The sun was already high when the last laugh echoed across the village square. The sweaty bodies, pressed together, breathed as one single pack, without shame or fear. The taste of ice cream was still on their tongues, between their legs, on everyone's skin, mingling with the scent of sex and freedom that no one had ever dreamed of living in that place.
Cael, lying in the grass, had Lira on one side, Nara on the other, and his chest beating in a peaceful rhythm. The old alpha Garro was laughing loudly with three lobgirls hanging from his shoulders, the younger ones challenged each other in daring licks, and everyone seemed drunk, even though not a single drop of alcohol had been consumed. At the center of it all, the Gelato del Peccato's façade glowed like a living jewel, colorful, promising endless delights.
Zafira Blu, still just in panties and bra, moved among them as if she never got tired. She gave out kisses, bites, portions of ice cream on spoons and fingertips, provoking laughter and shivers. "I bet no one here wants to think about routine after a night like this," she whispered in Cael's ear, giving his earlobe a lick before slipping a spoonful of cold ice cream between his lips.
"I'm not even sure I want the day to end," replied Cael, gently biting her finger.
Zafira smiled, mischievous eyes. "Pleasure never has to end. You just need the courage to ask for more—even when nobody's looking."
The pack started gathering again around the ice cream shop, licking off the remains of ice cream from each other, trading slow kisses, exploring caresses on every bit of available skin. The mood was of farewell, though no one knew why, a sweet silence filling the gaps between moans and laughter.
Garro, the old alpha, sighed deeply, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Never seen so many satisfied wolves together… Not even after a good hunt."
Lira, her hair sticky with ice cream, sprawled face down on the grass, laughing. "I don't want to be wild just on full moon nights anymore. I want to be free every day."
Zafira sat atop the counter, legs spread, ice cream melting on her knees, looking at each of them with mischievous affection. "Freedom was always here. It just needed a little push… or a good lick."
As she spoke, the air began to change. A cold breeze swept across the square, stirring the werewolves' and lobgirls' hair, raising goosebumps on their skins. It was a different chill, pleasant, almost nostalgic—a sign that the magic was about to shift.
Nara was the first to notice. "You all feel that? The smell... it changed."
Cael lifted his head, senses sharpened, catching what she meant. The aroma of ice cream grew softer, as if it was being carried away by the wind, along with the laughter and moans of the previous night. Everyone looked at the Gelato del Peccato. The lights blinked more slowly, pink and blue tones blending into the golden sunlight. For an instant, it seemed the shop would stay forever, but then Zafira's whisper, sweet and provocative, cut through the doubt.
"Not everything good needs to last forever. Sometimes, the secret is knowing when to stop… before the flavor runs out."
Garro, not wanting to admit the pang in his chest, joked: "You'll leave us missing you, little witch. And a lot of people wanting to lick more."
Zafira jumped down from the counter, spinning in the air with the lightness of a cat, landing on her knees between Cael, Lira, and Nara. "Missing me is just a way of asking for more. And I always come back to those who dare to wish out loud."
She came close to Cael, holding his face in both hands. She looked into the young alpha's eyes, smiling almost tenderly, but never without her usual mischief. "Never forget the taste of this night. If you miss it... just close your eyes and ask. Desire always finds a way."
The mood grew solemn but gentle. Lira hugged Zafira from behind, licking her nape slowly, while Nara kissed Cael's shoulder, all together, in one embrace. The little witch raised her arm and snapped her fingers.
At that moment, a strong wind swept the square, but nobody felt fear. On the contrary—it was like a fresh embrace, full of promises. Flower petals fell out of nowhere, swirling through the air, clinging to sweaty skins, spreading perfume and laughter. And, slowly, every detail of the ice cream shop started to fade. First the curtains, then the glowing displays, finally the counter, the cups, even the ice cream stains on the floor. Only the magic sign was left, which blinked one last time before dissolving as if made of sugar.
The Gelato del Peccato simply vanished, as if it had never been there. In the place where the counter stood, only a small moonstone remained, cold to the touch, but with a glow that pulsed in tune with the heart of whoever held it.
Zafira was the last to disappear. She looked at everyone, bit her lip, and winked. "I'll miss this pack. And you can bet... I'll soon be back to sweeten another desire around here."
She blew a kiss to Cael, another to Garro, and a teasing look to all the lobgirls. Then her body became a whirlwind of bluish light, dissolving in the wind, leaving behind a trail of mischievous laughter and a delicious tingling on everyone's skin.
For a few seconds, total silence. Everyone looked around, wondering if it had all been a dream, a delirium, or just a night impossible to repeat. But the taste of ice cream was still on their tongues, their bodies still burned, and everyone knew: nothing would ever be the same.
Cael held the moonstone in his hand. He felt his heart race, a promise hidden in the cold stone. "Do you think she'll come back?"
Lira hugged Nara, kissing her neck. "If we truly want her, she'll show up. Isn't that how magic works?"
Garro let out a short, rough howl that made everyone laugh. "If it depends on this pack, there will never be a lack of desire."
The mood, once tense, turned to joy and camaraderie. The lobs and lobgirls started to get up, dressing slowly, still exchanging caresses and sly smiles. Every look carried spicy memories from the night, unspoken promises for the future.
Around the square, the air felt lighter. The fear of mixing, the shame of feeling, all dissolved along with the magic. Now, everyone knew they could ask, laugh, moan, lick, be wild—and be free at the same time.
Zafira, even far away, still seemed present. A breeze tousled Lira's hair, a laugh echoed in Cael's ears, the smell of ice cream returned for a second just to tease, before disappearing for good.
In the werewolf village, no one slept alone anymore. Pride turned into hugs, desire into laughter, and everyone kept a piece of that night in their hearts, the memory that, once, they were a true pack, no rules, just desire.
And every full moon, when the wind changed and the scent of sugar returned, someone sighed, smiled, and wondered aloud: "Will the little witch come back tonight?"
But everyone knew, for those brave enough to wish, the Gelato del Peccato is never far away. The real taste of sin is knowing how to ask... and never refusing a lick.