I don't listen very well but I like to think of it as part of my charm.
It's frustrated most of my boyfriends who had preconceived notions for how our relationship should work. However, for those few rare others, it's the spice of life. Or at least a bit of pepper for our love life.
Russell was one of those. I gravitated towards men like him. Quiet. Confident. Loving.
Commanding
. Better yet, he was amused by my little acts of disobedience. Aroused by it, even. At least most of the time.
It was a game I played in life and in love. Pushing. Just a little bit. Just enough. It pissed off my parents something fierce, though. And my teachers. So forth and so forth.
Do the dishes, Jonathan!
Okay, sure. I heard you, mom. I'll just sit here a bit until you tell me to do it again. And then maybe I'll do it this time.
Get on your knees and suck my cock, Jonathan!
Oh, yes. I'll go. I'll kneel here like a good little boy. But-? Maybe I'll kiss it first? Maybe play with the balls a little next. Or stroke you without looking you in the eye so you can't see my smirk. Until you grab the back of my head and force my mouth open with it. Fuck yes.
I don't like being in control but sometimes I need you to make me do what you want. Quiet little Jonathan Pierce always doing what he's told to do.
Where was I?
Russell. Right.
He was a lucky find. And a tough one. I was just out at the bar and there he was. The light brown skin he'd inherited from his Middle Eastern parents grabbed my attention initially but his very presence drew me in. He sat drinking alone at the bar with his hand around a tumbler. Sandy brown hair with a short beard showing a little gray on the chin. He didn't look sad or especially lonely but there was a heavy air around him that caused people to give him wide berth. So I sat next to him and ordered a drink, much to his surprise. As the night wore on, I asked for his number. He turned me down so I asked again later. It took four times until he growled at me - actually growled at me! - and wrote his number down.
I called him right then and there to make sure he hadn't lied to me. He laughed and called me a bratty asshole. So I kissed him. I reached for his scratchy stubble but he growled (again!), grabbed my hand, slammed it down to the bar and then gripped my own hair while forcing his tongue down my throat. He was hot and fierce and it made me weak in the knees. I sat afterwards and he just stared at me. It's cliche, especially now that I know what I know, but I felt like prey in his eyes. Those mellow brown eyes of his were intensely focused when he was riled up. God I felt so small. Frozen to the spot, afraid to move and just waiting for him to go for my throat.
But then something flickered in his eyes. The tension drained out of him and he sat next to me. Just silently took a sip of his drink. I think he was waiting for me to leave. That I would be spooked out and bolt.
"Jesus," I'd said. Just that. And then I finished the rest of my drink in one go. My hand shook but I had the biggest erection of my twenty-two year old life. I didn't run for it. Oh no. No way. I needed him in my life. Someone that with just a simple kiss could reduce me to a quivering bag of needs. A firm hand to my impertinence.
That was eight months ago and I learned a few things since then. The first thing, which I suspected, was that he was single and hadn't had many lovers. Awesome. The second, even better, that he loved when I was a brat. It, well, itched something for him. A need to hunt. He didn't want someone completely submissive and he couldn't work well with dominant personalities. They clashed with him. But me? Perfection. I
wanted
to see that part of him come out. It was a game to me and he loved it. I fought him and teased him and pushed his buttons (mostly at the right times, I'm not perfect) and he brought me back down. He'd get all rough and growl-y and hands-y and- where was I?
I learned why later. Or part of it. Two months ago - six months into dating. He put together a dinner date at his house. The whole thing. Home cooked meal with a bottle of wine and candles. So, I was immediately suspicious. He ignored me when I asked him what the deal was. He wasn't going to propose. No fucking way. I'd be lying if I wasn't half hoping that's what it was, though. Yeah, I know! Six months isn't enough time. He's just- he's just so charming and handsome and a perfect piece to my relationship puzzle.
When he told me, the asshole waited until I had a mouthful of wine. I spat it out.
I'm a werewolf.
Like what the fuck? Was it a roleplaying thing? A furry thing? He didn't seem like the type for either despite all the growling and roughness. No, he clarified. An actual, honest-to-god werewolf. I told him to change for me and show me. He said he couldn't - just at the full moon. So I asked if that meant the first full moon anywhere in the world and he said just where he was at the time. Okay, but what if it's a full moon in China? Are you still a werewolf? What if it's cloudy and you can't see the moon? Can you only change if it's visible in the sky? Do you turn into a full wolf? Are you fluffy? Do you have your own pet name? Name tag on your collar?
He slammed his fists and growled (uh-huh, he did) and then stood up. I could see the muscles working on his jaws and I'm pretty sure he was counting down from ten. When he was done, he said he'd show me. The next day. Alright. I apologized because I could tell I pushed him too far. I was still learning my boundaries. Plus, I was starting to love him and wanted to keep him around.
The next day, I got ready for some weird shit. To be disappointed in him in some way. Like, he'd have this weird mental issue. I fully expected him to roll around on the floor, grunting and groaning and then pretend to be a werewolf. I was ready to break up with him and so I was pretty quiet the whole time. I liked him, you know?
