It… Frank, Tom corrected himself, sat back on his haunches, his open shirt trailing, and his pants still puddled around his lower legs.
Gabriella’s mouth was open again, her lipstick a red outline to her astonishment.
She twisted back to Tom.
“Wait…” She spun back to Frank. “Is that Frank? Is this a joke, or are you trying to drive me round the bend, Tom?”
Tom chuckled. “It’s real, Gabriella.” He craned to look over her shoulder at the wolf. “Frank, can you go halfway like you’ll be in the play?”
They’d been practicing, getting to the ideal point where Frank looked like a wolf but his speaking voice remained unaffected. It had been lots of trial and error. It had also been eye opening for Tom, who had gained a new appreciation for the way Frank’s body shifted and remade itself at his command. Tom watched with just as much awe as Gabriella as Frank’s face receded into a sculpted alienness, snout still elongated, but lower jaw and tongue more human shaped. His chest broadened, filling out his shirt. He shuffled as his feet grew and his leg bones relengthened in his crouch. He stood.
Gabriella’s eyes, if it could be possible, got even bigger. Tom smirked.
“Uh, let me help you out there, Frank.” Tom rushed forward to pull up Frank’s pants. Frank scrabbled at the denim, his longer nails hooking in the fabric. He made a doglike whimper in what Tom assumed was embarrassment, but Tom gave Frank a clandestine grope as he fastened his jeans.
Gabriella strode forward and extended her fingers into the hair of Frank’s chest, rubbing down it familiarly. Frank shuffled back.
Tom experienced a flare of jealousy at her casual manhandling of Frank.
Gabriella tapped her chin as if she was thinking. “Can you teach me how to do this? Can you curse me or something? ‘Cause this would be an asset.”
She turned back to Tom, her eyes bright. “Don’t you think this would be an asset at auditions? A girl can’t have too many skills listed on her résumé.”
“I can’t teach you how to shape-shift.” Frank’s words lisped on his fangs. He shook his head, a lupine grumble stealing from his throat.
“Why not?” Gabriella extended her hands. Tom wanted to laugh.
“It’s passed down through my family. You’d have to be born with it.” Frank said the words slowly, eyes wide.
“Really?” Gabriella huffed. “Well, anyway, this will be a bang-up show.” She dug in her purse for her phone. “I’ve got to get home. Jerry’s probably fed the kids chocolate cake for dinner again, which means they’re tearing up the house.” She trotted to the stairs. “See you tomorrow. Work on your enunciation, Frank.” And her high-heeled shoes clicked down the stairs.
“Good job.” Tom grinned. “You—”
“Tom? Aren’t you going to come let me out?” Gabriella’s voice floated back up to them on the top floor.
Tom chuckled. “I’d better go let her out.”
“I’ll…um…change back.” Frank ducked his head.
“You do that. I think I want to work on the tango scene with you a little more. And maybe we can work on a few dance moves that won’t end up in the play.” Tom waggled his eyebrows.
Frank wiped a hand down his face, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off. Tom whistled as he trotted down the stairs. One castmate down; everyone else to go. This would be a piece of cake.
WHEN TOM RETURNED, Frank was tucking his shirttails back into his pants with trembling hands. The cold sweat and adrenaline zipping through his fingers made them clumsy and slick. It’s just a stress reaction, Frank told himself. Not terror.
As if sensing Frank’s uncertainty, Tom walked right up to him and kissed him full on the mouth. Frank clutched at Tom’s arms, the kiss arrowing straight down to his groin, soothing the nerves that still jangled. He moaned into Tom’s mouth as their lips slid against each other. Frank’s wolf thumped its tail, now returned to the forefront of his mind with the shift, but he didn’t mind so much. It seemed…happier.
Frank tore his lips away to pant.
“What was that for?” Frank rested his forehead on Tom’s, smiling into his blue-blue eyes. Frank’s inner wolf wagged its tail and sat quiet in his mind.
“For being the sexiest guy on the planet.” Tom licked his lips, drawing Frank’s gaze. “I know I said I wanted to work on the tango more, but would you like to fuck instead?”
Frank was nodding before the word yes even tumbled from his lips. “My place.”
“Great.” Tom chuckled. “Because I couldn’t keep a straight face if we did it here on the couch.”
“Let me grab my backpack.” Frank’s heart beat triple time as he and Tom tromped down the stairs and locked up the shop. They walked back to Mrs. Anderson’s, a little faster than normal, or maybe Frank just couldn’t catch his breath. His cock rubbed painfully in his pants, and he continued to stare at Tom’s profile, the straight nose, the movie-star square chin, the plush lips he’d beg to kiss.
Tom glanced Frank’s way, his heavy-lidded eyes promising sin. “I can’t wait to lay you out on your bed.”
Frank’s inner wolf whimpered. “Me too.” He sped up. Tom matched him with long strides.
After an interminable walk that Frank could have run in five minutes as a wolf, they were at the steps of Mrs. Anderson’s. Frank put a finger to his lips as he turned the key. Tom raised an eyebrow but said nothing as they locked the door again and climbed the stairs. Frank opened his apartment, and Tom shoved him inside, his mouth latching on to Frank before he’d even crossed the threshold.
Tom’s fingers worked the buttons on Frank’s shirt and peeled it off his shoulders. The air lay hot and steamy on Frank’s skin. Tom delved a hand into the waistband of Frank’s jeans while his other cupped him through the denim. Frank gasped, and sweat broke out across his upper lip. A keen sang in his throat at the exquisite touch, so torturous he wanted to scream.
Frank nestled against Tom’s neck, biting him delicately there, lips mouthing at his skin. Need drove Frank to tunnel his hands under Tom’s shirt and touch him everywhere, front and then back, hands scrabbling for purchase on smooth, even, supple skin.
“Bed.” Tom’s hot breath caressed Frank’s ear, sending a shiver down his arms. Frank jerked away, grabbing for Tom’s hand to pull him into the dark recesses of the bedroom. The smell of familiarity and home invaded his nose, along with the faint tang of detergent, where he’d washed the linens the day before.
Tom pushed Frank down onto the mattress and then followed him with his body. Frank lifted his hips, shoving up against Tom’s weight and then rolling them both over. He kissed Tom wildly, his hands grabbing Tom’s and pinning them down next to his head, blanketing his body and rubbing against him. Tom’s sweat tickled Frank’s nostrils, and he levered up to sit on Tom’s thighs, pulling at the front of Tom’s shirt until it parted. The pinging sound of buttons echoed in the room as he fell on Tom again, needing the slide of skin against skin as their bare chests made contact.
Tom’s dark chuckle vibrated up through Frank’s skin.
“Lucky that was an old shirt.”
Frank nuzzled into the sparse hair on Tom’s chest, breathing him in. “Sorry.” His breath painted across Tom’s chest. But he wasn’t sorry. The shirt had been in the way, and Frank needed to be closer, naked against Tom. “Do you want to keep these pants?”
Tom heaved him off. “Yes.” He kicked his shoes off and skinned out of his clothes. Frank drank in the sight of Tom’s naked body. From the strong arch of his foot, up the meaty muscle of his calves and thighs to the slim globes of his ass, the trimness of his torso and breadth of his back to his shining golden hair. Frank’s inner wolf howled in anticipation, hopping up and down.
Tom nodded in Frank’s direction. “Aren’t you getting naked for the party?”
Frank rolled off the bed in an instant, shucking shoes and pants so fast he didn’t even see which direction they flew.
“Could you turn on some air?” Tom lay back on
the bed, reaching out an arm toward Frank. Frank punched on the small bedroom air conditioner. The hot air that blew from the unit turned cold, and it evaporated the sweat that beaded his skin but couldn’t cool his ardor. Frank stalked back across the room, intent on Tom’s body spread like a feast in his space, his bed. Mine.
Frank crawled onto the sheets and then onto Tom, licking skin as it came close to his mouth. The saltiness of sweat commingled with the heady scent of Tom on Frank’s tongue and filled his nostrils. He was drunk on the sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell of Tom. Frank wanted to roll in Tom’s scent, cover himself with it until every time he moved he smelled Tom.
Tom reached for him, pulling Frank close, sliding his hands around to Frank’s back and drawing them against each other. He nipped at his lower lip until Frank whimpered.
“Do you have lube and condoms?” Tom’s quiet voice held a thread of urgency.
The words barely penetrated through the lust fogging his brain, but Frank heard them. He did have condoms and lube. He didn’t use them much, or rather the condoms much. He usually didn’t bring dates home.
Frank rolled over to paw at the nightstand and pulled out the lube he kept for himself. The year-old condoms followed. Frank didn’t wait for instructions, didn’t wait for Tom to take the initiative. He squirted the lube on his hand and then pulled up his balls to plunge a slick finger inside himself. The slight bite of pain reminded him to slow down. Frank breathed in and tried to relax. The bed dipped as Tom rose on his knees.
“Jesus.”
Frank opened his eyes to see Tom watching him as he fingered himself. Tom’s thighs spread wide, bracketing his erection, the member stiff between the dark gold curls at his groin. Tom’s mouth was open, panting. He caught Frank’s gaze.
“Can I?” He waited until Frank nodded, pulling his fingers away.
Tom’s hands shook as he crushed the container, lube spurting out across his hand. He knee walked to kneel between Frank’s bent legs.
Frank vibrated with want. Hurry, hurry. He held his balls in one hand and caressed the head of his dick with the other, right there at the sensitive spot under the head, keeping himself hard.
Tom’s first touch was tentative, and Frank wanted to just shove himself onto Tom’s fingers. But he waited. Tom’s thumbs rubbed gentle circles next to Frank’s hole before dipping in just a little to test the pliancy of the opening. Frank relaxed into the soft touch. Magic, magic fingers.
Tom soothed the area, almost like gaining the trust of an animal. Inside Frank, his wolf rolled belly up, submitting.
Tom became bolder, letting a finger slide inside Frank, mapping his insides, rubbing against the channel walls. Two more fingers joined it, and then he reached inside and touched the spongy bump that made jolts zip down Frank’s nerve endings.
Frank let out a soft mewl of pleasure and clutched at his cock.
“You’re so open, Frank. Feel how ready you are for me.” Tom guided Frank’s hand down to his opening. Feeling the drag of Tom’s fingers in and out sent a shockwave of desire through Frank. His cock bobbed against his stomach, threatening to come untouched.
“Please,” Frank begged, and the voice that issued from his throat sounded unfamiliar. Hoarse and needy, wanting.
Tom kissed Frank’s upturned knee and withdrew his fingers. He trembled as he tore the wrapper and then spread the condom on himself. He rubbed more lube on the rubber and then reached for Frank again.
Frank squeezed his cock and gave it a quick stroke.
Tom rubbed across Frank’s entrance before positioning his cock for the first thrust.
Frank expected a shove and a moment of pain, but Tom stopped. Frank realized he’d closed his eyes. He opened them to see Tom, pupils blown, balancing over him.
Tom laid a hand against the side of Frank’s neck. He ran it down Frank’s chest, dipping into the sweat-slick valleys of his abs, palm skating over Frank’s cock.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you.”
Tom’s words were trite. Maybe he’d practiced them, but they felt true in this moment, frozen in lust and want, their bodies joined but not yet one.
Frank pulled his thighs closer to his chest, exposing himself.
“Then fuck me.” Frank’s growl held desperation. He needed the intimacy of bodies. He wanted the vulnerable tie that came from skin against skin. And he knew there was nothing more. That this was an itch being scratched. That Tom couldn’t offer him more. But in this moment, Frank could fantasize that it meant everything. That it signaled a beginning instead of nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
Tom rubbed his neck, wishing he could rub away the nascent headache that throbbed at the back of his head. Dress rehearsal was next week. This was a peachy time for the cast to revolt.
John murmured at his side, “Do you want me to call a halt and go over the blocking for the scene again?”
The scene Tom had staged to show the contrast between Beauty’s reunion with her family and the beast’s loneliness now looked like a heated mess of milling players circling around one another like spinning tops.
Tom sighed. “No. I’ll do it.” He stood up. “Stop. Stop, everyone.”
The players all turned to him, freezing in place onstage.
“Look, people, we’ve got to stop this now.” Tom stomped down from his seat in the last row. “I gave you the blocking I did for a reason.”
He pointed to the teenager dressed in a poofy shirt. “You’re not even supposed to be in this scene. What are you doing onstage?”
Emma spoke up from stage right. She was trying to talk Frank into moving more to the left of where Tom had blocked him two weeks ago. “I thought it might be better to have more people onstage for Beauty’s departure to the castle.”
Tom hung his head. “Okay. Emma, that’s great for when you’re directing your version. In this play, I’m the director.” He stared down his players, trying to regain his command over the production. Gabriella, who had been offstage, peeked around the curtains. Save for nervous fidgeting, the stage had gone quiet.
“I understand that you want to make the play better, but I have a certain vision I want to keep. When I’m directing, I’m looking for still shots, still pictures amid the movements that resonate on the stage and hopefully with the audience. When you change the movement or the places willy-nilly, it breaks the symmetry I’m going for. Do you understand?”
Emma glanced away but nodded.
Tom waited until she looked back at him. He then broke his stare and gazed at the rest of the cast. “Okay. Let’s go over the blocking again. I want no deviations this time. And Campbell, you’re supposed to be off book. Put the pages away.”
Campbell tucked the script in the back pocket of his pants. His gray hair stuck up at odd angles from taking his hat off in the previous scene. Tom made a mental note to get that sprayed down for the performance. Or at least have his castmates pat it down for him.
“Emma, start from ‘We must save our sister.’”
Tom sat again, trying to concentrate on the whole scene, but found his gaze returning to Frank. They’d tell the rest of the cast about Frank’s condition tonight so they could try out act two in a couple days with Frank in half shift and then back to normal in the transformation scene
Frank was nervous. That was apparent from every jerky movement, every line said too fast or without enough emotion. Tom knew it. The rest of the cast had picked up on it.
No doubt that was why Emma was trying out her own staging. The players kept gravitating toward Frank as if they wanted to make him feel less isolated onstage. Which was nice in a friendship. Not so nice when performing a play.
The atmosphere onstage had the manic feel of a sleepless night. Tom checked his watch. They’d already gone over the ninety minutes he’d scheduled to run through the first act today.
“Danny.” Tom made a motion to the young actor portraying Beauty’s brother, pulling him aside while the rest of the scene prog
ressed. “I’d like you to make your actions bigger. You’re playing a guy who’s all about show. Do you know what I mean?”
Danny put his hands on his hips and looked at his feet. He wore a basketball jersey and high-top tennis shoes. Gabriella had recommended him as one of her high school theater students, and the kid had auditioned well.
“Have you thought about this character, what his motivations might be for the way he acts?” Tom remembered his high school drama days and Ms. Ichabod trying to explain stagecraft to him.
Danny scratched at his nose. “He’s young, like me. I think he doesn’t see a lot of prospects where he grew up, and he’s looking for a way to distinguish himself, to stand out. He doesn’t want the town to think of him as a failed merchant’s son anymore.”
“Good, good.” Tom nodded. “Now how is that going to translate into his movements? Is he going to pull into himself or act out?”
Danny hitched up the side of his mouth. “I think he’s got a lot of anger, so he’ll act out more. He’ll be spoiling for a fight even when there isn’t one.”
“Excellent.” Tom clapped him on the arm. “You could even mime fencing if you want.” He demonstrated with a lunge. “But don’t forget to enunciate and speak louder. I need to hear you in the back row.” He motioned Danny back to his place where the action had stopped while waiting for him to deliver his line. “Okay, guys. Keep going.”
Tom stepped offstage and went around front to watch. Emma had moved again, but Gabriella, like a sheepdog, herded her back onto the area of the stage she belonged, all while delivering her lines word perfect.
Segregated by blocking on the other side of the stage, Frank sat deep in thought as “invisible” servants brought him food and wine, books and entertainments that he waved away. Still human for rehearsal, he looked like a bored, brooding man contemplating his doom. Did he dread telling the rest of the cast about his Galen’s? Had Tom made a mistake in talking Frank into the role?
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