by Kit Fortier
Jake followed along helplessly. He was a partially inebriated man being led by a completely drunk man. He closed the door behind them. Jake barely had time to throw the lock when Fox tried to pull him harder. Instead, his bare foot slid. His other foot flew out from under him, and he slipped to his butt, letting out a pained, “Oof!”
Jake knelt down to help Fox up when the man on the floor pulled him down on top of him, there in the hall, near the front door, across from the door leading to Ben’s room.
At least Ben wasn’t there.
“Gonna need you to kiss my butt, big guy,” Fox purred.
“Did you hurt yourself, baby?”
“Yep. Hurts so bad.” Fox pulled Jake down and sealed his mouth against his husband’s. Jake moaned into Fox’s mouth, the taste of him heady with wine and desire.
“Come on, handsome,” Jake said. He pushed off the floor and pulled Fox up to his feet. Fox grabbed him none-too-gently by the shirt and pulled him down the hall into the common room. Once there, Jake reeled Fox in for a kiss. Fox gave in completely. He snickered against Jake’s mouth and stumbled into their bedroom.
Upon getting to their bedroom, Jake fished a couple of bottles of water out from the fridge.
“Drink up, baby.”
“You trying to liquor me up before we get it on?” Fox asked, fumbling with his new polo in an attempt to put on a sexy show for Jake. It was more cute than sexy. Jake just grinned.
“No, Foxy. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t wake up with a massive headache.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, one arm out of the polo and the other in, with the hem of the shirt draped over half his face. He chugged one bottle, then the other. He was none-too-careful about closing his mouth completely around the lip. The ensuing show—water splashing down his pale, golden front—made Jake whimper to himself. He moved forward to help Fox, only to be rebuffed.
“I’m trying to put on a show for you daddy bear,” Fox slurred. In this state, Jake knew he’d have to postpone taking his prize for the night. Fox slung off the shirt and threw it in Jake’s direction. He caught it out of the air, taking a sniff.
Chlorine. Ugh.
“Let’s take a shower, handsome,” Jake said.
“Wait, wait—lemme get out of these pants,” Fox offered. He undid his fly, sliding his pants down. The two of them hadn’t worn underwear since Wyoming. The thought of his man running around commando did things to Jake. But Fox didn’t remove his remaining boot. He tried in vain to pull his pants over it, he fell over, his sexy show becoming an act of physical comedy worthy of Charlie Chaplin.
“Daddy bear,” Fox drawled and whined. “I need help. Can’t get up. Stuck.”
Jake sighed, getting down to his knees to undo Fox’s boot, then pulled his pants off. It was like caring for a five year old, but Jake just smiled. Fox lay there, giddy. He ran his fingers over his own skin, snickering and laughing as his show spiraled from naughty to lewd within the span of a few heartbeats. Jake let out a ragged breath watching his husband.
“I’m gonna run a bath, okay, baby? I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right… here,” Fox giggled. He continued to touch himself, moaning and chuckling.
Jake shuddered. Fox was too much. And that was just right for him.
Jake tended to the bath. At least this way, he’d be able to have intimacy without hurting his husband’s feelings in the morning. He wanted Fox to be aware when he claimed what was his.
His thoughts drifted back to Ben. There was so much he didn’t know about his boy, and so much the young man still had to learn. He regretted his information dump the day of Ben’s graduation. It must have been a monstrous pill to try to swallow. While he knew Ben believed him, he still had yet to come to terms with this new layer of reality.
Strong arms snaked around him, pulling him from his reverie.
“Needed you,” Fox said, his cheek pressed against Jake’s back.
“You got me, baby.”
“Hurts.”
“What hurts?”
“My head. My heart.”
Jake figured the first part would come sooner or later.
“Why your heart, Foxy?”
“You don’t want me.”
“Not true. I’ll want you always.”
“Not now.”
Jake turned around, kissing Fox gently. “I will always want you. When you’re all dirty and sweaty,” a kiss. “Or clean and soft,” another kiss. “Wrinkly and gray haired,” one more kiss. “Toothless and saggy.” A deep kiss. Fox whimpered.
Jake lifted Fox up and gently lowered him in the bath, wetting his sleeves. Before he could pull away, Fox wrapped his arms around Jake and pulled him into the tub. Water splashed everywhere, and Jake’s new clothes got soaked. Fox kissed Jake desperately, clawing at his buttons and pulling his shirt off.
“Want,” Fox begged. The moment he hit the water, he had given up the fight. In this state, Jake couldn’t resist. He pulled his boots off with wet squelching sounds. Jake tossed them across the floor just beside the door, and with a splat, his pants landed in the same area. He settled into the water, giving his husband what he begged for.
*** Ben
Ben changed out his clothes before the appointed hour. He wrung out his swim trunks until they were as devoid of water as they could get. Ben stuffed the trunks off the back of his pants. He scanned the poolside, opting to wait near a small group of people who were lounging and talking.
“You came,” An unfamiliar voice said from behind him. A fairly young voice.
Ben stood and turned around. The guy from the garage stood before him. He was dressed in rather non-descript clothes. A light blue, button down short-sleeve shirt that was three sizes too large. Dark blue jeans. Black canvas tennis shoes.
The clothes were a blip in Ben’s memory compared to the young man’s face. He was still very much boyish, despite the couple days of muddy straw-colored growth over his mouth and cheeks. His bright, golden-yellow eyes were highlighted by the dark beneath them, as if he hadn’t slept in as long as he hadn’t shaved—perhaps longer. The man’s defined cheekbones gave his sad eyes shape, stressed by the weary darkness beneath them.
Ben could have sworn his eyes were damp at the outside corners, but the man had brushed any signs away with a sweep of his open hand.
Still, one thing registered. Ben’s visitor was a beautiful man. Beautiful, tired, and afraid.
“Here,” he said, raising a small plastic bag to Ben. “You gave these to me.”
Ben took the bag. He realized it was the clothes he fished out of his gear and gave the guy after he had changed into a human.
“You smell like the ocean,” he said. Ben furrowed his brow.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked.
“Better.”
“I’m glad,” Ben started, “I think.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know anyone—I’ve been…”
Ben made a choice.
“My name’s Ben. Ben Samuels-Hughes,” he said, offering a hand. The other guy looked at his hand, then at Ben.
“Eric Andersson,” the young guy said, not taking the extended hand.
“Was there something I could help you with, Eric?” Ben withdrew his hand slowly, his mind wrapped around the fact that Eric didn’t seem to trust touch.
“I don’t know why this is happening to me.”
“What’s that?”
“I got bit,” Eric said. “I was throwing out trash one night, and there was a huge dog in the alley. It could have been a wolf, but I didn’t know why there were wolves in the city.
“It was quick—I turned to run, and it bit me on the arm, dragging me down. It shook really hard, like it wanted to tear my arm off. It almost went for my neck when my manager bangs the door open looking for me.
“I… I got cleaned up at the hospital, but one night I—I don’t know what happened to me.”
“You changed.”
“Yes! I gu
ess that’s how to put it. It hurt, and I hurt, and everything was fire and glass punching through my skin from the inside out.” Eric sat on the edge of a lounger, his head in his hands.
“I just want my life back, whatever’s left of it,” he whispered.
“I don’t know how I can help you,” Ben said earnestly.
“You helped me heal.”
“That was an accident.”
“I changed into… that… at a park a few blocks from here, after I ran from Saint George,” Eric said, looking up. “There were these people there. I think they were doing things to my head. Like they were trying to get me to follow them, like I was a pet. When I tried to fight them, they stabbed me. I couldn’t breathe.”
Ben realized halfway through the conversation that he'd have to tell his father about this. He had a potential werewolf—no, not potential, actual werewolf in front of him. A werewolf! From what Ben heard, the little guy sounded like he didn’t have a say in the matter.
“Eric?”
The man looked at him, his golden eyes glittering with unasked questions and fear and grief.
“I’m going to ask for some help here. Do you mind?”
“I have nowhere to go,” he replied. “I’ll wait.” He sounded lost. It tweaked something in Ben’s heart to hear him, see him look this way. He pulled out his phone and dialed a friend.
3. Eric and the Wolf
*** Fox
There was bliss mixed with his inebriated haze as Fox felt himself being gently placed in bed. He had never felt more cared for, so well loved, as Jake stroked his wet hair away from his face, smiling.
“You are incorrigible, baby.”
“Warm. I’m warm. Why am I warm? I’m so warm,” Fox snickered.
“No shit, I wrapped the blanket around you, so you can’t move.”
Fox lifted his head and saw he had indeed been tightly wrapped like a man stuffed into a giant burrito. Jake leaned in and kissed his forehead as he padded back into the bathroom. Fox heard the sound of water lightly splashing. Moments later, Jake emerged, his new clothes draped over his arm.
“What happened, papa bear?”
“You. You happened, sweetheart,” Jake grinned. He pulled a couple of hangers from a nearby closet and hung his clothes up. He hung them in the bathroom doorway to air dry.
Fox snickered. “I wanted you. I still do. But why can’t I move?”
“Oh, you are going to hear about this in the morning,” Jake chuckled. Fox’s phone vibrated on the nightstand where it was charging.
“It’s Ben,” Jake said.
Fox sobered slightly. “Pick up, babe.”
Jake answered.
“Hey son, what’s up?
… It’s okay. Fox is preoccupied.
… Do you know this guy?
…Are you okay?
… Of course, bring him up.
Love you too, son.”
“What’s wrong?” Fox asked.
“The werewolf that Ben saw in the garage,” Jake said. “He’s coming up here.”
Fox sobered up almost all the way.
*** Jake
Jake paced the room barefoot, dressed in the clothes his son gave him. They fit better than Fox’s loaners. While he would have found comfort in wearing Fox’s clothes, modesty forbid he give any bad first impressions, considering how unwittingly revealing they could be.
Fox wore one of the hotel’s robes, but he put a pair of board shorts on, as well. Jake assumed he did it for modesty's sake, too. Fox had put away three more bottles of water in the past few minutes. Jake knew he was trying to sober up as much as possible for whatever was to come.
The sound of the suite’s front door unlocking got the two men’s attention. Jake heard soft conversation as their company approached.
Ben walked in, and Jake breathed easier seeing that he hadn’t been in any way harmed. But the young man who came in after him looked positively frightened by everything.
“Hey guys,” Ben said rather feebly, “This is Eric.”
Jake was attuned to the fact that the guy said “hello” without untucking his hands from his sides as he held himself. He looked like he was afraid to touch anything, or anyone for that matter.
“I’m Jake Foster-Hughes—Ben’s father, and this is my husband, Fox.” The word “husband” stuck in his heart, and Fox smiled at him when he said it. Jake didn’t miss the way the guy’s eyes widened slightly when he said it, either.
“Please, have a seat, Eric,” Jake said, offering him the love seat. Ben sat in the comfy armchair between the love seat and the sofa. Jake and Fox took the sofa and sat shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Jake put his arm around Fox’s shoulder.
“Before we get started—Eric? Do you want anything? Have you eaten?” Fox offered.
*** Eric
He couldn’t have imagined his life taking so many turns within the past couple weeks. His was a fairly boring life, if he didn’t count his childhood. He tried not to. Menial was a word that could describe his life—and that is what he wanted. He didn’t want to be noticed. He didn’t want to stand out. If life would pass him by until the day he died, it would suit him.
Life had done enough already, and he hadn’t even turned 20.
It was a night like any other. Spring turning over to summer. But less than one terrifying minute of one horrible night in a darkened alley had him running for the hills.
Something happened to him. A big dog—no, a huge dog frightened him as he threw bags of trash into a dumpster. He tried throwing a bag in the way to slow it down, distract it, but the creature was locked onto its prey, chomping down onto his arm, nearly dislocating it from its socket until the sound of the fire door banging open scared the monster off.
That was weeks ago. So much had happened before the moment he met Ben that he had only slight recollections of. How he ended up in Vegas was shrouded in vague memories.
Now, he had run into a larger-than-should-be-allowed man who showed him kindness that few had bothered to spare. To top it off, more kindnesses would follow, being in a high-end hotel living room that was four times as large as the whole of his crummy apartment. He was sure it had now gone into delinquency. Without a doubt, it would soon slide into an eviction notice tacked to his door, if new tenants weren’t already living in it by now.
“I could use a hamburger,” Eric said, his voice small. Ben sprang up right away and headed for the room phone, making the call. A couple of tears crept from Eric’s eyes, but he was beyond care to notice.
The one called Fox put a box of tissues in front of him with a kind smile, his dark red hair a neat, damp mop around his face. Eric caught the smell of rain—but he figured it must have been from a shower.
“They’ll be right up,” Ben said. He disappeared for a moment, coming back in with two bottles of water. After Ben set them in front of Eric, he took his seat once more. His long legs had more than caught Eric’s attention. But he couldn’t bear the thought of touching someone. It would kill him if he somehow passed whatever he had onto someone else.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Jake said kindly.
Eric took a shuddering breath.
Everything he had told Ben, he told Ben’s… fathers? Father and husband? In the moment, he couldn’t think about that. He just stuck to what he knew had happened to him, and how he got to this point. The dog bite, the night he spent in his apartment, the day he woke up in his apartment, chased out by the landlord when she saw the inside of his home had been shredded—every window broken, every wall gouged. Eric had no idea how it happened, but he couldn’t stay to find out. So, he fled.
Eric had avoided people as much as possible, fearing the worst should he come in contact with anyone. The scraps of shirt he used to bind his wounds had somehow come off the night his apartment was destroyed. His arm was no longer bloody—in fact, the lacerations healed. But the bite mark remained, like a jagged horseshoe on his upper right arm beneath his shoulder.
Eric avoided
people. He was afraid his presence would bring harm to others, to himself. He feared enclosed spaces for that same reason. His blackouts increased in frequency—and with each blackout, he woke up, naked and isolated. Memories of ripping up small animals; desert rabbits, rats, stray cats—all popped into his head here and there. Then the attack in the park happened, and Eric became conscious of the body he occupied. Whatever Eric shared the body with, it insisted on being in the lead, to find safety. Animal instincts guided Eric, staggering to the Bellagio, finding Ben.
But Ben had been a light in the dark, and approaching him seemed right, despite his own monstrous form.
“… So, I set up to meet Ben at the pool. Tipped the limo driver what money I could find to get him to give Ben my note.”
Fox spoke softly into Jake’s ear. But while Ben was closer and didn’t seem to hear, to Eric, they might as well have been screaming.
“What do you see?” Eric asked. Fox looked at him, wide eyed. Jake was much the same. They looked at each other. Jake looked ready to open up when a knock came at the front door, almost scaring Eric out of his seat.
“I’ll get it,” Ben said. “It’s room service.”
Fox pointed at his wallet on a table near a door which likely lead to a bedroom. Jake shook his head and pulled out his own wallet, giving Ben a twenty. Ben trotted down the hall, reappearing with a cart practically dripping with food.
“Geez, Ben—did you ask them to make two of everything?” Fox grinned.
Eric caught the scent of heat rising. He looked at Ben, whose ears had turned bright red against his jet black hair.
“I just wanted to make sure he didn’t leave hungry.”
Jake smiled. Fox raised an eyebrow at Ben and grinned.
“Hey, Eric? Come over here and take what you want.”
He got up and cautiously took the plate Ben offered him. He put one of the two hamburgers on it, along with a side of hot, crispy fries, and a bottle of Coke. There was still a cheese pizza, a couple orders of onion rings, and a small box of cookies.