MEN. - The Gay Oneshot Book

Bigby Wolf - The Boy who Cried Part 2.

Your POV.

I would've loved to say that things were fine when the extraction of the silver lined mirror began. But like all removals, it was unbearably painful for the big bad wolf. With every tiny shard I plucked from his sensitive skin he jerks, his hand gripping onto the arm rests of my sofa and digging into it with his claws, ruining my only sitting chair in the room.

the room was full to the brim with the smell of iron and the blood that trickled down my white gloves made me crease in concern, the growls vibrating under my fingertips, like an earthquake hidden under all that muscle and hair.

He insisted on taking off his shirt and jacket, leaving his chest bare for me to examine. It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before, but the added stress of the fatal gash in his shoulder would only make matters worse as my fingers shake with anticipation and nerves. He growls and rips again. each growl was more guttural and came from his core with a viciousness I'd expect from the man who turned from beast to man.

"You're...testing my...FUCK-" He curses as the shard drops to the metal tray I had set up on the arm rest.

"This is why you should stay still." I had no time to be nice as I focus solely on his wound, I grab a hold of a particularly large piece, dragging it out and plopping it in the metal tray.

He heaves in a sigh, like a sticking pain had been lifted and plucked.

"I think you got em all" No more growls and hints of pain.

I wait a fem minutes as his skin began to repair itself, folding over each other slowly as I nod my head, satisfied.

"Ok, that's that sorted...I'm gonna put this stuff away" I was being distant again, the only way I was sure to not get distracted by him in any way. I gather my tools and begin to head to the kitchen so I could wash everything before his rough and startling hand shocked me, stopping me from leaving. He was gentle, his fingers brushing my closest knuckle.

"Thanks..."

"Well, hardly be ok for me to let the sheriff of Fabletown to get whacked by a mirror, imagine the rumours~"

He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'd never hear the end of it, really, thank you (Y/N)"

I abruptly leave before he catches the fast beating of my heart, knowing damn well he'd hear it if I was too close. When I arrive at the kitchen and begin to wash the tools the best I can without being overwhelmed by the iron in the air, disturbed and awake. His presence in the doorway was the only thing that broke me from my focus.

"Hey, If you want me to leave, I can be on my way" He sounded happy to be out of his shitty stae, the alcohol ran its course, he was probably tired.

"Do you want to leave?"

He doesn't answer, which oddly was enough of a response.

"The sofa is free, though you already ripped it to shreds" I say, not facing him, knowing he hasn't redressed, his wound taking nicely to the open air of my apartment. I heard him moving closer, directly behind me as he looks at my fridge, having a look at everything as a good detective should.

"The heads in the freezer by the way, if that's what you're looking for~" I  joke as he shakes his head in amusement, opening it and looking at what options lay before him. He's lucky I didn't mind, or that door would've been slammed on those rugged fingers of his. I could smell his sweat from here too, it was pungent as he probably hadn't had a good shower in a day or two.

He notices my change in position, turning my way curiously.

"I smell don't I?" He asked, right on the money as he gives himself a quick whiff, regretfully pulling back.