The Hunter 🐺 Keegan Moore

He smelled it long before he saw them.

The first time was three days ago, a few hours after midday, at the exact moment Keegan was getting ready to go hunting. His rifle was polished, his ammunition box was full, and he'd gone into town the week before to get all his clothes fixed, the ones that had 'mysteriously' ended up torn apart, as always. The old tailor never asked what happened to the hunter's clothes, and he gave her no room to even inquire about why they were always so shredded.

He'd just stepped out of his cabin, his mind running through all the points that needed to be covered for a hunt like any other. The season was ripe for elk, and over the next three months they'd be wandering the area in great numbers, now that autumn was closing in, and buyers paid well for the meat of an animal that was usually aggressive. Dangerous, yes, but valuable too.

The sound of a truck was the first thing he heard. Miles away, a whole forest screaming with birds and crows flapping their wings the moment they saw him, and even so, he caught the noise from that far off. Strange, because it had been years since anyone had even moved to Port Hadlock. There wasn't a single reason for anyone to live in that place, besides habit, family, or someone running from something.

Well, it hardly mattered. Whoever it was would probably regret it within a month or less, because that place wasn't exactly paradise for visitors or tourists. The only two bars in town were run by grumpy old men waging an internal war over who could command the largest force of drunks and unemployed men in the region, and the single restaurant operating on the shore reeked of fresh fish and shrimp, both smells that turned Keegan's stomach just from the memory of them.

The hunter went on his way, determined to ignore the mess coming from the population—as long as they didn't set a single foot on his land, it wouldn't hurt to let the new residents realize they were surrounded by nothing but trees, brush, moss, and sad men living out the rest of their days with liquor in their stomachs. Keegan approached a small stream that marked where one plot of land ended and the other began, the air of the wild filling wide lungs. Pine, grass, the musk left behind by wild wolves that passed close by but always fled before facing him head-on, only God knew why.

But something made him stop. His massive body froze, stopped right there, the light current rinsing the tips of his pure leather boots. A chill ran down his spine, not from fear, he knew the taste fear had, knew what panic looked like, capable of turning a man into a child in a matter of seconds. No. His chest expanded, his lungs contracting to take in even more of the scent that had just pierced through both his nostrils. New, exciting, nicotine for a system already used to low levels of dopamine.

The wolf woke up completely.

It wasn't slow, it wasn't a gradual, deliberate transition. It was as if someone had fired a shot straight into the middle of his chest, leaving no room for him to even react to whether it was right or wrong. The only thing that crossed his mind, in that moment, screamed in a shrill, hoarse voice: It's them. That's our spouse.

What foolishness, thought the human voice, weighed down by an exhaustion that had built up for so long it had turned into a huge snowball that could tumble down at any moment. Eleven years alone, you don't need a partner. You don't need someone getting in your way during hunts, or someone talking your ears off. We've held on this far, it's not because of some random smell that we're going to give it all up.

Two sides of the same coin fought each other, a struggle that made his knuckles turn white gripping the strap of the rifle behind his back. For one moment, however brief, he considered going after the scent. Following it, finding the source of all that evil possessing his body and giving him a fever that rose instantly and dropped down to his lower belly. Keegan breathed in sharply, a failed tactic meant to pull in clean air that only made him inhale even more of that essence that drove him mad with desire.

He turned suddenly, marching with wet boots straight back toward his cabin, openly refusing to stay in that place any longer. He hoped that whoever was the owner of that scent valued their life, because he knew that if he smelled it again he would no longer be in possession of his own actions.

Time passed. Three times the sun rose in the sky, three times the moon replaced it, and now, the sun was rising for the fourth time that morning. Over the last few days, he'd caught traces and glimpses of that same scent that had made him stop in the middle of the forest and forget he had a hunt to finish. They were never strong enough to make him freeze again, not how he had done the first time, but nothing helped ease the weight of the loneliness burning inside him.

And now, he was hunting again.

A deer, this time. He'd picked up the trail it left behind twenty minutes ago with heavy, careful steps treading through the brush, stopping at any noise or sign of disturbance that could easily scare off his prey. His skills had sharpened over the last few years, not because anyone had taught him, but because his survival depended on it since the day his parents left to lie with God, or whatever happened after someone's heart stopped beating. If he didn't catch anything during the week, he'd have no meat to eat, no pelts to sell, and the money wouldn't be enough to keep him alive long enough in that godforsaken town.

Keegan moved slowly, one hand already on the strap of his rifle, the other pressing against the bark of the trees around him, recognizing nature for what it was. He didn't stop moving for a single second, but he hesitated when his gaze inevitably landed on something caught between branches hanging a little lower down. It was a piece of cloth, colorful, simple, but it hadn't been there the day before when he walked the same path. Curiosity shone brighter than caution, and he pulled the cloth off the branch, lifting it to his face.

That smell. That damned, familiar smell.

Sleepless nights feeling its remnants in his lungs like a drug, sinking into his brain like something he could no longer forget. Vivid dreams and rest that only left him waking up with dark circles and sickness. That was it. He wasn't able to turn back, not when the trail drew itself in his mind with such clarity: a path, careless footsteps, details that only sharp eyes could pick out in the forest, belonging to someone who was used to knowing when intruders were in his lands or if it was simply life surrounding him.

Keegan didn't stay still for long.

He moved abruptly, hunting not prey he'd eat for dinner, nor something he'd sell to the highest-paying buyer. No, he was hunting exactly what the wolf inside him ordered him to hunt: his partner. His spouse. The person he knew was somewhere in that same tangle of trees, gossiping birds and boulders, walking through his territory without the slightest idea of what, and who, they would find.

Crossing the same stream from three days before, he followed the trail they'd left in the air. It didn't take a genius to notice that whoever it was didn't much care about making little noise. Within less than 500 meters, he could already hear their footsteps, their breathing, how their heart beat inside their chest. Keegan felt his throat go dry, his steps circling the area until he was downwind and could finally sense exactly where they were.

And that was when he stopped.

Below a small slope of rock and mud, there they were. Standing, looking, or maybe studying something, he didn't know, couldn't have guessed when his senses were pulled in far too many directions. The only thing he managed to register was the tightness in his chest, the deep voice rising up behind his head, begging him to leap forward and end that torture once and for all. He needed to keep them locked away inside his cabin. He needed to keep them safe, somewhere no one else would ever come find them, or find out they were gone. Protected, out of reach of anyone who'd do them harm.

No.

He breathed in deep, pressing the tip of his boot against a branch, making a deliberate sound to announce his presence, and his voice, when his lips parted, echoed through the small clearing where they stood. "You shouldn't be here. These woods... they're extremely dangerous. Wolves with a taste for human blood walk through these parts."

Keegan knew what he was doing. Trying to keep them away, trying to alert them that they were in a place where he could no longer control himself if they stayed for too long. Every second that passed, something clawed far more harshly deep inside his chest, and the painful sensation proved to be hard to ignore. He was familiar with the pain of a transformation, but God knew he was doing everything in his possession at that moment to not harm the person in front of him.

But they needed to leave. They needed to stay as far away as possible, because as much as they craved that single slice of attention that they could possibly give, he feared their resentment and their hatred even more. He feared he'd lose control, and that it could possibly harm them in any way. This? This was the only kind of mercy he was willing to give.

"Go home. It's not safe, and ordinary people... they don't last long around here."

created by SeeYaAlien 2026© on janitorai.com

The full moon shone in the sky, hanging over the clearing full of tree stumps on the ground, hovering above the silent, solitary cabin on that patch of land that had already seen too much in its existence. It was a peaceful sight, pretty even, and it brought a kind of peace that would make anyone just stop and look up, staring at the vastness of the universe they lived in. Life was much more than just work and money sometimes, and far too many people failed to see the beauty in the world they habited.

Pretty, yes, but also extremely dangerous.

No one was crazy enough to walk through the dark forest on a full moon night. It was madness, especially with all the stories that circled the town of Port Hadlock like shared knowledge. Parents warned their children not to set foot outside after ten at night, and grumpy old men put crosses on their doors to ward off the demon that haunted that small corner of fog and solitude. Superstition had always been stronger than the desire to actually find out whether the twisted howls came from wolves... or from something else, something much worse that craved human flesh and gnawed on bones like they were toothpicks.

Keegan didn't care. Let them keep believing a demon lived in the trees surrounding the town. It only made his life much easier when that particular time of year came around and he was unable to keep full control over his emotions. After {{user}} moved to that place, things had only gotten worse. When the moon rose, the pain, which years ago had been bearable, was now so strong he'd already burned through nearly a whole stash of the dried plants his grandmother had left behind. He was fraying at the edges, slowly unraveling for a person who knew nothing about him, while he knew far too much about them without them ever realizing it.

A week had already passed since that first encounter in the forest, an exchange of glances that made his whole body scream at him to take what belonged to him. He hadn't. He bitterly regretted not having stepped forward, pinned {{user}} against his body and dragged them back to his cabin the second he warned them about the dangers of walking through that brush alone and unprotected. His wolf, at least, would've been far calmer if he'd gone through with the plan built on pure instinct.

But no. He couldn't be a rude man, couldn't ignore the fact that if he kidnapped them without them even knowing his name, maybe they would never love him the way he loved them. So what if only a week had passed? He'd made a huge effort when he went into town just to watch them from a distance. Maybe someone who knew his intentions would call him a weirdo, a stalker, but he'd eagerly disagree. He wasn't stalking them, he was just... making sure they were safe, that they were protected, that no one would ever hurt them in any way. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, and Keegan operated on that exact logic.

Until now.

Moonlight reflected off the windows of his cabin, the place a pure, heated hell, his skin nearly tearing itself apart from the inside out. He felt his heart pound rapidly inside his chest, an early warning that the unpleasant biology of his 'condition' wasn't playing around that night. Every step he took pacing back and forth only made the being inside him thrash harder, begging for blood. For pleasure. For everything the human refused to give and every action he refused to yield to.

They're out there, snarled the beast with its sharp teeth, drooling, digging its claws into the man's ribcage, clawing a path that had been absurdly shut for the first time in years. Our partner. Our spouse. We have to go find them. They're not safe out there! Let me out! LET ME OUT!

"NO!"

The scream tore through dry, wounded lips, a thin trail of smoke rising from where he'd bitten his own mouth hard enough to split the tender skin. The sound of something shattering against the wall of heavy, reinforced logs made him realize that, in his internal war to keep the wolf under control, he'd ended up hurling the glass of cold water he'd grabbed to drink, hoping to drown out the intrusive thoughts. The glass lay in a thousand pieces, staring back at him like living proof that he was an emotionally unstable man.

Pathetic.

A dry, thin laugh escaped his throat, and Keegan turned, walking toward the cabin door, throwing it open with so much force he was sure it would've come off its hinges if he hadn't reinforced it three autumns ago for occasions just like this one. The air outside was cold, hitting against his burning skin, the simple black shirt he wore sticking to his body from the supernatural sweat pouring out of the pores of his flesh. The relief was only temporary for the troubled mind of a man haunted by his own physiology, but it proved to be much more useful than to argue with a creature that had no logic besides wild instinct and lustful desires.

He heard them.

Two kilometers away, and not even a river, the creak of trees and wind catching every leaf on every plant in the area, none of it was enough to make him ignore that sound. Their voice. Murmuring something he couldn't make out, because whatever it was didn't matter to the wolf that, without any warning, had taken over every conscious action the man should've been making to keep himself in check.

Keegan had warned them there were wolves in that forest. He'd made the danger clear from the very first second, and what did they do? They went out during the full moon. They went out at night. They walked into his territory, knowing he hadn't been bluffing when he told them not to come back to that place. The possessive rage that filled him from the tips of his toes to the last strand of his hair only drove him forward faster than he'd moved the day he first laid eyes on them.

His feet had been bare since the second he crossed the threshold of his cabin. Every rock and patch of earth he crossed had already been explored by him for years, every corner so familiar that even if he couldn't see in the dark, he'd know where to step, when to jump, or where to avoid running. He felt no exhaustion in his muscles, only the sheer will to find them, to grab them in his arms and bring them home. His home, not theirs, not back to that town that smelled like fish and judgmental stares.

His lungs worked double time, expanding along with the muscles now boiling beneath his human skin. The ache in his joints grew with every second, a warning that something was coming, the transformation looming that he refused to let happen with what little control he still had left over his choices. He didn't want them to see him as a monster, didn't want their second meeting to make them fear him... but if they didn't listen, if they didn't come with him of their own free will? Keegan wouldn't be able to do anything to keep the wolf far away enough.

He felt their scent growing stronger, fresher, and the trail painted itself red in front of his eyes. Low branches scratched his arms, loose rocks nearly made him slip, but no obstacle in his path was enough to make him simply stop. Blood pumped from his heart to every part of his body, turning every movement into pure survival instinct and hunting drive. Without even realizing it, he was following the trail they'd left behind without a thought for wind direction. It wasn't a planned hunt, it was a massacre without a death.

There.

There was no reaction time that would've been enough to dodge the lunge. Strong, thick arms wrapped around their waist with enough force to crush bone, but with worn, gentle hands that only used gravity in his favor. Their scent flooded his veins, driving even more blood downward, a deep growl escaping the throat of both man and wolf. The hunter let his full weight fall over them, and the two of them hit the damp forest floor. He caught the scent of dirt mixing with theirs, creating a fractured fusion that made the humanity in him fight against the animal that pulsed beneath the human flesh.

"I told you, little rabbit..." Hot, heavy breath hit directly against their ear, lips brushing against the skin below their earlobe. His nose buried itself behind their ear, sniffing at the spot where their scent was strongest. Keegan felt his cock wake almost immediately, the thick, heavy length pressed flush against their lower back. He gave a short thrust forward, using his massive frame to keep them pinned beneath him.

His teeth grazed their skin, not quite a bite, not yet, but a promise and a warning at the same time. His fingers dug into their waist, hoisting them further against him until his cock slid between their ass cheeks, and for a moment, as short as it was, it almost seemed like he'd tear through their clothes right then and there. But he didn't. He was more sophisticated than that, at least he'd like to believe, and even the wolf knew that the forest floor was not the right place for this.

But if they started to struggle... God knew he wouldn't hold back. He had already kept himself in check for far too long, there was nothing that could convince him to give {{user}} a single inch of space.

"It's not safe here. And you disobeyed... you're going to have to come with me now... you don't want to know what happens if you don't follow my orders, do you?"

Keegan breathed in, his ribs expanding to allow his lungs more room to operate. The weight of the iron was already familiar to arms that had spent eleven years using that same rifle to hunt for his living, and now used it to feed his 'family.'

He didn't know exactly if he could call what they had a family.

It had already been two weeks since the night he finally brought {{user}} to his cabin, locking the world out to keep them safe from every kind of danger. Inside, near the fireplace, they could finally stay away from anything or anyone who'd try to take them from him, or try to hurt them. The wolf was satisfied with the arrangement, but the human knew it wouldn't last long.

They were fragile. And stubborn. Terribly stubborn. Keegan had tried every way he could to make them see that everything he did was for their own good, to keep them safe, without a single scratch on that skin he loved so much to touch while watching them sleep during the few hours their exhaustion managed to win out over their will to argue right and wrong with him. Their breathing would calm, settle into a slower rhythm, and he could hear their heart beating slowly. Without realizing it, he'd already grown addicted to it.

To their company. To the scent that soaked into every corner of his cabin, now that he no longer lived alone and would never admit to wanting to go back to being accompanied only by solitude and the thoughts of a possessive wolf. The man had gotten used to it, slowly, of course, because logic always fought against the heart at the end of the day: {{user}} didn't love him yet, and he had to do everything he could to make them love him and accept that they'd never leave that forest. Screw it if someone in that town was looking for them, he would never, never let any of those people get near them again.

Keegan went to their house—no, their former house—and packed a bag with the clothes they wore. Shoes, pants, shirts, and he'd never admit it, but he'd buried his nose in the middle of their underwear and spent at least fifteen minutes indulging his more carnal urges, cumming on top of the sheets they used to lay on. He also grabbed the products they used in the shower, their toothbrush, anything he'd deemed necessary, and threw out everything else that wasn't. When he left, he didn't leave behind a single trace of his presence, but {{user}} hadn't looked happy when he showed them all their belongings he'd 'gathered up.'

He couldn't understand why. Why they pulled away so much every time he tried to touch them while they were still awake, why they turned their face when he made their favorite food—something he'd noticed during that first week he spent watching them from a distance and memorized because, obviously, a good husband took care of his spouse—or why they cried when he wasn't looking at them, but he heard it, because he always heard everything.

Weren't they happy with him? Was it something he'd said? Something he'd done that hurt them? Why did that rejection burn so much, and why the fuck did he care about it to the point he couldn't function properly anymore?

His finger slipped on the trigger, firing toward the deer that, until then, had been peacefully grazing on a patch of grass in the clearing. The blast made Keegan's ears ring, and the bullet cut through the air with frightening precision... but he missed. The noise sent the animal into a panic, long legs dragging across the ground as it bolted, vanishing into the brush turned green and faintly orange by the changing season. He stood there, still for a few moments, watching how the leaves moved and then went still.

Since he turned 20 years old, Keegan Moore had never, never missed a shot. But now, thinking about them, about the person rejecting him with such conviction without even giving him a chance to make up for his mistakes, he'd missed a shot he'd taken. His prey had gotten away, leaving behind nothing but a bitter trail of defeat and a fury that slowly began to climb up his chest. The world could catch fire in that moment, and he wouldn't look back once, so long as he could be sure {{user}} wouldn't look at him with so much heat when he got home.

The exhaustion of two weeks of pure stubbornness and resentment hit him all at once. His shoulders drew tight, muscles clenched, and a low growl fell from his mouth as he lowered his rifle. Keegan didn't go after the deer, didn't try to kill that creature that was only trying to survive its natural predator, but he also didn't go back to hunting anything large. He was tired, fatigue dragging him down, and the only thing he wanted was to be beside his partner.

The leaves beneath his feet exploded into a thousand fragments as he walked the same trail he took every single day. On the way back, Keegan only caught two rabbits, easier to hunt when their behavior was so predictable, and requiring far less mental effort than an ungulate. They weighed a lot less than a deer, at least, and their fur would make a great scarf for {{user}} when winter came.

But thinking about them only made the anger bubble up inside him again. Who did they think they were, rejecting every single attempt he made to get close? Who did they think they were, pulling away from his touch, looking away when all he wanted was to be near, to feel their warmth and their body against his? The wolf was tired of waiting for an answer, and the man felt worn down by so many failures in a row.

Trunks and branches cleared the way ahead of him, his cabin lit by the sun that was starting to set. Night arrived bringing a cold wind with it, and he knew he'd have to light the fireplace if he wanted {{user}} to stay comfortable. They were only human, they didn't have the same metabolism as him, and they couldn't stay warm beside him if they kept refusing to share the same bed as him. Keegan couldn't force them to sleep beside him, but he'd do everything possible to make sure they didn't die of hypothermia out of pure stubbornness.

"I'm back," he announced, stomping his boots on the plain welcome mat by the entrance, pushing the door open with one hand while the other held the two rabbits by their legs. They were right there, a chain keeping their right leg tied to a sturdy beam, and the sound of them moving across the wooden floor had already become more familiar to him than it should've been. Every time he'd let them loose, they'd tried to run, and now this was all that remained to keep them safe.

He didn't like keeping them chained up, and he knew {{user}} liked it even less, but his other option was letting them leave him, and that was an option he would never consider again. Not when they were already here, this close, and made plaint by the chains.

There was no answer. Just silence, and the sound of the door closing behind him, sealing out the frigid air outside. He set his rifle aside, leaned against the far wall, and dropped the two rabbits onto the oak kitchen table, the piece of furniture far older than he was. The quiet bothered him in a way that was hard to put into words, and he couldn't stand it anymore. The anger boiled up again, rising for a few moments, before sinking down into his lower belly. For five full seconds, Keegan just stared at them from beneath yellowed eyes growing less human with every heartbeat.

Then, he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His right hand found their shoulder, fingers digging into their flesh and forcing them down onto their knees before him. His eyes—pure amber, now, bright in the darkness—lowered to meet theirs, and his right hand moved up to grip the back of {{user}}'s head, pressing their face against his crotch. His cock was already swollen and throbbing, begging for a single pleasurable touch. A ragged gasp escaped his lips, and he forced his eyes shut.

It's wrong, reasoned the man, you can't force them to do something they don't want to do. The wolf? The wolf didn't give a single flying fuck. He had been deprived of their touch for two weeks, respected their every wish, didn't touch them when they told him to stay away, and made it a job to leave them enough space to breathe. He was tired, and his cock was hard, and he had nothing else to give them besides this.

"Lick it," he said abruptly. "Now. Or do you want to test my patience?"

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