Haley Thistle
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Werepoodle Boyfriend: Padraic 2 (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2020-12-25 21:01:00 +0000 UTCI had always admired my mother’s wedding gown when I was little. I used to sneak into her closet with my sisters when we were little and we would try on her clothes, walk around in her shoes, and play pretend until she came home and would shoo us away. Sometimes we would pull out her wedding dress and try to imagine what our weddings would be like. I never had a clear cut image of what my wedding day would be, my mind was full of other ideas. I had more thoughts about being a spinster or widow than I did a loving wife.
Since I had no ideas for a wedding, it was easy to let Padraic take the lead. He asked me about colors, food, table settings, and the like, but for the most part, I enjoyed that he was taking the lead. It allowed me to sort through my writer’s block.
After he had retrieved my manuscript from my former publishers, he insisted I complete it. Due to the trauma and mockery I received from my outing, I was having trouble finding that old spark I used to hold. I had written countless pages, crumbled them all up and threw them away into the fireplace so Padraic couldn’t see my failure.
I suppose the news of my future husband’s true nature was a bit of a shock too. Revealing to me he was a werepoodle took guts on his part. I could have reacted badly, even violently, but instead I laughed until it felt like I was inside out. I don’t know why it didn’t bother me the way it should. I suppose I was now only much more curious about the nature of the world. If werepoodles and werewolves were genuine creatures, what else was there? Vampires? Ghouls? Witches? Dragons? Were they all real beings sharing my world but in secret? It was frightening to picture some, but just exciting all the same. Humans were boring, at least my family would be interesting.
My mother and sisters were brought up for the fitting of my wedding gown. It was nice to see them, and I greatly appreciated Padraic bringing them up for such a thing. My sisters were just as gutted as I was upon meeting Padraic and they were nothing but a flurry of questions when we were alone.
“He’s very spoiled, I suppose that’s how I believe he is single.” I tell them. “He’s a perfectionist, and you know how hard that is to get along with.”
“But he is so beautiful,” one sister sighs.
“Probably why I let him get away with it for now. That and I do think he genuinely likes me.” The wedding gown is very soft pink with hints of pale yellow in the trimming. I have to admit, the color suits very well, and I am not offended by the shape of the gown. It is much more flowy than I expected. My mother’s wedding gown had been pale green and yellow, so I liked the fact that the yellow had been incorporated in. I felt connected to my mother when I wore it.
Padraic went into seclusion days before the wedding, both to prepare as well as play the part of some grand romantic gesture. I told him it was silly, as this marriage was one of convenience for both of us and nothing romantic in the least.
“Let me have my fun,” he said with that boyish, beautiful smile of his. “Let me play the part.” His kiss on my knuckles was very much a welcome gesture. “I have ordered a beauty regimen for you. Take full advantage of it, because it will have to last the entire honeymoon.”
Padraic was being extremely secretive about the honeymoon. It mattered not to me where we went or what we did. I wasn’t allowed in most circles anymore anyways. His beauty regimen was as expected; I was pampered, oiled, bathed, fluffed, coiffed, and kept moisturized within an inch of sane reason.
The wedding itself was beautiful, Padraic really outdid himself. He, too, was beautiful, and I almost forgot I was marrying him from how fast he stole my breath. He supplied his own wine, made from the fruits of his orchard, and served it to the wedding guests. As soon as we were wed, there was a celebration. We shared a dance, feasted, enjoyed cake, and danced some more. Due to the limp in his leg, our dances were slow and I braced him most of the time. It was still a wonderful evening, though, and I was surprised to find myself looking forward to our wedding night.
Once we are in the chambers he’s prepared for the wedding night, I do feel nervous. My stomach is in knots, my chest is afluffter, my knees feel weak, and I haven't a clue what to do with my hands.
Padraic pours himself more wine as he loosens his collar. He takes a drink while watching me still standing at the door. “You can come in. You don’t need to stand there.”
I take a small step. “I am simply undecided where to go first.”
Padraic smirks. “You have written many cursed wedding nights in your books. I am surprised you have no clue what to do now.”
“Is this one cursed?”
He sets his glass aside, removing his ascot so his neck is bare. “Not yet anyways.”
I look at my feet. “I know this night is important, but I must admit I have no clue what to do.”
His gloved fingers slip under my chin and he lifts my head to look at him. “I am not comfortable being naked around anyone. So neither do I.” His hand slides down, taking hold of mine.
“Is anyone?” I chuckle nervously.
Padraic sits on the edge of the bed, still holding my hand. “My face is all I have.”
I arch a brow in confusion. “Surely not.”
“I can hide with clothes, with manner, with grace,” he sighs. “But I cannot hide when I am bare.”
I kneel down onto the floor beside him and place my cheek upon his knee. “You showed me the other side of yourself. You were brave then.”
“I can still hide with that side of myself,” he whispers. His eyes are distant, reflecting more gold in the candlelight. “I cannot hide when we make love.”
“I do not want you to feel forced,” I tell him. “You do not have to do anything you are uncomfortable with. If we need to become closer before you feel safe, then it does not bother me.”
“I want to,” he snarls with his lip curled. “I want to so badly. But I do not want you to think me hideous.”
I look up at his face, he isn’t angry, he isn’t even frustrated. He’s overwhelmingly sad. I sit up, placing a kiss upon his cheek. Tears roll from his beautiful eyes and he leans into my touch.
“I want your love, I want your touch. But I could not bear you calling me ugly or deformed,” he weeps.
I kiss him more, meeting those soft, pink lips of his and pressing affection into him. His tears continue to fall and I try to catch each one. I sit beside him on the bed, letting him cry, kissing him, holding him.
I cup his cheek in my hand and he looks into my eyes. “I have no idea what you are afraid of, especially when the beast you can become was shared so easily.”
“My father hated me,” he whispers bitterly. “And he took it out upon me.”
The scar on his ankle, I had just assumed it was an old injury from some accident. Perhaps that was the innocent theory. “You are my ally, my friend. In this marriage we are co-conspirators. I do not hate you, but I am learning to adore you.”
He sniffles and his voice chokes. “I can’t-”
I kiss him softly. “Then we will sleep tonight.” I stand up and smooth my hands down my wedding gown. “Go and change, get comfortable. I will do the same. When you come back, we will lie down and we can sleep, or we can talk through the night. No one needs to know how we share our bed.”
He looks up at me, eyes red from tears, cheeks still damp. His nose is like a pink primrose. He rises from the bed, taking hold of his cane again. “I am learning to adore you too.” Before he goes into the adjoining room to change, he undoes all the buttons on my gown as well as loosen my corset for me. It is perhaps the most intimate I have felt with him.
Once I change in my nightgown, I brush out my hair, taking out all the pins and baubles inside it. I am still brushing when Padraic comes back in. I watch him in the mirror as he hesitates in the doorway then moves into the bed.
I finish and stand up, going over towards the bed when he holds a hand up. “Stop, just wait.” His hair is loose, a sight I have never seen before. Now that I think about it, he has never seen me with mine down either.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He takes a breath to answer. “I want to look.”
How dare he say something so horribly romantic as that. “Padraic,” I laugh and look aside.
“No, no,” he says sternly. “Look at me.”
I hesitantly lift my eyes back to his. His gaze is stern but his cheeks are bright and pink, his lips are parted. “Now,” he whispers. “Come to bed.”
I am careful as I pull up the covers and I slip into bed. I lay my head upon the pillow, watching as Padraic rests beside me. We are silent as we look at one another and I feel a strong need to touch and kiss him, but I hold my urges back.
His long lashes flutter and fall against his cheeks, he reaches out, taking hold of my hand. “I will be a husband eventually, Georgette.”
I squeeze his hand. “Enough has been said, Padraic. You need not have the last word.”
He smiles and lifts his eyes to me again. “Do not think that just because we are married now, you hold dominion over me.” He moves close enough to me I can feel his warmth under the blankets.
“Not yet anyways, too new. I plan on holding some eventually.” I, too, move closer and I place my hand upon his chest. “I will have you fetching like one of the dogs.”
He smirks then brushes his fingers through my hair. “Not on your life, little wife.”
We fall asleep then wake in the morning to leave on our honeymoon. He does not take us far. We go to the coast, where the ocean makes the air cold. His home there is pale gray, blending into the ocean and rocks surrounding it.
“This was my mother’s,” he tells me as he helps me down from the carriage. “She was sent here before she died.”
“It’s so quiet here,” I murmur. “Even through the crashing of the ocean, it almost feels silent.”
Padraic holds my hand. “That is why I brought us here. Plus, I wanted my mother to meet you.” He leads me away from the house, taking me to a quiet pasture where a solitary tree stands. He kneels before the tree and bows his head.
“My father tried everything to cure me,” Padraic whispers. “But he sent my mother away, kept her here, forced her into solitude.”
I place my hands upon his shoulder as he sits over her grave. I do not know what to say, so I stay quiet.
“I burned down his home when he was gone, rebuilt something I could be proud of.” He looks up at me with watery eyes. “I swear, I will be better than him.”
I help him to stand then kiss his cheek. “It’s cold, let’s get inside and warm ourselves before we get ill.”
“Yes, of course.” He takes hold of my arm as we walk back.
Even though this house is small, it is still as grand in its decor as the main estate. Padraic builds a fire in the bedroom while I unpack my things. I find my manuscript at the top of my luggage.
“Did you pack this?” I ask.
“I want you to write again, I know you have been struggling,” Padraic replies. “I thought the atmosphere here would help you.”
I pout slightly. “You knew?”
He nods. “Paper was going missing.”
I smile sweetly at him. “I am sorry. I don’t know what is wrong. I can’t get it out, I can’t find my spark.”
“The harder you blow on a spark, the more likely it will dim,” Padraic says thoughtfully. “You must breathe gently to urge it to grow.”
“You keep surprising me with these shockingly sweet phrases.”
Padraic smiles. “Only because I want that novel for my very own.”
Days go by, and the sea is dark and gloomy with cold winds and occasional rain. I enjoy my time with Padraic, but I try to write as much as possible. Although I still struggle, I try to be gentle with myself as Padraic told me.
Finally, one day, there is a bit of sun that makes the ocean glitter and glow. There is a warmth that comes into the house, and the spark inside me returns. I spend the day completing the manuscript. It is the middle of the night when I am done and I run to Padraic to show him the pages.
He is in bed but I wake him with triumph. I kiss him and jump on the bed, showing him the bundle of new pages in my hands.
“Padraic! It is done! I finished it! I finished!” I cheer and thrust the pages into his hands.
“Is that what you were doing all day?” He looks through the pages, hair disheveled and eyes still bleary with sleep. “Georgette! That is wonderful!”
I throw my arms around him and hug him tight. “It came back! Just as you said!” I laugh happily. “Oh, Padraic! Thank you!” I kiss him. Then I kiss him again. My jubilant pecks become harder and more demanding. His lips meet mine in hunger, his fingers claw at me in need. I hold his face between my palms, moaning against his lips as I am brought into his lap.
Oh my god, is this it? Is this passion? Are we going to complete our wedding night? The thoughts are many and scrambled. I have to remind myself to breathe as the kisses become longer and wetter.
“Wait!” Padraic begs for breath. “Can I read it?”
I am breathing ragged. “Now?”
He shrugs but he does not let me go.
“Padraic,” I gulp. “If you are comfortable, I would like to see where this is going.”
He averts his eyes, lowering those lashes onto his cheeks again. “Georgette, I would like to as well. But I am still afraid.”
I kiss him again. “I cannot ask you to bury your fear, but I would like to hold you until it goes away.”
Padraic’s lips touch against my chest while his hands work on undoing the buttons. He pulls away my clothes, kissing bare skin. He looks into my eyes before laying me down. His fingers trail along my skin, making me shiver and lose my breath. I see him trembling as he tries to remove his nightclothes.
“You don’t have to-”
“I don’t want to be afraid with you.” He takes off his nightshirt but holds his arms close to his body. I see scars on his wrists, his shoulders, his sides.
I sit up and wrap my arms around him, pressing my bare body to his. “I’ll cover you,” I whisper. “You can wear me to hide.” His back, too, is covered, countless prick marks going down his skin, incisions along the ribs, thicker scars along his thighs. “Wrap up in me like a second skin.”
Padraic buries his face against my shoulder. “Georgette, that sounds terrifying,” he laughs.
I lift his face to look at me. “You’re beautiful, Padraic.”
“Still?” His voice quivers.
I smile. “Always.”
He wipes his eyes and wraps his hands around my waist. He dips his head down, kissing between my breasts. I run my fingers through his hair, throwing my head back so his lips have more skin to touch. He lays me down again, pressing his body against mine. It feels luxurious to have his weight upon me. He kisses my neck and I feel teeth.
“Oh,” I gasp.
“Did it hurt?”
“No, I uh-” I clear my throat. “I have written about bites so many times, I did not think it would feel so good.”
He laughs against my skin, licking then biting again playfully. “If you wish for sharper teeth, I can certainly give it to you.”
I stroke my hands down his back. “You mean, the beast?”
He moans into my ear. “Would you even like such a thing?”
“Would you?”
Padraic looks into my eyes. “I’m much bigger in that form,” he says warningly. “Everywhere.” I bite my lip as I grin and he arches his brow at me. “I do not like that look upon your face, wife.” He pinches my cheeks with his fingers. “I might have to bite it off.”
“You’ll have to shift then to do it.”
He kisses me one last time before rising off the bed. He closes the curtains on the windows and he breathes deeply as the change takes hold. Once he has shifted, he returns to the bed, heavy, furry, and snarling.
“I did not imagine you wanting this,” he breathes.
“My husband, can I confess that I think I may want all of you?” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Beast and beauty.”
His cold nose nuzzles between my breasts. Sharp teeth drag against skin and he bites at my ribs. I whimper and moan in the same breath from this touch. He flips me over so my belly is against the bed. He bites my shoulder and back, using his paw to hike up my hips. Positioning himself behind me, I feel him against my thighs. He’s hard and warm against my flesh, leaving a slick trail against the skin.
“I’m so excited,” he chuckles. “I can barely breathe.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Excited?”
“You want me, I did not think this would ever happen so easily. Yet, on our first night, you want all sides of me.”
“I’m very lucky I have a husband with such range.” I reach between my thighs and grab his rigid shaft in my palm. He moans loudly, thrusting his hips. I show him where to go, guiding him until he begins to slip inside. I bury my face into the pillow, whimpering as there is a small amount of pain.
“Georgette,” he breathes. “I’m inside, Georgette.”
“I feel it,” I moan through the pillow.
He angles my hips up higher and grabs hold of my waist. He pulls me back against him and I have to cry into the pillow. Not from pain, just from the surprise that I like it so much. Padraic lays against my back, whispering into my ear before biting me. I arch my back against his belly, whimpering again into the pillow. His body moves slowly from uncertainty. He stills occasionally only to move again with more force.
I enjoy the feeling of being with him, of being filled by him. And when I lose my breath for the last time, I am overwhelmed. I wake in bed to see him reading beside me, pouring over the final pages of my manuscript.
“How can you stay awake like that?” I murmur weakly.
He smirks. “I am too overwhelmed to sleep.” He looks at me and smooths the hair away from my face. “You stay the way you are. You need not worry about me.”
I rest my head upon his thigh as he reads, and he strokes my hair between pages. Once he is done, he lays the manuscript aside and holds me in his arms.
“How was it?” I ask.
“It is my favorite by far.” He kisses my neck and shoulder. “I cannot wait to hold it as a book.”
I sigh heavily. “That will never happen again, I am afraid. You will probably be the only one to ever read that book.”
“You forget, my wife, I get what I want.”
Come morning, I wake before he does. I look at him in the light that peeks through the curtains. The scars on his body look surgical and deep. I touch his chest where there is a dark one in the center. The scars on his wrists looks as though they had been bound. They do not make him hideous as he believed. Rather, I think it helps me to see that my husband is human, beyond the werepoodle, beyond his spoiled behaviour. He is human and he hurts, and I will see everything from now on.
He wakes and flutters those beautiful lashes until he sees me. A soft, shy smile appears on his face. “Don’t stare, it makes me feel strange.”
I pull the blanket up around him. “But I like looking at you.”
“I suppose someone has to,” he sighs heavily.
I kiss his cheek. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”
“I already did. I told you my father tried to cure me. He had his doctor bury silver under my skin. I was given shots one after the other. Countless surgeries, countless knives and needles.” Tears float on the rim of his lashes. “But there was nothing he could do. I was born and that was the curse.”
“Is that why he sent your mother away?”
“She meant nothing, I was his son.” He whispers sadly. “Simple as that.”
“For how long?” My voice croaks.
Padraic looks into my eyes and I can see the emeralds inside. “Until he died,” he confesses. “I was sixteen.”
I take him into my arms. “Then for sixteen years, I will press love into this body.”
His hands grab hold of my back. “Can you last that long?”
“I adore you so I will try,” I whisper to him. “Now, let me learn to love you.”
When we return home, he remodels a room so it can be my office. He also gets a new dog just for me, which he has trained to fetch him when I command it. I name the new dog Gildi, and she sits in my lap as I write. He also gets a dog named Pepper who comes to fetch me for him. Often, we use Gildi and Pepper to exchange notes, making them run back and forth as we have conversations on pieces of paper and note cards.
One day, Pepper brings me one such note card. “Have you learned to love me yet?”
I return Gildi with a reply. “Have you learned to love me?”
Padriac steps into the room with Pepper in his arms and the note in his hand. “Georgette, my answer is yours if you have an answer for me.”
“Must you have the last word?” I smile.
“I get what I want,” he grins. He walks into the room and sets Pepper down. “So tell me your answer.”
“Padraic, my dear husband, that I am willing to allow you the last word should be clue enough.” I cup his face between my palms. “But I will give you my answer fully. I have learned that I cannot stand a day without you, even when you are at your worst. I have learned a horrible lesson, and that is that I love you.”
Padraic grins smugly. “I knew it. I always get what I want.”
“You wanted me to love you?” I say with a smirk.
He bites my cheek then kisses it. “Just as much as I love you.”
“Well then, we both got what we wanted, didn’t we? Now, I want to see the beast. Can he come out?”
His eyes widen and he licks his lips. “What for?”
I arch my brows at him. “You know why.”
