Running Wild

twisted part of a fairytale

It's a giant dog.

Lauren tried to blink back the haze of alcohol and pushing it to the back of her brain to make sense of what was happening. It only helped to increase her impending headache. Like she took the pounding bass from the club to the inside of her brain.

She's seen werewolves here and there, their existence weren't too much of a secret for over a century now and humans have learned to co-exist with them. In her drunk state, Lauren tried to remember the phrase they taught elementary kids. Something about when seeing a were, don't run, walk back gently with care...or something like that.

So she does the exact opposite. Obviously.

Squatting on the sidewalk, the wolf towers over Lauren but she holds a hand out, letting a wet nose rest on it before the wolf retreated its head back a few inches.

"I'm Lauren. Can you give me a hug?" She asked, the alcohol making her tongue feel heavy.

The wolf crinkled its nose. Lauren thinks it smelled her alcohol breath, but she was feeling playful so she blew another bout of air to the wolf's face.

It growled.

All low and grumbly that took Lauren by shock, sobering up immediately.

"Fuck." The wolf took a few steps forward, looking down at Lauren and—woah, okay, wolfy's crotch is right there. "Down, boy," she tries, scooting back to put more distance between her and the beast.

But another bout of a low growl emanated from the dark brown wolf, it's eyes flashing red for a minute before it took a few steps forward again.

Lauren feels disconnected from her body.

A warm breath passes over her face, the wolf seemingly looking into her eye and saying "stay still and don't do anymore stupid shit". And then there was a large wolf rubbing its face all over her neck and Lauren feels her blood pump fast, knowing that this beast can turn his head, open his jaw, and kill her in an instant.

There's something cold, wet, and rough. She belatedly realized that it was the wolf's tongue.

(She wouldn't admit to anyone that she felt aroused because of that but to be fair, she was a total sucker for neck kisses.)

She comes to when the wolf nudges lower, passing a breast and making her shiver. The wolf sinks its head to the crook of Lauren's arms, right under her pits, lifting its head and—oh, it's trying to help Lauren stand.

She does so on shaky legs, the wolf turning and pressing its nose against Lauren's back as she tries to make sense of the sudden elevation of her head, steadying her.

They're walking now, the wolf's tail hitting her leg as it walked a few paces in front of Lauren but never too far—she can still feel the wolf's body heat from where it was barely pressed up against her waist—always turning its head a few times a minutes as if checking if Lauren was still walking normally.

They end up at Lauren's apartment complex—thank God she has the apartment on the ground floor—the wolf sitting on its hind legs at the sidewalk, letting out a huff when Lauren used its head as a rest for her bag as she fished inside it, but didn't make another sound.

Unlocking her front door, Lauren does not know the proper werewolf etiquette, but letting the wolf inside her space when she's barely keeping herself upright? It's probably what she shouldn't do.

Probably.

"Hey," she says, nudging the door open with her hip. "want to come in?"

Apparently, drunk Lauren doesn't care if it's a huge wolf. All drunk Lauren can see is a big, cuddly dog.