#ben thread

@jadeplays -- continued from here

Evelyn stopped as he suddenly turned around. Eyes gazed up at him, the odd smirk still on his face. Her expression turned to confusion when he described how he felt but Evelyn figured the feeling was different from person to person. He was high on vampire blood, after all, and she wasn’t in the position to ask him a more scientifically detailed explanation.

The warm hands on her shoulders made her skin tingle, goosebumps and chills followed as his hands slid down her arms. “No problem, I have plenty more.”, she replied with a smirk. She really felt like removing her dress and his shirt also, but held back such lustful desires. Or were they only driven by lust? She wasn’t sure anymore. She was also not sure why this boy intimidated her, why she longed for his touch and why it felt so damn good. Evelyn looked away from his eyes after she figured it’d been too long. “Uhm, you should take a shower.”

He paused, and dropped his hands from her arms, instead plucking at his destroyed shirt. “I suppose you’re right,” he murmured. He glanced up, looking around, locating himself and her bathroom. It was strange, how distracted he was, but before he could feel too off about it, his eyes and mind found a few new things to lead his attention away.

The moon hung close to him. He could feel it, like a weight on his back, like a brush against his fur, like a packmate.

They were wilder tonight, ranging, running farther. Splitting and spreading. A scent lured his nose away from them. There was something else. It called to him but his hackles raised at the same time.

He stopped in the sudden clearing, light from the moon almost blinding. They ran in a circle, weak arms raised high, reaching for the moon. His moon. He snapped his jaws, panting at them. They were small and breakable but he knew somehow they were strong in this dance. They stopped suddenly, and a crackle of energy ran through him, snout to tail.

He stumbled back, curling in on himself, one arm held up to protect his head. He paused, realizing that it was an arm and not a wolf’s leg, and tripped over his feet again. He was in the treeline by now, and could not readily see the witches--they had to be witches, right?--not even the one standing closest to him. 

He didn’t wait to learn more, though, and dashed off through the woods, moving as quickly as possible. He felt horribly vulnerable, though, and turned towards his home, skidding to a halt in front of his hidden box. He pulled on the shorts quickly, but only gave his house a glance. No, he couldn’t go there. But where could he go? 

The moon hung close to him. He could feel it, like a weight on his back, like a brush against his fur, like a packmate.

They were wilder tonight, ranging, running farther. Splitting and spreading. A scent lured his nose away from them. There was something else. It called to him but his hackles raised at the same time.

He stopped in the sudden clearing, light from the moon almost blinding. They ran in a circle, weak arms raised high, reaching for the moon. His moon. He snapped his jaws, panting at them. They were small and breakable but he knew somehow they were strong in this dance. They stopped suddenly, and a crackle of energy ran through him, snout to tail.

A tail that was suddenly no longer there. He looked down in mild surprise to find himself back in his body and nothing else, his skin glowing in the moonlight. Something moved through the trees behind him, but he was looking at the witches gathering together in a huddle, completely unaware of him it seemed. Well, that was fine. He probably ought to find clothes anyway, and they all appeared to be women in robes, nothing he could use. 

Turning, he moved quickly through the trees, towards his home. He was not far, he realized. Skipping his box of supplies, he crawled through his open window and pawed around until he found regular clothes. He was too energized for sleep, he knew, but he didn’t feel like shifting for the rest of the evening either. So he pulled on jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. Standing fully-dressed in his room, he considered for a moment what to do. 

Ben rubbed his eyes, fighting the sleep that pulled him away from his textbook and towards bed. It was probably past midnight but he didn't have the heart to look. With a shift at the store and helping his mom with a few things around the house after, it was no real surprise he was still up working. He was almost ready to ignore the rest of the assignment in favor of a bit of sleep when he heard someone outside in the yard. 

He was out of his chair before he really noticed it and standing in the hallway when he heard a knock at the door. A quick check towards his mother's room told him she was undisturbed, so he padded quickly but quietly towards the front door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, something setting his nerves on edge. His chance to examine the cause was interrupted by another knock and he jerked the door open to keep the visitor from continuing and waking up his mom.