WIP: Infernal Hunger pt. 2 (Patreon)

Chapter 2: The Hunger

Axel drifted in a haze, hung between dark and light. Pain still lived in him, dull and stubborn, a distant pulse that refused to die. The ground under his back was cold and hard, a nasty contrast to the burn flaring through his side. Every limb felt packed with wet sand. And under that, something worse: a warmth spreading from deep in his chest, alien, as if some foreign thing had taken root there and started pouring heat through his veins.

He opened his eyes. The world swam. Shadows. Faint streetlights. His fingers twitched on the pavement and came away stained with dried blood.

The alley returned in ugly fragments. Hands. Fists. The blade driving in under his ribs, twisting. He shuddered and reached for his belly, expecting a hole, hot and wet and fatal.

Smooth skin under matter fur. A thin, cold scar just below the ribs on the left. Nothing else.

What the fuck happened?

He struggled to sit. Muscle protested. A hollow ache settled over him that was not just pain. It was deeper. A gnawing emptiness stretching out from his core, a hunger so sharp it left him breathless. He’d been starving after training, sure. This was different. Something inside him was clawing to be fed. Raw. Primal. Not him.

He pushed to his feet and leaned on the wall, breathing in short ragged gasps. The alley was quiet save for the distant hum of cars and laughter drifting from nearby bars. Blood speckled his clothes. His shirt clung, damp and sticky. His head throbbed with every heartbeat.

He should have been dead. He remembered the warmth of his own blood leaving him. Yet here he was. Standing. Breathing.

His pads brushed the scar again. Cold. Faint. Wrong. Not like a part of him. Like a brand seared into the flesh, pulsing with a chill that felt borrowed.

Food, he thought, seizing on it like a rope. Maybe I just need food.

His paws shook as he staggered forward. A faint neon sign from a nearby café caught his eye. Not far. A few steps. If he could make it there, maybe this horrible emptiness would piss off and he’d feel like himself again.

Inside, the place was nearly empty. A handful of late-night stragglers nursing mugs, staring at their phones. Axel slid into a booth near the back, sluggish, and grabbed a menu without reading it. He ordered the first thing with meat. Anything he could get down fast. His mind swam. Every sound felt sharp, amplified. A spoon against china. A chair leg. Each little movement dragged his focus and made his skull throb.

The plate arrived. Steam lifted. The scent should have made his mouth water. He hadn’t eaten in what felt like forever. He stared down at it, and something twisted in his gut.

He took a tentative bite. Chewed slowly. Tried to coax his appetite into playing along.

The second it hit his tongue, revulsion rolled through him. His stomach lurched. The taste was flat. Hollow. Ash. He forced himself to swallow. Each bite harder than the last, his hand locked on the edge of the table as he fought the urge to gag.

What’s wrong with me?

The alley crept back in. That voice in the dark. Those words.

A hunger that will consume every fibre of your being.

He shook his head and stared at the food. Come on. It’s just food. You need this.

Another bite. Another. Each one sat heavy, his body rebelling. The gnawing hadn’t let up. It grew, mocking him, as if every swallow proved he was feeding the wrong hole.

By the third bite he was done. His stomach clenched. He shoved out of the booth, burst through the door, and barely made the alley before he doubled over and was violently sick, the meat coming back up sour and bitter. He leaned on the wall, breathing hard. The hollow ache in his core only got worse.

This isn’t right. His paws trembled as he wiped his mouth. What the fuck is happening to me?

His senses felt peeled. Raw. Every sound, every smell pressed in. The hum of the street. The flutter of wings on a rooftop. Soft shuffling footsteps. Even the night air felt thick against his fur, amplifying the emptiness inside him.

A flicker of movement at the alley mouth. A figure passing. He tensed, and the hunger flared so hard his knees nearly went.

The scent hit him first.

Warm. Alive. Male.

Axel steadied himself on the brick and stepped out onto the street. Crowds moved along the pavement, laughing, chatting, passing him without a glance. Footsteps. The warmth of bodies brushing by. It all buzzed in his ears, pulling his attention in directions he couldn’t steer. A faint allure, like a thread tugging at his chest. Each step a quiet reminder he was different now. Tied to the energy around him in a way he could not explain.

A group of lads passed, laughing, shouldering through. As they moved by, a flicker of heat prickled over Axel’s skin. His gaze followed them whether he liked it or not. There was something on them. A warmth. A vibrancy. It wasn’t just hunger this time. Something deeper unfurled low in his belly, curling tight, making his pulse jump.

He tore his eyes away. Every time a male walked past, it flared again, a spark catching. Each one carried an energy he couldn’t name, potent, magnetic, turning his thoughts fuzzy with need. A heavy, almost primal arousal simmered under the emptiness, adding a restless, gnawing frustration to the ache.

If I can’t satisfy the hunger, he thought, swallowing it down, I can at least satisfy this.

His eyes scanned for a distraction. Anything to quiet the throb in his veins.

Then he spotted her. A slender vulpine, bright fur, a confident sway. Standing near the corner, laughing with her friends. Attractive, no argument. Curvy. Warm in the face. He started toward her on old instinct, the campus-stud autopilot kicking in.

The pull wasn’t there.

That heat, that energy he felt with every bloke who passed, did not spark off her at all. She might as well have been furniture with tits.

He shoved the thought aside, stepped up with a cocky grin, and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it. “Hey there,” he said, voice low, letting his gaze travel the way he’d perfected years ago. “Bet I could show you a proper time, if you’d let me.”

The vulpine raised an eyebrow. Her gaze drifted down his bare chest. A faint smile tugged at her mouth. Impressed, at least. Her eyes lingered on the hard lines of him, the muscle, the grey fur still smeared in places with alley-grime and old blood she was clearly choosing not to ask about.

“Well,” she said, smooth, “I don’t usually go for lads so forward… but for you, I might make an exception.”

He grinned and let her lead him, body on autopilot, mind buzzing with questions. The ache still pulsed. Looking at her, it didn’t feel right. Like trying to fill a void with the wrong shape.

She took him down a side street, stride quick, as eager to get him somewhere half-private as he was to use her. If he couldn’t fill himself with food, he could at least get off. That had always worked. That was the one thing that always bloody worked.

She ducked into a back stairwell. He followed, barely hearing the clanging door over his own heartbeat. She shot him a smirk and pressed herself up against him, paws already roaming down his torso. This girl wasn’t shy. She had that gleam, hungry, sizing him up like she planned to eat him. Axel grinned, cocky, ready, as her hands found his belt.

One swift movement and she had it open. Fingers quick. Trousers unsnapped, zip dragged down, her other paw sliding over the hard line of his cock straining against his boxers. He watched, amused and slightly impressed, as she shoved his pants down like she’d done it a thousand times.

“Mmm. You’re a big one, aren’t you?” she murmured, licking her lips. His cock sprang free, thick and dark, already wet at the tip, the knot starting to swell at the base. The stairwell air hit it and he sucked a breath. She wrapped her fingers round him. They didn’t quite meet. She gave him a slow, filthy stroke, spreading the bead of pre down the shaft until he shone.

Then she dropped to her knees.

No preamble. Her muzzle opened and she took him in, lips stretching round the head with a wet little sound, tongue flattening along the underside as she sank. Warm. Tight. No teeth. Axel groaned, the sensation hitting fast and hard, and let his head fall back against the wall.

Fuck, she knew what she was doing.

A slow, obscene slurp as she drew up, spit shining on his red cock in a thick coat. Then down again, deeper, her throat opening with a practised gulp. The wet gluck of it echoed off the concrete. Spit ran from the corners of her muzzle and pattered onto the dirty stair. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked, steady, greedy, the kind of suction Kelly had never managed in her life. Her tongue worked the vein. Her nose brushed the fur at his groin. When she pulled off, a pearly string of drool and pre connected her tongue to his dripping slit, wobbling, before she dove back and took him to the knot.

He should have been in heaven. Gods, she was good. Better than Kelly. Better than most.

And something was off.

At first he brushed it aside, too wrapped up in the wet heat of her mouth. Then his limbs started to feel heavy. Not the good kind. Like the energy was being sipped out of him through his cock. A faint buzz at the back of his skull. Then lead in his bones. A fog creeping into his thoughts.

What the fuck?

Each pass of her tongue drained him a little more. This is supposed to feel good, he told himself. It did feel good. That was the nasty part. Her mouth was silk and spit and perfect pressure, and every slick stroke left him weaker. Why am I so knackered?

He didn’t want her to stop. That was how good she was. His hips gave a helpless twitch, feeding her another few centimetres, and she took it with a filthy little gag that was still somehow skilled, throat fluttering round him, spit bubbling.

She didn’t notice. Or didn’t care. Her muzzle worked him with that same eager rhythm, tongue dragging, lips sealed, the wet sounds turning obscene in the close stairwell. The smell of it rose: his heavy wolf-musk, her fox-scent, sex and spit and old concrete. By the time she pulled back, flashing him a wicked grin, lips swollen and shining, his legs were barely holding him up. A thick rope of spit hung from her chin to his cockhead.

Without a word she shoved him down.

He hit the stairs with a grunt. She hiked her skirt, straddled him, and he caught the scent of her, hot and slick, before she took his spit-soaked cock in one hand and guided it to her cunt. She sank onto him in one greedy slide.

Warm. Tight. Soaked. He gasped as her walls clenched round his girth, taking him to the knot with a wet, filthy squelch. For a second it was perfect. Then she started to move, and the weakness surged.

Each roll of her hips drained him. Each thrust leaked strength out of his body like she’d tapped a vein. She didn’t hold back. She rode him with abandon, voice echoing up the stairwell, the wet slap of her arse against his thighs making the dull ache worse. Her cunt gripped and dragged, slick and loud, her clit grinding against his pelvis, moans getting greedier, almost taunting, as he felt himself slipping.

His limbs went useless. Pinned under her. The harder she bounced, the wilder she got, paws clawing his chest like she wanted to tear something out of him. He could feel his knot trying to swell, trying to lock, and it hadn’t the strength. His cock was still hard — humiliatingly hard — stuffed up a dripping fox who was using it like a toy, and his vision was going grey at the edges. The hunger inside him gnawed harder, furious, as if screaming that this was wrong, that she was taking, not giving.

He didn’t know what was happening. He knew he couldn’t keep this up.

“Hey… hey, let’s switch it up,” he muttered, voice hoarse, breath shallow. “How about I bend you over and take you properly?”

She grinned. Something dark and greedy in it. She squeezed his cock with that tight, wet cunt, hard enough to make him wince, her laugh low and breathless.

“Oh, you think you’ve got what it takes? Fuck me with that fat wolf cock.”

Taunting. Like she’d already won a game he hadn’t known he was playing. She lifted off him with a filthy, sucking sound, leaving him throbbing and shining with her, a string of her wetness connecting her cunt to his cockhead before it snapped.

The second he was free of her, strength returned in a slow, hesitant trickle. Like she’d uncorked him.

He didn’t wait. Before she could turn round he scrambled up, fumbling with his pants, still dizzy, backing out of the stairwell with his cock half-stuffed away, wet and angry.

“Hey!” she shouted, voice bouncing off the walls. “Get back here and finish what you started!”

He didn’t look back. Her furious shouts faded as he bolted down the street, emptiness in his chest echoing louder than ever.

He stumbled on, body buzzing with a weird electric tension he couldn’t shake, mind still tangled in her taunts and his own raw, unsatisfied hunger. Her grip. That wild ride. It had left him drained, scooped out, as if she’d sucked the life right through his cock. And now, with every male he passed, that strange hot pull only grew sharper.

What the fuck is going on with me?

He wandered. Streets blurring. Night-sounds wrapping round him — glasses clinking, laughter spilling from open doorways, the odd shout from someone weaving out onto the pavement. Each sound buzzed against his frayed nerves. The hunger gnawed. His senses were too much.

And he kept feeling something when he walked past other lads.

Subtle at first. A faint tug. A gentle buzz that only flared if he looked too long. With each group it grew, a magnetic itch tightening in his gut. He tried to brush it off. Haze of the night. Confusion. Exhaustion. Get a grip, Axel. You just need to clear your head.

The more he told himself that, the harder it got. Every bloke he passed, the pull flared, a live wire round his chest. His stomach clenched. His cock twitched in its sheath, then started to slide, thickening, a slick bead of pre gathering at the tip.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He’d used lads before. Glory hole. Dark. Anonymous. A mouth was a mouth, an arse was an arse, and it hadn’t counted because he hadn’t had to look at them. This was different. This was his body turning toward them in the open street, greedy, shameless, like it had been waiting for permission.

A particularly beefy tiger leaned against a wall, laughing with his mates. Broad chest. Arms thick under a tight shirt. Loose, casual posture. The pull hit Axel so hard he actually stumbled. His gaze lingered too long. Heart kicking. A heavy ache stirring low in his belly. He could almost feel something coming off the tiger — a quiet pulse that left his skin prickling, his cock pressing thicker against his boxers, a faint, almost painful throb. The scent of him rolled across the pavement: clean sweat, feline musk, a hint of whatever he’d worn that night, and under it the warm animal smell of a male who didn’t know he was being clocked.

Axel forced his eyes away, jaw clenched, fists tight. Fuck. Why am I even looking?

His body didn’t care. The hunger twisted tighter. His cock kept filling, lengthening, shoving out of the sheath with every male he passed, the head wet now, smearing a dark patch on the inside of his pants. He couldn’t help it. His gaze drifted. Bodies. The way some of them seemed to radiate. Some were a faint hum. Others crackled, a heat that made his breath catch and his balls hang lower, heavy, the weight of his own arousal throbbing between his legs with every step.

He gritted his teeth. He’d never looked at other lads like this. Never had his body this close to mutiny, every brush of fabric against his sheath making his cock twitch, thickening with a needy pulse he couldn’t ignore.

Bad enough one by one. Then he reached a queue outside a club, and it hit him like a tram.

A crowd of them. Furs of all sorts, voices loud, laughter spilling, shoulders bumping as they waited. And this wasn’t just any club. This was a gay bar. The lads in the queue were leaning close. Hands touching. Heads tipped together. Low laughs and playful glances. The smell rolling off the line made Axel’s mouth actually water: musk and sweat and want, cologne over crotch, the thick, living reek of males who were here to fuck.

His whole body went tight. Blood humming. A weird heat licking up his spine as his eyes dragged over them.

Look away. Keep walking.

He couldn’t.

His gaze locked, helpless, caught between horror and fascination. Breath coming faster, each exhale shaky, the gnawing ache twisting into a fierce clawing need he didn’t know how to stop. His cock pushed fully out of the sheath, throbbing, trapped at a filthy angle down his thigh. His balls drew tight and heavy, swaying. His throat went dry. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his body betrayed him completely.

He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to name it. But the sight of them — the laughter, the glances, that scent like musk and sweat and open desire — it was making his cock twitch, his mind swirl with the worst kind of urge. He could practically taste it. The hunger roaring up, demanding, scrambling his thoughts.

Fuck. No.

Horror dawned, heart hammering. He forced himself to turn away. This isn’t happening. I need to get the fuck out of here.

He didn’t look back as he crossed the street, hands clenched, breath fast. Every instinct screamed at him to run before he lost his mind.

Then he saw him.

A lone panther, leaning against the wall of a closed shop. Tall. A bit lanky. More like some quiet, bookish type than the kind of lad Axel usually gave a second glance. The panther was looking up at the streetlight, a faint smile on his face, and something about the way he stood there caught Axel and would not let go.

Axel’s gaze roamed before he could stop it. The curve of the panther’s arms. The trim waist under a fitted T-shirt. A decent bulge in his trousers, soft for now, the shape of him visible enough that Axel’s mouth went dry.

No. Don’t do this. Not again.

His mind rebelled. His body refused. The pull between them was too strong, the hunger twisting, refusing to be ignored. Before he could stop himself he was moving, that electric charge pulsing in his veins, mouth dry as he closed the gap.

The panther glanced up. Eyes widening. A hint of awe flickering across his face, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Axel didn’t know either. All he knew was that his body ached, his cock was pulsing wet against his thigh, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away if he tried.

Fuck… why am I even looking?

He’d already crossed. The panther’s head turned slowly. Eyes widening a bit more as Axel stepped up. His gaze dropped to Axel’s chest with a look that was almost awestruck, like he couldn’t believe a lad like Axel would even be talking to him.

“Hey,” Axel managed, voice rough, catching in his throat.

The panther’s eyes flicked up. That quiet, nervous awe still lingering as he swallowed, gaze shifting back to Axel’s broad chest like he couldn’t help himself.

“Er. Hey,” the panther replied, soft, almost shy. He glanced back up. A faint tremble in his hands as he slipped them into his pockets, trying to steady himself.

Axel’s pulse hammered. The heat between them building. That damn pull making his skin prickle. The hunger gnawed, twisting up with something hot he did not want to acknowledge.

What the fuck is happening to me? Why am I so… pulled to this bloke?

The panther looked down, giving a nervous chuckle. “Didn’t think… a stud like you would be interested in some scrawny lad like me.” His cheeks darkened under the black fur.

Axel felt a strange pang at the words. Shit. He’d never had a reaction like this. Never wanted to get close to some random bloke in the street, in the light, where it counted.

His hand moved on its own. Reached out. Brushed the panther’s arm.

The second he touched him, something jolted through Axel, a pulse of heat that shot straight to his core. His sheath twitched. A slick bead of pre welled and soaked into the already-ruined fabric of his boxers. Fuck. He tried to steady his breath. His eyes traced down the panther’s body and lingered again on that bulge. The thought slipped in before he could shove it out.

He’d never felt this way. About a lad. About this.

And under the panic, his cock throbbed like it had found a meal.

The panther’s breath hitched. Eyes wide. For a second he looked like he could barely breathe, just as caught. Axel could feel the heat coming off him. Could smell him — something fresher than the club queue, musky still, clean fur and a hint of soap and, underneath, the warm secret scent of his cock in those trousers. It made Axel’s chest tighten. His own cock throbbed again, another wet smear spreading.

“You, er… you sure?” the panther whispered, barely a murmur, gaze flicking down to where Axel’s hand still lingered on his arm.

Axel nodded without thinking, mind a fog, leaning in, drawn by that gnawing magnetic pull. The panther watched him with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, lips parting as Axel closed the distance.

They were close enough now that Axel could feel the warmth of the panther’s breath against his muzzle. The softness of his mouth barely brushing. Axel’s cock pulsed, another slick drip of pre soaking through, his heart so loud it was all he could hear.

What the fuck am I doing?

He couldn’t stop. He leaned closer. Their bodies met. The panther’s slim frame against Axel’s heavier one, and — fuck — there it was. The panther was getting hard. Axel felt it, the thickening line of him pressing through denim against Axel’s own soaked, aching cock, two shapes grinding together for one filthy, accidental second. The panther gave a tiny gasp. His hand found Axel’s waist. Axel’s knot throbbed so hard it hurt.

Their lips brushed. Soft. Tentative. A jolt, hot and electric, through Axel’s whole body. The panther’s mouth was warm. He made a small sound against Axel’s muzzle, needy, stunned, and Axel felt himself start to kiss back, felt his hips give a helpless little shove, cock dragging against the panther’s through layers of fabric, wet enough that the friction was a slick, obscene smear.

Then something slammed into him. Hard and cold. A wave of realisation that jolted him back like a punch to the gut.

What the fuck are you doing?

Shock. Confusion. He jerked away, breath coming fast, chest heaving, staring at the panther, barely comprehending what he’d almost done. His cock twitched in the open air of the almost, furious at being denied, a wet patch blatant down his thigh.

The panther blinked, startled, face falling slightly. “I… er… did I do something wrong?” Quiet. Gaze dropping, embarrassed.

Axel swallowed. Guilt and frustration churning. No. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

“I… I’ve got to go,” he muttered, hoarse, barely forming the words before he turned on his heel, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and strode away as fast as he could. The hollow ache in his chest was worse than ever. He could still feel the warmth of the panther’s mouth. The faint scent of him lingering like a brand. The ghost of that other cock pressed against his own.

His pulse thundered. His mind a mess. The hunger clawing, twisting deeper, sharper.

Fuck. Fuck. What is wrong with me?

His feet hit the pavement in a quick, steady rhythm. He put as much distance as he could between himself and the panther. It didn’t help. The scent of the lad. The warmth of his touch. The almost-kiss sitting on Axel’s mouth like a cruel joke. It was stuck to him, that electric pull winding round his mind, tighter with every thought, every frustrated curse.

He’d barely got a block away before the ache in his chest twisted again, hunger turning darker, sharper. The hollow empty feeling sat like a weight in his stomach, winding up with a frustration that made his fists clench and his jaw lock.

You’re a fucking mess, he told himself, running a hand through his hair. No comfort in it. He was more than a mess. He was unravelling, coming apart at the seams, the control he prided himself on slipping further with every pulse of hunger that burned through him.

He ducked into a narrow alley, leaned back against cold brick, breaths fast and shallow, palms pressed into his eyes. He needed to clear his head. Needed to push this whole night out of his mind. The hollow ache only grew, spreading through his chest, down to his belly, lower, tugging with an insistent pull that made him grit his teeth.

Fuck… why can’t I just shut it out?

Images flickered, unbidden. The panther’s dark eyes. The softness of his mouth. That shy, breathless voice. The feel of him getting hard against Axel’s cock. Axel cursed, fists clenching, but the memory wouldn’t fade. Every time he shoved it away it settled deeper, twisting through him, hot and unrelenting.

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. He’d never felt this way. Never looked at other lads like this. Never had his body betray him so completely. And yet here he was, in a dark alley, cock still throbbing, skin prickling, every nerve on fire with an impossible, insatiable need.

It’s like I’m not even in control any more.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Every breath made the ache worse. His skin felt too tight. Muscles tense. His whole body caught in a nasty limbo between arousal and frustration, hunger and something darker. And it wasn’t just lust. It was that hunger, clawing, relentless, eating him from the inside out. Raw. Empty. A hollow shell with no way to fill himself up.

Just walk it off.

He pushed off the wall, steps slow and unsteady, gaze fixed ahead. Hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the way his skin still tingled, the lingering throb of his cock pressing against wet fabric.

This isn’t you. Get a grip and keep moving.

Each step felt heavier. The hunger pulling him down. The emptiness spreading like poison. Worse now than anything he’d ever felt — like dying of thirst in a desert, no way to quench it, no way to make it stop. And beneath the hunger, a creeping, insidious fear whispering that he might never escape this. That it would follow him. Haunt him. Until it consumed him completely.

I just need to get away from it.

His steps quickened as he turned down a quiet street, gaze darting, searching for anything that could distract him, ground him, stop him spiralling. Empty. Silent. Only his own quick footsteps echoing off the buildings.

His mind kept flashing back. The panther’s mouth. His own body leaning in like he’d been starved for it his whole life. He shook his head, teeth gritted, frustration boiling over.

No. I won’t give in to this. I can’t.

He stumbled. His hand braced against a wall. Chest heaving. Breaths ragged. The hunger was worse, a gnawing aching thing that left him trembling, hands shaking as he tried to steady himself. His body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve raw. The need pulsing through him with an intensity that made his head spin.

The world felt too bright, too loud. The shadows too close. For the first time a real fear crept in.

What if this never stops? What if this is who I am now?

He shoved the thought down. It lingered. Gnawed. Made the hunger flare hotter, sharper, until it was all he could feel.

He didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t care, as long as he kept moving.

He turned down a busier street, shoulders tense, hands shoved deeper into his pockets, trying to ignore the buzz in his skin. People bustled. Voices blending into a low hum. Footsteps on concrete. Axel felt like he was moving through it all in slow motion, every sensation sharper, louder, pushing against his frayed nerves.

He brushed past a tall, broad-shouldered wolf, and the second their arms touched a jolt shot through him, hot and electric, making his breath hitch. The wolf paused, glancing back, eyes slightly wide, like he’d felt it too. Axel swallowed and hurried on. The pull lingered, thrumming, feeding the hunger in his chest.

A few steps later, again — a husky this time, laughing with friends, his hand brushing Axel’s shoulder as they passed. Axel’s whole body tensed. The dull ache of need twisted deeper. He caught the way the husky stopped mid-laugh, glancing over his shoulder, gaze lingering on Axel with a strange intensity.

What the fuck is this?

He pushed forward. The hunger gnawed with each step. Every lad he brushed past, the pull was there. Some stronger, some faint, all of them making his chest tighten, his pulse quicken, his cock throb with a need he didn’t understand. Like they were all radiating something. An energy that called to him, fed the hollow ache, stoked the hunger until it burned like a fire he couldn’t put out.

When he passed a group of females, the feeling was different. Empty. Hollow. The hunger barely stirred. The ache faded into the background, leaving only exhaustion and frustration.

He shook his head, grit his teeth, wove through the crowd, mind a tangled mess of questions he did not want to answer.

Why does this only happen with lads? Why the fuck am I even thinking like this?

His head spun. The hunger clawed. The weight of the night pressed down until he thought he might shatter under it. He needed somewhere to crash. Somewhere to shut out the world, if only for a few hours.

His gaze drifted down a dark alley, toward an old abandoned warehouse tucked between looming buildings. He barely registered the broken windows, the faint graffiti, as he slipped inside. His steps echoed in the quiet.

Dark. Empty. Dust and metal. Shadows heavy around him as he found a corner and slumped down, curling into himself, trying to block out the gnawing hunger that refused to let him go. He wrapped his arms round his knees, pressed his forehead to them, breathing slow and shallow, trying to ignore the ache pulsing through his whole body. A hunger that felt like it might devour him from the inside out.

His cock was still half-hard. Traitorous. Smeared. The panther’s scent still somewhere in his fur.

Tomorrow, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut, voice barely a whisper in the dark. Tomorrow this will all make sense. Tomorrow it’ll be better.

The quiet settled. The hunger twisted, sharper, deeper. A hollow ache that left him wondering if there’d ever be a way to make it stop.