Willow Creek Werewolves - Ben & Tanner, Chpt 4 (light nsfw) (Patreon)

Thank you so much for your lovely comments on last week's chapter! Here's the next one for you! (Sorry it's a day later than I planned - I'm away from home at the moment and I've been a tad busy).

Content: domestic fluff with Aunt Junie, in private Ben relieves some of the tension from earlier, and then as he prepares to go to bed, he finds a late night visitor in the yard...

Nsfw warning/content: masturbation, Ben fantasising vaguely about Tanner, Tanner discovering what he's been doing, slight embarrassment.

Wordcount: 2524

Chapter One (sfw), Two (sfw), Three (sfw)

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Chapter Four

“Who?” Junie asked, passing him one last thing to put in the fridge. “Oh Lord, it wasn’t Pattie, was it? She was practically pawing all over you in the pharmacy that time…” 

Ben shuddered but laughed. “No, not Pawful Pattie. It was Tanner. The werewolf boy we saved all those years ago…”

Her expression morphed into one of surprise, and then she laughed in open delight. “No way! How is he?”

Ben made a side-to-side movement with his head. “Good, mostly. He’s lived at Raven Tree ever since, but he doesn’t come into town very often. Like… at all, by the sounds of things.” 

He shoved his hand through his short brown hair and leaned his weight against the kitchen counter while he chatted with his aunt. 

“His leg didn’t recover fully from the silver and all that damage, so he uses a cane. I think he was in a bit of pain when we got to the cafe, but otherwise it —”

“The cafe?” she interrupted, eyebrows rising and eyes igniting with intrigue. “Ben…?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said with a comedic grimace. “We had coffee? And… uh… he kind of kissed me afterwards?”

“Oh. That was…” she paused, searching for the right word, and settled for, “Expedient.”

Ben barked a loud laugh. “Wolves apparently don’t mess about. You should know…” he added, and it was her turn to let out a laugh that mirrored her nephew’s.

“Yes indeed,” she chuckled. “Well, you just be careful. From what little Mac told me, drifters are different from werewolves in a pack, ok? A pack is… protective. Plus, you’re not a werewolf. You’re an outsider.”

“And a human,” he added, sobering and thinking of the grim figure of Tanner’s uncle in the driver’s seat of his truck. “You think he’ll get into trouble?”

“Depends. Did anyone from his pack spot you?”

Ben swallowed thickly. “His uncle. The guy we met when we dropped him off.”

“Oh shit,” Junie murmured, clearly remembering how angry and protective he’d been of Tanner at first. “Still, he was polite enough when he realised what we’d actually done for the boy, and he did say we owe him. Perhaps he won’t come up here and rip you to pieces…”

“Well, aren’t you cheerful,” Ben retorted. “Anyway, Tanner gave me his number. You think I should see where it goes? Or…”

Junie picked up a few of the other things he’d unpacked from the bags and began stowing them in the cupboards. “It’s up to you, Ben,” she said carefully. “You came out of your last relationship because it didn’t feel right, but you’ve been single for over a year now. Of course, I can’t speak to what you get up to with that barista boy, but —”

“—nothing!” Ben interjected with only mild outrage. “I swear, it’s just harmless.”

“Ok, well, if you feel this is something you want to pursue, go for it, but it’s going to be different with a werewolf. I don’t know all that much about them, but I do know that at least. Be careful.”

At those words, Junie seemed to go still, almost rueful, and her hands fell still for a moment. Ben wondered whether she still thought about Mac; whether she missed him, or thought about what they could have been, and whether she in turn wondered if Mac ever thought about her at all. 

He swept his aunt up into a spontaneous hug around the middle from behind, catching her off-guard as she shook off whatever feelings had settled around her like disturbed dust motes and reached up to put a box of cereal away in the cupboard. 

“Thanks Junie. You’re the best,” he said in her ear, and she laughed. 

“You’re still cooking dinner tonight, remember?” she said, and Ben groaned, but nodded, putting her back down.

Alone in the loft after enjoying some pretty mouthwatering venison steaks for dinner, Ben sat cross-legged on his bed and opened up Tanner’s contact information. 

Instead of calling the man — werewolf — who was openly ‘not very sociable’, Ben wrote and rewrote a text at least fifteen times before he finally just hit send and flopped back onto the pillow behind him.

Ben: Hey. Ben here. It was really good seeing you again out of the blue today. Lemme know when you’re free next. Maybe we can go to the cinema or something if there’s anything on. Can’t get that kiss out of my head either. X

He didn’t expect a response, but he still stayed lying on his back in his dimly lit bedroom, feeling vaguely anxious and staring at the ceiling, with the memory of Tanner’s lips against his own replaying over and over until he could have sworn he could feel them again. 

That prompted other, more nebulous fantasies, and it didn’t take long for his cock to start to fill. Guiltily, he slipped his hand below his waistband and gave himself a half-hearted tug. The relief was instantaneous, and his cock began to stiffen in earnest against his palm. 

His chin jutted upwards and his breath caught, heartbeat soon thudding in his ears. After perhaps only five minutes, he had kicked one leg out, the other still bent at the knee, and his back arched as he jerked himself off with a kind of need he hadn’t felt in months.

His hand was slick with pre-come as he got closer and closer, not holding back or trying to prolong it. 

He pictured Tanner’s black eyes flashing to gold, felt his breath caressing his lips right before he’d kissed him, remembered the solid presence of his lean chest beneath his hands, and as he imagined what Tanner looked like underneath that tight shirt and those tantalisingly loose jeans, he pressed the back of his head into his pillow and came with a muffled grunt. 

He spilled all over his hand and his lower belly, and lay there with his head spinning and his chest heaving for a long couple of minutes before fumbling for a tissue with his clean hand.

“Fuck…” he hissed through his teeth as he sat up after cleaning himself off. It had been… a while since he’d come so hard his ears rang.

He staggered to the tiny en suite across the room and tossed the tissue before washing his hands and making his way a bit more steadily back towards his bed.

It was then that he heard the low, nervous whickering of horses below him and the unsettled stamping of hooves as they shifted about in their stalls.

Something was out there.

Usually it was just coyotes in the pasture, but Ben still crossed to the window and peered out into the spring night. It wasn’t a full moon, but the sky was cloudless and starlit, and there across the yard, a deeper shadow moved amid the darkness pooling at the edge of the wide swathe of gravel.

He narrowed his eyes, his heartbeat skipping to a faster tempo as a pair of eyes reflected out of the night at him, blinking once before the creature stepped out onto the yard.

Initially, he took the creature for a bear: hunched, black as the void, with rippling fur that glimmered like water in the moonlight, but as he noticed it limping, its right hind leg not touching the ground as it made its way slowly towards the barn, his stomach lurched and he realised it was a creature he’d not seen in that form for over a decade: a werewolf.

Black fur and a very particular gait: it had to be Tanner.

Fuck. Had he heard him just come his brains out into his fist? How good was their hearing?

In just his boxer briefs, Ben tugged on a hoodie from the back of his desk chair and padded barefoot down the staircase and out into the barn. All the horses were shifting and snorting. Achilles, in his stable closest to the main doors, tossed his head and rolled his eyes, whickering and shuffling. 

“Easy, boy,” Ben murmured, trying to remember the exact way Mac had said it all those years ago. The gelding hadn’t minded the smell of werewolf then – Mac had been the one to help Ben back him after all. “It’s ok. You’re safe. He’s a friend, you’ll see.”

The horse’s ears flicked around at the sound of his voice and he steadied, licking and chewing, but there was a watchful tension in his muscles that Ben knew would take a while to dissipate.

The main doors of the barn were closed and latched, so he stepped out through the little side door and regarded the figure moving silently towards him. 

Fucking hell. He’d half-thought that he’d imagined just how big Mac had been compared to him, simply because he’d been a child at the time, but no. Even on all fours and halfway across the gravel yard, Tanner was huge. 

As he approached at a completely silent prowl, the werewolf looked like he would have been more comfortable walking upright, as Mac had done, but Ben remembered Tanner saying it was easier for him to spread his weight evenly over three limbs. 

“You know, you look really creepy in this light,” Ben said to break the tension a bit. 

Tanner lifted his head and tilted it slightly, almost puppy-like, and cocked his pointed ears at the sound of Ben’s voice.

“How did you know where I live?” Ben asked.

Tanner lowered his muzzle to the ground and took a few more paces forwards before stopping and regarding him again with that level, golden stare.

“You… tracked me?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, that’s definitely not creepy,” he laughed, feeling a twist of unease go through him. How… sane was he when he was like this? How much did he understand and process of what Ben was saying? And why was he there in the middle of the night — alright, it was barely 10pm, but still?

Tanner must have caught some shift in Ben’s scent because he pinned his ears back and took a faltering step backwards, one forepaw raised. Although his limbs were distinctly lupine and covered in rippling black fur, his clawed hands were definitely somewhere between ‘hand’ and ‘paw’, managing to be neither one nor the other. His hind legs though were almost entirely lupine, if just a little too long, and he had a thick, fluffy tail that was hanging idle and unmoving behind him. 

His eyes burned the bright, burnished gold of a watchful owl, though his pupils were blown large in the dark and they had that reflective sheen to them that made Ben’s heart keep skipping beats at random. 

Ben twitched his head in the direction of the barn and said, “I’d ask you in, but I think you’d upset the horses. They can smell you, or sense you somehow.”

The wolf nodded slowly, then took a step towards him. Just one, and then he tilted his head again. It looked like a question, and Ben laughed.

“Bit late to be asking permission when you’re already on the property, isn't it?” he smirked, but he closed the gap, moving carefully on the gravel in his bare feet.

Tanner noticed immediately, looking down at them, and he growled softly, jaws clacking together to make a point as he stepped forwards sharply to make Ben stop in his tracks. 

“It’s ok,” Ben smiled at him. “So long as you don’t make me run on it.”

Tanner’s growl took on a new timbre, low and inviting.

“You want to chase me?”

His lips pulled back in a warning that showed long, thick canines, but he didn’t deny it, and Ben laughed.

“Noted. No running. No engaging predator instincts.”

Tanner slowly shook his magnificent head from side to side in a manner that reminded him of an eye-roll, and Ben closed the distance until he could feel Tanner’s breath on his skin. The wolf was absolutely massive, and even on all fours, his head came up to Ben’s sternum.

“Can I touch?” Ben asked in an awestruck whisper, raising his hand and pausing a few inches shy of Tanner’s head. His fingers were trembling. 

Even after all his years of knowing they were real, and even though he’d seen Mac (however briefly) in his wolf form, and even though he’d witnessed a much younger Tanner’s hand shift to claws, and seen his skin burn and putrefy under the influence of the silver, Ben still could hardly believe what he was seeing. 

Then Tanner’s black nose twitched, and Ben, mortified, realised too late that that was the hand he’d just used to get himself off. It wouldn’t matter that he’d used a scented soap to wash it off. Tanner would smell it, especially in that form.

The wolf groaned though, deep and guttural, and he tilted his muzzle into Ben's hand, shunting his entire head into the gesture. His ears went soft again, folding back — two triangles of dark, velvet fur — and Ben let his fingers skim up between Tanner’s now-closed eyes and down over the crown of his head, into the thick ruff of fur around his neck.

A long, luxuriant rumble left Tanner and a tangible shudder passed through his whole body. 

“Your coat is so soft,” Ben whispered. “I thought it might be tough or coarse, but it’s like silk…”

Tanner opened his golden eyes and regarded Ben before coming even closer and pressing his cheek against Ben’s chest, rumbling softly like a distant thunderstorm.

“You might look really fucking scary, but you’re just a big softie, aren’t you?”

Tanner snapped his jaws harmlessly and regarded him with a flat look that had Ben chuckling quietly.

“I won’t boop your nose to test my theory though,” he added dryly.

Tanner did it for him though, jabbing his surprisingly squishy muzzle into the centre of Ben’s chest hard enough to send him reeling back half a pace.

“Did you really come all the way over here just to see if I was awake?”

Tanner nodded.

“You can’t talk like this, can you?”

He shook his shaggy, black head and whined softly.

“You can understand me just fine though. I guess it’s ‘yes or no’ questions only then.”

The werewolf nodded.

“You staying long?”

No.

“Did you get my text?”

Yes. 

“You want to meet up again?”

Yes.

“Soon?”

Yes.

“Tomorrow?”

No. Plus a deeply resonant growl that sounded frustrated. He shook his head a little and chuffed, like he was trying to rid himself of a burr that had lodged itself on his muzzle.

“Text me?”

Yes.

He gave one more, insistent nuzzle at Ben’s chest, then paused and gave a huge sigh. He met his gaze with those incredible, reflective, golden eyes, and then took him off guard by nosing once at his crotch before turning away and loping off into the night without a backward glance.

“What the fuck was that?” Ben called after him, baffled, and somehow well on the way to being half-hard again.

For answer, all he got was a muted howl about a minute later from three pastures over.

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next chapter ->

Ben's learning the embarrassing way that werewolves have superior senses, eh? Their date is up next, and we'll meet briefly a couple of other wolves from the Raven Tree Ranch too...

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