Werewolf Boyfriend: Grayson (complete)

(not Hearthway Hollow)

Female Reader x Male Monster

Usually, when your family says they have relatives living in the woods, it means someone is living off the grid, a redneck, a crazy person, or some mixture of the three. Your aunt and her wife are none of the above, except maybe a little crazy. When the pandemic began, your aunts invited some of the family to come stay with them during quarantine. They owned and operated a bed-and-breakfast, so they had the room, the supplies, and the ingenuity to make it through the months-long lockdown.

You take up the offer, only because you know your roommate is going to be a giant challenge. Your cousin, Junie, has also come back from college, and another relative has taken up a room. The handyman of the bed-and-breakfast is also staying, but you barely see him. You and Junie start to refer to him as cryptid, because he only appears when it’s foggy or dark out. He keeps to himself, which was nice, considering the need for social distancing. It’s better than your tiny apartment, but still it feels like the walls are closing in sometimes.

Your original plans for the spring and summer revolved around work, but all are canceled by the pandemic. At least you have a camper attached to your truck, which is filled with camping equipment, rations, and all your photography equipment. The plans for your travels are still marked in the planner on your front seat. Sometimes you sit behind the wheel and just look at the planner, thinking about where you would be now, what you would be doing. Sitting back and looking out the window, you could be anywhere but a bed-and-breakfast in the woods with only a tourist trap in view.

During one moping session, the cryptid handyman walks right in front of your truck. He has an axe slung over his shoulder, and looks more like a bear than human. He seemed less hairy when this whole thing started, but then again so did you. You slouch in the seat, hoping he doesn’t see you. Once you think he’s gone, you sit back up with a sigh of relief.

You glance back into your planner, feeling heavy-hearted about your plans. You won’t have the money you usually do to take a winter vacation, so you’ve already been putting feelers out for winter and fall work. Which you hate, not dealing with the cold very well.

There’s a tap at your window and you turn, seeing the handyman standing there. You lurch, feeling your hair stand on end. “It’s supposed to storm tonight. I’d move your rig out from under the trees.” He points with his axe to the driveway. “Just park in front of the garage. No one is coming in or out.”

You roll down the window slightly. “What kind of storm?”

He shrugs. “Does it matter? Just trust me.” He points at the driveway again and walks away to the shed behind the house, where all his equipment is stored.

You do as he asks, moving the truck and camper so it takes up the driveway. You take some of your equipment inside too, just in case. Fiddling around in your room, you start cleaning your camera, which leads to cleaning everything else. You double-check connectors and backups, and begin the long process of going through your inventory and updating your website.

Soon, it begins to get dark outside as storm clouds gather. You take your camera up to the attic, which your aunts have turned into a sort of tearoom. It smells like potpourri, and the bisque dolls sitting around the place are creepy, but the big decorative window is the perfect place for pretty snapshots. You’ve been trying to set up a print shop, hoping to make some small amount of money. Taking a series of photographs taken through this window had been a goal of yours, but quarantine got in the way.

The first shot you took when you arrived, the scenery outside was gray and heavy with small strokes of green as winter gave way to spring. The second was lush with greenery and flowers from spring. Then you gave up. Now, the third shot showed the world painted gray and heavy from the upcoming storm. In the distance you hear rumbles of thunder, which you began to count to track how far away it is.

On the road just outside, you see the handy man walking. He comes to a stop and drags his ax along the dirt, making an X at the doors. You watched him curiously. It almost seems like he was placing a warning. But for whom?

That evening, you help your aunt Rosie in the kitchen. You’re used to quick roadside diners and fast food during the summer, and having a home-cooked meal almost every night is kind of nice. “Did Grayson have you move your truck today?” Rosie asks.

You look up from chopping vegetables. “Who?”

“Grayson!” she laughs. “Our maintenance man.”

You never knew his name. “Yeah,” you nod. “He told me earlier today.”

“Such a nice young man,” Rosie coos. “Been working here since he was a boy.”

You furrow your brow slightly. “A boy? How old is he?”

“I’d say he’s a little older than you,” Rosie says thoughtfully. “Came here when we first opened. We’d been open a few months and it was becoming apparent we were a little confused with things. Then he showed up wanting to rent a room. All he had was a plastic bag of his belongings and greasy hair, so Honey and I put him to work in exchange for room and board. Twenty-odd years later, he’s still here. Does odd jobs in town when we’re slow, but he mostly keeps to himself. He’s a very quiet young man.”

“He really must have been a kid when he first came here,” you murmur.

“Honey and I have never really figured out just how old he is,” Rosie sighs. “We could never get it out of him when he arrived. He looked like a baby, but he acted like an old man. We figured we’d just take care of him, it didn’t seem like he had anywhere to go. We couldn’t live with ourselves if we just let him go. So that’s why we gave Grayson the job here.”

“You have no idea where he came from?”

Rosie shrugs. “He’s been wonderful, never gives us trouble, and works hard for us. I don’t think in the past,” she says. “Whatever he left behind is long gone, what he has now is a future, and everyone deserves that.”

That evening as you all sit down to eat dinner, the storm arrives. Rain patters against the windows, and then the wind picks up and sways the trees. The downpour comes, dimming the lights for a moment. “I swear to god if we lose WiFi, I will become an ax murderer,” Junie grumbles.

Honey turns to glare at her. “No you won’t. Stop that.”

The door opens, letting in harsh wind and rain along with Grayson, soggy, dripping, and huffing. “What on earth were you doing outside?” Rosie snaps.

“Got caught.” Grayson shuts the door, then pushes his wet hair back from his face. “I was getting the chicken coop taken care of.”

“I’ll fetch a towel,” Rosei says. Then she motions to you. “Fix him a plate.”

You stand up, but Grayson stops you. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll eat later. I’ve got a few more things to take care of.”

“No, you don’t. You’re going to get dry and eat, and that’s final,” Honey scolds like any good parent would.

Rosie returns with towels while you set Grayson’s plate of hot food before him. It’s silent as everyone focuses on the ruckus of the storm outside, and you watch the shadows of the trees move between bites of food. “Grayson, where do you keep your ax?” Junie suddenly asks.

You look at Junie. “Is the WiFi down?”

“I can ask where sharp objects are in my own home.”

Grayson wipes his beard and chuckles. “I think I left it at the chicken coop.”

“Oh, great!” Junie scoffs. “Now the chickens are gonna kill us.”

After dinner, you go back to the attic to take a picture of the storm through the window. You’re lining up the shot, waiting for a lightning bolt to strike, when you notice something moving in the storm, dark shapes darting between the trees. They linger where Grayson made the X earlier, then scurry away.

Your finger lifts from the shutter. You didn’t realize you’d been taking a long burst of pictures this entire time. Heart racing, you look back through the pictures, seeing something that your bare eyes couldn’t. What were dark shapes to you have glowing eyes through the lens of the camera. You thought the intruders were coyotes. These aren’t coyotes.

“What are you doing up here?”

You jump, turning back to see Grayson coming in. “I was...” You look at your camera, then back at him. “... trying to get a photo.”

Grayson’s dark eyes narrow before he turns his attention to the window. He has a tarp and a nail gun in his hands. “I came to board up the window, just in case.”

Your eyes widen. “It’s going to be that bad?”

“Just being safe.” He steps up to the window. “It’s my job to take precautions. The more I do now, the less work it’ll be if something bad does happen.”

“Oh.” You look back at your camera and quickly switch the screen. You don’t want to face what you might have captured. “Need any help?”

“No. I have this.” He waves the nailgun. “This is loud, though, so you might want to step back.”

“Can you wait?” you quickly ask. “I was hoping to get a lightning shot.” You wonder if he’ll be upset by this request.

“You have twenty minutes, and then I need to fix this up.”

You relax. “That’s more than enough time.”

You set up the shot again, preparing the camera to instantly take a picture once it detects a lightning flash. Grayson sits down, gingerly turning away a doll that appears to stare a little too hard. “How long have you been doing this?” he asks.

“Professionally, about five years. But I’ve been using a camera since I was a kid.”

Grayson sighs and leans back in the chair, turning another doll around when he realizes it too is looking at him. “I was looking at some of your work the other day. It’s very good.”

You flinch. “You were looking at my work?”

He nods and casts his eyes down. “I was curious, and Ms. Rosie showed me our website. I’ve never known a photographer before. A real one, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Grayson scoffs. “We get a lot of influencers here looking for a photo op.”

“Ah.” You turn back to your camera. “Rosie said you’ve been here twenty years.”

He nods. “Just about.” He’s rough, but there’s also something so peaceful about him. Usually, you’d feel nervous talking to someone you barely know, but with him you experience a sort of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled.

“Do you like it here?”

“I’ve come to call it home.”

You smile to yourself. “I’ve always liked Aunt Rosie. She was one of the few people who never picked on my weight.”

“She’s good at making you feel accepted.” Grayson sighs softly. “Not many people would take a chance on some greasy asshole like me back in the day.”

“Were you an asshole?”

Grayson chuckles. “Who isn’t as a kid?”

You nod along. “I guess that’s true.”

It goes quiet again, nothing but the sound of rain and wind outside. The silence feels comfortable, almost warm. You step back from the camera and look around the dark room, through the shapes of chairs and dolls. “I hate this room,” Grayson grumbles.

“Why? The dolls?”

“Yes!” he laughs. “They’re so creepy.”

You giggle. Lightning lights up the room, and your camera clicks away before you shut it off once it goes dark. Grayson stands from his chair. “Did you get what you were after?”

You look through the pictures and smile. “I think so.”

By morning the power is out, and a tree has been knocked over across the road. Grayson hooks up the generator just so you can make coffee and heat up leftovers for breakfast. You eat to the sound of his chainsaw revving outside. You and Junie decide to go out and help him move the wood out of the way, since it was quite a big tree. As you’re hefting debris, your foot slips in the mud and you start to take a tumble, but Grayson catches you.

“You look like some backwoods romance novel cover,” June snickers.

You quickly straighten up, stepping away from Grayson. Your heart is hammering, and your face feels red hot. “Thanks. Good save.”

Grayson arches his brows. “No problem.”

You smile, biting it back so hopefully no one will see, but Junie does.

The power remains out almost all day. In the evening Rosie and Honey go into town to get gas for the generator, and some food from the diner. You go out to your camper, where you have all sorts of extra battery packs and solar chargers but don’t remember where you put them. You find a box with a couple of chargers and take them into the house, to the ecstasy of Junie. Even though the WiFi is down, she still needs her phone.

You take your camera out onto the porch to charge. Grayson walks up, his hair wet and pulled back from being washed. Even more shockingly, his bear has been almost completely shaved off. He’s still protected by a thick layer of stubble, but you can actually see the shape of his face, and scars along his jaw and down his neck. There also appears to be something else sticking out from under his collar.

“Who are you?” you ask.

Grayson smiles and shakes his head. “Not funny.”

“Why the shave?” you ask.

“Getting hot out, so I figured now was the time.” He sits down near you. “Get anything good last night?”

You sigh, wondering if you should divulge the whole truth. “Good, bad, weird.”

His brow pinches. “Weird?”

You move closer to him, sitting beside him on the bench so you can share your camera with him. He smells amazingly good from whatever soap he’s using. You swallow nervously and scroll through the photos, showing him the ones of the lightning. “Not bad,” he murmurs. He shifts slightly, almost nervously as well.

“That’s not all,” you murmur. “I saw something kind of weird yesterday. Are there coyotes around here?”

Grayson’s thick brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

You show him a photo of the strange shapes in the dark, their eyes seeming brighter than they did before. “I don’t know what these are. I can’t figure it out.”

He sits still, and without his beard you can see his jaw flex and tense as he grits his teeth. His fists knead into his knees then he lets out a long sigh. “At least they left.”

“Do you know what they were?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.” His voice is soft, his eyes distant. “I would just delete those pictures and forget about it.”

“I saw you mark the road before the storm,” you murmur nervously. “Is there something out there you know about?”

Grayson looks at you sternly. “I was doing my job. Taking care of things beforehand so they wouldn’t be worse today.”

You simply nod. “Of course.”

After the power comes back on, things return to normal. Grayson keeps his distance, but you have the desire to be around him more. Maybe you’re lonely, or maybe you want to smell his soap again. You go out one evening hoping to track him down. You saw him head towards the chicken coop, but when you arrive there he’s gone. You see his shirt hanging on a tree limb - odd, but considering it was warm, not surprising. You go behind the chicken coop to find his tools are laid under a tree. You snap a few pictures before moving on.

There’s a path marked for hikers, with a small signpost pointing out the advanced trail and the pond. You decide to go towards the pond. As you get close, you find a bundle of clothes laying on the ground - Grayson’s clothes. You hear splashing, and your cheeks grow red. Have you accidentally stumbled upon Grayson skinny dipping?

It would be best to turn around and leave things as they are. You certainly wouldn’t want him stumbling on you naked. You turn to head back down the path, thinking the advanced trail might have an opportunity for some good photos.

That’s when you hear something breathing. Your skin crawls and shivers go down your spine. You look around, seeing nothing but the path behind you. You tread up the path along a steep hill. The sound of breathing returns and you stop, eye darting back and forth, catching glimpses of something moving in the shadows. You hear a laugh, and you stumble, tripping on the hill and nearly tumbling down. You scrape your knee but you don’t stop as the laughing advances behind you. Something is chasing you, but you’re too afraid to turn and look around. You can feel breath on the back of your neck, and you trip falling facedown on the ground.

This is it, you think, I’m dead. You curl up, covering your head with your hands as the laughter becomes tauntingly loud.

Something lurches out of the trees and howls, long and hard. You look up from the ground and see dark fur as the thing covers you with its body. The laughter becomes yelps, and there’s a struggle. You’re pushed out of the way. The laughter is now screaming, and the big creature howls and bellows.

The commotion fades into the distance. You peer out from your hiding spot as the massive creature stumbles onto all fours. Bleeding and breathing hard, it begins to collapse. Its dark eyes convey concern and then relief before it falls to the ground.

You start to run, then stop. Looking back, you decide you can’t leave your apparent rescuer. You approach, gently kneeling down beside it. You don’t know how you can move such a big creature. Covered in dark fur, it almost looks like a monstrous wolf.

The body ripples, bones crack and pop, and the fur fades away. You watch in shock as the creature turns into Grayson. You decide to take things in later. Grayson is huge, but you can move him easier than a giant wolf. You manage to get him to your camper, which you parked back near the woods, get him inside and take out your first-aid kit.

After you’ve doctored his wounds and bandaged him, he begins to stir. He wakes, turning to look at you sitting beside him on the floor. “Good, you’re okay.” He lifts his hand and you take hold of it.

“You’re not. You should be going to a hospital.”

He sits up with a grunt, and the blanket you had placed over his naked body falls into his lap. “I heal fast. There’s no worry about that.” His body is thick, hairy and muscular.

You look away, feeling silly for getting flustered when he’s hurt. “There is reason to worry.”

“I chased them off. It'll be okay.”

“Who are they?” you demand.

Grayson is inspecting his bandaged wounds. They’ll only be more scars among the canvas of his body. He has burns and lacerations all over, some newer than others. “Things that go bump in the night.” He gives you a serious look. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smile reassuringly at him. “Don’t do it again, okay?”

“It’s my job.”

You both sneak back inside that evening, as all he has on is the blanket around him. You go to his basement room and help him get dressed, and he agrees to answer your questions.

“Do Rosie and Honey know about you?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m the maintenance man. That’s all I want them to know.”

You nod and look down at your hands. “So, is ‘werewolf’ the correct term for you?”

“It is.”

“Wow,” you exclaim breathlessly.

“No one knows this. Only you. I would appreciate it if you kept it that way. So I’m asking you...”

Shaking your head, you look back at him. “You don’t need to ask. I wouldn’t tell. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I still don’t know exactly what to think.”

“I know.”

You lean back in the chair and fiddle with your fingers. “So, uh, this is your room?”

His smile is soft, but his gaze is even sweeter. “Yeah, it is.”

You look into his eyes. “It’s nice. Much cleaner than I expected.” You smile at him, relieved to see him in one piece. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Is there anything I can do to...”

He cuts you off quickly. “No. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He reaches out and takes hold of your hand. “Once I’m better, I’d like to show you the other side of myself.”

A few days later he’s almost completely healed. Like her promised, he agrees to show you his werewolf form. He invites you down into his room late one evening and has you close your eyes, promising only to open them once he tells you. Your heart is racing, both from excitement and the unknown. You keep your hands over your eyes, only peeking once to glimpse his naked backside, and close your eyes again as he turns around. You hear him grunt, and then the snapping and popping begins. Silence descends, and you feel his hand over yours. He pulls your hands from your face and you look up at a werewolf.

The silence stretches on, and you don’t mind. Grayson lowers down before you, his eyes pleading and shy. You touch his face, running your hands through his fur, and pull him close before feeling his kiss. You close your eyes, pulling him deeper. His hands wrap around you, and a moan of desperation escapes both your lips.

“Make me stop,” he growls.

“No.” As soon as the word leaves your lips he grabs you, lifts you up and presses you against the wall, kissing you hungrily. His hands go up your shirt, touching bare skin. You dig your fingers into his fur, holding tightly onto him. “Make me stop,” he begs again.

“Please don’t!”

He throws you down on his bed, hunkering over you as he strips away your clothes. You have no fear of his gaze. His touch is loving, his panting breaths ecstatic. He kisses and licks his way all over your skin, finding you supple and warm between your thighs. He moves between them and looks into your eyes, and your stare feels wild and hungry as he is. Your kiss is soft though, pleading and wanting. You stroke your hands gently down his body, breathing in as he nuzzles to your ear.

“I will stop.”

You shake your head. “Please. I don’t want you to.” You grab tight onto his arms. “Please, Grayson. Now.”

He moans into your ear, sharp teeth nipping at the lobe. “Soft,” he chokes. He moves slowly, taking his time. He rubs against you, slipping a bit before he lines himself up. You whimper, moving your hips to urge him inside. His body hovers over you, heavy and warm. He breathes into your ear again. “I’ll come if I rush.”

Your insides quiver. “Okay. Take your time.”

He dips deeper inside, grunting with effort to keep his control, and sighs raggedly as he fills you. Crying out, you grab firmly onto his shoulders. He pulls out slowly before thrusting back in, then breathes against you, whispering sweetly into your ear. His movements take time, growing in speed and roughness.

“You’re not scared?” he whispers.

You swallow a breath and look into his concerned gaze. “What’s there to be afraid of?”

“I’m a monster.”

You could almost cry. You kiss him lovingly. “That’s not true.” Then you climb on top of him. Your legs tremble at first, but the more you move, the better it feels. You plant your palms upon his belly to anchor yourself.

“I want this,” you moan. “I want you.”

Grayson’s hands move up your body, groping your breasts and belly before they clutch your hips. He helps guide you, easing you down on him. His gaze is hazy but desperate. He feels so warm, so good. You bounce on him, faster, harder. You lose your breath. Your mind races. You wail high and loud.

“I’m coming,” he pleads. “I’m coming! Oh god. I’m coming.” His pitiful moans make your mind go blank. All you feel is warmth, and all you have is him. You twitch and spasm, fisting his fur and crying out. Then you drop down beside him, feeling his kisses and breath against your skin. You look up and see him smile. “You’re not a monster.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You kiss him and guide his head to your breast. “Because even in silence, I feel safe with you.”