Cross Country Chapter 4: Lone Wolf and Bitch By Evan Andrews ©2025
This is a fan fiction.
"Wolf Station" is part of a larger cycle of stories related to my Hunters and Hunted series. This is not your typical werewolf story any more than Hunters and Hunted is your typical Dracula story.
As always, I had some faces in mind as I wrote these stories. Chris is based on Chris Hemsworth, and Canvas on actor Greg Cipes from Anger Management. The Lone wolf is based on Anson Mount from Hell on Wheels, and his bitch Elijah on mma fighter Urijah Faber in his younger days. This story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of either the actors or the characters they play.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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While travelling further into the mountains, Chris and Canvas made sure to ask the locals about any odd people who lived in the area. It turned out that a lot of folks came to places like Idaho in order to live the way they wanted with no interference, but one report in particular intrigued them.
"There's that guy what lives up Blackwolf Canyon. He really hates people," Curtis, the senior old man at the main table in the diner, told them. "Chases everybody off his property..."
"With a shotgun," one of the juniors elaborated.
"Yeah, and sometimes if he's feeling perticuler ornry, he sicks his dog on yah too. Big, damned dog it is."
As they listened to the rest of the description, Chris and Canvas had to smile at one another. It sounded like a Brother to them, even if he was clearly a lone wolf.
"We have to check this guy out," Chris murmured to Canvas after Ruby freshened up their coffees and while the older guys were doctoring their cups with the arcanely right mixture of cream and sugar.
As it turned out the only way up to the lone wolf's land was on foot, but Curtis and Ruby made sure to warn the handsome young strangers against sticking their noses in there.
"He's just plain mean. And remember he has guns," Ruby said.
"And he uses `em," Curtis said.
The Brothers acted as if they were taking the townspeople's advice, hiking out of town in a `safe' direction. Soon, though, they doubled back across country and headed in the direction of this Blackwolf Canyon.
From the paved road, they found the overgrown dirt track and the road sign, "Blackwolf Canyon Road." Someone had used the sign for target practice. Further up, they found a chain across the road and a sign that read "No Trespassing".
"You sure about this?" Canvas said.
"We won't know unless we drop in," Chris said, and stepping over the chain they pressed on.
The travelers passed a pad-locked garage a ways back the overgrown road where the lone wolf kept his truck.
"So he hasn't given up on the monkey world entirely," Chris said.
"Yeah, I got that when Curtis kept harping about guns," Canvas said. "You think our lone wolf took a shot or two at him ever?"
"Could be. Probably just to scare him off though."
Every now and then, the travelers themselves heard gunshots up in the hills, so they proceeded cautiously. Bullets wouldn't kill the Brothers, but they'd still hurt like hell.
Around a bend they found something they hadn't expected—a muscular young man wearing nothing but boots and a pair of 80's running shorts that made a right pretty show of his thighs and fuckable ass. As for the boy's package, just wow. And he was tanned, lean, and handsome as all fuck. Chris and Canvas both threw wood when Providence presented them with this delectable young man (which should have warned them.)
Breaking cover, Canvas hailed the vision of fuckability.
"Hey there," he called. "Can you help us?"
The boy looked up in shock and immediately took to his heels. Whoever these two were, he knew they weren't supposed to be in Blackwolf Canyon, and their being here probably spelled trouble.
Immediately the Brothers' prey drive kicked in. Most hunting in LA (and Down Under) used pheromonal seduction like they'd done with Gabriel, but occasionally the ass of the day had to be chased down and taken. Like coursing hounds, the travelers took off after the boy, grinning like Yellow Dog Dingo. Nobody yelled, they just ran. The Brothers ran the boy to exhaustion, and overtook him after a few minutes. The boy might know the lay of the land, but running down prey was part of a Brother's nature.
Chris and Canvas backed the boy up against a tree, and he cringed as they approached him--from two directions so he wouldn't know which way to run if he made a break for it. He watched them with terror in his eyes, but suddenly Canvas stopped short.
"Chris," he said and visibly sniffed the air. "You smell that?"
The Aussie stud took a whiff and stared at the boy. Whoever this monkey stud was, he had been scent-marked as another Brother's property. Emphatically scent-marked when it came to that.
Behind them, they heard the gun cocking.
"You two want to tell me what you're doing on MY land? With MY bitch? Or should I just go ahead fill you full of lead?" asked a gruff voice.
Hands raised, the travelers turned slowly and carefully. A gruff older Brother stood there with a shotgun trained on them. Canvas immediately tagged the man (by his scent) as a lone wolf, probably run off from his pack for some reason. Chris on the other hand also noticed the grey touching the man's temples and threading his hair and beard. A silverback, certainly. Packs seldom ran off such sources of experience and expertise, so this one must have walked of his own accord—for whatever reason.
The lone wolf's eyes burned with a territoriality Chris had only seen once or twice before.
"No disrespect meant, Brother," Chris said.
"Brother?"
The lone wolf looked the pair down. Canvas tried to meet his gaze but couldn't. Chris on the other hand smiled the easy smile of someone who wasn't doing anything wrong. The wind changed, and only then did the long wolf catch their scent.
"Oh, that's what's going on, is it?"
"We're just passing through on our way to New York," Canvas started.
"New York is that direction," the lone wolf said, and he indicated the way back to the main road from which they'd come. Even knowing what they were, he didn't take the gun off them.
"I told Canvas here that I wanted to see how American Brothers live," Chris said giving hiss Aussie drawl full range, "I mean I only know LA which can't be the same as the rest of the country."
The lone wolf looked at the now setting sun and considered for a moment before saying, "Alright. You can stay one night, but we're getting one thing straight up front."
"Yes, sir," Chris said.
"I don't care what other Packs do; I do not share my bitch. Period. Got that?"
The look on the bitch's face was equally defiant now that he had his wolf with him. "Just you try it" the look said.
"Understood, Brother."
"Then let's get out of here."
The four made for the wolf's den, a hand-built cabin halfway up the hill from the overgrown road. If you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't look for it there. And even if you looked for it, you'd have a hard time seeing it. A recently shot deer lay beside the cabin.
"Earn your keep and dress my kill," the lone wolf said. "Then you can wash up and join us inside. I'm Hell, by the way, and that's Elijah."
Together Chris and Canvas skinned and dressed Hell's kill, a deer—taking the choice parts for the evening meal while prepping the rest of the carcass for the nearby smoke house. Inside, after they'd set the venison to smoking, Elijah took the choice meat from them and set it to roast--with "taters" as Hell called them. The wait was worth it.
"So, why're you out here alone, if you don't mind me asking?" Chris said.
"Too may damned monkeys," Hell said. "You couldn't get away from them. I understand living alongside them, and I'm glad some can, but the final straw was when my Pack hired themselves to the vamps. That was something else entirely. Our kind are getting soft."
Canvas's eyes widened. Some of his pack in LA had done that same thing, acting as muscle for the local Master, but a glance at Chris told him he should keep that knowledge to himself.
"And then there's the bitch here," Hell said, smiling and stroking Elijah's mouse-brown hair. "I found him at some monkeys' damned private park where they send sex slaves out to be run down and fucked by guests. Now I don't give a damn what monkeys stick their wicks in, but this was too much."
Hell's eyes now got hard.
"It's a fucking mockery of the sacred hunt run by fucking monkeys for fucking monkey reasons."
"Fucking yeah," Canvas agreed.
"So, I took him, and Sealed him, and now he's mine alone to fuck."
Chris nodded, "I see."
"That enough for you?"
"I suppose so," the Aussie said.
By now, the fire was dying down, and Hell and Elijah retreated to the single bed. Chris and Canvas, after looking at the stone floor, opted to sink back into the two easy chairs.
Though he wouldn't share, Hell clearly had no qualms about putting on a show and fucking Elijah in front of the visitors. And in their turn, neither Chris nor Canvas had any qualms about watching them go at it and jerking off as they did.
Elijah began by nuzzling and kissing Hell's face and throat. Hell then rolled underneath the bitch, so that their feet faced the travelers. Spreading his legs (and therefore Elijah's) apart, Hell made a show of his big dick and heavy balls while at the same time giving the guests a good look at Elijah's fine ass. Hell spread the bitch's muscular butt cheeks, probed at the weeping hole, and then slapped the juicy butt.
"Fuck, Hell," Elijah moaned, "I need you in me!"
After greasing up Elijah's cunt, Hell slid a couple of fingers inside the boy.
"Yes!" Elijah moaned, and he wriggled on the fingers. "More!"
"That's my fine sexy bitch!"
After fingering him into a whimpering mass, Hell positioned Elijah on his knees, chest on mattress ass in the air like a bitch in heat, and perched over top of him. A moment later, the lone wolf sank home and proceeded to fuck his bitch as Brothers had since time immemorial.
"What an ass!" Hell groaned as he bred the boy. "What a sweet, sweet ass! You want me to fuck that ass hard, bitch?"
Elijah moaned and then moaned louder as Hell's fucking went on for much longer than it would have usually. The bitch realized Hell was fucking with his guests, seeing if he could provoke them to un-guestlike behavior, and he played along as well as he could.
"Oh hell, Hell!" the bitch cried out. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard! I need your hot cum deep inside me!"
Hell grinned and upping the speed of his thrusts, the Brother finally flooded Elijah's hungry ass with a massive load of sperm. Elijah, flogging his own cock ferociously while he was fucked, spilled his own seed a moment later--about the same time Chris and Canvas fired off their own broadsides.
After cumming, all four fell asleep. (It was one of the ways that Brothers and monkeys were alike.)
In the morning they ate the breakfast Elijah cooked, and then Chris and Canvas did the washing up—both from breakfast and from last night's dinner.
"I'm glad to see someone taught you two some manners," Hell noted.
"Thank you, sir," Chris said. Canvas just nodded.
"I'll tell you, if you really want to visit other packs, you might try heading for the Tetons. I hear there's a big pack denned up down there. I think they call the place Wildwood Ranch."
"Thank you, Hell," Chris said. "Are there...?"
"More Brothers in the small towns between here and there?" Hell thought. "Probably. Those mountain man stories weren't all about monkeys after all."
"Grizzly Adams?" Canvas asked.
"Maybe. But maybe not. You won't know if you don't look."
The travelers pulled their coats on and made ready to walk out.
"Good luck on your journey," Hell said from where he and Elijah stood in the open cabin door. "Just do yourselves a favor."
"Sir?" Chris asked.
"Don't come back here," and the lone wolf shut the door, cutting the travelers out of his life.