lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

Summer could /feel/ himself rising, swelling — hardening. He closed his eyes, blindly seeking Isaac’s mouth again, and kissed the werewolf harder, fingers digging into his wrist. He wanted more of that feeling. Lightly, he murmured, “You’re wearing too much,” and ground against him, gasping.

He moaned with ever increasing delight into the kiss, body shifting against the other’s before pulling back with some reluctance. “O-okay…” He panted out harshly, chest rising and falling as he fumbled with his shirt, tugging it up over his head to ruffle up his curls.

He reached out to pull their bodies close again, hands running over the exposed skin. “Isaac, how do you even control this?” he mumbled, hips shifting against the other boy’s jeans. Was it just because the alteration was so recent, or did boys always live in this state of potential arousal? He grabbed Isaac’s wrist again, dragging the werewolf’s hand to his cock.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

Isaac cut him off abruptly, and Summer melted against him. The physical reactions were different, but the ultimate result was the same — Summer wanted Isaac. The pressure of their bodies together felt fantastic, and he unconsciously rubbed against the werewolf, moaning.

The body merging against his was flat where he was used to curves, hairier where he was used to less, and taller where he was used to a smaller body, but it was Summer all the same. “O-oh…” He croaked aloud then, crushing him to his chest.

Summer could /feel/ himself rising, swelling — hardening. He closed his eyes, blindly seeking Isaac’s mouth again, and kissed the werewolf harder, fingers digging into his wrist. He wanted more of that feeling. Lightly, he murmured, “You’re wearing too much,” and ground against him, gasping.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

“I’m /me/!” Summer roared at Isaac. “This — this is temporary, and even if it isn’t that DOESN’T MATTER!” He grabbed Isaac’s other wrist and pinned their bodies together. “We watched Pacific Rim together the night I first kissed you, and you’re a werewolf. Derek is your Alpha. You want to try skinny-dipping, and I’m still not sure about that, because I’m not an exhibitionist. I’m still me.”

Isaac trembled at the proximity and pressed his clothed body against the bare one before him, his free hand twitching against Summer’s side. He listened intently to the words spilling from his transformed girlfriend’s lips, before he finally gave into his urges and leaned to press their mouths together, trying to silence the ranting.

Isaac cut him off abruptly, and Summer melted against him. The physical reactions were different, but the ultimate result was the same — Summer wanted Isaac. The pressure of their bodies together felt fantastic, and he unconsciously rubbed against the werewolf, moaning.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

He yanked Isaac’s hands down, glaring. “I’m still me! Why would I be angry that I turn you on — regardless of what fucking body I’m in! I’m still turned on by you!” He growled, shoving Isaac away, and turned away. “It’s not like I’m asking you to prove you still love me or anything.”

“But you’re a boy…” He protested helplessly, before letting out a pained noise and curling his fingers around his wrist, gently tugging on his hand. “I do love you. There’s not enough words to describe how much I love you, Summer.”

“I’m /me/!” Summer roared at Isaac. “This — this is temporary, and even if it isn’t that DOESN’T MATTER!” He grabbed Isaac’s other wrist and pinned their bodies together. “We watched Pacific Rim together the night I first kissed you, and you’re a werewolf. Derek is your Alpha. You want to try skinny-dipping, and I’m still not sure about that, because I’m not an exhibitionist. I’m still me.”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

“It doesn’t mean /anything/!” he blazed. “Because I’m the same person! Just this stupid — I’m the same! Of course you still — argh!” He lunged at Isaac, fists flailing. 

Isaac automatically flinched and dropped down as Summer lunged for him, bringing his hands up over his head and shivering. “No. But how when I looked at you like that and it made me…how does that not make you angry?”

He yanked Isaac’s hands down, glaring. “I’m still me! Why would I be angry that I turn you on — regardless of what fucking body I’m in! I’m still turned on by you!” He growled, shoving Isaac away, and turned away. “It’s not like I’m asking you to prove you still love me or anything.”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

He stepped back, frowning, hurt. “The way I look matters that much to you? You — you’re a /werewolf/! You shift, you change, that — ” He broke off, shaking his head. “Just let me borrow a shirt and a pair of pants, please, and I’ll — get out of your hair,” he said dully after a moment.

“No! I just…you’re my Summer and if I…if I like you like this then that means…doesn’t it? Or does it, I don’t know…” He ran his hands through his hair, shoulders slumping as he gazed at her. “Please don’t go…I’m sorry, Summer…”

“It doesn’t mean /anything/!” he blazed. “Because I’m the same person! Just this stupid — I’m the same! Of course you still — argh!” He lunged at Isaac, fists flailing. 

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

He laughed, a deep rolling chuckle, and headbutted Isaac. “So you want me to stay this way?” he asked, and gestured down the length of his body. After a moment, the laughter faded from his face, and he reached up to brush Isaac’s cheek. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m still me, you know. Still the person you love. I just look different.”

He pulled away and rubbed at the back of his neck, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally found his words. “N-no! I…I love my Summer…” He refuted with a little too much movement, then he stilled and shook his head, gesturing near crudely, “No! You have a…instead of a…you know…”

He stepped back, frowning, hurt. “The way I look matters that much to you? You — you’re a /werewolf/! You shift, you change, that — ” He broke off, shaking his head. “Just let me borrow a shirt and a pair of pants, please, and I’ll — get out of your hair,” he said dully after a moment.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

“It was like the world held its breath after I said it,” he said, then glared at Isaac. “It’s not funny! I can — I’m still an empath, you know, I can feel you being turned on.” Giving up on modesty, he pushed himself to his feet, rumpling his short hair. He couldn’t decide which was stranger — having a penis, an /aroused/ penis; or not having all her — his — hair.

“Uh. I guess — can I borrow some clothes?” He came over to Isaac, to lean his head against the werewolf’s shoulder, and jerked back up, startled again. “I’m /taller/!” They still weren’t the same height, but it was clear that a good six inches had been added to Summer’s height.

“But why on earth would you wish…you know what? We can argue later. We’ve got to find some way to change you back…” he mused thoughtfully, absently wondering if Deaton was available to help, for he was the only person talented and trustworthy enough in Isaac’s experience to even undertake such an enormous task. He blushed then at the other’s words, before turning away and adjusting his pants, “No, I…you must be mistaken, I’m not…”

“Sure,” he muttered shortly before aiming to stroll out of the room to find some clothes, before stilling as the male version of his girlfriend approached him, and he watched him carefully. “I don’t get such a crick in my neck now,” he teased, almost unconsciously.

He laughed, a deep rolling chuckle, and headbutted Isaac. “So you want me to stay this way?” he asked, and gestured down the length of his body. After a moment, the laughter faded from his face, and he reached up to brush Isaac’s cheek. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m still me, you know. Still the person you love. I just look different.”

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

He glanced up, seeing where Isaac’s eyes were, and he could /feel/ the bloodflow, could /feel/ himself hardening again. He bit his lip. “God, you weren’t kidding,” he said. After a moment of curiosity, he jerked his mind away from that thought and struggled to remember. “I wished I was a guy,” he said slowly, “and now I am.” After another moment in silent contemplation of that sentence, he sat up properly, and tried to cup his hands over his groin.

As a method of modesty, it was a complete failure. The flesh was /so/ sensitive, any little brush made it twitch in interest. “How do you even deal with this?”

“This must be what I look like to you…” he murmured thoughtfully, always wondering what she saw when she looked at him with wonder in their more intimate moments, and he found himself becoming even more aroused at the sight, his breath hitching. “Wait…” He stilled then, repeating Summer’s words in his head, before scrunching up his nose, “You wished you were a guy and you turned into one, just like that? That’s not even possible…is it?” he mused to himself, then a smirk tugged at his features. “Welcome to my world — it’s a nightmare, isn’t it?”

“It was like the world held its breath after I said it,” he said, then glared at Isaac. “It’s not funny! I can — I’m still an empath, you know, I can feel you being turned on.” Giving up on modesty, he pushed himself to his feet, rumpling his short hair. He couldn’t decide which was stranger — having a penis, an /aroused/ penis; or not having all her — his — hair.

“Uh. I guess — can I borrow some clothes?” He came over to Isaac, to lean his head against the werewolf’s shoulder, and jerked back up, startled again. “I’m /taller/!” They still weren’t the same height, but it was clear that a good six inches had been added to Summer’s height.

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

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He glanced up, seeing where Isaac’s eyes were, and he could /feel/ the bloodflow, could /feel/ himself hardening again. He bit his lip. “God, you weren’t kidding,” he said. After a moment of curiosity, he jerked his mind away from that thought and struggled to remember. “I wished I was a guy,” he said slowly, “and now I am.” After another moment in silent contemplation of that sentence, he sat up properly, and tried to cup his hands over his groin.

As a method of modesty, it was a complete failure. The flesh was /so/ sensitive, any little brush made it twitch in interest. “How do you even deal with this?”