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Wolves and Lust	By : FoxTyler Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 2264 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Marilyn Manson. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Wolves and Lust
- 1
Disclaimer: Guess what? This ain’t true.

Wheat. It was all around him, blocking his view of the world that he was positive must be out there. He was in a fucking wheat field.
Pulling his lips back in a silent snarl, Marilyn eased back down so that he was once more lying flat on his back in the trampled patch of browned grass. God damn it, was there one part of his body that didn’t ache? His muscles felt as though they’d been stretched to the breaking point, and he knew there were long gashes running down his arms and torso. Fucking demons. If only he had their talons, the long, needle points that shot from their fingertips. But then, that was the problem with being a half-breed. And, he thought darkly, the other half of him wasn’t one which comforted him.
God, he was starving. His stomach rumbled fiercely, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, nearly a day ago. But it was the other hunger that angered him, made him growl with frustration. The Hunger that lingered deep down inside him, burning a hole through his soul. Fuck it. He’d ignored it a thousand times before. Besides, there was nothing here to eat, nothing to satisfy either Hunger.
Though maybe if he fed that voracious Hunger a little better, he might have been strong enough to come out ahead in the demon matches. Maybe he wouldn’t be stranded in the middle of nowhere, after he lost the fight and they stole his clothes.
A soft noise came through the wheat, and he strained his ears to hear better. The wind? Or someone? Something. He sat up, wincing, and forced himself to stay still so he could listen.
More rustling sounds. Sounds of something moving through the wheat, toward him. He tensed. The last thing he needed was for some redneck fuck-shit farmer wanting to know why the hell he was naked and injured in their field.
But no straw hat-wearing head was appearing over the wheat. Marilyn’s eyes narrowed. But no, demons didn’t fight during the day, and they never came back to a foe they’d already bested.
The golden-brown wheat stalks parted, and a huge dog slid into the trampled patch. No, not a dog. A fucking wolf. A fucking big wolf. Marilyn’s fists clenched, as he tried to remember whether wolves could get that big. The thing must have been fully three feet tall at its shoulders, and weighed close to one-eighty. A gigantic fucker.
But it wasn’t moving. It just stood there staring at him with glinting eyes, long pink tongue lolling out.
Marilyn hissed at the wolf. The animal tossed its head slightly, and gave a yip, sounding decidedly amused. As if on cue, a second wolf slid out of the wheat, this one just as large as the first, though his thick coat was a slight shade lighter. It stopped beside the first, settling down on its haunches.
So there were two wolves sitting here staring at him. Was he that fascinating?
The first wolf leaned forward, sniffing at him, then jerked back as if startled. It shook its head once more, and its whole body shuddered. Marilyn’s eyes widened as brown fur retracted into smooth skin, rear legs lengthening, paw becoming hands and feet. In a matter of seconds, the wolf was no more, and a naked man with short, light brown hair sat in the wheat.
“Christ,” Marilyn spit out. “Jon Bon fucking Jovi. You’re a fucking wolf?”
Jon tilted his head, lips parting in a vaguely amused and decidedly wolfish expression. “I don’t know what shocks me more. That you know who I am, or that you really are the slut I always thought you were.”
He felt the familiar burn of embarrassment twine around his anger. But at the same time, his gaze was caught by the shine of hot sunlight on tanned flesh. Oh, shit… That unwanted Hunger stirred deep inside him, and he forced his gaze away without answering. He found himself looking at the second wolf, who sat panting contentedly. “Who’s the fucking dog?”
Jon shrugged. “Just Richie.” His eyes trailed slowly over the other. Marilyn wished once more that he had the claws his demon heritage should have given him. He wanted to gouge out the bastard’s eyes.
“Who were you fighting?”
He glanced grudgingly at Jon, but said nothing.
Sighing, the lycanthrope leaned forward, sniffing once more, deeply. He leaned back, grinning again. “You shouldn’t pick fights with demons.”
“I am a demon,” he said coldly, face impassive.
“Sure, half maybe, but Alice is one hundred percent pureblood.” Jon’s eyes lowered lazily. “He could have ripped you in half if he wanted.”
“He’s old.”
“And you’re in awful shape.” He slid forward, hovering near Marilyn. His voice dipped low and suggestive. “You shouldn’t starve yourself. It makes you weak.”
That warm, sleekly muscled body was so close… He could feel its heat radiating onto his own pale skin. Hunger became a tangible pain. It felt like a hot bucket of lust had been dumped over his head. He had to fight not to lean in, but pull back. “Go fuck your pet.”
Jon laughed softly. “But I want to fuck you.”
Even through his aches and pains, Marilyn found the strength to scoot back a few inches. He didn’t like having to retreat, and his icy expression showed it. When he glanced to the side, it looked like the other wolf was grinning at him.
“Aw, come on,” Jon coaxed, following him back. “I can smell how hungry you are. When was the last time you fed?”
Damn the lust-bitch that had born him. He’d strangle her himself if he ever saw her again. He was a fucking demon, not some deplorable lust-addicted fairy. Damn these moments, the ones that made him remember he could never be wholly demon, not when the lust was in his blood like a fiery disease.
“Don’t fight it,” Jon murmured, sliding closer yet, so that their faces were inches apart, their skin nearly brushing. “You can’t fight what you are.”
“Get off me,” Marilyn ordered, but couldn’t seem to find the strength to push the wolf off him. Because he was still weak from last night’s fight? Or because the lust was streaking through him, his blood beginning to burn, dick stirring to life.
“No,” Jon said simply, and dipped his head as if to kiss him.
Panicking, Marilyn tried to draw back, and ended up flat on his back again. Before he could roll away, Jon dropped down on him, hands on either side of his head, straddling his hips. He found himself staring up into intent eyes.
“I want you.” Jon’s voice had gone husky. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. You think you’re so demonic, so scary. Do you even realize how you make people feel? Do you know how much you make me want you? Everything about you screams ‘fuck me’.”
“Fuck yourself,” Marilyn spit back at him furiously. But he couldn’t make himself struggle away. The heated flesh against him felt so good, so delicious, arousing him so well.
“Come on, Manson,” a new voice said, and he whipped his head to the side, to see the other wolf gone, and Richie stretched out beside him, propped up on an elbow. He smiled lazily. “Jon’s good. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Am I good?” Jon rose off his prey, reaching out to grab a handful of Richie’s hair, tugging him close to kiss him.
Marilyn couldn’t muffle his groan as the two kissed above him, long and slow, exploring each other’s mouths. His head felt like it was spinning. Jon was only half on him now; it would be easy to push him away, now, while he and Richie were busy groping one another. Only Marilyn didn’t think he could move now that his body had melted into hot wax. Hunger made his sight blurry, but he could still see both the wolves perfectly. Could see their hands stroke each other’s flesh. His ears were ringing, but he could hear their sighs and moans. His entire body hummed with lust, his Hunger reaching out for Jon and Richie, trying to lick at their passion and devour it.
The two broke apart, both looking down at him, startled. Marilyn froze, his Hunger retracting back into himself.
“So that’s what it feels like,” Jon said wonderingly. “To be fed off of. I always wondered.”
He wasn’t certain what to do now that it seemed he’d given in. The world around him was flaming with sensual promise, making his body throb. The licks weren’t nearly enough to satisfy, just to tease him further.
“Do it again,” Jon demanded, leaning down once more, this time sealing his mouth over Marilyn’s and slipping his tongue in deep. At the same time, Richie settled closer against the pale body, moving his mouth down to kiss and lick at Marilyn’s neck, while his hand slid between the two, stroking flesh, leaving a burning trail wherever his fingers went.
Sensation flooded him; Hunger scorched him like a flame. There was nothing to do but surrender. Marilyn flung open the demon gates of his mind and soul, and freed his Hunger.
Instantly, lust rushed into him, Jon’s lust, Richie’s lust, mingling with his own. Simultaneously with the release of his Hunger, the two wolves made soft noises of wonder, and pressed closer against him. They could feel him now, he knew, could feel his need, and through him, each other. So long as his Hunger reigned, they would be connected, each of them feeling every intoxicating sensation of the others.
But it wasn’t enough to lie and received them anymore. Marilyn arched, twisting under Jon, rubbing their bodies together, gasping at the rush of pleasure. His nerve endings flared, and he broke the kiss, needing to taste all of the other. Forcing Jon back, he laid his lips against the wolf’s throat, tongue scraping skin, pulling back his lips to sink blunt teeth into delicate flesh. Jon shuddered, hands gripping Marilyn’s shoulder’s tight enough to bruise.
At his side, Richie bit his neck in return, bucking his hips so that Marilyn could feel the hard length digging into his thigh. He reached over in answer, hand sliding around Richie’s cock, earning an appreciative grunt, and another thrust.
Aching muscles no longer mattered; lust leant all all the strength he needed. His mouth devoured Jon’s flesh, down to his chest. He anchored himself there, licking and biting at the nipples, one hand supporting himself, the other steadily pumping Richie’s cock.
“Oh, God,” Jon groaned, anchoring his fists in Marilyn’s raven black hair. “More.”
Yes, more, because the more Jon felt, the more Marilyn would feel. He pushed Jon back further, and slid down lower, tongue racing to thrust into Jon’s navel. He paused at the start of the dark trail of hair leading downward.
“Come on,” Jon said impatiently, tugging at his hair. Richie escaped Marilyn’s grip and came to hover behind him where he knelt, pressing kisses to his back while his hands crept around, as if in a hug, to slide around his swollen cock. Marilyn thrust into those hands, eyes rolling back, lips parting, but no sound escaping them. He dropped his head, taking Jon into his mouth, swallowing him. The guttural cry that answered his action was, to his ears, the loveliest sound in the world. His head bobbed, sliding the cock in and out of his mouth, taking it deep only to let it nearly slid from his lips. His tongue worked around it, and he hummed softly, fiercely pleased when the vibrations had Jon moaning and writhing beneath his touch. Jon was fighting not to thrust down his throat, he knew and drew off, leaving the wolf panting, his cock wet with saliva.
“Hungry?” Marilyn asked Jon, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“What about me?” a voice said in his ear.
He smirked, and slid out of Richie’s arms, pushing the hands off his dick. “What about you?”
Through the Hunger, he could feel Richie’s quivering need, even as he heard his swallow. “Please,” he begged, voice raw.
When he was lost in the Hunger, Marilyn didn’t need to despise himself. He could allow himself to thrill to what he did to others, the pleading mess of lust he made them become.
Jon reached a hand for him, but he ducked away, grabbing Richie instead, shoving him down flat in the trampled wheat. His hands streaked over the muscled body beneath him, nails digging into the skin, just enough to make Richie shiver with the promise of pain. Then he ducked down and blew hot air over the other’s straining erection.
“Please,” Richie said again, near to a whimper.
The corner’s of his lips curling up in an almost cruel smile, Marilyn complied, tongue flicking out, licking up and down the shaft.
“Oh, fuck.” Richie’s hips bucked up, cock seeking the warm heat of Marilyn’s mouth, though it was ever denied him.
Marilyn reveled in seeing him so desperate, gloried in teasing him to the brink of sanity, as his tongue darted out to lick him lightly once more, only to pull back.
But what he hadn’t expected was to feel hands closing on his hips from behind. He twisted his head to see Jon kneeling behind him, just as his knee shoved between Marilyn’s thighs, forcing them apart so suddenly that he nearly fell forward onto Richie.
No! Some part of his brain, the demon part, screamed in rage. No, you don’t have to be an incubus! You’re better than those sluts!
But maybe he wasn’t better than that. He couldn’t fight what was in his blood. Half demon, yes. But half incubus, too. No matter what he did, the lust would always be in him.
His eyes sought Jon’s as he felt a cock nudge his ass. He found the wolf already watching him, making no move to go further, eyes holding a question, seeking permission.
Marilyn whipped back around, dropping down to his elbows, hands gripping Richie’s hips, while his mouth came down to sheath his cock. Richie moaned, thrusting into Marilyn’s mouth. And it was only the dick filling his mouth that kept Marilyn from screaming when Jon began to push into him. His every sense flared violently. Pain burned him, but not for long. It was too easy to be overwhelmed by the rushes of pleasure rolling off the other two. From Richie he could feel the wet heat of his own mouth; from Jon he knew the incredible sensation of entering himself. It all crashed over him until his own pain was lost, and there was nothing left but shivering shuddering ecstasy.
“Yesss,” Jon was hissing, grinding against him. And Richie was gasping with every movement of the artful tongue on his cock, every suck.
Marilyn lost of track of all of them, lost himself between them, unable to tell which sensations were his, which belonged to the others. He was writhing, that he knew, rocking back against Jon, rising and falling on Richie’s dick.
The sun was hot and beating down on them; sweat rolled off burning flesh. Raven and brown hair dripped with wet, and plastered itself to skin, falling in eyes and blocking vision. The air smelled of heat and dried grass and sex.
A hand reached around, grabbing Marilyn’s cock in a fist; he never knew whose hand. He wouldn’t have needed it anyway. They were coming, both of the wolves at the same time, bodies working fast and hard, using him furiously. Hands yanked his hair, fingers dug into his hips. Then there were groans, and short cries, and heat gushed into him. His Hunger was wide open and seeking. When he felt their rapture, it became his own. He came, body stiffening, spitting out Richie’s cock to keep from biting down on it. His scream lost itself on the hot, summer air.
He collapsed with them, and they lay in a wet tangle, skin pressed to skin, heavy breathing the only sound.
Slowly, Marilyn’s sated Hunger began to retreat. Of course, now that it was filled, it would go and leave him with his demon disgust for what he’d done.
A wet tongue licked slowly at his shoulder, and he jerked away, pushing Jon off him. “You can go now.”
But Jon followed, not appearing offended in the least, He rubbed his face against Marilyn’s chest affectionately. “Are incubi always so ungrateful to their meals?”
Again, he shoved him back. But this time Jon anchored his arms around Marilyn’s waist, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Jesus, the wolf’s sticky sweat was getting all over him. Not that it wasn’t already.
He looked to Richie, only to find him reverted to canine form. He slowly wagged his bushy tail, and made no effort to help.
“Come with us.”
Jon’s words startled him, and he stilled in his efforts to dislodge him. “Where?”
“Does it matter? We want you with us.”
Fright gave him the strength to break away and stand on unsteady legs. Damn it, Alice really had hurt him badly in their fight, and his lust-meal wasn’t kicking in yet. “Permanently?” he snapped.
Jon rose more easily, and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You’re fucked in the head. Take your dog bitch and go back whatever Pleasantville nightmare you came from.”
The wolf, Richie, watched him steadily.
“We both want you,” Jon murmured, reaching for him before he tipped over. “What’s so bad about being with us?”
He yanked his arm away. “You fucking disgust me.”
“We didn’t disgust you a few minutes ago.”
Marilyn tried to push Jon away again as he slid his arm around his waist, but he was positive he’d fall without the support. “What, aren’t the two of you enough for each other?”
Jon glanced fondly at Richie, and the wolf grinned back as much as he could in that form. “We’ll always be enough for each other. Who’s enough for you?”
No one. Not for long anyway.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to find a way to get to you.” Warm lips kissed along his shoulder, up the back of his neck. “Following you. Hoping there’d be a chance someday, a time when you’d take us. We could be there for you. Whenever you need us.” Hands stroked his waist while they steadied him gently. “Come with us.”
Marilyn swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Go with them. It was fucked. Wasn’t it? He was a demon. A demon wouldn’t be that soft. Soft enough to go with these two wolves. Take whatever they offered. But would an incubus go with them? He didn’t know. He’d spent all his life trying not to find out.
Jon’s head rested against his shoulder, and his soft hair brushed Marilyn’s cheek. Go with them. It was insane.
“Come on,” Jon said again, the arm around Marilyn’s waist tugging. “Let us get you out of here at least. We’ve got the truck somewhere around here. Richie can stay like that, and you can borrow his clothes.”
He did need clothes. And he couldn’t stay out here forever.
The next time Jon tugged, he didn’t resist. He let himself be led into the tall wheat, leaning heavily on the other. Richie followed behind, padding softly through the browned grass.
He’d go with them, Marilyn reasoned, just to get out of here. But after that—
After that, he didn’t know.
- 1
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Wolves and Lust