Master, I Am Yours (Gay Werewolf Erotic Romance)

On the last night of the full moon, a werewolf flees from the dawn, his mind divided. The beast in him wants only to maim and to kill. The man wants the comfort of his lover's arms. As morning nears, he fights against his impending transformation, struggling to resist his own bloodlust. Both man and wolf are drawn to his master's house, but for entirely different reasons.

This story features the same characters from a previous erotic werewolf short story, "Master, Come," but can be read on its own.

Warning: This tale of M/M erotic romance contains a scene of explicit sex between lovers and is intended for mature readers only.

Excerpt:

My only wish will be his pleasure.
I am a slave, to the wolf and to my master.

***
“You know what I am,” I said. I sat on the floor, my knees raised to my chest to shield my body from him even though I wasn’t naked. I felt angry, humiliated. I wanted to make myself as small as possible so that he might not see me. Almost a week had passed since the moon. There should be no trace of the wolf left on me, no inhuman scent, no hungry light in my eyes. And yet he knew.

He sat on the plush sofa, unfazed by my reaction.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “I’ve known since I met you.”

“How?”

He smiled. “I can see it on you. I can smell it.” He leaned forward, staring fearlessly into my eyes.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised. You can’t keep your secret forever.”

He was right and I knew it. I’d been stupid to think I could go the rest of my life without anyone knowing what I was, without ever having to admit to that accusatory word -- werewolf. I wasn’t ready for this. My entire body shook. I could barely look at him.

That strange, beautiful smile remained on his face. “You look frightened.”

“I am.” I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat. I could barely breathe.

“Why? Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

I lowered my eyes. “I…don’t know what you’re going to do.”

He laughed, a playful, ringing sound that only startled me more. “This isn’t some medieval horror story,” he said. “And I’m not afraid of you. I’m not going to put silver through your heart. What I want from you is…something very different.”

I didn’t dare look at him. Shaking, I hugged my knees tighter against my chest. “Wh-what do you want, then?” I thought of every terrible story I’d heard since I’d been bitten -- others of my kind throughout history who had been hunted, not for causing harm but simply for what they were. The lucky ones had been killed quickly. Others were tortured, locked away and beaten until they could be brutally executed under the light of a full moon. Could this man really be capable of something so horrible?

“Stand up,” he said firmly. “On your feet. Now.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Werewolf.” His voice was sharp, commanding. “Get up.”

I was frightened, but I obeyed. I realized with horror that part of me was a little turned on by the order. I climbed to my feet, shaking and finally chancing a glance at him.

His gorgeous lips stretched into a dark smile. “Now…strip for me.”

***
It’s a recent memory, but a powerful one. It draws me toward his home.