A Wolf And His Man - 12. Painfully Wonderful Love

The afternoon sunlight snuck through a gap between the houses and cast wonderful geometric shadows over the garden, soaking the rolling fields beyond in warm light. Buddy lay in a patch of thick sunlight on his back, legs in the air, dreaming contentedly. Oli wished he could join the wolf in blissful slumber, but his brain was too busy. He had collected a sketch book in which to start the pet shop campaign work, but his finger’s hadn’t been playing along, and for the last hour or so he had filled the pages with eclipse-rings, men becoming wolves without the moon above them, and a larger scale image of him and Buddy in their fur, running across the landscape. Everything that his mother had told them still whirled around his head, only briefly distracted by the salmon and cream soup they had all shared for lunch. Oli was still confused by the fact that his mother knew so much about werewolf history.

There had been other stories. According to Yana, werewolves back in the old country still came together at the harvest moon to reconnect with each other and run in larger packs across the Russian steppe. When Oli closed his eyes he could see in his inner vision images and of men and women lying on the grass together, panting from their recent change. What would it be like, he wondered, to share all those experiences without the overlay of hatred and fear he felt towards his own father? Sometimes Oli hated being an only child. He had asked his mother if any meeting like that existed in England, but she didn’t know. For all Oli knew, there might have been other werewolves living in the city.

Oli wondered how much easier his life would have been if he’d fallen in love with a normal person, or better yet, a normal werewolf. There was no denying it now, because whilst he hadn’t told Buddy, he knew that he was in love with the grey wolf. Fully, properly, heart-wrenchingly in love. It was wonderful, and it hurt like hell.

Sitting in the garden it was easy to lie back in the grass and imagine what his life might have been like. Oli’s father would have prepared him for the change, talked to him over months and years, let himself be seen in his wolf body by his son. They would go to meet other werewolves, and playing in his fur would be normal, it would be fun. And then one day near a full moon he would show up, and he would meet a young man with soft wavy hair flecked with grey and shining yellow eyes who introduced himself as Boris. Oli’s imagination spooled forwards, flashing up romantic images of midnight trysts, shared meals snuggled on the sofa, and giggling over their crush on Jayne Cobb. Oli let the vision get away from him: Boris leaning over him on the grassy lawn, hands either side of his neck and shoulders, breathing kisses over his cheek. Oli wriggled in the anticipation of pleasure, reaching down to adjust the hard on in his jeans.

The sound of heavy breathing in his ear made him open one eye. Buddy was standing over him, his four feet making a cage for Oli’s torso. He was grinning, ears forwards, tail curving up over his back. Oli glanced down, wincing at the sight of the hard bulge in his jeans, but Buddy was sporting a similar pink arousal peeking from his fur. Just as Oli was about to say something, but Buddy sank down over his chest and nudged Oli’s nose with his own.

“Hey.”

“Wroam.”

“I was just dreamin’ about you.” Oli ran his fingers through Buddy’s fur and set to scratching at his neck, eliciting a happy noise from the wolf. Buddy wriggled against his crotch, and Oli gulped. “You were thinking about me too?”

“Wruf,” Buddy nuzzled his face in agreement.

“So, what do you want for dinner?” Oli changed the subject, steering away from the conversation which was going to head into the territory marked by feelings, heartache, and everything that had culminated in Oli jerking off in the bathroom, and inviting Stuart over for their failed hook up. “We can have chicken?” Buddy shook his head. “OK, you want beef and cashew nuts?” Buddy flicked an ear. “Pork?” Nod. “Ribs?” Another nod. “You wanna go out for barbecue? We can go to that place on the beach that always smells brown and red and salty.”

Twenty minutes later Oli thanked the lad behind the hatch and took his beer and his order slip. Buddy barked happily, and the server promised him extra crunchy pork bits. Oli took the end of a table on the stony beach, the other end of which was populated by two young men with matching Ducati-red motorcycle helmets and sticky fingers. Buddy hopped up on the end of the bench and sat with his paws on the table.

“It’s coming, Bud. Be patient.”

“He’s cute.” The hazel-eyed boy at the other end of the table smiled at them. “Kier isn’t he lovely? He must be the same breed as Vuka.”

“Thanks. This is Buddy. You guys have dogs?”

“I think Kieran is trying to start his own sled-racing pack. Four,” the boy grinned, “is he hungry? I couldn’t finish my lamb.”

Buddy was suddenly all big yellow eyes and happy ears, lying on the bench with his head on his paws doing his very best starving-wolf impression The boy gave him the remnants of his slow roasted lamb shank and Buddy happily sucked the marrow out of the bone as the pair packed up. Oli thanked them, and they left on a beautifully shiny red motorcycle as his and Buddy’s food arrived. Oli sliced a rack of ribs into chunks and put them on the plastic tray for Buddy, and the wolf ate happily on the bench while Oli dismantled his own half rack of ribs just as quickly. They shared the pulled pork from Oli’s fingers and Buddy barked in thanks to the server who bought him an old margarine tub full of water.

“Full moon starts tomorrow,” Oli licked his fingers before wiping them clean, “It’s gonna set in late, probably not until ten, so we’ll go to work as per. I got a lot of sketches to do for the pet shop.” Buddy chose that moment to put his head up above the table top, a rib bone held out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, one ear flopped down. He looked so funny that Oli immediately burst out laughing. “You know I’m going to have to put you in the campaign?” Oli snapped a photo of his wolf with his phone camera, “all the corporate executives like you.”

Buddy licked his muzzle and waggled his head. Being sketched by Oli for the campaign didn’t make any difference to him either way.

“So what do you wanna do tonight?” Buddy gave him a very readable look. “No! What else?”

Buddy got up, glanced at Oli, and then took off at full speed over the beach.

“Buddy!” Oli scrambled up from the bench, tripping over his own feet as he raced after the wolf. Buddy was already too far away to catch, and he moved much faster than Oli could. Two seconds later he had dived off the stones and into the water. “Bud!”

Coming out of the water, Buddy’s fur was plastered to his body, his legs looking abnormally skinny, and he trotted up to Oli before shaking sea water all over him. His damp fur was full of salt and snaggles.

“You want a shower?” Buddy nodded happily, a touch of smugness in his eyes. “You’re a manipulative bastard, you know that?”

By running off towards the beach, Oli had involuntarily given up their table, so Oli simply thanked one of the servers he saw passing and the two of them headed up towards home. The sun was all the way down as they crested the ridge which would separate them from their direct view of the water, and both of them turned back to look at the line of bright fire sinking into the sea. It would be the last sunset Oli would watch with human eyes.

Oli set the shower and dumped his sea sprayed clothes in the hamper; he stripped the sheets from the bed and put the laundry on before opening the sliding door and stepping into the warm water. Buddy followed him in, and Oli closed the door behind the wolf. Having showers together made Buddy happy, and Oli enjoyed it too, but to him it still felt weird and shameful. He washed his hair and scrubbed down his body while Buddy moved around in the water and watched him. The wolf rubbed the suds that dripped down Oli’s legs into his fur and then pushed himself under the shower head to wash them out. The movement brought his muzzle closer to Oli’s skin, and Buddy pressed the advantage and nuzzled at Oli’s crotch for a blink-fast second before moving away again. Oli glared at him, but there was no power in it. He was already sporting a semi.

“Wrow?”

Oli sank to the floor of the shower and Buddy immediately stepped onto his lap, head and neck pushed against Oli’s chest. Even underwater he was full of soft ochre and terracotta scents, like rich dry earth, and when he whined, saying Oli’s name with his canine voice box, the air was full of pink and red love.

“I don’t know what to do,” Oli wound his fingers into the wolf’s fur, “I love you Boris.”

The wolf pushed his lips against Oli’s own gently, their noses meeting under the shower spray for a moment, and it was, to Oli, as clear as the wolf telling him he loved him back. They didn’t need words to know the truth.

Getting dried off took forever, because whenever Oli would wind a towel around his hips in order to start rubbing Buddy dry, the wolf would steal it and run off. They played tag and tug of war until they were both breathless with silent laughter, and tired from their escapades. It was late, so Oli put new sheets on the bed, brushed his teeth and got the new toothbrush he’d bought for Boris from the medicine cabinet and placed it with a clink in the cup beside his. Buddy lay on the bed while Oli brushed him down, stroking the wolf until his fur curled in the bristles and Oli’s hands were tired. It was warm enough not to need the duvet, and Buddy climbed up onto the mattress before Oli could pull the cotton throw across himself. When he turned off the light they ended up in a private little tent world with the cover over their heads the light of the nearly-full moon glowing through the window. Buddy lay with his chin on his paws, yellow eyes unblinking, watching Oli as he got comfortable lying on his pillow, arm curled up under his head. He fondled Buddy’s fur softly.

“This time tomorrow…” Oli sighed. When he didn’t finish the sentence, Buddy prodded him with his nose. “This time tomorrow, we’ll be switched. You’ll be wearing skin, I’ll be over there wearing fur… being frustrated.”

“Wroam? Rawr roaw.” Buddy was disapproving, his ears flicking quickly back over his skull.

“Why do I have to be frustrated? Isn’t it obvious? Hey!” Oli tried to push the wolf away, but Buddy was solidly immovable. He lay along Oli’s hip and nuzzled at his crotch. “Buddy, don’t!”

Buddy ignored him and kept nosing. By the time he lapped at Oli with his rough pink tongue, Oli’s semi had decided to bloom into a full grown hard-on. He sat back, disturbing the throw enough to pull it off from over their heads, looking pleased with himself.

“Well that was nice of you,” Oli growled, “now I get to be frustrated and uncomfortable while I try and fall asleep.”

“Wruff!” Buddy pushed at Oli’s hand with his nose. When Oli didn’t move, he nipped gently at his wrist.

“Hey!”

“Woof!” Buddy knocked his hand again. “Wroff”

“What?” Oli moved his hand out of Buddy’s way which brought it immediately into contact with his erection. “No!”

Buddy snorted derisively.

“Buddy, no!” Oli yelped, “I am not jerking off so you can watch!” Buddy raised an eyebrow spot as if to ask ‘why not?’ “It’s…wrong. It’s weird.” Buddy frowned, his tail suddenly no longer flopping happily from side to side. “I can’t. I can’t do that with you looking at me. I’m sorry.”

Buddy crawled up to him on his belly, and placed his nose on Oli’s bare shoulder with a gentle whine. Oli pressed his fingers to his face; he was crying. He turned on his side and curled up around the wolf, trying to stifle his tears before they soaked into Buddy’s fur. What Buddy wanted of him was not so strange, not so unusual: without their differing bodies they would have just been any other gay couple experiencing new love and wanting to explore each other. Oli would have been shy then, but now he was terrified. Doing anything with Buddy just made his mind fill with the awful sight and smell of his father with Anastasia so many years previously. Buddy was not a dog, not a creature unaware and unable to make his own decisions, Oli wouldn’t be taking advantage of him or hurting him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to cross that line.

Emotional turmoil was tiring, and damaging to Oli’s ability to maintain an erection. Buddy licked his cheek, wagging his tail against Oli’s abdomen until Oli stopped crying, but after that, neither of them was in the mood to try and stay up. They curled around each other under the covers, and Oli locked his fingers into Buddy’s fur as he fell asleep. He hadn’t needed that sort of reassurance since he’d been a child.

*

“Hey…”

Ruff put his head around the door and padded gently over to where his master was sitting on the floor, knees tucked up to his chin with his back against the bed, crying. He snivelled and wiped his nose as the big dog approached. Ruff was not a dog who understood personal space, and he nosed his way through Oli’s crossed arms to place his head in the boy’s lap.

“Sorry boy.”

Ruff just whined softly, caramel coloured eyes asking what the matter was.

“Dad left again. He’s going to miss the awards ceremony and he wouldn’t delay his trip by even a couple of hours to come and see me,” Oli sniffed, resisting the urge to burst into another round of wet, messy tears, “I won a national art prize, and he can’t even be bothered to see me collect it. It’s not fair.”

Ruff tugged at his master’s sleeve gently, encouraging young Oli off the floor and to his feet. The boy crossed to his desk and took the photograph of the painting he had completed to show his dog. It was a painting of Ruff, made from photographs and sketches, showing the Alsatian leaping through a green field, all four feet off the ground. Oli’s art teacher at school had encouraged him to apply for the painting competition, given him books to study and lunchtime classes to help him with his technique. Ruff himself was rendered in wonderful detail, tiny white spots of paint applied with a brush less than a millimetre wide making it look as though each hair of his pelt was glistening. The background was more abstract, though from the colours it could still be identified as sky and grass, but the palette Oli had used had increased the vibrancy by several degrees. The landscape showed a sense of speed, all thick paint globules and firm brushstrokes completed in heavy oils. Oli was deeply proud of the painting, more proud that it would be hanging in a small gallery in London for a few weeks until it was returned to him. Though he knew the school would want to display it, Oli really just wanted it back so that it could hang above Ruff’s bed.

The dog woofed appreciatively at the picture of himself. He leant against Oli’s thigh. It was not by far the first time his father had let him down. He vanished every month for carpenters shows and business trips, making deliveries and tracking down supplies. Already since Christmas he had missed Easter Sunday, cancelled a weekend camping trip, and missed Oli’s twelfth birthday. Now he was missing the most important and only real award his son have ever received, and Oli was too upset to be angry. His mother said that if his father could be there he would, but Oli knew that his father never cancelled anything for work. Apparently sacrificing moments from his actual life was easier.

The following day, Oli’s mother sat in the audience at the awards ceremony with Ruff sitting by her heels as Oli went up on stage and collected his award; spoke briefly about his painting and adoringly of its subject before he resumed his seat. His father wasn’t there. That night, he curled up in bed with Ruff, his fingers tight in the Alsatian’s fur, and cried himself to sleep.

The painting of Ruff got lost somewhere along the line of courier transport, and was never returned.

*

Oli rushed to get the house clean. He washed the last few dishes and tidied them away, checked on the contents of the fridge for the tenth time, and whizzed around the ground floor with the vacuum cleaner while Buddy watched from halfway up the staircase, growling every time the contraption came too close to him. Just as Oli was about to start laying things out so that they would be easily accessible to him when he was a wolf Buddy grunted at him.

“What?” Oh…” Oli stopped, chew toy in hand, “I don’t need to keep prepping stuff do I?” The wolf shook his big wedge shaped head. “You’ll be here. With hands.”

Buddy barked in agreement.

“OK, so there’s a week’s worth of meals in the fridge and freezer. The lasagne can just be reheated. There are minted lamb steaks on the bottom shelf, burgers, and some fancy sausages. We have plenty of veggies. You remember how to work the washing machine?”

“Wruff.”

“And you know where the spare bin bags are?”

“Wroaw.”

“Did I forget anything?”

Buddy padded up to him and hopped up onto his hind feet, bringing his face level with Oli’s own.

“Goodnight kiss? But it’s not bed time yet.” The wolf huffed at him. “OK, OK…” Oli rubbed his cheek against Buddy’s, then kissed the bridge of his muzzle softly. “You’re a sappy bastard, you know that?”

“Woof.”

“I love you Boris.” Oli’s fingers and toes had been tingling for an hour or more, and he had started to go numb. “It’s time.”

He felt safe in the bathroom, even though for once he didn’t feel like he was going to heave all over the floor, and Buddy followed him up, watching him get naked. When Oli knelt down on the cold tile, the wolf took the opportunity to rub his fur all over Oli’s skin, purring with delight. For his part, Oli dragged his fingers through Buddy’s pelt, transferring as much scent as possible and blurring the lines between Buddy’s heavy ochre and his own softer shades of green. He held onto Buddy’s fur as long as possible, long after his arm went numb, and Buddy pressed his forehead against Oli’s as he began to change.

It was an awful, painful, messy experience, just as it had been every time. But there was a tiny moment, less than a heartbeat, when Oli could feel Buddy’s fur against his own as it grew. Then pain overwhelmed all other sensations, and by the time Oli was back in possession of all his senses, he was shaking, wiped out on the bathroom floor.

Boris stretched, and then sank onto the floor, leaning back against the bath tub.

“Hey there…” Oli arched an eyebrow spot at the long, hairy, naked form of his friend. “Welcome back, eh?” The young man reached over, gathering Oli up under hips and ribs and pulled the exhausted wolf into his lap. Oli nuzzled against his chest happily, and Boris hugged him back. They were still for a moment, and then both stomachs growled in unison.

“Damn I’m hungry. You want dinner?” Oli flopped an ear at his friend. “I can cook now, remember?”

It turned out that watching Oli cook and explain what he was doing was not the same thing as Boris actually cooking for them both. Oli put his paws over his eyes as he watched his friend burn the onions in the pan and then nearly grate off his finger with the cheese. Just as the pasta was about to boil over, Boris being distracted by the caramel-orange scent of bacon frying in the pan, Oli pushed the saucepan off the heat with his paws and yelped in unexpected pain, lost his footing and fell ungracefully to the kitchen floor. Boris dragged all the pans off the heat and knelt down next to him.

“Are you OK?” Boris took his front paws gently and Oli whimpered. The pan and the hob had been hotter than he thought. “What do I do?”

Oli got Boris to finish off the dinner, which was nearly done anyway, and hopped upstairs on three feet to the bathroom. There was a tube of mustard-yellow burn cream in the medicine cabinet, it smelt funny and would stain his fur, but Oli could reach it on his hind legs. Getting downstairs was less easy, and Oli ended up on his back at the bottom of the stairs, feeling sorry for himself.

“Hey there,” Boris placed the two bowls of macaroni and cheese and bacon on the bottom step and settled down on the carpet, “you alright there Oli?”

“Wrowl…” Oli felt stupid, but he nosed the fallen tube of burn cream and waved his burnt paw in the air.

“I got it.” Boris lifted Oli into his lap, ending up with the wolf lying on his back, supported by Boris’s thighs either side of his shoulders, his head in the crook of Boris’s elbow. He popped the cap on the tube and spread the cream over the damaged paw pad. Oli shivered at the contact, feeling Boris’s pulse through where they touched.

“I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention.” Oli opened his mouth to tell the boy it wasn’t his fault, but then he remembered that he no longer had full command of the English language. “The hob is a bit of a mess now, sorry. I’ll clean up in the morning,” he wiped his hands on a paper towel and took the bowl full of bacon bits, “here, eat something.”

Oli didn’t like to think about how nice it felt, to lie in Boris’s lap being hand fed bits of bacon and cheesy pasta, because every time he did, his heart lurched in a way that was almost painful. Worse still, he could feel Boris’s pulse through his crotch, warm and throbbing gently against his back and that made Oli hot and happy under his fur. He wagged his tail unconsciously, because being on the floor with Boris smiling down at him, was much too lovely a feeling to waste. Oli hated that every time he felt happy in that particular way, he felt guilty about it.

“Hey.” Oli glanced up, and rather than bacon, Boris placed a kiss on the tip of his muzzle. “I love you too.”