Only At Night update

My worries over slighting her turned out to be unfounded—Carina was the last person to walk on eggshells, or expect anyone else to. We washed up and dressed and then Carina treated me to a demonstration of how her van was supposed to be driven.

We’d slept through the day, to the point where all the really reputable restaurants were closed, but Marge’s was open 24/7. It was one of those linoleum and vinyl diners that seem to exist as proof that the 1950s really happened. Tile floors, a bar counter in pastel colors, perpetually tired waitresses with names like Flo or Maud who puffed cigarettes like they had a sideline as carburetors. There was even a cathedral radio, though I was doubtful as to whether it had ever worked. I could imagine the owner, in a fit of whimsy, picking the thing up from a junkyard and trucking the thing to the diner for the sake of atmosphere, even though all the music was piped in from the same place supermarkets and cheap radio stations got it.

The point was, the place served milkshakes like it expected Archie and the gang to come running in at any second.

Carina careened in there, jangling the bell on the door severely, while I followed behind. The drive had revitalized her and she’d either forgiven or forgotten how short I’d been with her. The only reason I was still thinking about it was probably because I get all obsessive at the beginnings of a relationship. That worry when you’re still establishing who you are as a couple, so you don’t want to be an asshole. Or maybe it was just less worrying than worrying about what the points meant and the possible downsides to them. I hadn’t really feared the points since I was a kid, but now that Carina was involved…

Carina slapped her hands flat on the counter, staring down the soda jerk. He wore a paper hat. Safe bet there was a fat guy named Lou with a greasy wifebeater in the kitchen, ready to fry something in grease. You never really appreciate a cliché until you see it well done.

“Two milkshakes,” she said. If she had a tail, it’d be wagging with excitement.

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Both!”

I took out my money to pay, but apparently that didn’t fall under an alpha’s purview, as Carina beat me to the punch with her card ready to swipe. I took a few bills in the tip jar instead. Someone had tried to liven things up by making one side of the jar ‘Team Edward’ and the other ‘Team Jacob,’ but the only difference was which side of the jar the tape was on. The money all mingled together inside unless you were some kind of ninja in dropping your change, which I wasn’t. But, spiritually speaking, I was on Jacob’s side. I figured now that I was Carina’s alpha, I had to support the hometeam.

God, when had Twilight even come out, anyway? I was getting old.

We were given a table tent and sent on our way. I sat down in a booth—with the obesity epidemic what it is, you’ve got to leave the tables to those who truly need them—and was more than a little shocked when Carina slid in right on top of me, dropping her ass in my lap. It was nothing a pair of teenagers out past curfew wouldn’t do, but I felt like I was getting a lapdance. Maybe I shouldn’t have fought so hard not to give into temptation before leaving. Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. There was only so dead below the waist a man can be with a girl like Carina on their lap. I’m sure there were people who’d been in North Korean prison camps for twenty years that could manage a how’s-your-uncle if they saw how Carina fiddled the straw she’d taken out of its wrapper.

I valiantly kept from getting an erection in the local greasy spoon. “So, ah, Carina—tell me more about this alpha business. And a beta, I mean, how’s that work, exactly?”

“Like I said, it varies.” She ran the straw wrapper under her nose like a connoisseur savoring a fine cigar. “To me, it’s about possessiveness. You want to… have someone, but not just to own them. To take care of them—support them—give them the best. Being an alpha to a beta is kinda the same thing as being a beta to an alpha. Whether you’re mastering or submitting, it’s a service. You serve them, either with your leadership or your following.”

“Is that why you didn’t let me pay for the drinks?” I asked. 

She put on a bobble-headed I Dream of Jeanne voice. “I must serve your needs, master.”

Then she startled, feeling the quake that went through my cock. She settled into a sleepy-eyed look at me, and I was tempted to kiss her before the waitress came by, swiping out our table tent for two milkshakes.

“Which one do you want?” I asked, trying to keep up enough of a poker face to suggest I wasn’t half-hard.

“Both,” she said, slapping away my reaching hand and grabbing up both the milkshakes in either hand. As disappointing as that was, it was almost worth it to see her wrapping her pert lips around the straw, sucking hungrily at it. I was irresistibly pulled back to how she had woken me up, feeling a phantom impression of those same lips on me, around me, the pressure that had drawn my own milky white fluid out of me. 

Carina smiled around the drinking straw as my erection surged back to life under her, trapped by the weight of her ass on my lap. She gave a little wiggle and I had to groan as the pressure ran over my groin—it was only covered up by the slurp of the milkshake rushing into her mouth. I could sympathize.

She moved the straw to the corner of her mouth, letting it dangle there like an unattended cigarette, and spoke. “I think you’re going to make a good alpha.”

“I’ll try… although I don’t know how imposing I can be when you’re the one who changes into a giant wolf and eats things.” A thought occurred to me; and in my defense, I can only say that my blood was occupied elsewhere. “Do you eat kibble?”

Her face fell. “Wow. I was expecting the dogfood question, but you don’t even assume I get soft dogfood?”

“Sorry, I…”

“Relax. It’s cool. I just don’t eat dogfood. Or… roll in things. I’m still a lady, numbnuts.” She preened a little, flowing back with her spine arched. “Feel my stomach.”

“What?”

“Just do it. My hands are full.”

I reached down to the split where her top was riding high and her pants were riding low, feeling her taut stomach, the muscles tight and kinky. “It feels fine,” I said.

“God. Usually I’d be feeling all bloated right now.” She gulped some more from the other milkshake in her hands. “Pat it?”

I patted it—wondering with absent lust just how much of my cum was still inside there. I could hear something sloshing inside her…

“I think it worked!” Carina said with infectious excitement. “You cured me!”

The rest of the ‘meal’ was torture. Good torture, but torture all the same. Carina straddled my lap, moaning and flexing with every drop of the milkshakes she sucked down. I could see her expression twitching with every cute little face she made, even see some of her firm flesh through the white tee she wore. Carina was totally unused to enjoying anything so sweet, and it hit her somewhere between a sugar rush and getting drunk. I smelled her perfume coming off her in waves, leavened with some achingly natural scent of hers, and somehow I could tell she was getting turned on too. Her nipples were pressing through her shirt and she pushed herself hard against me, winding her clothed cunt up and down my trapped erection until it was all I could do not to come. And then she started talking.

“Do you know what the problem is with having dessert for dinner?” she asked me. “There’s nothing sweet enough to come after it.” Then she beamed at me with her big round eyes. “Almost nothing.” She finished off the chocolate milkshake and was about to go for the vanilla one when she stopped, her lips achingly close to the straw. “Do you want to fuck me in the van again? I came so hard when you did that before.”

I vibrated, while at the same time wondering if something in her lycan physiology had gotten her soused on milkshakes. The duality of men. Then again, me worrying about whether she was too drunk to consent lasted about half a second. Then she started sucking on the vanilla milkshake.

Finally, she finished it. We exited the diner. I don’t know how alpha it was, but I left a few bucks on the table as a tip. I tried to walk fast enough to get away before anyone could see my tented erection, but not so fast that the movement of said erection against my tight pants became too uncomfortable. Not that I was wearing skinny jeans or anything, but when you have a ten-inch dick and a hard-on that could drive nails, anything but a kilt is tight. And Carina was pulling me along, her impatient enthusiasm both sexy as hell and somehow wholesome all at once. Like she was a little kid wanting to show me her high score on a videogame or something, only there was no mistaking Carina for a child.

About the only thing that could’ve killed my excitement was what actually happened: the stadium lights in the parking lot cut out just as we were almost to Carina’s van. A swell of memory shoved its way into my brain; I raised a hand unthinkingly to the spot on my neck where I’d been bitten. I was right. 

When the lights came back on, there were my old friends the Matrix bunch. The four vampires who had drank me earlier. There were five of them now, all around us. I protectively put myself between Carina and them, so at least they couldn’t get to her without going through either me or the van. Although all I could really do was feed them enough so they weren’t thirsty enough to go for her.

From behind me came Carina’s whisper: “Can you upgrade me?”

“What?”

“Make it so that I can turn into a wolf, even without the full moon. I can take these guys if I shift.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at her. Her menu sprang up as soon as I laid eyes on her. There at the top—Conscious Control of Shift. It would cost me a thousand points.

I gave her a tight nod.

“Do it,” she said. “Then get into the van and stay down.”

The vampires were catcalling us now—sick of their dark and spooky act, wanting us to act more afraid, threatening and posturing. I couldn’t really hear them with the blood pounding in my ears. I spent the points and it felt like I could physically feel those thousand points going out of my reserves—maybe what you’d feel at a blood drive if they took a gallon instead of a pint. I felt shaken, my head swollen, but Carina seemed to tingle, hum, like an electrical appliance freshly plugged into a wall socket. It was an almost lustful look.

“Oh. Oh, Ivan. I can feel it. It’s like I was cut off before…”

One of the vampires made his move—kilt-boy sliced through the air toward us with shocking speed, but Carina was even more fast. I didn’t even see her move. Kilt-boy just reversed course, like he was a dog on a chain and it suddenly pulled taut, reeled him in. Then I saw Carina standing there, her arm extended. She had sent him flying with one swipe of her hand. 

She looked back at me, her eyes glowing yellow, the hair standing up on her skin, bristling as it grew thicker and darker. “Van,” she said in a guttural voice that was barely her own, new teeth distending her jaws.

I wrenched open the van door and threw myself inside, hearing Carina’s clothing shred as she burst through it. That was the only sound I could recognize, but there were others. Ripping, tearing, bestial sounds. It wasn’t just her body changing. It was something coming out of her, something animal, not an iota of it human. Bones creaking and shifting and forming into new shapes—flesh straining, swelling, the muscles flowing into different positions—being wrenched and ripped apart and knitted back together according to some new decree—and above it all, her husky breathing, heavy, excited, itself deepening and darkening as her lungs went through the same changes as the rest of her body, heightened with some ecstatic mixture of pain and pleasure that was horribly human and inhumane all at once. She was glad to be reformed this way, to go through that torturous suffering and come out transformed. I couldn’t even imagine…

Then I heard the vampires hiss. It could only have been them. Carina’s noises might have been beastly, but they didn’t have the malice, the sheer hate I heard coming from the vampires. Carina growled back at them—a face-off. Both sides trying to force the other to back down. Their dueling vocalizations built to a crescendo, then one hiss abruptly broke off. I imagined the vampire charging her like kilt-boy had done. A muffled snort of exertion, a wet smack of flesh against flesh, and the metal of the van’s chassis buckled inward, the vehicle rocking on its transmission like it was trying to wrench itself free of its wheels. The floor of the van actually slanted at an angle for a moment. Carina had scored another hit, only this time the vampire hadn’t gone flying off into the distance—he’d slammed into the tin can that was supposed to be protecting me.