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Wolf Play, Pt. 3 - "The Hole" (M/M WIP)
🕑 Added 2018-06-27 11:41:56 +0000 UTC The Hole? I dunno, it's what I put down in Scrivener for this chapter. The continuing adventures of this human guy named Mark and his interesting relationship with my namesake asshole-wolf Hawk.BTW I'm actually done writing this whole thing and I'm now editing it - these are pre-edited bits, the edited bits will go into the Kindle eBook
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It was easy to put the encounter with Hawk out of my mind. Okay, it wasn’t actually easy to do that on its own, but I had bigger things to think about: an in-person client meeting in our office on Monday. A client meeting with a client who notoriously did not believe anything salespeople said and who did not like teleconferencing, thus the nearly all-day meeting that would culminate in a technical walkthrough by yours truly. A client whose buyer was also notorious for not asking questions on the spot, only to grill people later.
A client whose buyer was a wolf.
I had done the extra mile to cover everything that would make sense to cover, anticipating questions that he should have asked but wouldn’t. The expectation is that we knew what we were doing and we would prove it. I wore a crisp dress shirt, pressed slacks, and Italian dress shoes. One of my coworkers helped me pick out the outfit because fuck if I knew how to dress like someone who did more than slog bartender’s specials and suck cocks.
He sat in the back of the conference room and paid very close attention. He took notes on paper, with a pen. He never looked at his phone, his laptop, or even conversed with anyone else. His fellows were plenty engaged, but he stayed silent.
Thankfully, he was nothing like the wolf who had twice put me to the test sexually. He was ashen gray in pelt, wore jeans and trendy casual shoes with his jacket, and was actually very pleasant to talk to outside of the meeting. He complimented me on the very thorough presentation and immediately went off with the finance team to sign something important.
I tried really hard to feel good about myself, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t because I’d just tried my damndest to impress a mother fucking wolf and somehow I couldn’t make that fit with what I knew that wolves were like, deep down inside. Inside of me, and inside of them.
I needed some silent time and made my way into the forgotten bathroom, far enough away from most of the people in our office block that it was only used as overflow or by maintenance staff. No one was in there. I had all three stalls to myself.
I suffered from an immediate memory. I was trapped. I was helpless. I couldn’t get out of the car-
My phone buzzed and vibrated itself off the just slightly slanted toilet roll dispenser. I caught it just in time before it crashed to the tile floor. It was a Slack message from my boss consisting solely of a hammer emoji, a thumbs up emoji, and a custom two-beers-clank emoji. Great; I nailed it.
Jostled out of my painful recollection and not at all calmed down, I decided that I was going to just leave early and head to a trendy local coffee shop I’d just discovered recently. The presentation had been exhausting and I’d been sleeping terribly lately and needed a coffee just to avoid falling asleep on the bus-ride to my apartment and missing the stop.
It was the dreams. Wolves. All kinds of wolves, really. Regular wild ones, looking at me from around trees, glaring at me as I went around the mad landscapes of the dreamworld. People-wolves. That Wolf. Wolf attacks, wolves licking me, turning into a wolf, eating a wolf, a wolf eating me.
Every time I saw a wolf in public, I noticed him. Not her, usually, just him. Was he wearing leather? Boots? Was he black? None of them were Hawk. I was in a fucking wolf hole as I walked to the coffee shop. There were suddenly more wolves than ever before. Was everyone a wolf? I had looked up the statistics and indeed, the number-one most common animal hybrid was the gray wolf, but not by a significant margin over foxes, lions, and tigers.
At the coffee shop, I could finally blot out what was going on in my head, despite the presence of some Wolves in the store. I sat there drinking my overpriced coffee and texting a friend like a teenager.
[So I met this wolf guy]
[Oh yeah? I thought you thought they were creepy.]
[He's totally creepy. I met him on a hookup app because his profile pictures were all this badass leather stuff I wanted to get into and I didn't know he was a wolf.] [But then he kinda revealed it after I'd already almost finished him and I blew him off.] [So then he got in touch with me again and told me to come finish what I’d started and he tied me up and got dressed up like a cowboy and fucked me while pointing his cowboy gun at me]
[Holy shit dude are you fucking kidding??!!] [emoji of a gun, emoji of an eggplant, emoji of a white-frosted donut with sprinkles.]
[I mean I let him do it, kinda, I mean the idea was to let him do whatever, I mean I guess I think wolves are really hot while they're also really creepy.] As soon as I hit send, I actually read what I’d just typed and immediately wanted to retract it. I did not think wolves were hot. I deserved abuse from wolves, because of what I’d done, because of what I hadn’t done, because of what happened to her-
Someone started a fuss at the counter. A hybrid, a coyote, male, maybe my age, hipster clothes. Something about how expensive his coffee was, or maybe the milk wasn't right - I couldn't quite hear and it was certainly not worth arguing over.
The next person in line stepped up behind the coyote, from where he'd been hidden by the sugar station and some decorations.
It was Hawk. It had to be. Black wolf, check. Tall, check. Ridiculous amount of leather, check check check check, so many checkmarks that the pen ripped through the fucking paper. Heavy-duty motorcycle jacket with quilted padding on the elbows and shoulders; long gauntlet gloves with buckle straps around the wrists; leather riding pants with more quilting on the ass and knees; harness boots that came up just below the knee.
He exchanged a couple unheard words with the coyote, and then grabbed him by the scruff. That made the smaller canine squeal but also drop his arms to his sides.
Hawk spoke up loudly enough to be heard by anyone in the shop. “Let's make a deal. I pay for your coffee, and you shut your mouth. Wait, let's make a better deal. I pay for all of our coffees-" He gestured back towards the line, "-because you've fucking pissed me off and held up the fucking line and made all these shits here listen to your goddamn fucking whining for the last five minutes. How's that sound?" He took his wallet out, pulled some bills out with his teeth, then put it back into his jacket. He set the bills on the counter, and a few people in line laughed nervously. I couldn't see how much money it was but someone said, "Shit, he's not kidding."
The wolf swiped up the cup of fancy coffee next. "Now, this is your coffee, right? Glad you got an iced coffee. Don't want any fucking lawsuits on my hands. Now open up," and he let go of the coyote's scruff and grabbed him by the jaw. Then he sloshed it into the coyote's open mouth and let go. Instead of causing a fight, the coyote stood there, mouth hanging open, coffee pouring out over his teeth and down over his shirt, completely dumbfounded. "Now get the fuck out of here before you do something even more stupid than piss me off."
The indignant coyote stormed out of the shop. A few people applauded, a few others laughed. The wolf gestured for the barista and they handed over a towel. He wiped his gloved hand off, then dropped it on the floor and scooted it around with his booted foot. He bent down, grabbed it up, then handed it back over the counter in exchange for his own cup of coffee and a flabbergasted look from the barista. Then he went to cream up his coffee like nothing had happened.
Mid-stir, he absently turned his head to look around the shop and spotted me, then shot me a glare. A smirking glare.
Then, coffee in hand, he walked right straight up to my table.
"Uh, fancy seeing you here?" I already felt unsettled and nervous enough after all day of presenting marketing software solutions to a wolf in a blazer who just stared holes through me. Now I had to hold onto my chair so I didn’t just jump up and run off.
"You're the reason I stopped in here, skinbag. I saw you through the fuckin' window." He pointed behind me. I turned with a snap and looked - why yes, I was seated in front of a window, at enough of an angle that people walking one direction would be able to see my face clearly.
"Good, I thought maybe you, uh, I dunno." As I spoke, he didn't sit. The only thing he did was upend his coffee and slurp from it as it glugged out the little drinking slot in the lid.
He looked around, like he was checking out the place for someone else. Then he looked around me. My eyes went where his did - was something wrong? Was he seeing if I had something with me? “Come with me. I wanna show you somethin’.“ Then he turned away and stalked off towards the back of the shop. Towards the restrooms. Oh shit.
I got up and followed, tossing an empty cup in the trash. You may be thinking, if you are so scared and upset by wolves, Mark, if you are such a wolf racist or speciesist or whatever, why would you follow a wolf towards the bathroom in a public coffee shop? And the answer is, because that wolf had a gun with one bullet in six chambers and he’d already gone through three of them because I was a bad boy who deserved it.
Hawk did not duck into the bathroom. He kept going. The hallway went past some storage room, then towards a door that had a fire exit sign. It was propped open a tad to let a breeze in, so no alarm sounded when he bashed it open. The door opened out to an alley; the wolf looked left and right, then stepped down and out.
"Are you serious?" I followed. You couldn't see the street at either side, thanks to a construction dumpster on one side and a jog in the alley on the other. He walked across, ignoring me, and picked a spot in the corner of a loading dock across the way that no one would be able see into unless they walked right up. "Shit, you're serious."
All the alleys in downtown Lainsville were designed seemingly with shady activity in mind; in an attempt to stop people from driving through them as shortcuts, they all had single or double zigzags that were too sharp to navigate all but the tiniest car through, usually with a bollard or two to seal the deal. I looked around for security cameras. I couldn’t see any obvious ones.
Hawk sat down on a metal canister that looked an awful lot like a used, dented beer keg. “That dumbfuck trash wolf made me throw his coffee at his face and it made a fucking mess. Look at my boot,” he said, and held out one of his feet. There was a little splash of creamy brown coffee on the leather. “Get over here and clean it up. Or don’t, if you like making mistakes.” He casually opened his leather jacket, displaying a hidden side holster and the glistening metal frame of his enormous hunting pistol. His gloved fingers moved for the gun, then instead withdrew an ample cigar and torch lighter from an inside pocket. While I stared frozen, he bit the cap off the cigar and toasted it with the lighter. “You got a cigar fetish?” He finally spoke up.
I lurched forward and dropped to a knee, grasped at his boot, and started to lick the spatters of coffee from the black leather. His boot smelled like leather, vague dirt, and motorcycle exhaust. Without something to buff his boot clean with, I hastily unbuttoned my dress shirt and stuck a hand beneath my undershirt to use it as a makeshift rag. Then I froze, heart flopping in my chest as I realized he’d asked a question. “Uh. Maybe a little.” I looked up to see him grimacing around a smoldering stogie that stuck out almost a foot from his mouth. “You’re really something, Mister Wolf.”
“Don’t fuckin’ kid around with me. I know you’re about to shit yourself over me. You think I’m gonna walk past some coffee shop when I see a terrified and fucked up skinbag I know inside? Nah. You might as well have antlers. I’m not gonna leave you alone until we’re both satisfied.”
“Antlers?”
“I’m a fuckin’ wolf,” he snorted, sending a puff of smoke into the alleyway. “You’re not done with my boot. These are tall-ass boots. You keep at it. Hump one while you slather your spit on the other. You need a buffing rag? Here.” He reached into his jacket again - which brought all new cold sweat out onto my neck - and pulled a black paisley hanky into view, then dropped it onto his foot. I dumbly straddled his other leg, and kept up with his tall boot. I kissed, licked, then buffed. The leather didn’t really shine up, but it went from dull and waxy to a black glow. I was licking a terrible, awful wolf’s boot while he guzzled coffee and smoked a cigar.
“You oughta get yourself a real leather outfit. Pants and boots doesn’t fucking count. That’s beginner shit. Something hot. Something that makes you even more you. Tight, straight chaps. Tall boots. Jockstrap. Some kinda harness. Long gloves. Something that begs everyone looking at you to bend you over a table and screw your naked asshole while you grit your teeth and cum in your pouch.”
While he talked and smoked, I approached the top of his boot. With little warning, he tucked his foot back and jabbed it forward, bashing the toe into my balls. I gurgled and coughed and sat down hard on the cement. He laughed and stood up, then unbuttoned his riding pants. “Coffee and a cigar always makes me fuckin’ have to piss,” he said, and dragged his black cock out into view. He turned away and faced the alley wall, inhaled and held it with a huff and a grunt, and seconds later a hot spattering hiss hit the wall. It formed a puddle which started extending its way to the middle of the alleyway.
I sat there and wheezed, trying to stop my stomach from roiling and quiet my bowels from the reflexive need to empty that even a little tap to the nuts would bring. That was not my kind of thing in any way, but it filled my mind up with a few seconds of ‘I don’t have to think about what’s happening’ and was such ironic relief.
“Anyway,” Hawk continued, mid-piss. “You, outfits. Get together some kinda fun outfit, and come to my club this weekend. The Pit. If you’re not in something appropriate or carrying a bag full of it, the bouncer won’t let you in. We’re fucking serious. You got that?”
“Yes S… Yes, Mister Wolf?” I asked it as a question because in the gagging pain of the moment I wasn’t sure if indeed he wanted to be called Mister Wolf.
“Good,” he said, then grabbed me by the upper arm and dragged me over. Before I could react further, he kicked in the back of one of my knees and dumped me chest-first into the puddle of cooling wolf urine he’d just made on the alley floor. “Have a nice fuckin’ day, skinbag.” He stomped off down the alley leaving a trail of smoke, pausing only to chuck his empty coffee cup into a dumpster.
