What Rough Beast
What Rough Beast
A Brokeback (very) A/U A/U rated NC17
No disrespect is intended to anyone, living, or dead… or undead.
A/N: I wrote this one for Niims, who loves werewolves (me, too).
Thank you, Jean.
Jack’s head came up as the high-pitched cry of a coyote shivered the night air. He took a tighter grip on the rifle, as the thirty-thirty started to slide from his lap. God damn it! If he fell asleep and them coyotes took one more sheep, Joe Aguirre would have his butt on a biscuit. Jack didn’t want another royal ass-chewin’ from that beady-eyed bastard anytime soon. Stingy ol’ sonuvabitch sent him up here all by his lonesome and bitched about losin’ a couple a sheep? Shit. It wasn’t right, not right at all to send a man up here without no help but the dogs. God damn Joe Aguirre and his cheap ass ways.
Jack came fully awake as the yipping chorus was silenced by the drawn out howl of a wolf. There was no mistaking that mournful call to brother moon, even though everybody knew there were no wolves ‘round here no more. He pulled the blanket higher on his shoulders and kicked at the fire, knocking the soft gray coats of ash from the coals. As he leaned forward to add some fuel, he felt the weight of a hungry stare, and looked out into the darkness. In the inky shadows of the boulders, he saw a pair of eyes that burned as hot as the embers at his feet. Mesmerized, he lifted the gun with the underwater grace of a sleepwalker. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, he sighted along the barrel.
Jack put pressure on the trigger as he sensed rather than saw movement. The gun fired as a large animal leaped into the moonlight, halted as though hitting a wall and dropped behind a boulder. Picking up the flashlight, Jack made himself stand. He wanted to wait until morning, but if he’d only wounded the wolf, he didn’t want it to suffer. ‘You’re soft, boy,’ said the voice in Jack’s head that sounded a lot like his old man. Jack didn’t believe that for a minute. Soft men didn’t want a ride bulls for a livin’.
Carrying the rifle at the ready, he gathered his courage and walked forward. The rocks were blue in the moonlight, and the grass was black, edged with silver. Jack could see his breath, a faint plume of heat leaving his body as mist, hanging in the still air. He could hear nothing but the small crackling sounds of the dry stalks under his boots. Everything familiar was suddenly strange and he felt like a man walking on the moon. With the thirty-thirty leading the way, Jack rounded the first boulder and froze in his tracks.
“Whut the hell?” he said under his breath.
The naked man sprawled among the rocks lifted his head and fastened his fathomless gaze on Jack. Jack swallowed hard, unable to move, or look away, as the stranger rose from the ground. A streak of red high on the man’s hip traced the path of Jack’s bullet. The graze looked painful, but it didn’t mar the feral grace with which the stranger seemed to flow across the ground. The moon highlighted the contours and shadowed the hollows of the wounded man’s lithe musculature, frosting his untrimmed hair and turning his liquid eyes to quicksilver when he blinked. As he cleared the shadow of the big boulder, it became plain that he was stark naked, not even wearing any drawers. That’s when Jack decided he had fallen asleep and started dreaming. People, sane, decent people, did not walk around in the altogether… although in Jack’s dreams they sometimes did. So this must be a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Jack flinched as strong fingers closed around his neck. The stranger was right there before Jack could blink, chest to chest with him, too close to shoot with the rifle. Jack’s hand closed on air and he realized he’d dropped the weapon during the blank moment when the man had crossed the space between them. He swallowed as broken nails dug into his skin and his feet dangled as the stranger lifted him from the ground with one hand. Certain he was about to die, Jack rolled his eyes up to look at the full moon in farewell, and the crazy man eased the pressure on his windpipe, lowering Jack to his feet again. Jack didn’t know why the stranger changed his mind about killing him, but his relief was so vast that he sagged under the weight of it. Strong arms bore him up, and he was crushed against a muscular bare chest, as the other man pushed his face against Jack’s neck, sniffing loudly. Hot breath tickled in Jack’s ear, provoking a shudder that ran the length of his frame. The stranger rubbed his nose against Jack’s, nuzzling Jack’s cheeks until their mouths met. Putting out his tongue, he licked at Jack’s lips.
“Whut the hell!” Jack said again, his paralysis breaking as he struggled to free himself from the iron embrace.
A growl answered him, freezing his blood and stilling his thrashing. The wolf man mashed his lips against Jack’s again and they both tasted blood. With an eager whine deep in his throat, the wild man shoved Jack to the ground. Before Jack knew it, he was on all fours and the stranger was clawing at his jeans. The young man was frightened, but mixed in with it and over-riding it was a fierce excitement that tightened his groin like those pictures of James Dean with his shirt off.
Jack’s jeans and drawers were yanked down, and he knew he should fight, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to know what came next. His curiosity and mounting anticipation far outweighed his fear and when the stranger spread his ass cheeks, he did no more than brace himself for the penetration. He yelped and flinched in surprise when a warm tongue lapped at his hole. Ragged nails dug into his flanks as he squirmed, holding him in place for the long swipes up his butt crack and quick darts into his asshole. Jack had never felt more vulnerable, nor had he ever felt such pleasure. His dick was hard and aching by the time the licking stopped, and he wished he had the guts to touch himself. Then something hot and hard parted his cheeks and his breath went out of him in a deep grunt as he was entered forcefully. As soon as the stranger was sheathed, he began to thrust frenziedly, holding tight to Jack’s hips as he rocked into him. Jack clenched his jaw, pounding the ground with his fist as the piston of flesh plunged into him, again and again. Half delirious with conflicting emotions, he balanced on one hand, grabbed hold of his leaking pecker and stroked it rapidly. It wasn’t long at all before he came and wave of pleasure as big as the mountain crashed down on him. Limp and light-headed with bliss, Jack almost buckled when the stranger leaned hard on his back, sinking his teeth into the curve of Jack’s shoulder. Hips churning, the wolf man thrust erratically a few more times before he gave a hoarse cry of fulfillment and his seed unspooled deep inside Jack. In less time than it would take to say the words, they were both out like blown candles and the stars stopped watching and went back to their own business.
Jack groaned and opened his eyelids a slit, shutting them again as daylight sent an ice pick into his brain. Why’d he drink so much whiskey last night? Bein’ cold was no excuse for getting so drunk he couldn’t guard the sheep. And that was the weirdest dream he’d ever had in his life. He started to roll onto his back when a growl froze him in mid-motion. A strong arm snaked around his waist and pulled his ass tight against a hard cock.
“It weren’t no dream,” he breathed, realizing his pants were still down and the ache in his ass didn’t come from riding, not on a horse anyway. He wasn’t scared; his next thought was an excited, “I had sex.” And it seemed he was about to have more, ready or not. Well, he wasn’t ready. “Hold up,” Jack said. “I’m kind a sore.”
When the wolf man grabbed for Jack’s goods, Jack sprang up, taking the stranger by surprise and breaking his hold. Jack scrambled to his feet, but his ankle was seized and he was pulled down to the ground again. The crazy guy swarmed up Jack’s body, rubbing against him, obviously intent on doing more of what they’d done last night. Jack shoved with all his might, but he couldn’t budge the other man. As his thighs were levered apart, Jack lashed out and smacked the stranger square on the snout. The wolf man’s smoldering eyes filled with tears at the sudden sharp pain, and he threw back his head and roared.
“Well, that’s whut ya git for playin’ so rough,” Jack said. “Looky here, I didn’t mean to hurt ya, but ya wouldn’t let up.”
The beast man cocked his head at the sound of Jack’s soothing tones.
“You even understand whut I’m sayin’?” Jack asked. “Sure don’t look like it. I’m gonna sit up now, okay? Easy, there, whoa now, nice and slow, everythin’s all right. Damn, you’re a big ‘un. Wonder how ya come t’ be livin’ out here like a wild animal. Whoa there. Just settle down. I wouldn’t mind gittin’ in t’ somethin’ with ya again, but ya got a not be so rough. I’ll show ya how. I seen it in the movies. Like this.” Jack leaned and the other man swayed back. “Don’t be scared,” Jack said softly. “It’s just a kiss.”
“Kiss?” the wild man repeated, as though the word reminded him of something.
“Yeah. I put my mouth on yours, and we kind a move our lips and tongues around. You’ll like it. I know ya will.”
This time the stranger stood his ground as Jack’s lips grazed his gently. He grasped Jack’s head in both hands, taking control of the kiss, and Jack moved back.
“Easy there, friend. It don’t have to hurt.”
The wolf man rumbled his frustration and reached for Jack again.
“I didn’t say stop; I just said slow down some. We’ll git where ya wanna go before the end.”
Again the sound of Jack’s voice soothed the savage. He sank to his knees, taking Jack with him, submitting to the deep, wet kisses, and before long, he was participating enthusiastically. Welded together at the mouth, they let their hands roam blindly, learning each other’s topography by touch. In moments, each was ready to burst with the need for release. Again the stranger shoved Jack to the ground and tried to mount him.
“Son of a whoreson bitch,” Jack swore ineptly, as he threw his would be rider. “I want a do it face t’ face this time.”
The wolf man looked baffled until Jack rolled onto his back and grabbed hold of his knees. Wasting no time, he pushed into the offered orifice ‘til his balls rested against Jack’s ass cheeks. Jack let out a big breath, and took in another one in a gasp as the stranger withdrew and thrust back in, still forceful, but at a tempo dictated by the rhythm of Jack’s moans. When the sweet build up of tension began to grow unbearable, Jack reached for his arousal, the other man batted his hand away and wrapped callused fingers around the hard shaft. Jack cried out in ecstasy and the wolf man threw back his head and bayed his triumph in giving pleasure to his mate. A shiver of dark delight skittered down Jack’s spine at that primeval sound of male pride and the next time the blunt cock head rubbed over his prostate, he howled his approval to the night. In wanton abandon, Jack shed the thin coat of civilization and rutted like the mammal he was. They came nearly simultaneously, grunting and groaning their way through a seismic climax. Puffing like freight trains, sweaty skin sliding on sweaty skin, they fell together, arms and legs wrapped around one another, holding on tight as the world melted around them.
Before the afterglow could set in, the sound of a rifle shot drove them to their feet. Jack turned toward the sound of hoof beats, and when he turned, the stranger was gone. Another shot cracked the dawn stillness and jarred Jack from his daze. He hauled his jeans up, and nearly had them buttoned when Aguirre rode into view.
“Missed the varmint,” Aguirre said, looking down at Jack from the back of his horse. “Ya see it? Looked big as a fuckin’ wolf. Smart bastards. And what the fuck were you doin’? I could hear ya hollerin’ a mile off, but no shots. I’m payin’ ya t’ guard the woolies, Twist, not stand around yankin’ your crank.”
Jack looked sullenly at the ground, but didn’t talk back. He needed this money for entry fees and some decent gear to get started on the rodeo circuit. If he lost this job, he’d have to go back home and work the family ranch. All he needed was one more summer’s worth of wages and he could put Lightnin’ Flat in his rear view mirror for good.
“Fuckin’ giant coyotes,” Aguirre muttered. “Ain’t no justice in this world.” Raising his voice, he fixed his cold gaze on Jack. “Pick up that gun, mama’s boy, and git back t’ work.”
“Yessir,” Jack said, but Aguirre was already headed back down the mountain without waiting for a reply. Jack fervently wished Joe Aguirre would fall out of the saddle in the dark and break his neck, but knew it wasn’t likely. The devil took care of his own.
When Jack was sure Aguirre was out of earshot, he called out to the wolf man, but got no answer.
At least not that night.
However, the next night, the stranger came to the edge of the firelight and let Jack coax him into the tent. The same fire flared in their groins and they went at it with little regard for the marks they were leaving on one another. As became their pattern that season, the second bout was gentler and went on for much longer. There was often a third, and sometimes even a fourth session of wrestling that ended in mutual orgasms. There were nights when they exhausted themselves, but never again did the wolf man fall asleep in the camp, and inevitably the time came to bring down the sheep.
Jack did his best to explain what was going on, but the man he’d taken to calling Friend didn’t understand. The wolf man had resisted all of Jack’s attempts at communication up until now, and he wasn’t changing his policy, even though he could sense that Jack was leaving. Jack did his best to convey that the wild man should come with him, even getting out his lasso, but Friend evaded him. After stalling as long as he could, Jack got the flock moving. He caught glimpses of Friend shadowing him, but the other man didn’t come out of hiding, or answer when Jack called to him. After a while, Jack realized he hadn’t seen a flicker of movement in the trees for a while and knew his feral lover was gone.
Numb with loss, the young man endured Aguirre’s tirade when the count didn’t suit the stockman. The memory of Friend licking mutton grease from his fingers went a long way toward taking the sting out Joe Aguirre’s insults. Jack absorbed each of them, the pain of being parted from the wolf man growing with each passing second, until it was unendurable. Jack knew then that he could never go home again. As soon as his money was in his hand, he told Aguirre to fuck off. He walked away, back to the jump off point, passed the trucks and horses and kept going, heading for higher ground. At a run, he left civilization behind and never looked back.
If Friend didn’t want to live in Jack’s world, Jack would live in his.
The End