Page 73 of Beau and the Beast

Wolfram's posture sagged forward in relief and Beau watched the thick muscles move under his skin. His anatomy was fascinating and Beau felt vaguely guilty for taking the moment to finally get a closer look at Wolfram. Rather than chide himself, though, Beau indulged in the moment.

Just this one time, he told himself.

Wolfram's back was broad—broader than Lincoln's—so large that Beau couldn't think of a comparison that didn't involve wild animals. The fur under his fingertips as he scratched was different from what Beau had imagined. He had always assumed that Wolfram's fur would be coarser than this, but as he let his fingers explore, the short fur of his back was velvet-smooth. The skin underneath was warm. Wolfram was unlike any animal Beau had ever touched, more plush and silken than hairy, he thought.

"Oh, down, down—please," Wolfram said, squirming under Beau's touch to try and force his hand to the new position where the itch had moved.

Beau snorted a laugh and followed the orders, ghosting his hand down Wolfram's spine.

The fur on his back grew darker and longer along his spine with markings almost like that of a hyena's but more faint, the fur a color that was more golden than brown.

Wolfram leaned into the scratching. "That's incredible," he said. Beau scratched harder, assuming that the leaning was his permission to go as hard as he could. The fingers of his right hand began to tire, so his left hand joined, scratching up and down in little patterns on either side of his spine.

"OhGoddd," Wolfram said, the word rolling strangely in his chest. The syllable tapered off instead of ending the way that it should have, as if it had gotten trapped there in his throat. But after a moment, the sound turned pleasant. Deep and... familiar in a way.

"Are you purring?" Beau teased.

Wolfram hummed, the sound somehow rumbling together with the other rolling noise.

“Oh my God. You’re definitely purring.”

"I don't know," Wolfram said after a moment. "It's never happened before."

Beau was glad that Wolfram couldn't see him because his jaw dropped open. The man was capable of purring but in all of his years since the transformation, no one thing had felt good enough to make it happen?

Wolfram drew deep even breaths and the purr continued. Beau realized that he couldfeelthe noise reverberate through the man's back.

Should he stop? Did the reaction mean he had crossed some sort of line?

Dear Miss Manners,Beau thought.During some platonic petting, I made my new friend purr accidentally. What does etiquette dictate I do at this point? Signed, Back Scratching Beau in New Whitby.

"Do you want me to keep going?" Beau asked.

"You don't have to," Wolfram said, shaking his head. He craned his neck to try and get a view of Beau behind him.

"If it feels that good, I want to," Beau offered.

“It feelsunreal.”

Wolfram moved and at first Beau thought he was going to stand up or pull away. Instead, he was leaning forward, putting his elbows on the table to brace himself and relax some of his weight off of his hips. It gave Beau better access to his back.

It was incredible to see Wolfram laid out like that, and Beau was no longer self-conscious about his gawking. Wolfram was absolutely the most amazing creature he had ever touched, his muscles flaring wide across his back and then tapering to an exaggerated waist.

The fur and his unnatural size should've given Beau pause. The dark, wicked-looking horns, at the very least should have kept him from feeling so comfortable. But Beau couldn't bring himself to think of Wolfram's body as anything less than spectacular as he scratched and drew his fingers across Wolfram’s back.

With Wolfram leaning forward, he felt like perhaps he'd been granted permission to roam more. And so he let his hands move without putting thought into what he was doing, tracing the shapes of Wolfram's muscles, curling and moving through his fur, enjoying the softness of it in the places where it grew longer and the satiny sensation of it over his fingertips in the places where it was short.

Wolfram's purr grew even louder, seemed to fill up the room, and his breaths went steadier and deep. Beau wondered if he'd fallen asleep—but no, he still moved to adjust, to encourage Beau to scratch harder in some areas.

How long had it been since someone had touched him for longer than a moment? Had anyoneevertouched him like this since his transformation?

The curse had been so much more than what it did to him physically, Beau realized. It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him, of course, but the enormity of it seemed to settle into his chest in that moment.

Wolfram could purr and he'd never even known. He'd spent his life in abject misery, even while surrounded by people who had been his friends.

Over time, the scratching changed to kneading. Wolfram either didn't notice or didn't care, but it felt like the right continuation of what Beau had started there, scratching that itch.

Wolfram's muscles were firm and warm under Beau's hands. He pressed his fingertips into the planes and divots. Wolfram's anatomy was exactly like any other person's anatomy—just bigger—the muscles and ligaments and bones all running in directions that were familiar to Beau.

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