AN: Pairings include GerIta, hints of Spamano, hints of AusHun, PruHun, and there's some PruAus, too...but if you blink, you'll miss it.
Hope you enjoy the story :D
Do Werewolves Go To Heaven?
His birthday was March 17th. As it happened, it was the day he was born-but it was also the day he was turned, and had he been turned on some other day, then he would have probably considered that to be his birthday. It had been merely luck that the days had coincided.
Feliciano considered lycanthropy to be a typical facet of everyday life. Because really, he didn't think about it that much. Sure, once a month he'd have to worry about it, because he was never really prepared for it. He had his Moons marked on his calendar, but he would never seem to notice the little black circle printed neatly above the number until it was on the edge of 'too late'. What a mess it would be-he'd be scurrying around the house making sure his safe room was, indeed, safe; leaving out food to consume in his 'wild state'; most of all, making sure his restraints were neatly hanging against the wall as they always were. But other than that, he rarely remembered that he was a lycanthrope. It had been how many years now? So long ago it had been, that day he had been turned. It was something most people didn't know about lycs; like vampires, they lived a long time (even though, sometimes to his chagrin, he still looked about 17 or 18 years old). Not forever, of course, but even still, he considered it an incredible gift. And anyway, as his brother often said, it was quite a miracle that he hadn't been shot, or otherwise killed. Somehow he had exceeded everyone's expectations by living.
There were a lot of things he liked about it, in fact. Food tasted better-so much better, that even smelling it was almost like tasting it. He also had an incredibly fast metabolism; he could eat almost as much as he wanted and not really gain any weight. There were other things too, of course; werewolves were faster, and stronger, and had really good vision. Not that any of that really applied to Feliciano; as far as strength went, he was fairly strong in human terms, but positively weak as far as being a lycanthrope meant. He was still fast, though; in fact, he liked to run, though he very rarely did. His favorite part, though, was the dreams; surreal they weren't, nor subtle, and always a fantastic indicator of what he wanted or feared. They were also very vivid and, for the most part, pleasant. The flip side to this was that his nightmares made him sob nonstop, often well into the early morning.
For the most part, despite the obvious drawbacks, Feliciano loved being a lycanthrope. It was like being a contortionist, or being ambidextrous; to him, it meant almost nothing.
