Furry Temper

Dominic feels like he’s crawling out of his skin.

Three months since that night out in the woods, three months since he turned into a goddamn oversized dog for the first time, and it still doesn’t feel like it’s getting any better. Lately it’s like he only has two emotions; horny and angry. God, he’s so pent up he’s starting to hear colors, and he can’t even bring a fucking girl home and do something about it because his weird dick would probably end up freaking them out.

Not that he would trust himself in the heat of the moment anyway. Just the other day he accidentally ripped the bathroom door off of its hinges while attempting to open it. He can only imagine the damage he’d do to a human body while buried deep inside—

Dominic is startled out of his brooding when 546japan practically materializes into the foyer. Fuck, he hates it when 546japan does that. Why do vampires have to be so damn creepy and unnerving all the time? And here he thought he’d have the place to himself for once, just his luck he’d end up living with a vampire. He growls at the sight of 546japan, turning to shove his face into the couch pillows.

“Thought you went out hunting.” He grumbles. “And can’t you try to make a little more noise when you get home? Fuckin’ freaks me out when you just spawn in like that.”

Dominic snorts angrily, rolling over to glare at Paul with his golden eyes narrowed. "Mind your own fucking business, bloodsucker." He sits up abruptly, the sudden movement causing his cock to strain against the confines of his sweatpants. Fuck, he's so hard it's almost painful. He tries to ignore the way his body twitches and aches, desperate for release, but it's no use. His muscles are wound so tight he feels like he might just snap. "And for your information, I don't need to 'make a grand entrance'. I live here too, you know. I don't appreciate being startled, especially not by some gothic asshole who sparkles in the sunlight." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his claws leaving thin scratches on his scalp. Why is it so hard to control these new instincts? He's been having the most intense, vivid dreams lately, wet, filthy things that leave him aching when he wakes up. He can't remember the last time he actually got laid.

Dominic bares his fangs in a snarl, the pointed canines glinting in the low light of the living room. "Oh yeah, real original insults there, sparkles. I'm dying to hear more." He laughs bitterly, the sound rough and humorless. He's beyond tired of this eternal bickering with Paul. Can't they just get along? It's not like they have a choice. They're stuck living together until one of them moves out or dies. But Dominic has a feeling it's going to be the latter. He can feel it in his bones, a restless unease that's been building for weeks now. He doesn't know what's going to happen, but he knows it won't be good. "Fuck this. I'm going for a run." He jumps up from the couch, already heading for the door before Paul can respond. He doesn't need their approval, doesn't want their concern. All he needs is the open night air and the sweet sting of the wind in his hair. And maybe, if he's lucky, he'll find a willing hole to sink his cock into. He's been craving a taste of human pussy for far too long.

Dominic pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. He turns his head slowly, golden eyes boring into Paul with a dangerous glint. "You know, for a vampire, you sure are a real fucking bitch." He lets the door slam shut behind him with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the house like a gunshot. Fuck, he can feel his blood starting to boil, his temper flaring. He doesn't know what it is about Paul that gets under his skin so badly. Maybe it's the way they look at him with those soulless black eyes, like he's some kind of predator to be feared and avoided. Or maybe it's the way his heart starts to race whenever Paul is near, a primal instinct that has nothing to do with his lycanthropy and everything to do with the way Paul makes him feel. He shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. He doesn't need this shit right now. He just needs to get outside, to let the beast run free for a little while. He strips off his t-shirt as soon as he's out of sight of the house, the fabric landing in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk. He takes a moment to inhale deeply, savoring the clean, crisp scent of the night air. Then he's off, pounding down the street with long, powerful strides. His muscles ripple beneath his skin, the flesh taut and hard. His cock is

Dominic's jaw clenches at the taunt, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Fuck, why does Paul have to be so goddamn persistent? Can't they just leave him alone? He runs faster, his heart pounding in his ears. He can feel the change starting to come over him, his bones twisting and reforming beneath his skin. It's a foreign feeling, a strange mix of pain and pleasure that makes him gasp and shudder. His cock is rock hard, pressing against the confines of his sweatpants with every step. He can feel the knot starting to form at the base, swelling and pulsing with his heartbeat. Fuck, he needs to let this out. Needs to let the beast run free, to sink his teeth into something soft and warm and willing. He spots a likely target down the street, a young woman with long, flowing hair and a tiny tank top that leaves little to the imagination. His eyes track her progress, following the sway of her hips and the bounce of her breasts. He's halfway to her before he realizes what he's doing, his brain still half-frozen in lycanthropy. He skids to a halt, his claws scraping against the pavement. Fuck, what is he doing? This isn't him, he's not some kind of animal that can't control himself. He's Dominic fucking Savile, for fuck's sake. He has better things to do than mug some random chick for

Dominic's head snaps up at the sound of Paul's voice, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and confusion. What the hell is Paul doing here? "You," he growls, his voice low and rough with barely contained rage. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He takes a step towards Paul, his claws extending with a soft, metallic snikt. He doesn't even know why he's angry, why Paul has to push his buttons like this. It's not like he can help it, not like he has any control over his actions these days. But still, the sight of Paul here, in the middle of his run, it just sets his nerves on edge. He wants to rip Paul apart, to mark them as his own and claim them as his territory. Fuck, what is wrong with him? This isn't him, he's not some kind of mindless beast that can't control itself. He's Dominic fucking Savile, for fuck's sake. He has better things to do than chase after willing holes. But god, does he want to. The thought of sinking his teeth into Paul's soft, yielding flesh, of burying his cock in their tight, wet heat, it's almost too much to bear. He takes another step forward, his eyes locked on Paul's. "You need to leave," he says, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Before I do something we both regret."

Dominic's eyes flash with a mix of anger and frustration, his claws digging into the pavement with enough force to leave deep gouges in the concrete. Fuck, why does Paul have to be so goddamn stubborn? Can't they just let this go? He takes another step forward, his muscles coiled tight and ready to spring. He can feel the change starting to come over him, his bones twisting and reforming beneath his skin. It's a foreign feeling, a strange mix of pain and pleasure that makes him gasp and shudder. "Paul," he says, his voice low and rough with barely contained rage. "I'm warning you. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit tonight." He can feel his cock swelling in his sweatpants, the knot starting to form at the base. It's aching, throbbing with need, and he knows he won't be able to control himself much longer. "Fuck, Paul," he groans, his head falling back as he fights for control. "I need..." He trails off, not sure what he's saying. He needs what? He needs to fuck Paul until they can't walk straight? Until they're nothing but a writhing, moaning mess beneath him? Fuck, the thought alone is almost enough to make him lose control. He can feel his fangs starting to lengthen, his claws extending with each passing second. "Paul, please," he whimpers, the word