Werewolf Boyfriend: Grayson (rough draft)

Usually, when your family says they have relatives living in the woods, it means someone is living off the grid, they’re redneck, they’re crazy, or some mixture of the three. Your aunt and her wife are none of the above, maybe a little crazy, but the good kind. When the world started to kind implode upon itself, 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 process.

Taking up the offer, only because you knew your roommate was going to be a giant challenge, you moved to be with them. Your cousin, Junie, had also come back from college, and another relative had taken up a room. There was also one of the employees of the bed and breakfast. The handyman had come to stay, but you barely saw him. You and Junie had come to refer to him like a cryptid, only seeing him when it was foggy or dark out. He kept to himself, which was nice, considering how this quarantine was all about close confines. It was better than your tiny apartment, but still, it felt like the walls were closing in sometimes.

Your original plans for the spring and summer had all revolved around work, but all were canceled due to the pandemic. You were prepared at least, if you needed to go into the woods for a few days. You had a camper attached to you truck, which was filled with camping equipment, rations, and all your photography equipment. The plans for your travels were still marked in the planner on your front seat. Sometimes you would sit behind the wheel and just look at that planner, thinking about where you would be now, what you would be doing. Slouching 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 such sit and mope, the cryptid handyman walks right in front of your truck. He has an ax slung over his shoulder, and he looks more like a wild bear than human. He had seemed less hairy when this whole thing started, then again, so did you. You slouch down 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 plans. You wouldn’t have the money you usually do come winter to take a vacation, so you’ve already been putting feels out for winter and fall work. Which you hated, you didn’t deal 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 then points with his ax 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?” He points back to the driveway. “Just trust me.” He walks away, going 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 inside some of your equipment 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, you begin the long process of going through your inventory, updating your website. Soon, it begins to get dark outside as storm clouds gather.

Taking your camera, you go up to the attic where your aunts have turned into a sort of tea room. 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’d been trying to set up a print shop, hoping to make some small amount of money. Having a series of photographs taken through this window had been your goal originally, but quarantine had gotten you.

The first shot you had taken had been 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, this third shot showed the world painted gray and heavy from the upcoming storm. In the distance you heard the rumbles of thunder, which you began to count to track how far away it was.

On the road just outside, you saw the handy man walking. He came to a stop and drug his ax along the dirt making an X at the entrance. You watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing, it almost seemed like he was placing a warning. But for who?

That evening you were helping your aunt Rosie in the kitchen making dinner. You were used to quick roadside diners and fast food during the summer, having something home cooked almost every night was kind of nice.

“Did Grayson have you move your truck today?” Rosie asks.

You look back at her from chopping vegetables. “Who?”

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

You had never known his name, so you made a slight sound at the information. “Yeah,” you quickly add. “He told me to 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 back 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 it was best we just take care of him, it didn’t seem like he had anywhere to go. We decided we couldn’t live with ourselves if we just let him go. So that’s why we gave Grayson the job here.”

“So you have no idea where he came from?”

Rosie shrugs. “He’s been wonderful here, never given us trouble, protected us, worked hard for us. I don’t think in pasts,” she sighs thoughtfully. “Whatever he left behind is long gone, what he has though is a future, and everyone deserves that.”

That evening as you all sit down to eat dinner, the storm arrives. Rain first patters against the windows, then the wind picks up and sways the trees. The downpour comes, flickering the lights for a moment.

“I swear to god if we lose wifi, I will become an ax murderer,” Junie grumbles.

Honey turns to fuss at her. “No you won’t, stop that.”

The door opens, letting in harsh wind and rain, and in comes 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. “Was getting the chicken coop taken care of.”

“I’ll go fetch a towel,” Rosei scoffs. She then 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 him like any good parent would.

Rosie returns with towels while you set his plate of hot food before him. It’s silent as everyone focuses on the ruckus of the storm outside. 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 the lightning to strike. That’s when you notice something at the entrance. There’s something moving in the storm, dark shapes that dart between the trees and use the rain as cover. They sniff around where Grayson had made the X earlier, scurrying away and leaving the road alone and unpassed.

Your finger lifts from the shutter, not realizing you had been taking a long burst of pictures this entire time. Heart racing, you look back through the pictures, seeing something that your bare eyes hadn’t. What were dark shapes to you had glowing eyes through the lens of the camera. You had thought, maybe, it was coyotes. This wasn’t coyotes.

“What are you doing up here?”

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

Grayson’s dark eyes narrow on you then 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 then waves the nailgun. “This is loud though, you may want to step back.”

“Can you wait?” You quickly ask. “I was hoping to get a lightning shot.” You’re anxious after asking this, wondering if he’ll be upset by this request.

Grayson turns back to you. “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, turning a doll away from looking at him. “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 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, anyways.”

“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 is quiet, rough but quiet. There’s also something so peaceful about him. Usually, you’d feel nervous talking to someone you barely know. Yet with him, there is an ease to the room, a sort of quiet you feel doesn’t need to be filled.

“Do you like it here?”

Grayson looks up. “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 that, 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, making out shapes of chairs and dolls.

“I hate this room,” Grayson then grumbles.

“The dolls?”

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

You giggle and lightning lights up the room, your camera sputters taking pictures, going 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.”

Come morning the power is out and there is a tree knocked over across the road. Grayson hooks up the generator just so you can make coffee and heat up leftovers for breakfast. You then 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 wood around, you 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 get up straight, stepping aside from Grayson. Your heart is hammering, and your face feels red hot. “Thanks,” you say clipped. “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, so that evening Rosie and Honey go into town to get gas for the generator, as well as some food from the diner. You’re in your camper where you have all sorts of extra battery packs, solar chargers, you just don’t remember where you put them.

You find a box with a couple of solar chargers and you take them into the house, which Junie is ecstatic about. Even though wifi is down, she still needs her phone. You go out onto the porch with your camera so it can 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. You can see 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.

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

“What’s with the shave?” You ask.

“Getting hot out, 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, whatever soap he’s using is both soft and masculine. You swallow hard, feeling suddenly nervous. You scroll through the photos, showing the ones of 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 digs deeper. “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’s still and still, and without his beard you can see his jaw flex and tense as he gnashes 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 before hand so they wouldn’t be worse today.”

You simply nod. “Of course.”

After the power comes back on, things return to normal. Grayson returns to being a distant cryptid, but you have the desire to be around him more. Maybe you’re lonely, maybe you want to smell his soap again. You go out one evening, hoping to track him down. You had seen 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, seeing his tools are laid aside under a tree. You snap a few pictures before moving on.

There’s a path marked for hikers with a small sign post directing towards the advanced trail and then towards 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 at the pond and your cheeks grow red hot. Had you accidentally stumbled upon Grayson skinny dipping?

It would be best to turn around and leave things as they were. You certainly wouldn’t want him stumbling upon 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 go up the path, treading up a steep hill. The sound of breathing comes back and you still, you eyes dart back and forth, catching glimpse of something moving in the shadows. Something laughs and you run. 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. It’s getting closer, you can feel it breathing on the back of your neck. You trip, falling face forward onto the ground.

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

Then, it comes out of the forest, something massive. It howls, long and hard. Peering from the ground you see dark fur as it covers you with its body. The laughter becomes hisses and there’s a struggle. You knocked back, pushed out of the way. The laughter is now screaming and the big creature howls and bellows.

Some time passes and the laughter fades into the distance. You peer out from your hiding spot, seeing the massive creature stumble onto all fours. Bleeding and breathing hard, it begins to collapse. Looking back at you, their dark eyes portray concern and then relief before it falls to the ground.

You start to run but you hesitate. Looking back, you decide you can’t leave them there. You approach, gently kneeling down beside them. 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 starts to shift, bones crack and pop, the fur fades away. You watch in shock as it takes the form of a man. It turns into Grayson. You decide to take things in later. Grayson is huge, but you can move him easier than the giant wolf. You manage to get him to your camper, which was parked back near the woods after the storm. You get him inside and tae out your first aid kit which you found earlier.

After having doctored 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, 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 huge and hairy, muscular but thick too. He had a belly and big legs to go with it.

You look away though, 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 snap.

Grayson is inspecting his bandaged wounds. They’ll only be more scars among the canvas of his body. He has burns and scars all over himself, some older, some newer. “Things that go bump in the night.” He gives you a stern and 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 the basement where his room is. You help him get dressed, and he agrees to answer your questions.

“Do Rosie and Honey know about this?” 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 am 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.” You chew your lip. “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 taking hold of your hand. “Once I’m better, I’d like to show you the other side to myself.”

A few days later and he’s almost completely healed. You’re marveled by how fast he recuperates. Like her promised, he agrees to show you his werewolf self. He invites you down into his place late one evening, he has you close your eyes, promising only to open then once he tells you.

Your heart is racing, both from excitement and the unknown. You keep your hands over your eyes, peeking to see his naked backside. You close your eyes again as he turns around. You hear him grunt and things snapping and popping. After a while in silence you feel his hand over yours. He pulls your hands from your face and you look up at werewolf.

It silent again, one you do not mind. Grayson lowers down before you, his eyes pleading and shy. You touch his face, running your hands through his fur. You pull him close, 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. He lifts you up and presses you against the wall, kissing you hungrily and impassionedly. His hands go up your shirt, touching bare skin, grabbing you. You dig your fingers into his fur, holding tightly onto him.

“Make me stop,” he begs again.

“Please don’t!”

He throws you down upon his bed, hunkering over you as he strips away your clothes. You have no fear of his gaze, not like others before. His touch is loving, his breath is elated. He kisses and licks his way all over your skin, finding you supple and warm between your thighs.

He lowers down, looking into your eyes. You meet his gaze, as 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,” his voice chokes. He moves slowly, taking his time. He rubs against you, slipping a bit before he places himself at the entrance. You whimper, moving your hips to urge him inside. His body lays upon 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. He sighs raggedly as he fills you. Crying out, you grab firmly onto his shoulders. He pulls out slow again, reinstering himself again. He 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 down 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.” You move him, doing something you would have considered unthinkable. 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 onto your hips. He helps guide you, easing you down upon him. His gaze is hazy but desperate. He feels so warm, so good. You bounce upon him, faster, harder. You lose your breath. Your mind races. Your voice pitches high and loud.

“I’m coming,” he pleads. “I’m coming! Oh god. I’m coming.” His pleasured, pitiful moans make your mind go blank. All you feel is warmth, all you have is him. You twitch and spasm, fisting his fur and crying out.

You lay beside him, feeling his kisses and breath against your skin. You look up at him, seeing him smile. “You’re not a monster.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You kiss him and let him lay upon your breast. “Because even in silence, I feel safe with you.”