Wolf at the Door (3 page)

“I’ll be right back, buddy, I’m going to call the animal hospital.  They’ll be able to help you.”  Darin’s hand is on the door when a deep growl freezes him in his tracks.  He turns to look back over his shoulder only to yelp out a denial and spin around to rush back towards the wolf.  The creature’s struggling to stand, losing more blood than it was before as its attempts to move reopen whatever part of the wounds had managed to clot on their own.

“What are you doing?  You’re going to kill yourself!”  The wolf doesn’t listen and instead seems to redouble its efforts to stand until Darin’s back to hovering over its side.  A few moments pass and he attempts to leave again, to get to his phone and call the emergency shelter, but every time he moves the wolf moves and the animal is running short on both blood and strength.

“Goddamn you, stop!  I won’t call anyone!”  Darin knows that it’s ridiculous, that his intention to call the animal hospital could not be what set the wolf off.  To his surprise, it seems to calm the animal all the way down, and he settles back on the patio with a loud thump, panting for breath and whimpering in pain.  Darin hits his knees, hands reaching out to thread their way through the dry fur on the back of the wolf’s neck, uncaring of the blood soaking into the legs of his pajamas.

“I’m a fucking nurse, not a vet!  You need to let me call someone without you trying to kill yourself ‘cause I’ve been trained for people and I know fuck all about wolf anatomy!”  Darin’s almost panicking, his arms are waving, and his voice is a furious almost-shout.  He’s close to losing his cool in a way that has never happened at the hospital, has never really happened period.

The sickening sound of bones crunching stops him mid-rant, and he stares in wide-eyed horror as the wolf writhes at his feet, black fur rippling like something is fighting to get out, to break loose.  He’s on his feet and stumbling backwards when he trips and lands on his ass in the dewy grass of his back lawn.  He doesn’t notice when the dew seeps through his clothes, mixes with the blood and sweat already on him.  Darin’s too busy staring at the wolf that’s slowly shrinking in size, its body growing smaller and its fur shorter and lighter.

Darin can barely believe what he’s seeing, his brains working on automatic, screaming words at him, things that he’s gone his whole life believing to be myths and fairytales.  Things like
lycanthropy
and
shape
shifter
, things that all mean the same impossible thing.  Still he manages to put two and two together and come to the conclusion that the wolf on his patio isn’t actually a wolf: it’s something more along the lines of a
werewolf
.  There’s a moan and Darin blinks his way back into reality and focuses on the now naked and still bleeding form that’s huddled on his patio.

Darin forces himself to push his fear down and back, to block out for the moment what he’d just seen and focus on the fact that he has a patient, that he can now clearly see where all of the blood was coming from.  There’s a wide gash curving around the man’s side, split open deep and brutal and still pouring blood.  Darin’s up and moving, reaching for more gloves even as he’s trying to convince the man to uncurl so he can get to the wound properly.

He finally manages to do it, manages to coax the stranger onto his unwounded side with gentle nudges and soft, soothing nonsense words.  He’s prodding at the edges of the wound, reaching absently towards his kit for the antiseptic to flush the bits of grass and dirt out when the man speaks and Darin goes frightfully still.

“D-Darin.”

It’s his name, whispered softly, almost hesitantly, and when Darin looks up at the man’s face for the first time he sucks in an audible breath.

“Raylan.”

Chapter Five

Darin manages to get Raylan’s wound clean, and by the time he’s through the bleeding has already slowed enough to where he can bandage it properly.  He’d wanted to call an ambulance, but Raylan shuts that avenue of thought down along with his desire to stitch the wound closed.  Instead all Raylan will let him do is wrap it with a thick layer of gauze.  Darin bites back his questions and the panic that’s still trying to rear its head and instead focuses on getting Raylan up and into the house.

Raylan’s taller than Darin and a great deal more muscled, so he’s heavy, but he’s also capable of giving Darin an amount of assistance that’s unreal from someone who’s had their side split open.  Together they manage to get the blood off of him with the liberal application of soap and a wet washcloth.  Darin’s face is carefully blank, but his cheeks are red from being so close to and personal with Raylan’s body, and he has to draw on all of the professionalism he’s built over the years to keep his hands from straying off task.

It’s a struggle because Raylan’s built like his own personal theme park, all dips and valleys, bulging muscles and broad shoulders.  He’s a long expanse of tanned skin and toned muscles, and on a good day Darin would love to get his hands and tongue on every piece of him that he can reach.  He’s not ashamed to admit that he’s had the urge to climb Raylan like a tree since the first time they met, but now’s hardly the time.  Still, even wounded and weakened there’s a sense of strength, of capableness, that’s settled across Raylan’s shoulders, and it makes Darin weak in the knees in a way he doesn’t want to admit.

Darin manages to keep himself focused on the task at hand and gets Raylan cleaned up as quickly as possible without jarring his wounds only to realize he has nowhere to put him.  His couch is more of a loveseat and entirely too short, and his extra bedrooms are either a small office or filled with boxes.  He sighs and gingerly puts Raylan’s arm back over his shoulder, wraps a gentle hand around his hip, and leads him towards his own bedroom.  It’ll have to do.  Besides, a comfortable place to sleep will help the wound heal faster than it already is.  When they get to his room, Darin’s attention is immediately arrested by the way Raylan’s nostrils flare as if he’s scenting the place, his head extended a bit on his neck as he glances from side to side.

“This is your room.”  It’s not a question—Darin can tell that right away—it’s a statement of fact.  Darin’s not really that surprised because it’s fairly obvious from the rumpled bed and various other bits of paraphernalia that it’s his room.

“Yes.”

“It smells like you and it’s strong.  Like I could drown in it.”  Raylan’s voice is rough and low, the tone even huskier than normal.

“I’m sorry?”  Darin’s not exactly sure how to take that, how to deal with something so … off topic after everything that’s happened in the last hour or two so it comes out more as a question.

“Don’t be. It’s good.  Your smell … pleases me.”  The way Raylan says that makes Darin fairly sure that he’s missing an important part of the conversation.

“Okay.”  Darin’s pretty sure that he sounds as confused as he feels, but he ignores it and helps Raylan shuffle forward until he can lower himself gently onto the side of the bed.  Darin fusses around him for a few moments, helps Raylan shift until he’s lying propped on his uninjured side, and Darin just hovers over him for a moment debating on what to do next before he finally reaches a decision.

“I’m going to go outside and wash the pool of blood off of my patio before it completely sets in and then, if I’ve not had a nervous breakdown by the time I get back, you’ve got a lot of questions to answer.  And I am not above breaking out the silver my mother gave me and going after your furry ass if you don’t.”

Raylan huffs out a tired sounding chuckle and nods slowly before he reaches out and pulls Darin’s abandoned pillow closer to him and buries his face in the fabric.  Darin can see his chest rising and falling like he’s breathing in deep, and it hits him all at once that Raylan is lying naked and wounded in his bed sniffing his pillow.  Before it can really settle inside of him, Darin spins on his heel and goes back the way he came.

Darin takes his time with cleaning up the scraps of bloody gauze and cotton swabs before grabbing the bleach from the hall closet and going outside to douse the patio.  He spends a while out there, scrubbing at the stone with a bristle brush and generally doing his best to keep his mind blank.  Finally though, when Darin can’t fight back a yawn anymore, he sprays the patio again to get rid of the dirty water and then packs all of his cleaning supplies away.

He stops by the bathroom and takes a quick shower, changes into new blood-free boxers and pajama pants before heading back towards his room.  Raylan’s still there, lying on his side with one arm stretched out as if reaching for something, his face still buried in Darin’s pillow.  Darin can feel himself soften at the sight involuntarily.  The werewolf looks so peaceful, and that’s not a sentence Darin has ever thought he’d seriously think, but it’s not enough to actually bother him given how tired he is at the moment.

Quietly he makes his way around to his side of the bed and lifts his pillow carefully from Raylan’s face.  He tries to get him to move his arm, to go back to the other side of the bed, but Raylan’s face scrunches up in displeasure and he makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat so Darin stops.  With a low sigh and a shrug Darin says fuck it and climbs carefully onto the bed, taking care not to jostle the mattress too much.

He tucks his pillow under his head and on top of Raylan’s outstretched arm and settles down on his side, his back facing the sleeping werewolf.  Raylan grumbles and shifts a bit, and Darin can feel his heat against his back and the way Raylan’s breath is suddenly ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck.  He thinks about moving, about spending the night on the floor or on the uncomfortably short loveseat in his living room, but he’s tired and it’s his fucking bed anyways so instead he just lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes.

He’s asleep within moments.

Chapter Six

Darin’s only aware of being warm and comfortable with the pleasurable feel of arousal curling hot and heavy in the depths of his stomach. There’s a hand wrapped loosely around his throat and another plucking almost delicately at his nipple, and the combined feelings are sending fire through his veins and straight down to his cock, which is an aching weight that he can’t ignore.  He arches into the hand on his chest, and he feels the thick press of the other man’s cock against his ass even as the body behind his sucks in a deep breath and the hand around his throat tightens just a bit.

It’s a delicious feeling, having someone in bed with him after being alone for so long, and Darin can’t help the way he moans a little and squirms in the arms that are holding him.  There’s a low growl behind him and then a pained hiss as the hand that’s toying with his nipple sinks lower to clamp around his hip and pulls him firmly into the body behind him.  A hot mouth attaches itself to the back of his neck, and Darin groans as teeth and tongue assault the sensitive skin of his nape.  The hand on his side slides until it’s pressed hot and heavy over the bulge of his cock, and Darin’s hips snap forward and into the weight of it.

There’s a throaty chuckle from behind him and the mouth on his nape sucks at his skin hard for a moment before it slinks its way farther down and to the side to latch onto his neck in a way that makes him shiver.  The hand on his cock shifts up and down, rubbing against the fabric of his pajamas in a steady rhythm that creates enough friction to drive him wild.  Darin is torn between pushing back towards the hips that are slowly circling against his ass or arching up into the hand on his cock, and the twin sensations fan the flame that’s burning low in his gut.

The fingers on his cock tighten and make his decision for him because he’s thrusting up into that grip without a second thought, and he whines low in his throat when the warm clasp is suddenly gone.  It’s back in the next second, a hand tugging down his pants and underwear until the fabric’s bunched around his knees and he has to squirm so that he can finish kicking them off.  That hot hand wraps around his cock then and tugs. It strokes him slowly and deliciously firm, just the right amount of pressure coupled with a little twist at the end that has him hissing out a sharp breath.  He can feel the body behind him rutting against him, the smooth slick glide of the man’s cock against the cleft of his ass like a promise that makes Darin feel empty and bereft.

Darin wants it, wants to feel that cock inside of him as well as on him, wants it in his hands, his mouth, wants it buried deep, so deep he’ll feel it for days on end.  He goes to say it, goes to tell everything, to spit out his wants and needs in a long ramble of words and sounds, but the hand on his cock tightens on a down stroke and Darin’s coming, an orgasm ripping through him without warning.  He’s spilling into a tight fist with enough force to make him see stars, and when it’s over his mind is startlingly empty and quiet and his body is limp and sated.

He hears a grunt behind him, and there’s a harsh press of teeth in the side of his neck and wet warmth against his lower back, but he’s still floating so there’s no real pain or even awareness, only the haziness that comes with approaching sleep.  Darin mewls quietly at the feel of his cock being released and then a hand is ushering him over onto his stomach.  He goes without protest, rubbing his face against the warm skin that’s replaced his pillow as a hand smooths its way across the expanse of his back, wet and warm but still so relaxing.

He drops back off to sleep without another thought.

When Darin finally manages to claw his way back to consciousness, all he can focus on to begin with is the fact that there’s a hot hand on his ass and the skin on his back feels stiff and sticky.  He rubs his face sleepily against the arm beneath his cheek, not really thinking about it when he takes a deep breath and inhales the scent of pine and dark rich earth that clings to the limb.  The scent is warm and relaxing, and Darin is smiling before he realizes what’s going on, and then he turns his head to the side and is immediately face to face with Raylan, who’s awake and watching him intently.