Werewolf Boyfriend: Oliver (complete)

The rain came out of nowhere. A total deluge like a waterfall that nearly knocked you on your ass as you were walking home from work. You use your backpack as a makeshift umbrella, knowing full well your actual umbrella was sitting warm in cozy by the door in the apartment. You’re soaked already and the rain doesn’t seem to be letting up, so you duck into the first open building you can. 

You let out a frustrated sigh and let you backpack fall to the floor in shambles. You basically squeegee water from our face and stand there dripping in the foyer to...where are you? You look around, seeing your standing in a glass box where the two side walls by the doors are covered by bulletin boards filled with flyers. Tables line the walls that are covered in brochures and free tiny books for various summer projects, camps, and educational programs.

You look through the second set of glass doors to realize you’ve found yourself in the Second library. It was called the Second library because the first was now a historical site and had become a semi-museum dedicated to Hearthway Hollow’s history. Although, it still worked in part as a small library. The Second was made from the old elementary school so it still had that sort of vintage charm to it. 

You walk inside to stand on the carpet welcome mat, still dripping. You take your phone out from your pocket, wondering if you could call a cab now or if they were all being used because of the rain. You sigh heavily as you try to decide what to do.

“Oh, goodness.”

You jump at the sudden voice, clutching your phone over your chest in shock. You look over to see a man walking out from behind a shelf. He’s pushing a cart loaded with books.

“Sorry.” His smile is bright and handsome. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He slips a book onto the shelf and you notice a big scar across the back of his hand. “Is there anything I can help you with?” His dark eyes flick over you before he looks back at your face. “Or did the storm bring you here?”

“Yeah,” you grumble. You pull your hair over your shoulder and fidget with it. “I’m trying not to drip on anything.”

The librarian sets the cart of books aside and takes off his jacket. “Come on in. It’s cold here by the door. You can sit in the reading parlor, the seats are wood so no worries about dripping on anything.” He slips his jacket over you and it’s so warm. His shoulders are so broad, too, that the jacket nearly slips off you.

“Thank you,” you gasp. You look up at him, stunned that the sexy librarian trope is real here. He’s so nice to look at you feel ashamed of yourself. He’s got a deep, ruddy complexion with dark hazel eyes and thick lashes. He’s so tall and as he walks ahead you see how broad his shoulders are and how his back is like a wall. You also notice his hair is tied back into a bun at the nape of his neck. It’s black with stripes of silver mingled in it.

You sit down at one of the many tables in the reading parlor as the librarian goes behind the front desk. “Would you like something warm to drink?” 

“You don’t have to go to the trouble,” you gasp.

“Nonsense,” he says. “No trouble whatsoever to help take care of a lovely young lady.”

You cheeks burn hot pink and you try to keep yourself from cackling with nerves. “No, really,” your voice tremors.

“What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Maybe some hot coco would be better suited?” The smile on his lips seems almost too good to be true. How can someone be that good looking and work in a small town library? You must be seeing things.

“Whatever is easiest.” You clear your throat to hide the squeak in your voice.

As the librarian steps back into his office you see the nameplate on his desk reads Oliver Locklear. You snap to attention for a moment. Locklear? There’s no way. 

“There now,” Oliver sighs as he sets a steaming mug before you. 

“Thank you.” You cup your cold hands around the warm mug and sniff the contents. “Is this cider?”

“My Auntie gave it to me,” he replies.

“Is it ok for me to drink in here?” You look around at the shelves of books.

Oliver arched a perfect brow. “Are you planning on throwing it around?”

You shake your head.

“Then it is ok for you to enjoy a warm drink in here.” He winks at you and you feel you might swoon.

You take a sip of the cider and already feel better. It is the perfect balance of tart apple, sweet honey, and spicy cinnamon. You sigh, feeling as if fall is breathing from your lips. You look around some more, mainly watching Oliver as he worked. 

He must be older, he has the dashing crinkles by his eyes and peppered hair to prove that. You weren’t sure why you were window shopping so much, lord knows nothing would ever become of it. Oliver was so sexy, even just putting books away. His hands were big and his legs looked long and strong. You dared not look any further or ideas would pop into your head and you wouldn’t be able to talk to him at all.

“It doesn’t look like the rain will be letting up anytime soon.” Oliver pushes the empty cart up beside you. “Do you need a ride home?”

Your heart hammers as you try to decide if speaking will give away your feelings. “Well,” you murmur as you set the empty mug aside. “Unless you take renters.”

Oliver smirks at you. “Afraid we only allow books to stay overnight. So if you want, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Are you sure?” You stand up and his jacket slips from your back. You had almost forgot you were wearing it.

“Not every day I get to play shining knight.” Oliver takes his jacket back and folds it over his arm. “Where do you live?”

“Down Cottagestone,” you answer quickly. “I live in that small block of tiny houses that Mrs. Locklear owns.”

“Oh, so you rent from my Auntie,” Oliver chuckles. “How long have you been there?”

“Nearing a year now,” you answer. “I moved up here for school but ended up working in the bakery.”

“No wonder you smell so good.” His voice sounded so sensual you almost blew a gasket. “Come along.” He waves for you to follow.

You go through his office and out into a covered area that had once been a small playground. Oliver opens the door for you and closes it as you get inside. Just outside you see how hard it is still raining. It pelts down heavy and the ground sounds like slush. 

Oliver gets into the car and drives off. He goes slow as the roads are starting to flood over. You know your yard is going to look like a pond for weeks. Last time it rained like this Mrs. Locklear had to call someone to drain it because it started to stink so bad.

“What were you going to school for?” Oliver suddenly asks.

“Oh uh-” you forget for a moment and scramble. “I was going for the poetry program.” Your shoulders then slouch and you grumble. “But I just couldn’t hack it.”

Oliver furrows his brow. “What do you mean? What happened?”

You shake your head and remain quiet.

“Don’t wish to discuss it?” Oliver’s soft smile is forgiving. “That’s quite alright. Do you enjoy working at the bakery then?”

You nod. “It’s wonderful. I have so much fun there. I’ve learned more about dough than I ever thought I would. I’ve always enjoyed baking, my grandma used to keep me beside her in the kitchen.”

“Auntie did that for all of us boys too,” Oliver chuckles. “She said a man who can’t cook is no man at all. Then a bunch of other ramblings,” he laughs. 

“That sounds like Mrs. Locklear,” you giggle.

“She’s my hero, honestly,” Oliver sighs. “If it wasn’t for her I might still be out there.” His look is grim for a moment and there is a shadow that falls over his face. His eyes then brighten. “Cottagestone,” he says as he makes a turn.

“So, which tiny house is yours?” He asks you.

“The little mint green one.” You point through the windshield. “The one with all the windchimes on it.”

“You must have a racket going on right now,” Oliver chuckles. He pulls up to your place then reaches into the back of his car. As he steps out he opens an umbrella and walks over to your door.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. 

Oliver walks you to your front door, keeping the umbrella over you until you’ve unlocked it. “Now that you’re safe and sound this knight will be on his way.”

The next thing you say shocks you to your core. “Would you like to come in for coffee?” This isn’t like you, but you really don’t want to part ways with Oliver just yet. You know yourself, after he leaves you may never scrounge up the courage to go to the Second library again.

Oliver’s expression is soft and surprised giving way to a big grin that shows off the large canine incisors he possesses. “That’s very sweet.”

“I have fresh bread too.” You’re scrambling and you know it. “And I just got fresh butter from Beau and Shauna.”

“Oh my,” Oliver’s voice is sultry. “Now that does sound tempting.”

“I went to the farmer’s market on Sunday,” you murmur low. You then clear your throat. “Just as a thank you, you don’t have to stay.”

Oliver takes your hand and kisses your fingers. Your heart ruptures and your face burns like hot coals. He looks at you, his eyes now more green than brown. “Maybe another day. I actually have plans this evening.”

Your heart sinks. “Of course.” You smile from sad nerves. “You must have a date or something.”

Oliver chuckles and shakes his head. “My Auntie has asked me to move a rather large China cabinet from one room to the next. Hardly a date by any standards.” You notice a loose hair has fallen before his eyes. “I can’t even remember the last date I had.”

You want to yell ‘me’ at the top of your lungs but you hold back. “Don’t let her work you too hard.”

“She will no matter what I protest.” Oliver chuckles. He then vanishes back into the rain and you watch from inside as the light from his car drive away.

You go to bed with lofty dreams of Oliver in your heart. You try to talk yourself down from that cloud, but you decide even just the tiniest fantasy won’t hurt you. 

Come morning the rain has thankfully stopped. You go down the ladder from your bedroom loft and directly into the kitchen. You turn on the coffee pot and look into your fridge, finding the haul you had purchased while at the farmer’s market. Fresh eggs, hand churned butter, goat’s cheese, most everything came from Beau and Shauna’s farm.

As you’re trying to find your frying pan you hear your windchimes crash and clatter. You turn, seeing a shadow just outside the door. You rush to peak out the window, but fog hides everything five feet from the door.

Taking cautious steps outside you step on something. Looking down you pick up a package wrapped in a plastic grocery bag. Inside is a box full of artisanal spices in fancy glass bottles and taped to the lid is a piece of poem.

“Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, 

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, 

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

“Ketas,” you murmur to yourself. You clutch the box to your chest as you look out through the fog. “What on Earth?” You whisper as you step back inside.

You go through the spices inside the box, examining each one, even putting the cinnamon into your coffee. As you’re enjoying that first long sip there is a knock at your door. 

“Good morning,” Mrs. Locklear says with a smile.

“Is something wrong?” You gasp.

“No, no,” she shakes her head as you let her in. “Just coming to check on you. After the rain and all-” her eyes look down at the wooden box and she picks up the bit of poem.

“Everything is fine, unless the backyard flooded again. I can’t tell due to all the fog around.” You watch her carefully.

Mrs. Locklear waves the piece of Keats poem at you. “Secret admirer?”

“Oh uhm-” you flinch.

She smirks at you. “You know, here in Hearthway Hollow, there is a tradition.” She glances out the window. “When someone finds their true love, they start a little ritual.” She glances down at you. “Have you heard of it?”

“I’ve heard that the town has an inordinate amount of wolves but-” you shake your head, “I haven’t seen any.”

“They’re all in sheep’s clothing,” Mrs. Locklear chuckles. She then steps back towards the door. “I just wanted to check on you this morning.”

After she leaves, you finish making your breakfast and end up being a bit late to work. On your way home you consider stopping into the library but your nerves win out and you end up going straight home.

Once there you find another gift on your front porch. This time it is a rain slicker and a pair of matching galoshes. Inside the slicker you find another piece of a poem.

“And the sunlight clasps the earth 

  And the moonbeams kiss the sea: 

What is all this sweet work worth 

  If thou kiss not me?”

It was a piece of a poem by Shelley. You look around, wondering if anyone is watching you. The next day it is raining again and the slicker and galoshes come in handy.

You gather up your courage and stop by the library on your way home. You had a short day at work, so you had time to dawdle. As you step inside you take off the raincoat and hang it on the coat rack by the door. 

“Well now, look who's back.”

You look up, seeing Oliver is perched on the top of one of the shelves. You wave up to him. “Thought I would come say hello.”

“Hello,” he chuckles. He then lifts up a book. “I’ve been hunting down things.” He steps off of the ladder and then walks to you. “You look prepared today.” He nods towards your new raincoat.

“It was a gift,” you murmur. “I’m not sure who is leaving them.”

Oliver chuckles. “You must have a secret admirer.”

“That’s what Mrs. Locklear said.” You look him over, admiring how well he fills out a sweater. “She said there is a tradition in this town,” you say. “She seemed rather cryptic with it.”

Oliver chuckles. “I’m sure she was.”

You try to figure out the correct wording for your next question. “What exactly is the tradition?” You ask. “I mean-” you frown a bit, feeling foolish.

Oliver inches closer to you, placing his hand on the bookshelf next to your head. “To know the tradition you must be let in on the secret.” His voice is low and hushed as he speaks. 

“Secret?” You whisper.

“Hearthway Hollow is much more than it appears,” Oliver replies. “There is a history to it only a select few get to know.”

He’s so close and your heart is beating so fast. “Do you know it?”

Oliver grins. “My family started it,” he chuckles. He then turns and looks up at the rain outside starts to pour down heavy again. “Uh oh.”

You try to catch your breath for a moment. Overhead you hear thunder growling and rumbling.

“Looks like a storm this time.” Oliver murmurs. “Last time it did the power went-” At that exact moment there was a loud click and all the lights went off. “Out.” He sighs and grumbles under his breath. He then turns to you, noticing that you’ve grabbed onto his jacket.

“Oh uh, sorry.” You start to let go but he takes hold of your hand.

“Are you scared?” Oliver asks.

You duck your head down. “A little.”

“Is it the storm or the power going out?” Oliver rubs his thumb over your fingers.

You squeeze onto his hand and step a little closer to him. “A little bit of both,” you confess despite your shame.

“It’s ok.” Oliver puts his arm around you and hugs you close. “I’m here, I’ll keep your safe.”

This isn’t fair, you think. How am I supposed to survive this?

“I was hoping you would come back,” Oliver whispers. “I’ve been wanting to see you again.” His hand rubs up and down your back.

“Really?” You gasp. “Why?”

Oliver chuckles. “To see you,” he says. “And to talk poetry with you.”

Your heart is going like a scared rabbit. “What kind of poetry?” You place your hand on his chest and find his heart is hammering too. 

“Whatever sounded the most beautiful on your lips.”

You duck your head down and squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asks.

“Sorry it’s just-” You take a step back from him, only able to see his dark outline against the windows. “I’m not good at these sorts of things,” you huff. 

“What sorts of things?” Oliver asks.

“Flirting and-” You look down and away from him. “Trying to let someone know I like them.”

“You’re doing fine.” Oliver takes your hand. “I was worried I was scaring you.”

You step close to him again. “A little but in a good way,” you chuckle.

Oliver slips his fingers under your chin and his thumb brushes against your lip. You breath shivers for a moment and then he places a warm, soft kiss on your lips. 

Thunder booms like a canon and lightning illuminates everything. You cling to Oliver, holding on fast to him. His arms wrap tight around you and he kisses the top of your head. He takes you towards the back, away from the windows and where there is a soft sofa for reading newspapers.

“Are you ok?” He strokes your cheek.

You nod. “Sorry I’m such a chicken.”

Oliver kisses your temple. “I like chicken.”

You turn your head, meeting his kiss again. “How are you so good at that?” You sigh as he pulls away.

“I’m just following your command,” he whispers into your ear before his lips trail down your neck.

“Wait-” you push him back. “Stop, please.”

He looks you over then nods. “Of course.”

You shake your head. “NO I mean-” you huff and frown. “I really like you. I mean, a lot. More than I probably should. But you should know something about me.”

Oliver tilts his head to the side. “What is it?”

You flinch as thunder rumbles again. “I’ve never-” you hesitate. “I mean I’ve kissed before but I’ve never really had a boyfriend or anything and uhm-” your face burns with shame. “You see you should know I am-”

Oliver presses a finger over your lips. “I will earn the pleasure of your first,” he purrs. “I will not take anything. You will give me yourself willingly, in fact, I suspect you’ll even beg me.”

Your whole body is in flames. How is he so good like that? “I uhm uh, huh-” You can’t think of any reply to that.

“I will take care of you,” Oliver puts his arm around your waist and pulls you to his lap. “I will protect you and cherish you.” You feel fur on his shoulders. In the shadows you see his shape is changing. You feel a muzzle against your neck and cheek and then claws against the nape of your neck.

“Oliver,” you whimper as you cling to his chest. “The secret...what is it?”

“A werewolf earns his mate,” he whispers into your ear. 

You brush your trembling fingers along his muzzle and through his thick, soft fur. You kiss him, feeling sharp teeth and a cold nose as you do.

Oliver continues the ritual, although, from what you’ve been told, his ritual is different from routine. Usually, a werewolf will court their intended by bringing them a kill every night, something like a deer. Each time they try to outdo themselves to prove their able to provide. Oliver leaves you gifts, but each one is something you need or would help you, like the spices and raincoat. With each one he leaves a bit of a love poem.

You’ve been visiting him more and more at the library, not afraid to stop by and indulge a bit. You steal kisses between the aisles, touching him more indulgently than your usual manner. He’s taken you out on several dates, but your favorite is when he cooks for you. 

One evening, he’s serving you a glass of wine with dinner. He dips down, kissing the exposed nape of your neck and your body shivers. You glance up at him and there is a longing inside of you that you can’t push down.

“Is something wrong?” He asks as he takes his seat. “Is the roast not agreeing with you?”

“No, it’s isn’t that!” You gasp. You look into your wine glass. “It’s uhm...I have a question and I need a moment to gather my courage.”

“Oh no, I’m nervous,” Oliver chuckles. 

You take in a deep breath then take a long drink of wine. You set the glass down and make a face, it was a bit drier than you expected. “Well,” you start. “I was wondering if, instead of you driving me home, if well...if maybe I could stay the night.”

Oliver’s eyes flicker and he looks at you. “Dangerous question,” he murmurs.

“I know.” You place your hand on his knee under the table. “I don’t want to go home.” You look up into his eyes. “I don’t even really want to sleep,” you chuckle nervously.

Oliver smirks and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Why not?”

You pet your hands up his chest. “Oliver,” you whimper.

He kisses your jaw and neck. “Tell me,” he growls.

Your lashes flutter and you hold your breath for a long moment. As you try to collect your thoughts Oliver pulls away from you.

“I’ll clean up the table,” he says simply.

“I want to-” you cut yourself off as he dark eyes fall on you. You gaze up at him as your heart rumbles.

“Go on,” he whispers. “Ask me.”

You lick your lips and nod. “Will you make love to me?”

Oliver sets everything down and picks you up out of your chair. He carries you towards the back of his house and into his bedroom. He lays you down and kisses you, pressing his body on top of you.

“Relax,” he coaxes. “I’m going to take special care of you tonight.” He kisses you neck and his hand pushes up your skirt. His warm palm presses to your thigh and his fingers trace along the lines of your underwear. “Be a good girl for me now,” he growls low in your ear. “Let me see you undress.”

“Wha-what?” You moan.

Oliver sits up and motions to the end of the bed. You stand up on weak knees and watch him. You unbutton your dress, letting it fall open as your bra becomes exposed. The dress slips from your shoulders and falls around your knees. You place your hand over you stomach and the other against your chest.

Oliver sits on the end of the bed and beckons you close. You stand between his legs as his hands roam down your body. “You’re wearing them, just like I asked.” He kisses between your breasts and down your belly. “The color suits you.” His fingers then press against the straps of the bra. 

“They’re comfortable,” you answer. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank a selfish old man like me.” He chuckles. His fingers press to the front of the panties and ease down. You whimper softly as they slip between your thighs. “I bought them all for me.”

“Oliver,” you moan as you clutch his shoulders.

Oliver kisses between your breasts and you take down his hair. Long dark waves fall around his neck and shoulders. You run your fingers through it, admiring the streaks of silver along his temples. He moans against your skin as his fingers press against you, coaxing out an aching heat.

“Come here,” he growls. He tugs you into his lap so your chest is pressed against his. His long hair falls in front of his face while his eyes look through the strands that are like trees in a forest. “Pretty thing,” he whispers to you. He nips at your bottom lip as his fingers knead into your hips. “I don’t want to scare you.”

You shake your head. “Why would you?”

Oliver sighs and kisses you. “I used to be feral.”

Your heart leaps for a moment. “Like a cat?”

Oliver laughs and presses his forehead to yours. “No. Like a mad dog.” He kisses you again. “Auntie saved me from it. She whipped me into shape and got me in order.” He moans softly and kisses again. “I tend to get...wild again...when I’m-”

You wrap your arms around him, kissing him as your fingers tangle in his long, beautiful hair. “I’m not scared of you. Not in a bad way,” you smirk.

“Mm,” he moans. “You’re such a good girl.” His hands rub up your waist and cup your bosom in his large palms. “So soft,” he groans. “You smell so sweet.” He picks you up again and lays you on the bed. He then opens your thighs and pushes the panties to the side. His fingers rub your directly and an electric shock courses through your veins.

“So very, very cute,” Oliver breathes.

“Don’t stare,” you whimper.

“How can I not?” Oliver kisses the inside of your thigh. “The two of us are going to become the best of friends.”

You snort and laugh and it turns into a long moan. He kisses your mound and you feel his tongue glide along your skin. 

“Oliver,” you mewl.

“Just a taste,” he whispers. His tongue presses to your folds and you let out a horrible squeak. He moves closer, pushing your legs over his shoulder as his head becomes buried in your thighs. Oliver moans against you, pressing kisses all over your thighs and lips. His tongue pushes inside and your thighs clamp around his ears. He snarls then, a low deep sound that rumbles through you and into your belly. His body is starting to change, dark fur grows all over him. His body hangs over the edge of the bed and his tail swings back and forth.

Oliver’s long tongue moves inside you, he snarls and slurps as his hulking shoulders shuddering with need. You grab the top of his head, clinging to the thick fur there. His snarls go deeper and it rattles the bed, You gasp and gulp as his tongue finds your sensitive clit. Oliver focuses there, licking and kissing.

“Wait!” You gasp and throw your head back. “Oh god-” your thighs squeeze tight again and you spasm, starting from your hips and moving up through your body. You let out a squeal that turns into a growl and Oliver chuckles.

He rises up between your thighs, licking his chops. “So very good,” he moans. “Your body responded perfectly.”

“Mm-” you tremble as you roll with aftershocks.

Oliver lifts your hips and easily removes your panties. “You’re perfect.” His paw pets up your chest and cups your cheek. “So beautiful.”

You kiss his fingertips and take in a shuddering breath. “I’m ready,” you whisper.

“I know.” He places himself between your thighs. “I’ll go slow, for you.” His cock rubs against your belly and your shocked by the size. It then moves down, rutting against your slit. It’s hot and throbbing with something bulbous at the base. 

“It’s so big,” you chirp.

“Thank you,” Oliver chuckles. He dips down, kissing you hungrily. “If you want me to stop-”

You shake your head. “No. Please don’t.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you again before rising back up. He moves into place, guiding himself towards your entrance. You swallow down your anxiety and relax, closing your eyes and take a long breath. He moves and he’s inside you. You gasp out, he stretches you and opens you, but it doesn’t hurt. You squeak and cover your mouth as he goes deeper. His thick, warm cock feels so good inside, as if it was meant to be.

Oliver snarls, his legs twitching as he holds himself still. A dangerous growl imminates from his throat and his eyes flash bright in the darkness. “Too good,” he breathes. “How am I supposed to be a decent mate when you feel so good?” He lays on top of you, biting your neck and rutting himself.

“Ah-” you lose your breath for a moment. “Oh god-” you mewl. Your fingers drag down his back, clawing through his dark fur. “Oliver!”

His hips jerk and he pulls out. For a moment he hovers before he pushes back inside again. He low snarls and grunts echo directly into your ear. His haunches quiver as he moves, almost like he’s trying deliberately to not go too fast.

You squeeze around him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Oliver,” you whimper. 

He snarls, moving faster, going harder. His warm body presses against you and he sinks his claws into the pillows. You hear the fabric ripping just behind you. You gasp and shudder, feeling that prickling heat going through your body again. You spasm and jerk, gasping loudly as your legs kick.

Oliver snarls and jerks. He goes harder and faster, snarling loudly before he lets out a savage howl. The pillows are shredded and feathers are flying everywhere. Inside you there is a new heat, a thick heat. You feel it bubble and surge and slowly drip from your folds.

You wake up sometime later, covered in feathers and Oliver’s long black hair. You feel a tad sore between your legs, but it feels strangely satisfying. Oliver sits up, looking over you before he kisses you. “Are you ok?”

You pull him down to you again, kissing him hungrily. You then pull a feather from between your lips. “Yes. That was wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” he whispers. “I didn’t get too rough did I?”

You pluck a feather from his hair. “I rather liked it,” you giggle. “Can we do it again?”

Oliver’s grin is wicked and lovely. “We can do it over, and over, and over, and over if you like.” He bites your neck then snarls. “Just as long as you’re a good girl for me.”