Page 74 of Beau and the Beast

If he were to close his eyes, it would've been very easy for Beau to imagine that he were kneading the knots out of any anonymous man's back with a thin layer of velvet fabric separating Beau from his skin.

But, he realized, he didn'twantto close his eyes and pretend like Wolfram was a normal person.

For all Beau had done to make Wolfram feel like he didn't stand out, wasn't any different from any other human, it was partly Wolfram's differences that made him so captivating.

He was different and he was extraordinary.

Maybe what he'd become disgusted and frightened his staff, but now that Beau was finally being allowed this access, was able to touch Wolfram in this vulnerable way, he couldn't get over just how lovely Wolfram was in every way.

Certainly, it was a curse to be so different that you wouldn't be allowed freedom simply because of the ruckus you would cause... But if someone who looked like Wolfram was accepted in society, Beau was certain that Wolfram would be considered incredible, a fine specimen of a human being in every way conceivable, from his heart that had grown kind and mild over the years to the physical reality of him, the big muscles and soft fur.

Beau's hands began to tire from squeezing and massaging and though he hadn't had his fill of tracing all of the shapes of Wolfram's back, he knew that he had to stop or risk interfering with his ability to continue writing by hand for the rest of the day. He tapered off the pressure he was applying until finally he found himself sitting behind Wolfram and simply stroking his hands through the man's fur.

He didn't want to stop.

* * *

Wolfram should've stoppedBeau from doing anything more than scratching the itch.

He shouldn’t take advantage of Beau in that way. Wolfram had allowed himself to acknowledge his attraction to Beau, and using this as an excuse for the other man to touch him would be like making up a fake ailment to go see a doctor one had a crush on. It was dishonest and it was beneath him.

But Wolfram was a weak man, in the end. There was no avoiding that reality.

And what a wonder it was, to purr.

He probably should've been embarrassed. It seemed like in the world of humans, any time your body did something without your explicit permission or direction, it was deemed embarrassing. Burping and flatulence, yes, but also things like blushing, nosebleeds, voice cracks, and inconvenient erections—these were all things people were taught to hide or feel ashamed of, not to celebrate.

Be that as it may, there was no explicit set of human directions for purring. Maybe Wolfram never would've made the connection between the sound he was making and the same sounds little housecats made unless Beau had been there to point it out—but he was also sure that had Beau not been there, Wolfram would never have discovered this newfound ability.

Just to have someone else's hands on him, moving in a loving way...

Was it wrong for him to think of it as loving?

Surely Beau felt something for him other than revulsion. Yes, Beau was quick to go to anyone's aid. But would he have made himself comfortable behind Wolfram, continued to caress him, if he found the task so horrible?

Caring, Wolfram decided. He wouldn't assign a word so controversial and dripping with emotion as "loving"—but Beau's actions were clearly caring.

A decade of tension had built up in the muscles of his back, and as Beau's scratching turned to kneading, Wolfram felt as if he might melt, as if the bones of his body were gone and all that was left was muscle and skin and fur.

The path Beau's hands made always seemed to come back to the center of Wolfram's spine where his fur grew the longest. Beau twisted his nimble fingers there, feeling the hair, twining it through his digits.

Before the curse, Wolfram had never kept the hair on his head long enough for any lover to play with it. He had nothing to compare the sensation to. But he would've bet his fortune that whatever he was feeling in that moment was exponentially better than the sensation of someone running their fingers through a normal human head of hair.

All of it together was so good, so long overdue. Wolfram would've moaned at the pleasure of it all but the purring seemed to take the place of an utterance like that. The vibration felt somehow right, comforting as it started in the low center of his throat and expanded outward, reverberating up into the bones of his jaw and down into his chest, his ribcage.

How had he gone so long without feeling this way?

How could he ever go back to not having anyone willing to touch him, now that he knew this was possible?

As Beau wound down his touching, Wolfram found himself growing deeply sad.

Beau was just trying to be a friend to him and Wolfram had been so cruel in those first days, working against him, ordering him around, and then making him the object of a seedy fantasy.

Beau was so kind, so good. He deserved better treatment than what he'd had so far at his host's hands.

You'll treat him better from here on out, he promised himself.Keep your temper in check.

Beau seemed to linger behind him far longer than Wolfram thought he would, no longer scratching or applying pressure but simply playing his hands in smaller and smaller patterns through the fur of his back.

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