Chapter 8
We found a casual restaurant nearby that was busy but not overwhelming. Milo ordered a steak so rare it was practically still mooing, while I opted for pasta.
“Having fun despite the sensory overload?” I asked as we waited for our food.
“So much fun,” he enthused. “I can’t believe I’m actually here, seeing all these things I’ve only read about. It’s like…” He searched for words. “Like when I first shifted to human form and suddenly had thumbs. A whole new world of possibilities.”
I laughed. “I’ve never heard convention attendance compared to opposable thumbs before, but I’ll take it as a compliment to my planning.”
“It is! You’re a very good human guide.” His expression grew more serious. “I’m learning a lot from you. Not just about comics and stores, but about… being a person.”
“You were already a person,” I pointed out. “Just a furrier version sometimes.”
He smiled. “You know what I mean. Most humans wouldn’t be so patient with me. Or accepting.”
“Most humans don’t know what they’re missing,” I said without thinking.
Milo’s eyes widened slightly, and that scent intensified. Before he could respond, our food arrived, breaking the moment.
Dinner conversation drifted to safer topics—favorite panels, upcoming releases, the most impressive cosplays we’d seen. By the time we finished eating, Milo seemed fully recovered from his earlier overwhelm.
“Ready to head back to the hotel?” I asked as we settled the bill. “There’s an evening screening of the new animated Batman movie if you’re interested, but it’s optional.”
“Could we…” He hesitated. “Could we maybe just go back to the hotel? I’d like to process everything from today. Maybe look through the comics we bought.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, relieved at the prospect of a quieter evening. “Perfect plan.”
Back in our hotel room, we spread our convention purchases across one of the beds, comparing notes and examining our finds. Milo had developed surprisingly good taste in comics, gravitating toward complex storytelling and artistic innovation rather than just flashy covers.
“This one reminds me of pack stories,” he said, holding up an indie comic with atmospheric artwork. “The way they use shadows to tell as much of the story as the words.”
“You have stories in your pack?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Like, wolf bedtime stories?”
He laughed. “Sort of. More like oral histories, legends passed down. But yes, we tell them at night, especially to pups.”
“Were you raised in the pack from birth?” I realized how little I actually knew about his background.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Born wolf, like most of us. My parents are still with the pack. They think my human fascination is strange but harmless.”
“And what do you think? Now that you’ve been living partly as a human for a while?”
He considered this thoughtfully. “I think… both forms have value. As a wolf, everything is simpler, more immediate. Scents, sounds, the joy of running through forest at night. But as a human…” He smiled. “There are comics. And conversations. And coffee, even if I can’t make it properly.”
I chuckled. “A comprehensive evaluation.”
“What about you?” he asked. “If you could shift forms, would you want to?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” I admitted. “It would be interesting, I guess. Experiencing the world from a different perspective.”
“It’s freeing,” he said softly. “When I’m wolf, there’s no overthinking. Just instinct and pack bonds and the present moment.”
“Sounds nice,” I murmured, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting, side by side against the headboard of one bed. “Humans tend to overthink everything.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said with a small smile. “Your heart is doing the thing again.”
I sighed. “What did we say about heartbeat monitoring?”
“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry at all. “But it’s loud. And your scent…”
“Milo,” I warned.
“It’s just…” He shifted closer, eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t help noticing. And I keep wondering why. Why your heart beats faster when I’m near. Why your scent changes when our hands touch.”
My mouth went dry. “I think you know why.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But wolves are direct. We don’t guess at these things. We ask. Or show.”
The air between us felt charged, every molecule vibrating with potential. Milo was looking at me with those amber eyes, a question in them that I was suddenly tired of avoiding.
“How would a wolf show interest?” I asked, voice lower than I intended.
Instead of answering verbally, Milo leaned forward slowly, deliberately, and pressed his face against the curve of my neck. I felt his inhale, deep and purposeful, taking in my scent. The sensation of his nose skimming my skin sent shivers down my spine.
When he pulled back slightly, his pupils were dilated, eyes darker than usual. “Like that,” he murmured. “Scent is… intimate.”
We were inches apart now, the space between us heavy with unspoken words. I could feel his breath, see the pulse fluttering in his throat.
“And how would a human show interest?” he asked softly.
I answered by closing the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss began tentatively, a gentle exploration. Milo’s lips were softer than I expected, and he made a small sound of surprise before responding with eager intensity. His hands came up to frame my face, holding me as if I might disappear.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Milo’s eyes had a slight amber glow to them.
“That was…” he breathed. “Can we do that again?”
Instead of answering, I pulled him back to me, kissing him more deeply this time. His mouth opened under mine, and I felt the slight scrape of teeth—sharper than they should be—against my lower lip. The sensation sent heat pooling low in my belly.
Milo climbed into my lap with surprising grace, straddling me without breaking the kiss. His smaller body fit perfectly against mine, and I could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me. My hands found his waist, slipping under his t-shirt to touch warm skin.
He gasped into my mouth, arching into the contact. “Finn,” he whispered against my lips. “I’ve wanted this since I first caught your scent.”
The echo of my fantasy from weeks ago made me groan. “Me too,” I admitted. “Since… god, since that morning after the full moon.”
He pulled back slightly, eyes wide. “When I woke up naked on top of you?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling my face heat. “Kind of hard to ignore my attraction after that.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I could smell your arousal. It was… intoxicating. I wanted to turn around and climb right back on top of you.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, hands sliding higher under his shirt, exploring the lean muscle of his back.
“Wasn’t sure if it was just a physical reaction,” he admitted. “Humans sometimes get aroused without specific intent. And you’re my boss. And my research subject.”
I laughed softly. “Is that all I am to you? A boss and research subject?”
His expression grew serious. “No. You’re the person who didn’t run when you found out what I am. Who helped me when I was hurt and scared. Who treats me like I’m more than just a clumsy wolf trying to play human.”
Something tightened in my chest, and I pulled him closer, burying my face in the curve of his neck. “You’re so much more than that, Milo.”
His arms wrapped around me, holding tight. I felt him tremble slightly and realized this was as new and overwhelming for him as it was for me, but for different reasons.
“I’ve never…” he started, then paused. “In human form, I haven’t…”
I pulled back to look at him. “You haven’t been with anyone as a human?”
He shook his head, a blush coloring his cheeks. “Wolves mate differently. And I haven’t been human long enough to…”
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” I assured him, though my body was practically screaming in protest at the thought of stopping.
“I want to,” he said quickly. “I want everything. I just… might need guidance.”
The trust in his eyes nearly undid me. I kissed him again, slower this time, trying to convey everything I couldn’t put into words.
“We’ll go as slow as you need,” I promised against his lips.
“What if I don’t want slow?” he whispered, rolling his hips deliberately against mine.
A groan escaped me at the friction. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
I shifted our positions, laying Milo back against the pillows and hovering over him. His hair was mussed, lips reddened from our kisses, eyes bright with desire. He’d never looked more beautiful.
“Can I take this off?” I asked, tugging gently at his t-shirt.
He nodded eagerly, lifting his arms to help.
I pulled the shirt over his head, revealing the lean torso I’d glimpsed that morning after the full moon.
He was more defined than his small frame suggested, with subtle muscle under smooth skin.
A light dusting of hair trailed down from his navel, disappearing into his jeans.
“You’re staring,” he observed, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“Because you’re gorgeous,” I told him honestly.
His blush deepened, spreading down his neck to his chest. “Your turn,” he said, reaching for the buttons of my shirt.
His fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons, and I helped him, our hands working together to undo them. When my shirt fell open, Milo’s eyes widened appreciatively.
“You’re bigger than me,” he said, hands exploring my chest with curious touches. “Broader.”
“Is that okay?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s perfect,” he breathed, leaning up to press a kiss to my collarbone. “You feel like safety.”
Something protective and possessive flared in me at his words. I shrugged my shirt off completely and lowered myself to cover his smaller body with mine, careful to support my weight on my elbows. The first press of skin against skin drew matching gasps from both of us.