When I wake up late in the afternoon, it's because of the overwhelming smell of dog right next to me. Ew. Why did I sleep with him, someone remind me?
"I smell like I've died so don't even mention the dog smell to me," he says, transforming back into his human form.
"Fuck off. I don't smell of dead things, I smell of my sexy aftershave. And dog."
"You smell like decay, bitch." I grunt and roll over, trying to cover my nose enough to be able to go back to sleep. It kinda works. The guy half goes back to sleep, and I near enough go back to sleep.
About an hour later, I can't ignore the smell anymore, and I get up, throwing open a few windows before disappearing into the shower. When I come out with a towel wrapped around my waist, I see the guy spread across my bed like he owns the fucking thing. I can't help but feel a little bit indignant. I mean, it's my bed.
"Never caught your name."
"As I said last night, what does it matter? I know you want to know who's a good fuck, but I'm sure if you want me that bad, you can find me again some other time."
"There's a lot of vampires in this town, it'd be kinda hard to sniff you out."
"Yeah, but not many of them have a tan," I chuckle, throwing my towel at him as I dig around for a pair of boxers.
"Why do you have a tan?" he asks, rubbing the towel against his face. Like that's not creepy at all.
"Because unlike most vampires, I'm still quite attached to the sun. I don't like being stuck indoors all day," I tell him, pulling on a pair of jeans.
"Weird," he says, rubbing his face on the pillow.
"Says the guy rubbing his face all over my things," I mutter, putting on the good old factor fifty.
"You. Rubbing your face on my stuff. And you call me weird." I put a shirt on and move around, opening the curtains to let in the bright sunlight.
"Sorry. Instinct thing..." he says blushing as I clear off my desk, kicking that briefcase of money aside. I feel his eyes on me as I get to work on the renovations that I've been commissioned to design for the library. I try to ignore the wolf rubbing his face on my stuff as I work. It's kinda hard to concentrate though, with a one night stand who's insisting on sticking around. Especially when that one night stand is a werewolf. And when his smell is kinda giving me a headache. Or maybe I'm just hung over again.
He wanders over to have a nose at what I'm doing, picking up one of my pencils just as I'm about to use it and rubs his face on it. I snatch it back from him and do my best to get on with what I'm doing.
"So, what's your name?"
Apparently he has other ideas.
"It doesn't matter what my name is," I mutter, getting a calculation wrong. Cursing, I go to correct it, but he distracts me again. "I'd still like to know."
"If you're gonna keep hanging around, can you at least make me a coffee?"
"Sure. If you tell me your name."
"Whatever," I mutter, frowning at my calculation again. Is it just me or... will that really not work? He goes wandering around my room, rubbing pretty much everything on his face. I turn around and stare at him. "Will you please stop doing that? You're making my punch-the-wolf-in-the-face instinct go crazy."
"I can't help it." Can't help it, my ass.
"I am trying." Clearly not hard enough. I grit my teeth. "Don't blame me, it's paternal instinct."
"Paternal?" I arch an eyebrow. Well it's not like fucking me will have made you a dad. Unless you're stupider than you look and meant something else... Or it's some wolf thing that I just don't get.
"Yeah. If you think about it from the wolf perspective, I just mated with you. That means it's my duty to make sure no other males come sex you up or try and eat the offspring you'd probably be carrying if you were a chick." I chuckle slightly and wander into the kitchen.
"Even though I was the one that fucked you?"
"Yup," he says as I make myself some coffee. Sure. ‘Cause that makes sense. "Like I said, it's an instinct thing."
"That's a fucked up instinct if you're the one that would be carrying the offspring, since you were the one that got screwed last night," I mumble over the edge of my mug, leaning on the counter.
"Don't hate on the instinct. It makes sense." No, it doesn't. Maybe in your tiny little doggy brain, but not to anyone else.
"Whatever. Why am I even discussing this with you? I have deadlines to meet," I tell him, going back to my desk.
"Tell me your name and I'll fuck off. Maybe." Dude, I'm just waiting til you get bored.
"I don't care if you hang around, just don't talk at me or rub your face on my stuff."
"You know you want my scent on your stuff really."
"It's gonna cost me a fortune to get out," I mutter absently, still staring at that calculation. Fuck it, I'll come back to that one later when I'm less dead and less wolfy.
"Deal with it." Y'know, I can't come back to that calculation later on. Fuck my life.
"Does that make sense to you?" I ask him, pointing at what I'm stuck on.
"I failed math," he shrugs and I tut.
"Useless." He gives me this huge grin.
"Yep." I shake my head slightly and drink some of my coffee. The guy walks up behind me and looks over my shoulder at what I'm doing, but I'm busy making sense of that calculation. It does make sense, and I'm not an idiot. Which is good. I scribble down my mini eureka moment next to it so I don't forget and go back to my coffee, wondering what should be done next.
"How'd you work that out?" he raises an eyebrow and I glance at him.
"By being good at math."