lessons with the werelizard had been his only real pleasure in his strict and lonely life. To jeopardize that now by admitting perversion, weakness, and a tremendous failing of his teachings...but who else could advise him? Who else could he trust?
Shang's tongue flicked out and tasted the air. His face
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