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Late Night Snack

By Lykanos Wulfheart

*GRUMBLE*

Bill's eyes shot open. "What was that?" he thought to himself. Gently glancing around the bedroom, he didn't want to disturb the precious auburn haired angel curled up at his side. His wife, Abby, rested peacefully, one arm under her pillow, the other draped across his fur-covered belly. Shifting his muzzle up next to her forehead, he took in a deep whiff, sighing happily as her scent filled his nostrils. "So beautiful," he whispered to himself, relishing the moment.

*GRUMBLE*

Moving his gigantic werewolf paw to his stomach, he flinched as his paw tips bumped the delicate skin resting across his fur. He was trapped, ever so delicately, by his sleeping beauty. With his hunger on the rise, he knew he had to escape the tender embrace, as much as he regretted it. Scooting as gently as he could, Bill tried to create a gap, which was no easy feat. As a large, seven foot two werewolf, his grace was limited under the maroon blanket. What was even harder was that his wife closed the gap after the first go. Three inches out and she rolled in closer, missing the warmth of his grey and white fluff.

Hating to part her from his warmth, he knew the only way was to move fast. Well, as fast as he could while not wiggling the bed. With a hasty roll, he made it to the edge. However, the one thing he neglected was his size. The problem with sleeping as a werewolf is that you tend to take up far more bed space. As he finished his escape, he fell off the side, shoulder hitting the floor. "Oof!" Though he spoke softly and the fur padded his fall, the thud was far from graceful.

Jumping to his hands and knees, he peered over the sheets. Abby moaned groggily, pulling the blankets in close. After a moment, she was back to sleep. He had done it, escaped the confines of the bed to go out and prowl. Trying his best to tiptoe, the giant paw pads thudded lightly across the hallway, down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Leaving the lights off, he hunted his prey.

The first target was the cabinets, finding the bread and the peanut butter. Keeping his loot in one massive paw, he slid a claw into the silverware drawer. The drawer was stubborn against a single digit, rattling as it gave way. Surprised, the sudden noise raised the fur on his back as he desperately hoped that Abby didn't hear. Now came the harder part. He had to somehow get a knife out of the narrow plastic divider with his less than dexterous fingers while, at the same time, not making a ruckus.

With a sigh, he put the rest of the goods on the table so that he could turn all of his attention to the knife. Starting with two hands, one claw on each, he tried to scoop up a single butter knife. After two minor clanks of failure, he tried the one finger approach. Scooting the blade up against the side of the partition, he pulled the point out high enough to grab it with his other paw. "Haha!" he exclaimed in hushed victory. "And now... the painful part."

Setting the knife on the table, he stood in front of the fridge. In all the times he'd done this, he'd still never gotten used to it. "And now," he mumbled as he put his fingers on the door, "the light." As he pulled open the fridge, he shielded his vision. The intensity of the small bulb on his nocturnally tuned eyes was nearly overwhelming. With a hiss of displeasure, he slowly peaked through his fingers, trying to give his eyes time to adjust.

"All of this for some jelly. Why? Why!?" With a soft chuckle, he answered his own question. "It wouldn't be a proper PB&J without the J, now would it?"

Finally able to see his target, he snagged the grape jelly and closed the fridge, giving himself a moment to readjust to the darkness once again. Now, with everything ready, it was finally time to satisfy his hunger. Delicately untwisting the tie on the bread with his enormous paw pads, he was almost ready to grab a slice when he realized that he'd missed a step. "The plate!" Stroking his fluffy chin, he debated if he really needed one or not. After a few seconds, he gave in. "Abby wouldn't be too happy if I left crumbs everywhere again. Guess I'd better."

Claws clacking against the linoleum, he made his way back over to the cabinets. Creaking the door open slowly, carefully, it whined with displeasure. "Shhh," he mumbled to the hinge as he slid his hand in to steal a plate. Moving a bit faster to close it, the hinge was far happier, making only a fraction of the noise.

With a heavy breath, he was ready, finally ready to make his sandwich. Bread, jelly, and lots of peanut butter. Enough to nearly empty the jar, in fact. With a devious grin, he whispered to himself, "It'd be a shame to let it go to waste." Closing his sandwich, he licked the knife clean and picked up the peanut butter jar. His tail started to wag joyously as he stuck his long, canine tongue into the container and started to lick the remaining peanuty goodness from the sides. After getting the rim and sides spotless, he just had to clean the bottom. To get that far, though, he'd have to dive deeper. Using both hands to steady, he put his muzzle in, just far enough so that his tongue could still lap up the sweet nectar within.

*Click*

Like a deer in the headlights, Bill froze. The kitchen lit up to reveal Abby, leaning against the entry, arms crossed in her soft, sky blue robe. Slowly lowering the container, his tongue stuck out, guilty and smeared with peanut butter.

"I knew it," she said matter-of-factly. "Caught you red handed."

Eyes still wide, his ears grew heavy with guilt. As they flattened, he sucked his tongue back in, replacing it with a pathetically cute whimper.

Calmly moving across the floor, she stood in front of the sagging beast. Looking up, she licked a little of the creamy treat from his nose. "Mm-hm. Making one for yourself and not one for me? I see how it is." With a little twirl, she headed off to the cabinets. After a little fidgeting, she produced another jar of peanut butter. "Didn't know we had another one, did ya?"

With a relieved swish of his tail, Bill licked his muzzle. "And here I tried so hard not to wake you. Was it the drawer? I tried so hard to not clank the knives, honest I did."

With a cheery chuckle, she popped open the container. "Nope. I just got too cold without your fluffy butt in the bed."

"Aww, you like my fluffy butt," said the lumbering lycanthrope, trying his best to look adorable. "And here I thought you didn't like me shedding in the bed."

Scooping up the licked-clean knife, she flopped it to the side as she replied. "Really?" Raising an eyebrow comically, she continued, "You know I love your wild side. Now be a good boy and I'll give you a treat." With that, she gathered a heaping blob of deliciousness onto the blade and held it out.

Crouching down, Bill let his paws dangle, trying his best to play the role of a good dog. Opening wide, he waited patiently for the treat. Abby complied, smearing the chunk across his tongue and gently closing his mouth with gentle pressure to the chin.

As soon as his maw was closed, he knew it was a trap. Licking furiously, the glob would not budge, planted firmly against the roof of his mouth. Through years of practice, he was able to make human vocalizations, speak English while a werewolf. All of that work was undone by the peanut butter. "Wah uo oo ith!?" With a glare and a growl, he shot his tongue out before going back to work at the pesky paste.

Fighting back her laughter, she licked a little of the golden glue from his whiskers, while, at the same time, snagging the sandwich. As she spun around, she took a bite. "Mmm, well thank you. When you get done with your snack, come back to bed. I need your fluff to warm me up." With a wink, she turned and headed back upstairs, munching triumphantly.

"Mumph," replied the defeated werewolf. With a gentle finger, he dislodged the sinister trap and chomped it down. Licking the sticky mess from his fur, he put everything away and headed back upstairs. "It's a good thing she likes peanut butter kisses," he said jokingly as he licked his muzzle. He already had his revenge in mind, long, wolf-like tongue ready to lick her not yet slobbery face clean.