The moon is full, and I am the wolf again. The townspeople are right when they call me a freak. They don't know how right they are…
I pad around the deserted back alleys of Hawkins, loathe to leave the town just yet. The woods are calling, as they always do at this time of the month, but you are calling too. Your scent is on the wind and I find myself behind the library, not my usual location for stalking you. Usually you would be home by this time of night and I would be lingering at the end of your garden, trying to catch a scent or sound of you. Or maybe, if I'm lucky, you'd sit out on the covered porch at the back of your building, and I could watch you as well as smell and hear you. But there is a storm coming, snow forecast for days, and you are working late at your job at the library, helping the other librarians to lock down the building. To keep the books safe from the risks of wind-shattered windows and frozen pipes. By the time you leave, the snow is falling heavily and I hear one of the other librarians advising you to drive safe and get home in one piece. As if you would do anything else.
For some reason, you haven't parked your car in the library parking lot today and as you walk to the side street where you've left it, I follow. To do what, I'm not sure. To keep you safe, I guess. Or just to be near you. To pretend to myself that you would welcome my company. When you slip on a patch of ice, I'm deep in my thoughts of what it would be like to be with you in my human form, welcomed to you as a man, invited to share your warmth. Distracted though I am, I can't control the little growl of concern that leaves my throat at your stumble. It turns out that my concern is totally unwarranted because you right yourself before you do yourself any harm, but now you've noticed me and you pause, your eyes wide and your mouth an 'O' of surprise. For a second, I think you'll scream. It would be the natural reaction to seeing a wolf less than a dozen feet away from you on a deserted street. But instead of screaming, you make a little cooing noise and crouch down, extending your arm.
"Here, boy... Good boy." Your scent hits my noise as it emanates from your outstretched hand. Curiosity and interest, but no fear.
I stare at you, dumbfounded for a few moments, before I realise what's going on here. You think I'm a dog! Were I human, I would grumble at this realisation. On one hand, it's humiliating. On the other, endearing. Stupidly endearing.
"Come on, boy... It's freezing," you coax, still crouching and leaning forward a little further now. "There's a storm coming." You glance skywards, blinking snowflakes off your eyelashes, before you look back at me again. "Or already here, probably. You can't stay out in this, boy. You'll freeze."
My humiliation gives way to amusement and my tail wags involuntarily. You're concerned about me. About a wolf. Ha!
You're also not moving towards your car so you can go home and be safe and I realise that my refusal to do as you ask is going to leave you driving home in heavier, more dangerous snow if I continue to delay. With what passes for a resigned sigh when you're a wolf, I inch closer until my nose is almost touching your fingers. You coo again, and I respond by sniffing your wrist, bathing in your scent and allowing my nose to stroke over the soft skin there. Your skin is freezing and I whine, suddenly aware of how much you need to be indoors. You're not built for this. You've no fur to protect you from the frigid air. You are soft and made for the gentleness of more temperate climes. You need the protection and warmth of your home on a night like this.
When you reach for my head to stroke your fingers over my brow and into the fur on my neck, I lean into it. You're reaching around and I wonder what the hell you're doing until you mutter something about a collar. That's right, wolves don't wear ones. Werewolves neither. But you don't know that's what I am. You still think I'm a dog. And when you tug me towards your car with a coaxing, "C'mon. Please, boy," I realise that you'll risk your health and possibly your life in the middle of a snowstorm to rescue this lost, collarless dog that was stupid enough to get himself noticed by you because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.
Fine, I will get in your car and I will let you take me to your home. I will follow you inside when you urge me to and I will even submit to lying down on the bed you make for me from a pile of blankets next to the heater because if I don't, you will stay outside for God knows how long, putting yourself at risk for a wild animal who'd have no problem surviving this storm. And the entire way, I will curse you for your goodness. For your softness. Because you have no idea how dangerous the wild animal that you've just invited into your home is. How badly he could hurt you if he was so inclined. But lucky for you, I would never be inclined to do that. I've spent too long secretly adoring you, attending the library on the days I know you'll be working, too shy to speak to you except to thank you for stamping the books I borrow, detouring by your home every full moon before I make my way to the safety of the woods because your delectable scent is the closest I could ever get to touching you... or talking to you... or admitting how utterly smitten I am with you. You who are pure and good, who would never touch one cursed like me. And yet, you touched me tonight. Granted, you thought I was a dog and that you were taking home someone's beloved pet or a stray because you have a good, kind heart. But still, I'll take it. It's the closest I'll get to touching you as a man.
Your apartment is small. I knew it would be. When I stalk you during full moons, normal full moons where I stay outdoors and don't allow myself to be dragged into your abode, I can hear just how far you can walk from one end of the apartment to the other. Right now, you are in the kitchen nook at the far side of the living room, and I am curled up on this nest of blankets just inside the door of your bedroom because this is where there is the most space near a heater. There is at most twenty feet between us. I smell and listen and watch a little as you cook yourself a late dinner and lay your place at the small table. You're having chicken with a creamy sauce and something carby that I suspect is pasta.
You approach me with a small shallow bowl and place it before me on the floor next to the dish of water you put down for me earlier. My nose twitches in curiosity. It's a cooked chicken breast, shredded into pieces, mixed with the skin and fat from both pieces of chicken. No sauce or carbs because dogs don't eat those things. I don't need the chicken. I ate a full dinner before I transformed tonight. A full belly helps to quell the desire to hunt and I don't spend as much of the next morning puking up the bones of small animals. But regardless of my need for food, I stand and dip my mouth towards the bowl when you encourage me. You're being kind and I have no way to tell you of my gratitude for that without eating the food you lay before me. The chicken disappears in three bites and you tell me I'm a good boy for eating my dinner so well. Embarrassingly, I lick the small bits of chicken fat from the sides of the bowl in an effort to elicit more praise from you. It's probably a good thing that it doesn't come, and I go back to smelling and listening and watching a little as you eat your meal and read a heavy hardback book for the rest of the evening.
My eyesight is not as good in this form as my other senses. Not as good as it usually is when I'm a man. Like the chicken, I don't need it. My nose and my ears show me more of the world than my eyes ever could, either as a wolf or a man. I don't know whether to praise or curse my poor eyesight when you strip naked right in front of me before rifling around in your closet for something to sleep in. To say it is a surprise would be an understatement. I've been half-dozing in the warmth from the heater and it isn't until you pull your top off and the heightened strength of your scent hits me full the nose like a punch that I wake fully. When you shimmy out of your pants and unhook your bra, I have the good sense to turn my head away, squeezing my eyes closed. It doesn't help as much as it would have had I been in human form. My nose picks up everything, the scent from your skin as you move, deepening when your legs part and your arms raise. I risk opening my eyes and glancing at you even though I know it's wrong. It's hard to resist you though. You're beautiful in both sight and scent. I strangle a groan in my throat and press my hips hard against the blanket beneath me at the sight of you. I can feel myself starting to harden, to lengthen, and I want nothing more than to lick you where your scent is strongest. I find myself wanting to simply push myself inside you, to rock into you, feeling you tighten around me. As if that wouldn't send you screaming from me. As if that wouldn't make me a real monster.
I turn my head away again until your slightly muted scent indicates that you're clothed, an oversized t-shirt trapping some small bit of the tantalising spell cast by your body, and then I try to slink away towards the living room, belly low to the ground to hide my half-hard dick.
"Hey!" Your hands tangle in the fur on my neck and you guide me patiently back to the bed you made for me. "Shhh... You sleep here. Good boy. It's going to snow for the next couple of days and when it stops, I'll take you to the vet to see if anyone has reported you missing. But for tonight at least, you sleep here." You stroke your fingers over my ears, my neck, my shoulders, and I can't help myself from leaning into it, into your tender goodness. My sweet, sweet human woman.
I can smell the loneliness on you, can taste it when I dart my tongue out to lick the soft places on the insides of your wrists. If I could, I'd take it all from you, lick it all away, leaving you light and happy and loved. Instead, I accept the little nuzzle of your cheek on the top of my head and the ruffle of my fur as you leave me to go to bed. When you turn out the light, I close my eyes and drop my head to my paws, trying to plan how the morning will go. How will I get out of your apartment before I transform back? How will I stop you from venturing out to find the dog missing from your home once you awaken? I should have anticipated this. Stupid, stupid...
I'm still mulling the bind I've put myself in when I hear the rustle of your bedclothes. My head raises from the floor and my superior nose springs into action to try to determine what might have disturbed you. Another mistake. As soon as I breath in, I am assaulted in the best way by the scent of the honey flowing from you. My ears twitch at the little gasping noises that break the barrier of your plump, rosy lips. They sharpen to catch the sound of your fingers stroking over arousal-slick skin, funnelling the image straight into my animal brain. No longer half-hard, my dick is proud and throbbing against my belly now, and when you part your folds and slip your fingers into yourself, the wave of musky desire that flows in through my lungs is enough to short circuit my brain. My dick aches, balls tight and full, both screaming at me to make you mine. I whine through gritted teeth, wanting, wanting so bad to… No, I won't do that!
"I know, I know… But it's been so long. I'll be quick. Shhh…" you whisper to me in the dark. I press my hard-on down roughly as if blunting it against the floorboards will somehow solve my problem. I've never been this hard as a wolf before and I've no idea what to do about it.
Your breath hitches, bedclothes shifting as your back bows, forcing your shoulders off the mattress as if you're trying to curl over on yourself to protect your soft belly. I can see the heat emanating from you as your muscles spasm. It is shimmery and red in my mind, a starburst only a few feet from me, an orgasm painted in the air by your warmth and scent and movements. You come so quietly, and the wolf in me yearns to make you scream out. But I don't. I am not that kind of monster. Instead, I breath shallowly and carefully through my mouth, and after you have fallen asleep, I spend an uncomfortable night surrounded by air suffused with flavours of bliss that I could only dream about before now. You mumble and moan softly in your sleep, kick your heels a little once as if trying to free them from the sheets before finally settling down to give me some peace.
A few hours before dawn I manage to doze off, still painfully engorged and wanting, the part of my brain that should have been trying to figure out how to sneak out without you noticing now totally focused on not climbing into bed with you. When I wake to find the muscles in my back and thighs starting to cramp, I realise it is too late. The best I can do is slink into the shadow of the hallway, shouldering the door open in my haste.
It is not the violent transformation of horror movies. There are no bones snapping or pelts shed and discarded. Nonetheless, it is what it is, the change from wolf to man, and while I try to be as quiet as possible, it would always have been a miracle if you hadn't been roused from your sleep by my shift. You see all but the very start of it, your eyes wide and lips parted as if to scream though you remain silent. And I am helpless to reassure you. My muscles are not my own during the change, there is no control I can exert. At best, I can watch as you huddle against the headboard of your bed, bedclothes rumpled over your ankles as you draw your knees up to your chest and that torturous, sensuous perfume of yours wafts from between them. You are frightened and that taints your scent but not too much because witnessing my shift does not scare you half as much as it should. You are a foolish, lovely creature and you should be screaming and running right now but instead you simply stare, and when I am done and my body is my own again and within my control enough to yank my messy mane out from my face so I can see you clearly, you frown as if confused and whisper hoarsely, "Edward…?"
My eyelids drop at the sound of my name on your lips, even if it's not quite the one I would choose. Of course, you only know the formal version from my library card and I have never been brave enough to introduce myself to you properly. And this soon after shifting, my larynx won't comply if I were to try to correct you. So for now, Edward it is.
I hear you move, only an inch or two but it is enough for my eyes to snap open again and I regard you at my leisure when you freeze under my gaze. I am still wolfish despite my current form, my mind not quite back to human, but my eyesight is that of a man's once again. Seeing you through human eyes, I am taken with you anew, at the delicate flutter of the artery in your neck, at the rise and fall of your full breasts beneath your t-shirt. My nose is not the powerhouse it was last night but even with that limited instrument, I can smell your arousal. I bite back a groan. For fuck's sakes, woman, you shouldn't be turned on by me after what you just witnessed! But since you are, is there any point in fighting my own desires any more…?
I stalk back into the bedroom, crowding over you on the bed and nuzzle you, pressing myself to you to bathe in your scent. The human part of me, the curly-haired man who enjoys heavy metal and D and being gentle with his lovers, who is by-the-second becoming louder and more insistent in my head, thinks that you'll push me away. Surely this is what will make you scream. But no, instead of doing the sensible thing and running from the monster who is pawing at you, you spread those soft thighs of yours and shiver in response to the groan that rips from my lips. Grabbing your ankles, I drag you down the bed, spread you wider, and make good on my desire to lick you where your flesh is swollen and heated and perfect. You squirm and squeal, the little yelp you let out when I first make swirling contact quickly dissolving into a heady, lyrical moan when my tongue parts your folds and dips inside you. You come on that same tongue devastatingly quickly, and I drown in your climax, all too aware that my own is calling to me.
I barely give you time to recover from your orgasm before I'm flipping you onto your stomach, dragging you up onto shaky knees and easing your folds apart as gently as I can in my current state. You wobble, then widen your stance, likely for balance but it also serves to spread you wider for me. Your pussy is a flushed, pink sanctuary nestled between curls soaked with your juices and my saliva. The muscles of your legs shiver as I stroke my palms over your hips, and you push back into my hands, filling each palm with a perfect plump handful. Dropping to your elbows, your back arches and you beg with your body and your voice, presenting yourself for me as though you were in heat. "Please..."
God, that little plea breaks me. I resolve to be gentle with you, all my animal thoughts of rutting myself into you until I fill your womb with my seed are gone as my mind clears. It would be pointless anyway, I remind my quietening wolf. You smell tangy from the chemicals in your birth control implant, not unpleasantly so but with a finality on the topic of breeding you. Besides which, humans usually like to discuss these things and come to agreements on babies and families and such, and we have barely spoken of anything let alone this. We also haven't spoken of condoms, a little rational part of me is adamant, that nerdy metalhead again, but I can smell how free of disease you are and nothing can survive in my uncertain flesh anyhow so the point is moot. Regardless of the lupine grumblings that reverberate in the dark corners of my mind, I resolve to fill you with myself only and to that end I line myself up, ready to push into you gently. Then you take the decision out of my hands by jerking back suddenly and enveloping a good three inches of my dick with a sharp snap of your hips. Helpless, my own hips thrust forward and I am rewarded for my rough action with a little breathy mewl.
My wolf bares his teeth in triumph and, regardless of my good intentions, I end up sweaty and growling within moments, hips jackhammering, slamming into the enticing jiggle of your buttocks as I bury myself again and again and again in your wet heat. Fingers press bruising touches into your hips and thighs, and you drop on one elbow to reach between your legs. The sight threatens to drag a roar from my throat but I swallow it down. The last thing I need is for your neighbours to think you are being attacked in here, as close as that may be to the truth.
You are slinky and soft like a cat that I could take between my teeth, mewling and submissive. Somewhere along the way, your t-shirt has been lost and now you are flushed and bare to my eyes and hands. You let me pull you and position you the way I want, and all the while the hand between your thighs rewards your own flesh for your acquiescence. My wolf huffs a complaint, Why is my dick not enough?! until I force it back into its cage. Explaining human biology to it would be a waste. It has no care for your pleasure even though I do. It is losing ground to the man now and in its fury it does not acknowledge that your body is even capable of reaching that peak nor that it should be a desirable outcome of our coupling. Instead it tries a new tack and aggressive hands reach around your chest to drag you upright, your back to my sweaty chest as I continue to plough into you. The change in angle leaves us both moaning and I wrestle for control again, but not before ungentle fingers land on your heavy breasts to pinch and tug your tight, perfect nipples.
The dam breaks and before I know it, you are flooding me with your pulsing, gushing heat, spasming deliciously around my dick, and the wolf howls his victory as my own hips pummel you. Each thrust forces a hot, thick spurt deep into you, painting you with my seed and my scent. No other wolf will touch you. You are Mine. Mine. Mine.
I collapse, dragging you down with me, and have just enough sense to pull out as the tingle in the base of my dick blooms into a hot, swollen ache that longs to be tied inside you. This far from transformation my capacity to knot is significantly reduced but you are not built for even a little bit of it and I have no desire to hurt you. Nor join you to me if what you want is distance when we both come to our senses. With that in mind, I release you from the bearhug I have gathered you into as we tumbled onto the sheets, fully aware that you may choose to take your freedom and run with it. Aware too that if that happens now, both I and my wolf will be devastated. Instead, you roll over and sprawl yourself half on top of me, one leg pinning my thigh as your fingers play with my sparse chest hair and dance over my tattoos, stroking patterns down my stomach and over my hips. You rest your head under my chin and stare for a long, long moment down the length of my body, surely seeing the angry red knot that refuses to allow my dick to soften, yet you do not comment on it.
When you eventually say something, it is not what I was expecting. "So… not a dog then?"
I snort, aware that it's not the most eloquent or kind response I could give to the woman who just gave herself to a monster so bravely. Swallowing, I force a hum out through my throat, testing my voice box to see if it has progressed enough to allow me human speech.
When I speak, my voice is still gravelly and rough. "Eddie. My name's Eddie. Nice to finally meet you."