Cross Country Chapter 4 Supplemental: Loup Pendu By Evan Andrews ©2025
This is a fan fiction.
"Cross Country" is part of a larger cycle of stories related to my Hunters and Hunted series, a direct sequel to Three Wolf Brothers. But it is also part of an entire world of stories, some about werewolves, some about vampires, and many just about men using men. Hence these supplemental chapters. This story is how one lone wolf found and claimed his bitch.
As always, I had some faces in mind as I wrote these stories. Elijah is based on a younger mma fighter, Urijah Faber, and Hell is based on Anson Mount as he appeared in the show Hell on Wheels.
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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Elijah ran. And then he ran some more. When the naked sex slave thought he was further than the hunters would think to go for a while, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Except of course he knew that the hunters would come and that they would catch him eventually. Then they'd degradingly violate his body—there at the capture site and then later back at the lodge. There was no escape from it. He was a fuck-slave, and the collar he wore fed tracking information to the Preserve's SPS, slave positioning system (though resorting to that was a last resort). The collar also confined the naked muscular slave to the Preserve grounds by delivering a debilitating shock if he were to try to cross the perimeter.
The former MMA fighter had slumped up against a tree, taking deep breaths, when an unknown man suddenly emerged out of a nearby stand of trees.
Shit,' Elijah thought, panicking, There's NO WAY they could have gotten to me already!'
As it turned out they hadn't. This wasn't a guest. The guy wasn't dressed like a hunter. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt for one thing—not camo—and those jeans were molded around his muscular hips and thighs. In fact, the fabric over his basket was apparently having a tough time containing what had to be a huge cock and heavy balls. And he was wild. You could tell that from his face and especially from the determined set of his dark eyes.
As the man approached Elijah, the slave--unbidden and contrary to his once upon a time nature—fell to his knees and stared up in simple worship of this man's unrivalled physique and sheer animal presence.
As the man reached Elijah, he unzipped those jeans and pulled out a more than respectable cock. Elijah's mouth fell open involuntarily, and the man took advantage of the fighter's reaction to present the plump head to Elijah's mouth.
"Suck, monkey."
The slave leaned forward and let the cockhead rest on his tongue for a second before letting his lips close around the shaft. His now-talented tongue ministered to the spongy underside of the shaft while his hands hung at his side, waiting for permission to caress the hard body. The man grabbed Elijah's head and proceeded to face-fuck the sex slave, something Elijah was used to and accomplished at. Beyond his training, however, it felt extra right this time that he should worship this cock in particular. As the fuck-pole pulled out, the slave's abundant saliva made it glisten in the sunlight, and a dangling strand of goo drooped between mouth and shaft.
Beautiful,' Elijah thought. I want more! I NEED more!'
Elijah took the piece of fuck-meat back into his mouth and swallowed it down to the bone. He was long past gagging while deepthroating a cock--even a piece as big as this. The slave challenged himself to see how long he could keep the man's cock a prisoner in his throat, teasing it with his internal muscles and staring up the long muscular body at his fucker, adoringly, as he did so. But he needed to breathe eventually. However long Ellijah managed, it wasn't enough for him, and to make up for that the suck slave deepthroated the big dick again and again. He was tonsils deep, still staring up at the total stud when the man dumped a mean load of cum in his mouth.
Swallowing wildly, Elijah rolled his eyes and tried to suck out as much of the man's seed as he could. He was mad over the salty taste, and wanted all he could get. The now shameless slave continued sucking even when it was clear there was nothing more to be gotten—for now.
The man, losing not a bit of his erection, then forced Elijah onto his hands and knees and slid that same (still hard) magnificent cock into the slave's ready and waiting asshole. Elijah winced as the big dick breeched his cunt, and then he sighed as the staff began to pump in and out of his well-bred ass.
`Why is this so much better than any other fuck I've ever had?' the sex slave wondered.
"It's because you want me," the man said gruffly. "Admit it. You do want me."
Elijah couldn't contradict that, though he couldn't understand how the man knew what he'd been thinking.
"You want me in you, breeding your hole forever," the man continued as he slam-fucked the groaning former cage-fighter, and Elijah found that yes, he did. This man WAS unlike any guy he'd ever serviced—not in the Bunker and not here at the Preserve. He didn't just submit to the man; he actively desired him to use his body forever.
"Yes! Fuck me!" the former Cally Kid cried once he realized and accepted that, and he suddenly came without touching himself, leaving his thick load on the ground—and this as his ass got pounded out. (He almost never came while being fucked by other men.)
The wild man fell over top of Elijah, and he grunted as his hard body shook and his cock seeded the boy for a second time, this time up his ass.
Elijah was in fuck-pig second heaven. Afterglow suffused his whole body when suddenly he felt a pain in the muscle over his collarbone.
"Ah!" Elijah cried out, but the teeth had already withdrawn, and a rasping tongue was now licking at the wound, taking the pain away. Elijah leaned back into the man's ministrations and realized that for some reason he loved this rough, unknown hunk.
The man rose to his feet, pulled up his pants, and while fastening them said, "I'm Hell, and you're now my Bitch."
Elijah didn't argue, because he realized he was. He belonged to this magnificent man, body and soul.
"Come with me now."
"Sir, Hell," Elijah said, "I can't. The collar tracks me, and it'll stun me if I get near the perimeter."
"Fucking monkey tech," Hell swore, and somehow he tore through the material of the electric collar, ripping it free from Elijah's throat before throwing the offending device up into a nearby tree.
"Let them search," Hell growled but with a mischievous smile, "You and I'll be long gone and far away by the time they find it there."
Elijah followed the mountain man up to the perimeter and then, hesitating, past it! He was free! Not the old free, of course. No, Elijah was another free—free to go with his man and be his bitch, which, he realized, was what he wanted more than anything else in the world.
"We'll stop by my camp," Hell said, "And get you clothes you can wear in the wild and shoes you can walk in. Then we'll head north. Home. You good with that?"
Elijah simply smiled and trotted after his master.