The full moon shone over the forest. The air was still, as dense with desire as it was with silence, and the werewolves felt on their skin the itch of a restlessness that no one could explain. In the dens and cabins scattered around the village, males and females—the lobs and the lobgirls—looked at each other from afar, sniffed, but as always, preferred to keep a safe distance. For them, mixing was always complicated: too much pride, an excess of wildness, and way too much shame to admit wanting more.
It was in this charged atmosphere, where everyone pretended to sleep, that a different scent crossed the wind. It was sweet, provocative, impossible to ignore, almost a promise of pleasure that made even the hardest hearts beat faster. In the center of the village, among thick trees, a colorful light cut through the darkness. The ice cream parlor appeared as if it had sprouted from the collective desire itself. The façade shone in shades of blue and pink, calling the curious like a dangerous invitation. Above the door, a sign flashed: "Gelato del Peccato."
Inside the ice cream shop, everything felt hotter than outside. The walls pulsed with an energy that recalled sweaty skin, heavy breaths, stolen kisses on nights when everything was allowed. The scent of sugar and cream mixed with something stronger, something that stirred down below, between the legs and the secrets.
Zafira Blu, the little blue-haired witch, swirled scoops of ice cream behind the counter. Her black vinyl dress, tight and shiny, left every curve on display. The neckline with a lace detail defied any notion of modesty, and her smile was pure provocation. Every now and then, she bit her own lip, as if saving the best spell for whoever dared to ask.
The first to arrive was Cael, the young alpha, with his slightly lost air of a male who wanted to look strong but was full of doubts. Cael's light eyes roamed the place, suspicious. He smelled her before he saw her: Zafira was pure temptation. He walked in, trying to look in control, but the bulge in his pants already betrayed the effect of the scent.
Right behind, two lobgirls appeared. They were tall, long-haired, skins marked with small scars, restless mouths and eyes that shone brighter than any moon. Among them, Lira was the boldest—her fangs showed in a crooked smile, and the way she looked at Cael was more invitation than threat. Her friend, Nara, pretended disinterest, but one look at her restless hands was enough to know: she wanted to taste everything the night had to offer.
Zafira didn't waste any time. As soon as the lobgirls came in, she slid to the front of the counter, moving her hips slowly, as if she were dancing just for them. "Welcome, pack! In here, everyone can lick as much as they want. Just don't bite... at least not before the ice cream melts," she said, with a look so direct that Cael almost choked.
Lira smiled. "And what if we want to lick the ice cream maker?"
Zafira laughed, pulling a blue strand from her hair and slowly licking the tip. "I usually melt easily, but only for those who know how to ask. Think you can handle it?"
The three of them exchanged glances, the mood between them changing in an instant. There was no room for shyness anymore. The magic of the place made everything feel allowed, every look, every word turned into a spark. Lira leaned on the counter, chest out, skin shivering. "I want to taste the coldest one. They say the colder it gets, the hotter it gets afterwards."
Zafira prepared three silver cones, each scoop of ice cream shining under the magic light as if it was made from the moon itself. She handed Cael his first, but brushed her fingers against his, pulling his hand close to her neckline. He smelled it, felt the heat, the moisture. His body reacted before his mind: it got hard, so hard he could barely hide it.
"Lick it slowly, Cael. Here, nobody's in a hurry. Let the flavor run down to your soul... or wherever you prefer." Zafira's tone was almost a whisper, but he felt it in every part of his body. "Girls, you too. I want to see who moans first."
Lira laughed, sliding her tongue slowly into the ice cream. The cold burned the tip, but soon turned into a deep warmth, sliding down her throat, straight to the center of all her desire. She didn't hide her moan. Nara closed her eyes, licked with less haste, but felt the shiver rise and fall through her whole body, making her breasts hard and her sex throb.
The magic of the ice cream was nearly explicit: wherever it touched, it made the skin tingle, the blood run faster. Cael took a lick, let a drip fall down his chin. Lira didn't hesitate, and with a quick gesture, licked the ice cream dripping from him, her hot tongue on his skin, without asking permission. Cael trembled, legs shaky, the desire impossible to hide.
Zafira leaned over the counter, her breasts nearly popping out, and took Nara's hand, guiding a finger to her own mouth. She sucked it slowly, making a point of looking into the lobgirl's eyes. "In here, everyone can feel. Want to learn how to ask, Nara?"
Nara swallowed hard. "I want to learn everything. Teach us."
Zafira took some ice cream with her finger, slowly spread it on Lira's neck, dripping down to the she-wolf's neckline. "Do you like it sweet, or do you prefer... saltier?" The question was pure mischief, and Lira answered by ducking her head to lick her own chest, letting the ice cream spread, her breasts sticky and shining.
Cael, now shameless, ran the ice cream over his own chest and offered it to Nara. She didn't hesitate: licked, bit lightly, and the three laughed together, teasing each other fearlessly. The air was so thick that just a look was enough to know what everyone wanted.
Zafira grabbed another scoop, ran it down her own thigh, leaving a cold trail that made her skin goosebump. "Anyone want to lick the ice cream maker now?" she asked, spreading her legs just enough to tease. Cael and Lira came closer at the same time, but Zafira raised her hand. "Easy, pack. Here, the flavor's better when everyone shares."
She served more ice cream, now a golden flavor, and pressed the cones together. "I want to see you all licking at the same time. Don't be afraid to get messy. Whoever gives in first gets a special treat." Nara was the first to dare: pressed her cone to Cael's, tongues touching, licking the ice cream, and just as their lips almost met, Lira came in between, mixing tongues, flavors, desires.
The room turned into a wild scene of licking, biting, and low moans. Everyone wanted to taste each other, but also wanted to taste Zafira, who wandered among them, sometimes letting a bit of ice cream fall on Cael's belly, sometimes on Lira's chest, sometimes licking her own skin, showing more than anyone would ever dare in public.
Gradually, the ice was truly broken. Lobs and lobgirls let go of their pride, their shame, the need to look tough. They became just desire, just skin, just tongue. Zafira laughed, guiding each hand, making it clear that here everyone could ask, everyone could give.
As the night grew hotter, Zafira leaned in among them, her breasts dirty with ice cream, her breathing heavy. "You know what I like most? Seeing everyone melt. Here, you don't have to choose between sweet and wild. You can be both, at the same time."
And Cael, licking Lira's fingers, understood that the real sin wasn't tasting pleasure, but denying the desire to feel. At Gelato del Peccato, under the full moon, the pack discovered a new way to mix: licking, moaning, and, most of all, laughing together.