Werewolf Boyfriend: Raphael (complete)

Male Reader x Male Monster (both cis)

You have a job you love. The college you’re teaching at is great, so no complaints there. It’s above and beyond your days substituting for high school science classes. The only problem is the location. The seemingly small town that the college is in, Hearthway Hollow, is much more rural than you’re used to. Having grown up in the city and lived there all your life, the backwoodsy atmosphere of this scenic North Carolina town is far from your comfort zone. Everything closes at six, save for maybe one or two restaurants. The nearest big shopping center is an hour away, not to mention the biggest city. There’s more forest than people, and forests have scared you ever since you saw Snow White as a kid. Not to mention the silence.

You’ve never been the best sleeper, but here in the woods, the silence has made your insomnia much worse. You’ve tried noise machines, apps on your phone, everything you can to make the world outside seem less forbidding. But the forest is there, looming over you like vicious claws ready to sink into your skin and pull you down into its vast black depths, where the creatures will feast on whatever is left.

Everyone you talk to seems to love it here - the other professors, your students, the cute baristas at the coffee shop. Why can’t you love it? You love your job so much, so why can’t you love the town that encompasses it? It’s frustrating, and you want so much to find a place to fit in here, but it feels almost impossible most days.

You don’t want your frustration to affect your job, so you’ve been trying to partake in some of what Hearthway Hollow offers. You’ve signed up for some volunteer work at the nature reserve, and you’ve been looking at the goat yoga classes being offered by one of the local farms. If there’s any way to make yourself feel at home here to save yourself and this job, you’re willing to take it. Hell, you’ve been eyeballing singles events. If you can find a date, a partner, maybe it’ll sweeten the pot.

“My, my, is making papier-mache volcanoes such a tiring job?”

You look up from your phone as one of your fellow teachers walks into the room. Raphael Chauveau is the literature professor. You’re usually the tallest in any room, and have been since you hit puberty at thirteen, but Professor Chauveau is taller by a head. He’s more built than you too, so he seems massive compared to your lanky frame. He also seems to enjoy teasing you. His slight French accent makes everything he says sound charming, but the charm is beginning to wear off.

You turn off your phone as he sits down across from you, hoping he doesn’t see you perusing the event calendar.  “This isn’t middle school, Professor Chauveau. We use dashed hopes and dreams for our volcanoes.”

He smirks and rubs his scruffy chin. It’s bad enough he was taller than you, but he also had fluffy blonde hair in soft waves, and one curl falls in front of his frosty blue eyes. “That is rather bleak.”

You want to dislike this guy so badly, but he’s exactly your type. It doesn’t matter the gender, but blonde hair and distinct eyes always capture your attention. “I thought you thrived on bleak stories. Aren’t you having your class study Wuthering Heights right now?”

Raphael smirks and tilts his chin up. “That’s not bleak, sir. That story is downright depressing. I do not thrive on them either, they just happen to be what the world considers classic.”

You glance back at your phone with a slight scowl on your lips.

“Seriously,” Raphael leans in. “What has you so down in the dumps? And makes you put a concealer on your bags?”

You touch your face defensively. “How did...” You shake your head. “It’s nothing.”

“We have a shortage of adorable professors,” Raphael says with a soft smile. “It would be a shame to lose another.”

Your cheeks burn, and you refuse to look at him. Did he just call you adorable?

Raphael settles in, placing his bag aside and resting his arms on the tabletop. “If there’s something troubling you about your job, perhaps you could chat with an old hat like me? I’ve been here a long time, and I’ve seen many things.”

You scoff,eyes still downcast. “Where did you grow up?”

He cocks his eyebrow up. “Is that causing you stress?”

You shake your head and finally look into his eyes. “No, I’m asking genuinely. Because I’m from the city. Grew up there, thrived there, and thought I would die there. Now I find myself in a town literally smack-dab in the middle of the woods, and I’m finding it hard to cope with the change.”

Raphael’s smile remains. “I was born in France, but as soon as they were able my parents relocated to New Orleans, where my mother had family. After New Orleans it was Malibu, after Malibu it was New York, and after New York, I came here because I had family here.”

“Oh.” You’re a bit surprised. “So how did you cope? You lived in some of the most well-known cities in America. What did this little town hold for you?”

Raphael chuckles and sighs. “You’re not going to like my answer.”

“Is it disappointing?”

“Possibly,” he shrugs. “I like to believe I was always meant to be here. I never could settle, much like my parents. I was a dandelion seed caught on a breeze, but once I found this place, I planted and grew.”

“A weed?”

Raphael gives you a knowing look. “Mock if you want, but out of all the places I have lived, between France and Malibu, I like Hearthway Hollow the most.”

You frown. “But why? There must be a reason. The creepy forest? The silence? The fact that there’s nothing to do?”

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, sir.” Raphael sounds almost scolding. “This town has much to offer, even to some city mouse like you. Fall is here, and Halloween is fast approaching. I think you’ll be pleased with all the festivities.”

“Is Halloween some big to-do around these parts?”

Raphael nods. “It’s almost bigger than Christmas. You know how we have the big wolf reserve and rescue here?”

You laugh. “Don’t tell me, this whole town is gaga for werewolves?”

Raphael joins you in your laugh. “I should have known! You’re far too smart.”

You stare blankly at him. “Really?”

“Yes, of course. Werewolves are a very big thing here in Hearthway Hollow. Lots of stories, lots of festivities. It’s really quite fascinating. You should look into it.”

You can’t help chuckling. “I know that some towns really love their local legends, but a town dedicated to werewolves? That sounds a bit ridiculous.”

Raphael leans forward on the table a bit more. “It’s the mythology, sir. I know your head is full of chemistry and science, but here we thrive on history and stories. We love legends. It’s part of why I love this town so much.”

“But why werewolves?” you insist. “Aren’t they supposed to be evil?”

“Mothman is a harbinger for disaster and death, yet Point Pleasant loves to keep the story alive. There is the Goatman of Maryland, New Jersey has the Jersey Devil, Romania has Vlad Tepes III. But do you question these places for upholding their terrors?”

“Vlad Tepes is real. And he wasn’t a vampire.”

Raphael arches his brow. “Are you even listening? That is not the point. I am talking about tradition, especially the tradition of storytelling! Stories are as old as time itself, and stories of gods and monsters are always at the forefront. Nowadays werewolves are pop culture. They are romantic. They are Hugh Jackman. They are the kind of stories people want to listen to.”

You sigh and now your head. “Well, Hugh Jackman is an excellent argument.”

He starts laughing and when his grin grows, he has remarkable dimples. “Did your family never tell your fairy tales at night?”

“Both my parents were scientists, and they were great parents, but they were never fairy tale-type people.”

“Such a shame,” he murmurs. “Perhaps I could suggest some literature to you. Maybe reading some bedtime stories will help you with your sleeplessness.”

“How do you know I’m sleepless?”

Raphael taps under his eyes. “Come over to my place tonight if you’d like. I’ll make dinner, and we can have wine and discuss this further. Maybe it will help you understand your new home a little better.”

That evening after classes, and heading to your apartment for a quick shower, you go to the address that Raphael sent you. He lives in a loft downtown, above one of the shops that feels out of time. When you come up the stairs he’s standing out on his balcony, fanning out his shirt, so you catch glimpses of his stomach and chest as you walk up.

“The kitchen got a bit too hot. I came outside to cool off.” He smiles as you approach. “So glad you came. Come on in! These old places are either freezing or boiling, so please excuse it.” He leaves the door open as he takes you through a living room filled with shelves and books. A wine rack at the rear is filled with bottles, and he holds one up. “Would you like a drink, sir?”

“That would be nice. What do you have?”

“A wine from my father. It’s really quite good.” He begins the process of uncorking it.

As he does, you continue to peruse the room. There’s a bare spot above the chimney, and on it hangs a painting that catches your attention because of the huge splash of red on the canvas. The painting depicts a girl all in red, with a wolf standing on its hind legs beside her. The girl’s white hand is placed in the wolf’s giant paw, while her other hand stretches out to keep her basket away from him.

“My mother painted that,” Raphael says when he catches you staring. He holds out a glass of wine to you.

“I take it she loved fairy tales too?” You smell the glass before taking a sip.

“She and my father were both artists. She loved fairy tales so much, she used to have a giant, ancient tome that was falling apart. She would flip to a page at random, and where she landed, that was the subject she would paint. I would read her the story while she did.” He glances up at the painting with a sad smile. “Can you guess the fairy tale? Or are you not well versed enough?” he teases.

You smirk. “I shouldn’t be surprised you have Red Riding Hood, considering your lecture today on werewolves.”

“It was my favorite story as a child. I always cried when they killed the wolf.”

“He ate people!”

Raphael turns to you as he takes a sip of wine. “That is the nature of the wolf. Would you kill a bear for hibernating? Goldilocks broke into a house, ate their food, messed up their beds, and she lived.”

You furrow your brow. “She didn’t eat anybody!”

“The importance of fairy tales is to teach a lesson. What did the Three Bears teach? Break into someone’s home and get away with just a fright?” He shakes his head then looks back up at the painting. “The wolf may have tricked Red Riding Hood, but when he asked her for a morsel of food, she turned him away. She got eaten for being selfish.”

You grimace. “Is this how you teach?”

“It’s how I get my students to think,” he chuckles. “I’m glad you caught on.” He taps his wine glass to yours. “I like to look at things a bit too deeply, especially when I enjoy them. I love wolves, so when the wolf got gutted by the woodsman, I was heartbroken.”

“I take it that’s on my required reading list?”

“You’re far too smart for me,” Raphael teases. “But yes, I have a wonderful book that is filled with nothing but retellings of the red Riding Hood legend - one of which was written by someone here in Hearthway Hollow.”

“You?”

He shakes his head. “I’m an awful writer, no matter what I try. The story was written by a founder of Hearthway Hollow, Abraham Locklear.”

You follow Raphael as he goes into the kitchen, which is indeed quite warm. “Is he related to that lady who owns my apartment building? Mrs. Locklear?”

Raphael slides on oven mitts that look like lobster claws. “Her father, and a remarkable man. He was editor of the local paper during its inception, and an incredible writer. My father had a collection of his articles that his family sent him. I would pour myself into his articles when I read them. He married my great-great aunt.”

“Oh,” you murmur. So that’s how you have family here.”

He nods as he pulls a pan from the oven. “The history of this town is steeped in my veins, and with it the lore of werewolves here as well. I would love to share all of it with you.”

Suddenly your heart starts racing and your cheeks burn. It isn’t just the heat of the kitchen, it’s something else entirely. “How long would that take?” you ask breathlessly.

“It could take quite a while,” he says with a wink.

Raphael slowly begins to show you his love for the town through stories and literature. He tells you tales about how the endangered red wolves turned themselves human to escape their demise, and hid among the people they were trying to escape. He tells you a gruesome story about the first werewolves, one that chills you to your bones.

“Did I scare you?” Raphael asks.

“No,” you say staunchly, not wanting to give yourself away.

He closes the old book he was reading from. “You got quite pale. I would hate to scare you any further.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “No, no, you can go on. I don’t mind.”

He sets the book aside. “No, I don’t think so. You sleep poorly enough as it is, and I would hate to think you lost sleep over me.”

“I’m fine! Keep reading about murdering Vikings!”

Raphael smirks at you. “Make me.”

You scowl and lean in closer to him, closing your eyes and kissing him. His hand touches your cheek, and his kisses grow deeper. “Not what I meant, but very good.” He kisses you again and cups his hands around your face.

“My intention was to get you to fall for the town,” he teases. “Not me.”

You kiss him softly and paw at his chest. “You knew what you were doing, so don’t act coy with me.”

He presses a kiss to your neck, sending chills through every limb. “Fine. I’ve wanted to paw at you since I first met you.”

“Funny choice of words.”

A few days later, you’re leaving the college late after helping a group of your students with some work. The fall air is crisp but bitter, and the smell of rain is heavy. As you’re walking along the path to your apartment, you hear a noise in the woods. You turn, looking deep inside. The stories of werewolves have sunk into your consciousness, and now every strange sound is a werewolf outside, even though you know it’s ridiculous. Not wanting to be a chicken in your own yard, you take out your phone and call Raphael.

As it begins to ring, there’s a shuffling in the woods, and you hear Raphael’s phone ringing. You furrow your brow, looking out into the woods. The phone rings once more before it goes silent.

“Raphael? Are you trying to scare me?”

A stick snaps, and everything goes silent.

“This isn’t funny. In fact, it’s pissing me off a bit. I’m not having any of it.” You roll your eyes and keep walking, turning your ringer off in case he tries to call again.

When you’re close to the apartment building, something walks out of the woods. At first you think it’s a dog, but the more you look at it, the less it looks like a dog. It turns to face you, ashy in color with wide blue eyes. The wolf flicks its tail and begins to rise on hind legs.

“Fuck, no!” You turn on a dime and sprint away. You’re nearly back at the college when you come to a sudden stop. Panting hard, sweating, and your pulse racing, something in your head clicks.

“Raphael?” You turn just as the wolf collides with you.

You lie on the ground with the werewolf on your back. You should be terrified, but actually, you’re just pissed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You manage to shove the colossal wolf off you. “Really? Really?”

Raphael lies there. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

You rub your hands over your face. “I must be dreaming. This just doesn’t...” You stop and take a few breaths. “Werewolves are stories!”

“Stories have truth to them.” Raphael sits up. “Before we went further, I wanted to show you who… what I am.”

You stand up from the ground and adjust your bag. “I can’t right now. I can’t.”

“It’s not a bad thing! I swear. I’m not evil.” He jumps up and you stretch out your hand to hold him back.

“I still need a moment to process this! So just...” You go quiet. “Leave me alone. I need to think.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounds almost defeated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Not right now.” You look back up at him, then away. “It’s a lot, Raphael. I just… It’s a lot.” You turn and start to walk back home. “I’ll see you.”

Another sleepless night. Lost in thought, you toss and turn. If werewolves are real, and not just stories, then what else could be real? The man you were falling for is a monster, but is he really a monster? Is it okay to know this secret? Would you be killed or worse for knowing it? Would you have to stay with Raphael to stay alive?

You go to work in the morning like normal, pushing aside all your questions for the time being. After class is over, you go to the library, knowing Raphael will be there. It’s his comfort place, and since last night, you know he’ll be here to try and calm himself. You find him sitting in the aisle with all the cookbooks. He’s got a few stacked beside him and one in his lap. He looks tired, his beard is scruffier, and his hair is less fluffy than usual. He looks up as you stand there and holds his breath.

You sit down beside the stack of books and sigh heavily. “Is this a secret?” you ask.

Raphael looks back into the book. “It is but, Hearthway Hollow protects it. You’re not in trouble if you know, only if you try to use it to hurt us.”

“So this whole town is full of werewolves?”

Raphael nods. “You’re not in danger, though.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around all of it, but I don’t want to run away from you.”

“Really?”

You look at him and smile. “I like you, a lot.” Your guts churn. “More than a lot.”

Raphael smiles. “I’m a big good wolf, I swear.”

The two of you stand up and embrace. His strong arms hold you fast, and you bury your face against his shoulder. When you part, you kiss. Your kisses become heavier, harder, and you press him against the bookcase, biting his lip as you moan.

“Shh!” he hisses as he smirks. “Library, remember?”

You kiss him again. “I can’t stop myself. Sorry, I’m a bit vocal when...” Your cheeks heat up. “Well, anyway. Can we go back to your place after work?”

“Certainly,” Raphael grins. “We can continue this there.” He kisses you again.

That evening, you walk to Rapahel’s home with him. You take his hand and walk close beside him as the wind gets colder. Once inside his home, it’s quiet, and all you can hear is the sound of your breathing. “It’s chilly in here,” you chuckle nervously.

“I’ll get the heater going,” he says with a smile. “Why don’t you hop into the shower and I’ll join you.”

You nod. “Okay, sounds good.”

You go into his bathroom and strip down. You’re nervous, knowing this will be your first time with Raphael, let alone your first time with a werewolf. You look at yourself in the mirror before turning on the shower. You step in once the water is warm, and as you get yourself wet you hear the door open and close. There’s the shuffle of Rapahel abandoning his clothes, and then he opens the curtain and steps in behind you.

He touches the side of your neck and kisses your shoulder. His hands slide down your body before his fingers graze through your body hair and capture your cock. He strokes gently, breathing softly into your ear.

“Raphael,” you begin to moan. “Oh god.”

“How vocal are you? I really wanna know.” He turns you around, kissing you hungrily. Your moans escape, and his kisses move lower. He slips down in the shower until he’s kneeling and his blue eyes look up at you. His mouth drags across your hip, and his warm tongue flicks over your cock.

“You’re so hot right now,” you whisper, and cup the back of his head. “I can’t stand it.”

He takes your cock into his mouth, sucking gently and slowly. He’s teasing you, making you erect with fluttering affection. “That’s so good,” you pant. You grab hold of his wet hair. “Your mouth is so warm.”

Raphael moans against you, taking your cock deeper into his mouth. “Shit,” you pant.

His eyes look up again as his head begins to bob. Your hips feel like they could melt, and your moans come out freely and loudly. You press your back against the wall of the shower, taking deep breaths as Raphael takes the strength from your legs.

Raphael pulls back, licking his chops. He rises and bends over to whisper into your ear. “I want you inside me.”

You gulp. “Really?”

Raphael licks your lips. “I’m kind of a princess in bed. What? Because I’m a werewolf, I'm automatically a top dog?”

You smile awkwardly. “Well. I’m happy to please however you like.”

You both step from the shower, dry off and go to the bedroom, and behind you Rapahel shifts. His shadow grows larger and furrier, and by the time you’re in the bedroom together, he’s a massive werewolf again. You touch his chest and stroke down, finding his cock hard and throbbing. “Big,” you whisper.

“You’re just right.” He lies on the bed, posing for you. “There’s lube in the bedside drawer,” he murmurs seductively. “Pamper me before you pound me.”

You give him a kiss, and his thick tongue laps over your lips. “You’re ridiculous,” you chuckle.

He smirks. “I’m horny. Give me credit.”

You take out the lube, coating two of your fingers before you start to toy with his ass. Raphael closes his eyes and soft, sweet moans escape his throat. It’s not what you expected from such a big bad wolf, and you never would have thought of Raphael this way in bed. You slip your fingers inside him, lubing him up while preparing him.

“I used to have a girlfriend who pegged me,”  Raphael confesses. “I grew to enjoy it.”

“I had a girlfriend like that, too.” You pull your fingers out. “I think I’ll enjoy you more, though.”

His ears twitch and he bites his lip. “Hurry.”

You push his legs up, supporting the back of his knees. One leg goes over your shoulder as you ease yourself inside. He’s tight, but as you inch in he relaxes. You moan out loud, barely able to contain it.

“Don’t be quiet,” he breathes. “I want to hear you.”

You look into his blue eyes, this big wolf underneath you. “I don’t think I could hold back even if I wanted to.”

You begin to move, slowly at first. All you want to do is look at him. Even as a werewolf he’s beautiful. You start to moan, and the more you do, Raphael joins in. Your voices entangle like your bodies. You begin to move in such a way as to get Raphael to vocalize more, to beg for more.

The two of you take your time with one another. You change positions to find what you like. You take breaks to cuddle and giggle. Somewhere in the night, you find yourself at your edge. Raphael’s face is buried in the pillows while you're pulling his tail. You feel him tighten up around you, and you’re done for. Everything crackles and sizzles, your hips buck, and you jerk. Then you fall on top of him, snuggling against his warm fur. Raphael chuckles softly, turning his head from the pillows.

“Magnificent,” he whispers.

You roll off him and he pulls you into his arms. “I can’t feel anything below my neck.”

“You came quite a bit,” he teases. “Will you have anything left for the morning?”

You kiss him softly. “Don’t toy with me.”

“I won’t - much.” He lies with you, sighing deeply. “So, what do you think about werewolves now?”

You smile to yourself. “I never said I didn’t like them, you know?” You rub his velvety ear between your fingers. “I just never understood.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You remain silent for a moment as the warmth of the bed and the post-orgasmic glow settle in. “I think I love werewolves.”