Chapter 4 #2
“I need a moment,” Roscoe said, calmly composing himself. “What you just did to Italian cuisine brought my grandma back to life and killed her all over again.”
I rolled my eyes. “I thought your grandma was Jewish.”
“I had two, ya know.” He took another sip of beer, swishing it around before swallowing. “I don’t know how you did it. You made it taste so bad that even beer don’t work.”
I grabbed a frozen pizza from the freezer, but Roscoe snatched it out of my hand.
“No! You already raped my dead grandma, and I’m not letting you desecrate Mama Celeste.” He pulled a pizza pan from the cabinet and frowned at the brick of ruined pasta sitting on top of the stove. “You were a victim of one man’s hubris,” he whispered, running his clawed fingers over burnt cheese.
I raised an eyebrow at that uncharacteristically articulate statement. “Are you done hamming it up for the Tony’s?”
“Yeah, I think you get the point. Yer not allowed near a stove no more.” Roscoe removed the pizza from the box and preheated the oven.
“It’s my apartment!” I shouted as he shoved me out of the kitchen.
We ate in front of the television, him sitting on the air mattress and me on my beanbag chair, flipping through the channels. There hadn’t been enough time lately to just sit down and watch something, so I wasn’t even sure what basic cable had to offer.
“Hold up,” Roscoe said with his mouth full. “Go back one.”
I pressed the down arrow on the remote and recognized the show, but I was kind of surprised someone like Roscoe would be interested.
“The Next Generation was one of the good ones,” he said, taking another bite. “They don’t make Star Trek like this no more.”
“Didn’t peg you for a Trekkie.”
“Get to know me, and I’ll surprise ya.” Despite him being an annoying piece of shit, I felt comfortable. He was like an ugly brown couch from the 80s that was held together by duct tape and smelled like farts, but was still the coziest thing in the room.
I caught his eye, so I turned back toward the TV and yawned. “I should probably get to bed soon.”
“Wanna have some fun first?” His heavy tail pounded the mattress, and he shot me a jagged grin, a rope of drool hanging from an exposed canine.
“Not tonight. I haven’t been feeling all that great.”
Roscoe stood and stretched before plodding across the room. “Well, let’s get to bed.”
“You think you’re so damn slick.”
His ears fell, and his watery eyes widened.
“I’m immune now.” I pointed at the air mattress. “If you want to act like a dog, then you’ll get treated like one. So, go lay down.”
A snarl replaced the puppy face. “Fine,” he grumbled, lying back down on the inflatable bed, exaggerating his discomfort as he turned from side-to-side.
I hopped into my bed and shuffled under the clean covers while staring up at the shadows dancing from the glow of the television screen. My eyes got heavy before a pop followed by a rush of air had them snapping open.
“Oops,” Roscoe said.
I threw the covers off and sat upright as Roscoe sank to the ground, the bed deflating under him.
“Roscoe!”
“It’s yer fault,” he said, slyly rolling off the ruined mattress. “You made a three-hundred-pound monster sleep on a flimsy inflatable bed. What the hell did you think was gonna happen?”
“You wish your fat ass was three hundred pounds. You did that on purpose!”
“Did not,” he said calmly while walking over to my bed.
“No! Sleep on the floor.”
Roscoe grinned before slipping under the covers. “What are you gonna do? Make me?”
I ground my teeth and laid back down, facing away from the intruder.
“I’m not wearing those earrings.”
Roscoe shuffled uncomfortably before sitting up against the headboard. “You’re gonna have to learn to live with werewolves… and sleep with ‘em.”
“I shouldn’t have to live with anyone if I don’t want to. I could just live on my own, put all my money away and find a way to buy a house once I’m fully turned.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” Roscoe let out a sigh before lying back down.
I didn’t respond, and he turned toward me before rubbing my head.
“You don’t have a clue what’s about to happen to you, but I’ve been there. The difference is, yer not gonna be alone.”
A cold sweat woke me a little after midnight, and I rushed to the bathroom.
The bed creaked in the other room as Roscoe stirred. “You okay, bud?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I stared at the mirror while running my fingers through the thicker body hair covering my chest. My ears now tapered to a point, and the sclera around my orange irises was gray.
“Hey, look at this handsome fella,” Roscoe said casually as he stepped behind me, his nostrils flaring while sniffing my neck. There was something off about his scent, something that was neither pleasant nor off-putting.
“What’s wrong with my nose?” I inhaled deeply, and my brain was hit with what felt like a thousand zaps. “Everything smells funny.”
Roscoe grabbed my arms and turned me around before lifting me onto the bathroom sink.
He wasted no time pulling off my underwear, his warm tongue wrapping around my cock.
I grabbed his mane with both hands, growling as he went to work.
He seemed kind of worried, like his entire goal at the moment was to get me off as quickly as possible.
One more stroke of his tongue sent me into fits. I pushed my hips deeper against the wet warmth of his maw. I threw my head back and an involuntary, pathetic howl left my throat while the rest of my body trembled.
Roscoe hummed in satisfaction, his tongue the only part of his body moving.
“Shit,” I cried out. More of my cum mixed with his saliva before roping along the corners of his mouth.
I’d never felt such an intense desire to be ravaged before, but it was all I could think about.
He ran his rough, slippery tongue along my shaft before working lower.
I relented, not giving any resistance as the slender muscle prepared me for what was coming.
An increasingly violent Roscoe dug his claws into my arms, letting out a roar as he pulled me into the shower like a doll.
The werewolf’s gentle disposition shifted, and I responded as if some baser instinct had taken over.
With his hefty, muscular body against my smaller frame, he pressed me against the wall, his tongue tracing along the crook of my neck.
A myriad of strange emotions had been building inside of me for days, but they threatened to turn to violent rage as my vision blurred red. Roscoe seemed to understand what was happening, and this felt like more than just sex. It was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind at that moment.
He quickly quelled any resistance my half-turned mind put up, each time restraining me with raw bestial strength.
Roscoe was so lazy most of the time that this show of force startled me.
The feeling of complete domination made my heart race and stomach knot as though I’d jumped from an airplane with no parachute.
As he pushed forward, the head of his cock sank into me.
I thought since we’d done this a couple times, that I could handle him better.
That wasn’t the case at all as white-hot agony pulsed from below.
I snarled, gritting my teeth while reaching back to stop him from going in deeper, but there was no slowing him down.
He gripped my shoulders tighter while lowering me onto his thick shaft.
I tried pushing him out, clenching, anything, but all that did was allow him the freedom to delve deeper.
Inch-by-painful-inch, he disappeared inside of me, and the slick squelching of the invader paired nicely with my moans as he began to thrust.
The way he snarled and clawed at my neck, giving little regard to my safety, somehow heightened the pleasure beyond anything I knew.
I craved it. We both did. He was leaking so much into me that every time he pulled out a few inches, it would trickle down my inner thigh.
The wet sounds and muffled thuds of his balls sent me into an almost trance-like state of ecstasy.
His tempo slowed, but the intensity increased.
He would pull most of the way out before shoving himself back in with such aggression that my feet lifted from the tub.
After a couple more minutes, he let out a moan so loud and deep it vibrated the tile walls.
There wasn’t any more pain as he sped up again.
The werewolf jackhammered faster than earlier, and I moaned more as he rubbed against my prostate in a rhythm that made me come again without touching myself.
“Roscoe,” I yelled out, and he caught my neck with his hand, keeping me in place against the wall with my feet dangling several inches from the floor of the tub. A familiar heat spread inside, my abdomen gurgling with every pulse.
“Feel better now?” he asked, gently biting my neck.
Before I even could respond, his tongue met mine. Sex felt much more different this time. It wasn’t just pleasure anymore. It was an urge, like my body would tear itself apart just to satisfy it.
The thought made me feel gross and kind of ashamed.
After finishing, Roscoe pulled away, his half-hard dick easily sliding out. As the passion cooled, an odd sensation covered my glans. I held my own cock in my hands, examining the foreskin that hadn’t been there earlier.
“What the…?”
“Oh yeah,” Roscoe said, his mouth right next to my ear. “It grows back. Looks like yer quick healing kicked in. Hopefully we can still get yer ears pierced.”
I gently shoved him away. “I need a shower.”
“I’m goin’ back to bed.” Roscoe stepped out of the tub, wiping the tip of his cock with the shower curtain.
“The towels are literally right in front of you!”
“Habit,” he replied with his usual grin.