HOWL 2.5

Eric’s fingers drift down to his asshole.

Scalding hot water pounds down on Eric’s body, and it feels good. He’ll be red as a boiled lobster when he gets out, but it’ll be worth it. The almost involuntary relaxation of his sore muscles makes his mind fly, and he feels the most at ease he ever has since this whole thing started. He realizes with a jolt he’s only known Adam for a day. It seems like so much longer, doesn’t seem possible so much has happened in the span of twenty-four hours. Maybe that’s what happens when your world turns upside down.

Eric’s fingers drift down to his asshole. It twinges just to touch the rim of it, which feels puffy beneath the pads of his fingertips. He blushes, even though there’s no one to see him. Once he’s done showering he can’t wait to see if that goop Adam gave him really works. It would be nice to walk.

A soft knock raps at the door. There’s a blast of cold air.

“It’s me,” comes Adam’s voice through the shower curtain. “Just grabbing your clothes.”

“Okay,” Eric calls back.

There’s some rustling, and then the door closes again. Eric sighs. Adam’s momentary presence cut into his zoning, and now he has some things to think about. Can he really do this? Can Eric really trade his body for information about the werewolf species? He’s not sure, although a vicious little corner of his mind tells him he already has and that he has a red and swollen asshole to prove it.

He’s no Regan. If he does this, he won’t be able to walk away unscathed. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to think of himself as a real man again already, let alone if it keeps happening. If he keeps letting Adam so deep and hard into his body. He looks down at his hips. The blue and purple copies of Adam’s fingers seem to glare up at him. Can he live with himself when more of these undeniable tokens of his gay sexcapades appear on his skin?

Thing is, he’s not sure he can just walk away either. He’s sitting on top of a discovery that will rock the entire hunter community. His people had written werewolves off, a dead breed of another age. But Adam is real and alive, and Eric has a responsibility to gain as much knowledge as he can. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to Adam yet, what the revelation of his Tribe will mean. Eric has a singular opportunity. He can’t waste it.

He sees Adam’s bodywash on the edge of the tub. Mingled scents makes wolves crazy horny, he can hear Adam say in his head. With shaking hands, Eric reaches for it. After he’s washed the suds off, and set the scent on his skin, he turns off the water and gets out. He towels off quickly, eager to see if the numbing agent will actually work.

It’s not until he’s squirting the stuff onto his fingers that he realizes he’s not sure how to go about it. What exactly is the best position in which to finger yourself? Regan would have volumes of pertinent advice, he can just bet.

First, Eric braces one hand on the sink and just reaches behind himself. He manages to slather the ointment all around his hole, but can’t get very deep inside, only a finger tip or so. Next he tries reaching under himself, but that’s not very effective either. He can feel the slime of what he’s already put up there, but can’t get any deeper.

Frustrated, Eric glares at the tube. He can already feel a kind of tingle from the agent going to work, and it’s starting to feel better. He wants it more than just around the opening. Thinking it through, Eric lays down on the floor, facing the ceiling. He just lays there for a moment, forcing himself to be rational and coldly logical. Then he arches his hips upward and spread his legs.

This angle works much better, and Eric can push practically his whole pointer finger into his hole. He swirls it around, making sure to spread the ointment all the way around his passage. His middle finger is longer, it suddenly occurs to him. If he uses that one he can get even deeper. Eric applies another dose to his hand and reaches back to his opening.

It’s not as easy as the theory. His other fingers mash awkwardly against his skin when he tries to get the bird inside. He tries a few different angles, but none of them get in very much deeper than the pointer had gone. Pulling out, Eric stares at his hand, thinking. Slowly, he curls the pinky and ring fingers into the palm so just the middle and pointer and standing up. Sure they’re thicker together, but there’s also less in the way. Maybe if he applies both he can use the extra length to its fullest.

Eric spends the next several minutes on his back, pushing numbing ointment into his asshole with his first two fingers. After he decides he’s satisfied he gets up to wash his hands. The numbness is almost as distracting as the pain, but at least he feels better. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he goes in search of Adam.