Got Your Tail (boyxboy) ✓

Chapter Eight

"Stiles I think the controller I gave you is broken..." Roy mumbled, his face screwed up in obvious confusion.

I sighed.

"What does Y do? I keep clicking it on accident..."

"What? You don't need to click Y? Try to go left and right!"

I groaned. "Roy the controllers not broken I don't know how to use this shit!"

Roy looked at me in amazement, as though my lack of knowledge on the game came as some sort of a shock to him. That seemed strange to me. To my own reflection I thought I looked pretty savage, somewhat earth bound yet not earth born.

What rogues play video games?

"Roy can we do something else?" I sighed as I finally laid the controller on the floor.

I should have known he was into video games, what teenage boys weren't? Me and Roy had pretty much only one thing in common, heartbreak. Yet it was enough to make me feel at such ease with him I allowed him to invite me over to his after only three days of meeting the guy.

But I had this secure feeling around Roy. Not secure as in I felt he would be able to protect me, but secure as in he would not be able to hurt me.

If your a werewolf you'll know the feeling of edginess you can get around humans. Like they must have some trick up their sleeve to feel so confident around you.

But he just seemed so open.

If I'm honest it had been fun to watch Roy delve into the game as though it were a fight for his life and be continuously surprised when I somehow managed to kill myself or kill my own teammates and fall off the pirate ledge. He had this angelic look on his face that allowed every thought processed in his mind to be expressed as a clear expression.

I liked that.

It seemed somehow honest to me.

He pouted. "I'll get you another controller!" Oh boy here we go.

I watched as he got up, wiping his leg of Doritos crumbs before getting on his knees and twisting round the large cardboard box of what I assumed was school work, to reach under his bed for the necessary box of xbox equipment.

That was the first thing I noticed about his room. Everything was in boxes. At first I had questioned whether he may have recently moved, or whether he intended to move. When I asked him however he simply replied with some slurred mumble containing the words 'mom' and 'ocd'. I got the point.

I watched him try to reach right to the back to get to the box. He had taken it out earlier and practically thrown in back under. It seemed to me as though he didn't want his mom to find the box, but I heard those with ocd had a problem with wires.

Dang though. He had a nice ass. And those loose sports shorts really hugged him in all the right places. I took a sip out of the can of coke he had fetched me previously, my eyes still shamelessly molesting him.

I almost choked when I saw him jump and wriggle his cute plump ass back out from under the bed as fast as he can. His face flustered and frightened, his hair had completely changed direction.

"There's a spider!" He squeaked.

I looked at him surprised. He was the color of paper because he saw a spider? That all? I almost thought I absentmindedly grabbed his ass.

I heard scuttling.

I pulled the bed out a bit, got on the bed and reached down the side. Clenching my fist around one small struggling creature.