WOLF AT THE DOOR
Rebecca Brochu
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Darin isn’t really sure how this came to be his life, what sort of cosmic party he’d crashed in a past existence or whose puppy he’d kicked, but he does know how it all starts. He has a routine, one that he’s stuck to for years now, one that helps keep him relatively sane and non-homicidal after a day of following bitchy doctors around and getting shit for being a male nurse from every asshole who comes in through the emergency room doors. It’s not like he hasn’t heard every fucking joke there is to hear about his career choices or anything. Anyways, every day after work he puts on his sneakers, gets his hoodie out of the hall closet, and sets off for an evening run.
Even after an entire day on his feet running is something that helps him unwind, helps him relax so he can actually manage to get some sleep at night. He always goes down the local hiking trail, the one that cuts through the woods near his house and runs parallel to more than one stream before it eventually ends at the local lake. Granted it’s not what most people would call the safest place for him to run, but there’s never anyone out on the trail that late, which is the problem and the solution all at the same time, and the woods have always set him at ease.
He’s jogging down the path one evening, hood up and mind blank, when he trips over something and goes tumbling face first towards the ground. He isn’t fast enough to catch himself or anything like that, so instead he clenches his eyes shut tight, throws his hands out in front of him, and braces for impact. Instead of hitting the ground his palms land on something warm and smooth, and Darin blinks his eyes open in shock. Beneath his outstretched hands is a tanned and muscular torso that leaves him breathless. Darin can see abs that make his mouth water and his cock stand to attention as well as flat brown nipples that he deeply considers biting. His hands flex, fingers sliding over the body in his grasp for a second before a low rumbling chuckle causes him to jump back, his hands flying up and away from the body he’s just groped and his head jerking up to stare in horror at the face of the guy he’s just borderline molested.
The stranger’s tall, a good six inches taller than Darin, who’s just shy of six foot himself. His face is smooth and captivating, his hair a disheveled mess of thick black locks, and his mouth is lush even when it’s curled in an amused smirk. It’s his eyes that really captivate Darin; they’re a bright hazel and framed with thick black lashes. There’s a glint of something wild in them, something barely restrained, and that impression is only reinforced by the glint of sharp-looking teeth that catches Darin’s eye when the other man turns his smirk into a full-blown grin.
“Where,” Darin breathes out shakily, “in the fresh hell did you come from?”
“Are you always this polite to people who rescue you from breaking your pretty face on the ground, or am I special?” The voice that answers him is low and smoky and it makes Darin’s toes curl and his heart skip a beat even as he feels his face flush.
“I uh … yeah, thanks for that, but seriously where did you come from? I could have sworn I was alone out here.” Suddenly realizing just how vulnerable he is, Darin takes a step back from the stranger and scans the area warily.
He’s a grown man and fully capable of defending himself, but he’s also not an idiot. This guy has him by half a foot and at least thirty pounds of what looks like solid muscle. There’s no way his own slimmer, runner’s build would be able to help him in a fight against this guy; the best he’d be able to hope for is a quick escape. Plus, he’s been queer bashed before and it’s not an experience he’s looking forward to repeating in any way, shape, or form any time
Rebecca Brochu
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Darin isn’t really sure how this came to be his life, what sort of cosmic party he’d crashed in a past existence or whose puppy he’d kicked, but he does know how it all starts. He has a routine, one that he’s stuck to for years now, one that helps keep him relatively sane and non-homicidal after a day of following bitchy doctors around and getting shit for being a male nurse from every asshole who comes in through the emergency room doors. It’s not like he hasn’t heard every fucking joke there is to hear about his career choices or anything. Anyways, every day after work he puts on his sneakers, gets his hoodie out of the hall closet, and sets off for an evening run.
Even after an entire day on his feet running is something that helps him unwind, helps him relax so he can actually manage to get some sleep at night. He always goes down the local hiking trail, the one that cuts through the woods near his house and runs parallel to more than one stream before it eventually ends at the local lake. Granted it’s not what most people would call the safest place for him to run, but there’s never anyone out on the trail that late, which is the problem and the solution all at the same time, and the woods have always set him at ease.
He’s jogging down the path one evening, hood up and mind blank, when he trips over something and goes tumbling face first towards the ground. He isn’t fast enough to catch himself or anything like that, so instead he clenches his eyes shut tight, throws his hands out in front of him, and braces for impact. Instead of hitting the ground his palms land on something warm and smooth, and Darin blinks his eyes open in shock. Beneath his outstretched hands is a tanned and muscular torso that leaves him breathless. Darin can see abs that make his mouth water and his cock stand to attention as well as flat brown nipples that he deeply considers biting. His hands flex, fingers sliding over the body in his grasp for a second before a low rumbling chuckle causes him to jump back, his hands flying up and away from the body he’s just groped and his head jerking up to stare in horror at the face of the guy he’s just borderline molested.
The stranger’s tall, a good six inches taller than Darin, who’s just shy of six foot himself. His face is smooth and captivating, his hair a disheveled mess of thick black locks, and his mouth is lush even when it’s curled in an amused smirk. It’s his eyes that really captivate Darin; they’re a bright hazel and framed with thick black lashes. There’s a glint of something wild in them, something barely restrained, and that impression is only reinforced by the glint of sharp-looking teeth that catches Darin’s eye when the other man turns his smirk into a full-blown grin.
“Where,” Darin breathes out shakily, “in the fresh hell did you come from?”
“Are you always this polite to people who rescue you from breaking your pretty face on the ground, or am I special?” The voice that answers him is low and smoky and it makes Darin’s toes curl and his heart skip a beat even as he feels his face flush.
“I uh … yeah, thanks for that, but seriously where did you come from? I could have sworn I was alone out here.” Suddenly realizing just how vulnerable he is, Darin takes a step back from the stranger and scans the area warily.
He’s a grown man and fully capable of defending himself, but he’s also not an idiot. This guy has him by half a foot and at least thirty pounds of what looks like solid muscle. There’s no way his own slimmer, runner’s build would be able to help him in a fight against this guy; the best he’d be able to hope for is a quick escape. Plus, he’s been queer bashed before and it’s not an experience he’s looking forward to repeating in any way, shape, or form any time
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