Older Hairy Men Novels & Stories

Eldrid stood on guard near Vastria. Four men entered the mansion. Two dressed as though they came from a rave with their tight black pants with small chains hanging off the sides. One of them wore a leather jacket and the other wore a white tank top with a hand showing the middle finger in black. The one with the jacket had a Mohawk while the other was bald. The other two men that entered after them were dressed more moderately. One who seemed to be the eldest with white hair combed back and wore a suit like Vastria’s father, but it was a deep blue with a black tie. The other wore casual clothing. Black jeans with a white shirt and a black jean jacket over the shirt.

He had been so arrogant and self righteous in his way of living, that anyone could wander in and out and never know they had stumbled quite literally into the wolfs den. I step out of the car and smell deeply with my nose. The faint trace of something familiar catches my attention and I remove my sunglasses inhaling further. "Brynor?" I turn to see my two companions exiting the car. Ivan and Gregor. All three of us are dressed in expensive suits. To the innocent bystander, we look like business men in our forties but at over six hundred years old, we are dangerous. Unlike measly humans who grow frail. Us older, more pure blood shifters are the opposite, getting stronger with age.

Piling them next to their homes. In the distance, a group of men walked closer. The one in front seemed old beyond what was normal for humans. His head was hairless yet he seemed unaffected by the cold biting into him. He was wearing a robe. Covered every piece of his skin beside his head. The closer the group came the slower Priamos walked.

Jacob introduces the dark hair man to me. Baston smile back at me. Soon I saw a dozen young men running from the cottage who were all shirtless and showing their hard muscles and tattoo against their arms and chest who had. It was quite uncomfortable being surrounded by half-naked men and being the only female there. "Jacob, I see your back with a stunning she-wolf," a blonde hair wolf said as he smiles. He looks older than the other and seems as if he was within his 40's. He too looks much stronger, and his body was much well built. If I did not know Christian, I would think he is the alpha.

I grunted, trying to move my limbs. Then I heard it—the ominous crunch of footsteps drawing closer, and my heart raced again. My eyes darted to the shadows where dark figures approached, illuminated only by shards of moonlight. Three colossal men appeared, their muscular frames dwarfing the trees around them. They were clad in thick furs, their long hair flowing with the wind like banners of the wild. Serious expressions etched into their faces, they carried long spears, their gazes fixed on me as if I were the most curious specimen they've ever encountered. "What do we have here?" one of them said, the low timbre of his voice gravelly like the crunch of ice beneath heavy boots.

I need help. I'm halfway across the clearing when the door opens. Four men step onto the porch. They're all big, the kind of big that comes from physical labor rather than gyms. Dark hair, sharp features, bodies that move with an animal grace that makes something primal in my brain sit up and take notice. The tallest one steps forward. He's got silver threading through his black hair and eyes that seem to glow in the fading light. When he speaks, his voice carries across the clearing with effortless authority.

"We are honored by your presence." I couldn't help but peek around the edge of the crate. Three massive men sat on equally massive black horses, and even from my hiding spot, I could feel the power radiating from them. They were all incredibly tall and broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that made everyone else look small and weak. The one in the middle had dark hair and the coldest eyes I'd ever seen. The one on the left had lighter brown hair and a scar running down his left cheek. The one on the right had black hair and looked like he could snap a person in half without breaking a sweat.

Dark hair covered his chest and…lower. The men of my village were short with the weak, lanky limbs that came from little manual labor. Not so with these five wolf-men. Despite my hatred of my enslavement to them, there was something deep and primal…an instinct…that responded to their display of strength and power.

His face wouldn't have been human if it wasn't for his ears. That still looked like they were trimmed with shears. The third man was an ogre, and that was just being nice. As he beat all the men before him, and took the crown as the ugliest of them all. His hair was dry yet still looked matted, and his eyes so far sunk into the sockets he almost looked like a ghoul, but in a white robe. And now I paused; squinting at this unsightly trio, wondering who they were, as I hadn't seen them before now?

The shorter man's innocent comment hit a nerve with Harry. "I..." "Yeah, he's quite aged," I interjected gleefully. "He's got to be at least a hundred, maybe a thousand years old." I whispered the last part in Harry's ear, earning a sharp elbow jab from him, which the shorter man noticed. "Hey, hey, don’t hit your brother. Look at how hard he’s working, making all these dishes by himself," he said, his words making perfect sense. I nodded and smirked. "Exactly, look at his healthy complexion compared to yours. This young man must be used to hard work," the taller man chimed in, joining the anti-vampire alliance.