Stag and Hound

By Geonn Cannon

Paris in Winter, 1943.
The Loupin pack is a group of canidae operating as a cell in the French resistance, sabotaging German supply lines and taking out as many German soldiers as they can. After a series of successes, they're dealt a staggering blow in a surprise attack that leaves their leader, Philip, dead. Philip's lover, Simon, becomes the pack's new leader, but the fight has gone out of him. He and the rest of the pack retreat to occupied Paris where he drowns his grief in whatever alcohol can be found in any taverns that are still open. He's finally pulled out of his stupor by the arrival of a British Intelligence officer named Kenneth Mackay, another canidae who reveals the attack on their cell was not an isolated incident. It was part of a concerted effort by the Germans to clear northern France of any opposition for reasons unknown.
Simon puts aside his grief and sorrow to discover the truth behind Philip's death. Teaming up with the British soldier, Simon and the pack return to the countryside they abandoned months before. They soon find themselves facing a fierce and cunning enemy whose plans could bring countless deaths and untold destruction.
In this novel set in the world of 'Underdogs,' Simon, Kenneth, and the rest of the Loupin pack are the only thing standing between the new darkness and must do everything in their power to stop it... even if it costs their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Supposed Crimes, LLC
• Release date: Apr 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781938108907

Geonn Cannon

Geonn Cannon was born in a barn and raised to know better than that. He was born and raised in Oklahoma where he’s been enslaved by a series of cats, dogs, two birds and one unexpected turtle. He’s spent his entire life creating stories but only became serious about it when he realized it was a talent that could impress girls. Learning to write well was easier than learning to juggle, so a career was underway. His high school years were spent writing stories among a small group of friends and reading whatever books he could get his hands on.Geonn was inspired to create the fictional Squire’s Isle after a 2004 trip to San Juan Island in Washington State. His first novel set on the island, On the Air, was written almost as a side project to another story he wanted to tell. Reception to the story was so strong that the original story was put on the back burner to deal with the world created in On the Air. His second novel set in the same universe, Gemini, was also very well received and went on to win the Golden Crown Literary Society Award for Best Novel, Dramatic/General Fiction. Geonn was the first male author to receive the honor.While some of his novels haven’t focused as heavily on Squire’s Isle, the vast majority of Geonn’s works take place in the same universe and have connections back to the island and its cast of characters (the exception being the Riley Parra series). In addition to writing more novels based on the inhabitants of Squire’s Isle, Geonn hopes to one day move to the real-life equivalent to inspire further stories.Geonn is currently working on a tie-in novel to the television series Stargate SG-1, and a script for a webseries version of Riley Parra.

Book preview

Stag and Hound

Geonn Cannon

Smashwords Edition

Supposed Crimes LLC, Matthews, NC

All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2016 Geonn Cannon

Published in the United States

ISBN: 978-1-938108-90-7

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Prologue

The two German officers spotted the first wolf just before dusk.

It was easy to get spooked at this post. The train station felt like the sole remnant of a long-dead civilization, forgotten as nature reclaimed the area. The shadows stretched out over the slow setting of the sun and darkness drew over the station like a shroud. Now the space between the platform and the trees seemed like a solid wall of black.

The ranking officer was Franz Richter, and his subordinate was a shaky new recruit named Oskar Arndt. Their shift began when the sun was still out, so the dreadfulness of the place only became clear after it was too late to back out. Richter liked the cold and the darkness. It gave him time to think and contemplate other postings that would be better suited to his temperament. He could be a guard. He could watch over the prisoners and ensure they stayed in line. He craved that kind of responsibility, and taking mediocre assignments like guarding a desolate depot was just one of the steps necessary to achieve that height.

Richter thought about the wolf he’d spotted just before the sun went down. He had pointed it out to Arndt, aiming with two fingers until the younger man saw the flash of gray-and-white piebald fur moving through the trees. Richter had brought up his rifle to track the beast, but he didn’t fire. Even if the trees hadn’t been in the way, they were trying to keep a low profile. They didn’t want to frighten people in the neighboring village by randomly shooting off their guns at whatever wildlife happened to wander past. Besides, he happened to like wolves. They were majestic creatures. He wondered if the wolf was out there now, watching them. He considered putting out some of his rations to see if he could draw it into the light.

Neither officer admitted to being frightened, but both men had gripped their weapons just a little tighter as the last of the light fled. They remained at their post, standing on the platform next to the train depot. Two lanterns had been hung ten feet apart, one on each side of the small shack they were ordered to guard. The men stood at the point where the two penumbras of light met to form an oval-shaped oasis of brightness.

It was almost midnight before they heard the second wolf. Richter moved forward and clicked his tongue, then whistled loud to frighten the beast off. Arndt watched the older man move forward, but his attention was drawn away by the sound of something on the tracks. The scuttle of claws on gravel indicated it was just another wolf, but he was jumpy and on edge. He swallowed the lump in his throat and flashed his torch in the direction of the noise, hoping the animal would be frightened away.

Instead the dirty yellow beam illuminated a wolf with either white or yellow fur, its eyes reflecting the light back to him in an eerie and unnatural way.

Go, Arndt said. "Husch."

Something clattered behind him, bouncing off the wood so loudly and suddenly that Arndt spun toward it. He dropped the flashlight in order to hold his gun with both hands. His palms were so slick with sweat that he feared he would drop the weapon. The platform behind him was empty. He hissed Richter’s name, assuming the older officer had simply moved out of the light, but he received no response. He looked over his shoulder at the wolf on the tracks. His fallen flashlight cut through the darkness and made the wolf’s shadow fall long and slender over the rails.

The object he’d heard fall was resting on the edge of the platform. At first he thought it was a branch with an oddly gnarled end, but when he knelt down and shone his light at it he recognized it as a severed arm in a sleeve. He recoiled away from the gruesome discovery, a shout of alarm dying in his throat even as the piebald wolf they’d seen earlier leapt from the shadows. Its teeth were bared as it flew at him, and he barely had time to get his weapon up before the beast was on him.

#

Simon like the streets of Monthyon, the little commune in the north of France they had chosen for their base of operations. The houses were small castles made of gingerbread, their windows and doors cut out of the otherwise blank faces. The narrow streets wound aimlessly around each other, forming strange arcs and turns that would make pursuit difficult for anyone unfamiliar with the layout. Simon panted as he ran down the curving road. The blood of the fight still spotted his fur, but no one seeing it would question blood on a wild animal.

He and Sandrine had shed their wolf skins just long enough to set up their plan. They moved quickly to complete their mission, all too aware of the two dead Germans growing cold on the platform above them. When their relief arrived at dawn they would find the corpses and begin looking for signs of sabotage. They would find nothing, and the deaths would be written off as animal attacks. He, Sandrine, and other members of their pack had spent the past week letting themselves be seen to create a history of wolf sightings in the area. The next train would roll in on schedule, and the tracks would buckle where Sandrine had sabotaged them.

Simon didn’t know how many casualties to expect. He didn’t want to know, but he knew Philip had it calculated to a close approximation to what the actual death toll would be. There would be too many innocent people at the station or aboard the train, civilians just doing their job or complying with their occupiers out of fear of standing up for themselves. Simon didn’t let himself worry about the collateral damage, but Philip couldn’t bring himself to ignore it.

The important loss would be the depot itself. Until it was repaired, the Germans wouldn’t be able to use it to bring in more weapons or men to this area. They couldn’t call the mission a success until the train actually crashed, but he was confident they would have reason to celebrate come mid-morning.

They rounded a sharp corner to a tangle of streets that broke off into alleyways and dead-ends, the perfect place to lose any potential pursuers, and vaulted over a pair of iron gates preventing vehicular traffic from passing through. Their hideout was a two-story chalet on a tiny spur of a street, easy enough to overlook under the best of circumstances but currently further obscured by a Peugeot parked in front of five trash cans and a wheelbarrow. Simon slipped easily between the blind and the stucco wall, and a few seconds later Sandrine followed.

A side door had been left open just enough for Simon to nudge it with his snout, and he pushed into the dark workshop on the other side. The room reeked of oil, grease, and sweat; the product of their past few weeks of work. They stopped long enough to transform once they were inside, rising onto their hind legs as their wolf sides melted away to be replaced with sweat-beaded flesh. Simon pushed a wave of black hair out of his face as he entered the home.

Sandrine turned left, toward the private rooms on the upper level. Simon went to the right and pushed open the door to Philip’s den. The other man was sitting on the divan with his back to the door, head bowed in slumber or to read. Simon walked across the room to the minibar and glanced over as he came around the couch. Philip had a book open in his lap, but looked up when Simon came into view.

Simon’s body was lean and corded with muscle from long nights running across the French countryside, his transformations helping burn off any excess fat. He felt Philip’s admiring gaze on him as he poured himself a drink. He feigned indifference as he poured, but his body betrayed his arousal at being stared at. He felt himself stiffening as he brought the snifter to his lips and took a drink, ignoring his erection as he turned to face the leader of their cell.

I assume this means the mission was a success, Philip said.

Simon walked to the divan and stood in front of the other man. Philip’s shirt was undone at the throat to reveal a hint of his collarbone and the hairless chest underneath, and Simon idly used the forefinger of his free hand to tease the heavy cotton out of the way. Philip put aside his book and moved to perch on the edge of the cushion. He spread his legs and Simon stood between them. His cock twitched as if it could sense Philip’s proximity, and Simon moved his hand from the shirt to Philip’s thick blonde hair. Philip moved his head with the caress.

Tell me what happened.

Sandrine performed admirably. We took the guards by surprise and sabotaged the tracks. By noon we should know for certain if it was successful.

Philip nodded and brushed the back of his hand up the inside of Simon’s thigh. His balls tightened from the touch and his cock grew harder until Philip could turn his head and brush his lips over the shaft. Simon grunted and closed his eyes, brought the glass up to his lips, and took a small sip as Philip kissed his way to the head. He explored with a multitude of soft kisses, teasing the foreskin with his tongue before reaching up to push it back with a ring of his thumb and forefinger. Simon planted his feet on the carpet and moved his hand to Philip’s shoulder, stroking the curve of his neck.

Their first time had been in the wild, just after escaping from a trio of German troops. They tore off their clothes and transformed into wolves as they fled, crashing through the underbrush and tumbling through the tall grass and clover in a pell-mell race to safety. They only relaxed when they had crossed a river, dropping to the mud on the other side and spinning to make sure the coast was clear. They transformed again and fell back on the ground, laughing with the giddiness of their close call.

Simon’s eyes had been closed, his hands on his stomach, when he felt Philip’s hand on his hip. His laughter trailed off but his smile remained as he reached down and moved the other man’s hand to the root of his shaft. Philip’s fingers had obediently wrapped around him and began stroking the length, twisting his hand around the head before traveling back down. Simon’s breath had gotten quicker and he lifted his hips to meet Philip’s strokes.

It didn’t take much work before he grunted and spilled onto Philip’s fingers. He’d caught his breath before he opened his eyes and looked at Philip. Neither of them spoke as Simon rolled over onto his elbows and knees. He could hear Philip’s ragged breathing as he positioned himself, and Simon gripped the ground with both hands as he pushed inside. There was nothing romantic about that first coupling, nothing more than a pair of wolves fucking on the banks of a river.

But in the past two years it had become something more. Simon looked down as Philip closed his lips around the head of his cock. He brushed the blonde bangs back so he could see his lover’s face. Philip looked up and then took Simon deeper, his hand now cupping Simon’s balls and stroking them.

Simon squared his shoulders and lifted his head. He saw that he’d left the door open. Sandrine was standing with one arm against the doorframe, the light from the room illuminating her body and the lower section of her face. She was biting her bottom lip, one hand stroking her breast through the lightweight shirt she’d put on after changing forms. The other hand was captured tightly between her thighs. The cut of the shirt was high enough to see the curve of her bare hip.

The light reflected off her eyes, and he smiled before closing his. She’d watched before, and there was no harm in letting her enjoy the sight. Philip had moved beyond teasing and was now working only toward orgasm. He moved his free hand to his pants, eagerly working at the buttons to free his cock as well. Once he had it in his hand he stroked quickly, pulling back to swirl his tongue over the head of Simon’s cock, pursing his lips to give it resistance as he pushed back down, moaning and curling his tongue along the underside of it.

Simon looked past the divan to Sandrine. She had moved her hand into her shirt, her knuckles making mountain ranges against the fabric as she pinched her nipple. Simon moved his hips faster and Philip grunted in response. He let go of Simon’s balls and slid higher, moving between the cheeks of his ass to push inside with his thin middle finger. Simon arched his back and came before he could stop himself, throbbing against Philip’s tongue only a heartbeat before his come filled his lover’s mouth. He rolled his head back on his shoulders and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from howling his release.

He pulled his sensitive and softening tool from Philip’s mouth, its purpose met, and dropped to his knees as Philip sank back on the couch. Simon didn’t tease or explore, he simply batted Philip’s hand away and took the erection into his mouth. The skin was smooth and warm to the touch, so it didn’t take much before Philip came as well. Simon swallowed what he could, letting some of it spill out onto the pale purple head of Philip’s cock just so he could gather it up again with liberal use of his tongue. Philip grunted and his body jerked with each touch, his fingers tangling Simon’s hair in post-orgasmic bliss.

Do you think we should adjourn to bed? Philip asked. We likely won’t know anything until late in the day tomorrow.

Bed sounds ideal. Simon kissed the head of Philip’s cock again before tucking it away, buttoning the fly again before standing up. He glanced at the doorway and saw that Sandrine had already vanished, most likely returning to her room to finish what she’d started. Simon took Philip’s hand, leaving the den’s lights on and the forgotten book on the couch. They didn’t have to be awake until at least noon the next day, and he had a great many ideas for how they could earn a lie-in.

#

After Simon’s orgasm Sandrine retreated to the stairs. She moved quickly on the balls of her feet so she wouldn’t make too much noise. She knew Simon had seen her, but she didn’t want to distract the men too much from their evening. The image of Simon’s body was stuck in her mind, the perfect line of muscles from his chest to his abs as if the muscles were forming an arrow to his cock. Nudity was hardly taboo in the pack; they couldn’t be prudish about their bodies if they were going to be transforming in front of one another. But in her mind Simon’s body was different, worthy of adulation and the occasional furtive peek.

When she got to her room, a cramped nook at the apex of the house, she stripped off her shirt and reached between her legs again. She rested her other hand on the bedpost and closed her eyes. She didn’t want either Simon or Philip in the way they might have thought. She wanted to be one of them, wanted to feel the other man’s lips around her cock until she could spill into his mouth. She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow as she rubbed the heel of her hand against herself. She didn’t want Philip inside of her. She wanted him bent over the side of her bed with his cock in his hand while she fucked him as hard as she wanted.

Philip’s room was adjacent to hers, and she opened her eyes when she heard the door click shut. His bed had one leg that was shorter than the others, and it thudded quietly against the carpet as the mattress took his weight. The sound was followed by a second thud, and then a third and fourth. She moved her hand in time to the rhythm they had set. She moved her hand off the bedpost and mimed stroking herself as her other hand stroked between