cristo + jack; these are things your momma shouldn't know
Who: Cristofolo and Jack
What: christ i don't even know. gnawing on each other? mutual fanboy? we play our own version of creeper chicken?
When: a week from this
Where: Lord Snufflywumpkins' room
Warnings: strong pg-13??? there is blood and boners. this is officially your skinemax teenwolf parody, gh.
Even after the funeral, he'd kept his old rooms, leaving his father's for his mother to keep. He hadn't thought to ask if she wanted them, but the idea of giving his mother a room with a tunnel made him nervous. He could smell intruders, should anyone find it and attempt to break in. His mother couldn't. Even safe in his father's rooms he worried; perhaps he could convince Jack to sleep outside her door, or at the foot of her bed. She might not like having a wolf so near, but for all Jack's faults he knew the older wolf would protect his mother if someone sought to harm her.
The wolf padded beside him now as Cristo took the stairs. His guards were still visibly uneasy with the beast trailing their Lord, but 'Rom' was nothing if not friendly. It'd been... a relief, as much as it surprised him, to have Jack at his side like this. It reminded him of what he was. And, although he was still too hesitant to ever admit it to Jack - the older man would be insufferably smug about it - it also reminded him of how little he had to be afraid of. The men he met with to settle debts, to manage his accounts, all stammered and faltered and gave nervous glances to the wolf at his side. Cristofolo, in turn, had scratched and petted at Jack without a hint of fear. It had made the men all the more nervous.
He opened the door to his room and let the wolf inside first, then shut and latched it behind them both. The first thing he did was strip off his gloves and flex his hands with a wince. His claws grew back remarkably fast, and his fingers cramped when he kept them too long shoved inside his gloves. "That accountant," he said with a faint smile, still stretching his hands, "He almost wet himself at the sight of you."
It had been a strange week for Jack. Being Cristofolo's hunting beast meant he could no longer spend so much time at his uncle's shop. He'd admitted the truth to his uncle insofar as to say he had a friend he needed to protect. His uncle was a smart man, he knew, and he'd figure it out eventually when rumours began to swirl that the new Lord Sabreme walked beside a wolf.
He enjoyed his time as Rom, though he found himself growing less bored of noble talk and more anxious to be outside. It was too easy to let his thoughts turn to feral things. The heartbeat of frightened men or the smell of their sweat, even the cheeping and rustling of birds outside the windows. Even his human form was beginning to feel awkward, his limbs sore in strange places from where they became flanks and paws.
It was with a wince that he shifted back, one hand immediately rubbing at the opposite wrist with a frown. "He did a bit, yeah? Stank like piss, anyway." His back cracked loudly as he stood and reached for a freshly folded blanket at the food of Cristofolo's bed. Some of the maids had balked at the sudden rise of hair that littered Cristofolo's things, but he liked having the blankets cleaned every day. His fur was as irritating to his human skin as sand was between his paws.
He glanced over his shoulder when Jack spoke, eyes drifting before he smiled shyly and looked back to his hands. By now he ought to be used to the sight of the other man naked, but it was still a surprise to turn and see so much pale, muscled skin. "He did," Cristofolo agreed, shrugging out of his jacket and loosening the cuffs of his undershirt. It was sweltering in Tyrol, another still summer day that made him yearn for a lake or a cool bath. If only they could get away with leaving more often... but no, he had responsibilities here.
"Your uncle," he said after a pause, glancing over to Jack again. "He is alright without you?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Got loads of his own kids to boss around." Loving every minute of it, too, if he knew his uncle. He let out a puff of breath to blow a curl out of his eyes and looked around the room with another small frown. The Sabreme household could have fit multiples of his own inside of it, but even a room as large as Cristofolo's still felt too tiny. He finished his survey of disappointment with a slow circle and headed for the bed, blanket brushing the back of his knees as he walked. The sheets were cool from their absence, and he had to resist sprawling facedown on them instead of simply sitting at the edge.
"Are we done for the day?" He watched Cristofolo adjust himself with a swipe of his tongue at the side of his mouth, a movement that felt (and looked) natural when he was a wolf. "It's too hot. I'm tired."
"If," Cristofolo started hesitantly, "If it hurts his business, having you gone, tell me. I can pay him for your time here." Even as he said it he wondered if the suggestion would anger Jack rather than satisfy him. The older wolf took offense to anything that suggested Cristofolo's status as a Lord. He doubted it was simple jealousy; he suspected it had something more to do with animal dominance, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.
"Yes, we're done. If I have to sign another thing my hand will fall off." He pulled his shirt off over his head and shook his hands through his hair, wincing when it was damp from sweat.
Whether it was the heat, his own fatigue, or his time shifted, he did not immediately balk at the offer. Instead he only gave Cristofolo a wan smile, eyes lingering on the newly exposed dark skin. "He doesn't know about you," he shrugged. "He'd say something if it did."
He flexed his wrist with a wince. "At least you don't walk on your hands all the time." A thread of annoyance niggled at him that Cristofolo would complain over something like that. His hand couldn't fall off. Jack let himself fall back to the bed with a thump, curls falling over the top half of his face in a black heap. "I'm hungry."
Hungry? Cristofolo frowned, arms falling back to his sides. "We don't have any more food here. We ate the last... yesterday," he said after a thoughtful grimace. By himself, he'd managed to eat only as much as he needed to, but with Jack beside him... watching the other wolf eat made him hungry in kind, and they'd quickly gone through every kill they'd dragged back.
He'd known that, too. His mouth opened to suggest a hunt, but quickly closed again when he considered the heat and his own malaise. Jack felt out of sorts, tired, and ready to do nothing besides burrow himself into a block of ice and lay there for a day.
"I'm still hungry," he said, and propped himself up on his elbows with a toss of his head to look at the young wolf. His frown slowly faded as an idea took shape. He'd fed Cristofolo before from his own veins. The same could be done in kind. "Come here." The smile he gave his young wolf was one full of teeth.
The smile was worrying, but he did as he was told. The bed creaked softly when he leaned a knee on it, and Cristofolo waited, uncomfortable with the other wolf's predatory stare. Jack was... disarmingly pretty, sometimes, when he smiled. Now it was something else, something that made him wonder if he'd be nursing more bruises for the rest of the night. The other wolf seemed to think that their accelerated healing meant that casual violence was more playing than anything, something Cristofolo had yet to get used to. Nobles did not touch, let alone hit one another.
It was a chore to keep his eyes from lingering on the young wolf's chest. Cristofolo was lean where he was thick and dark where he was pale. The differences between them was enough for him to be entertained and amused for awhile, that he found it attractive was only a plus. What Cristofolo thought of it, he didn't say. Sometimes he thought the younger man smug over how much he stared.
His tongue flicked at his lower lip before his eyes moved back to the young wolf's face. "Which hand do you write with?"
The swipe of Jack's tongue didn't go unnoticed. The older wolf stared more than was comfortable, but Cristofolo never said a word. In a way, he did like it. Only the whores at Inanna's stared at him so boldly, but Jack's stares were different. Admiration more than crude lust... but maybe both, sometimes.
Cristofolo lifted his right hand in answer, still puzzled. "My right. Why?" It was only another sign of Jack's upbringing that he would even ask; it would've been unacceptable in his family's eyes if he'd been left-handed.
He pushed the offered hand away from him with another smile. "Give me the other one."
Whichever arm he fed from wouldn't matter to him in theory, but he suspected Cristofolo would only howl and complain more if he had to use the arm in question. More credence to his hand falling off theory, if anything. His elbows moved from underneath him and he fell flat with a quiet thump, clawed hands held out expectantly.
Cristofolo glanced down to his arm, then leaned further to hold it out, resting his weight on his knees and his other hand. Was he going to- to feed from him? He hesitated, eyebrows knitting in concern. Would it hurt? He remembered when Jack had done the same for him, remembered how good it had tasted. He swallowed his protest and wet his lips instead, watching and waiting.
His claws were now in prime condition. Whole and shiny where they'd previously been cracked. He'd sat through the Sabreme's houndmaster taking a file to them with what he considered incredible patience. Only when the man had squeezed his paws too roughly did he snap at him, though he snarled the entire time. The yellowed tip of one dragged over the underside of Cristofolo's forearm now, mouth watering as he traced the visible line of veins under the skin.
All thought of what he'd been about to say to the young wolf evaporated from his mind. Whether it was a thank you or a warning left him as he tilted the claw to pierce skin. The vein beneath opened with a similar push, and he brought the arm to his mouth to suck greedily at it.
Cristofolo sucked in a sharp breath, flinching when he felt Jack begin to suck the blood from the wound. It felt strange, unpleasant. His veins felt tight, and each suck made his head spin. "Jj--" he started, then stopped. He couldn't protest this. Jack had done the same for him. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, lips parted as he tried to distract himself from the sensation. The brush of Jack's lips wasn't unpleasant, Cristofolo admitted, and when he glanced down again he caught himself staring at the older man's expression. It was... it was almost vulgar, the way he looked.
The young wolf swallowed and looked away again. He could feel the flush rising in his cheeks, and was all too aware of the warmth settling low in his stomach. Jack would notice. He would tease him... Cristofolo shut his eyes briefly, then opened them to look back down at Jack, flustered and uneasy. "Jack, that is- that is enough..."
Was it enough? The blood coursing down his throat was hot and satisfying. It tasted differently from a human's blood. He wondered all once what a vampire, redcap, or werecat would taste like. Would each one be as rich as his own young wolf? Probably not.
Another smell besides blood crept past his nose as he fed. His eyes darted to Cristofolo's face. The flush of his skin and uneasy breath made Jack snort against the skin pressed to his mouth, eyebrows raised. The claw he'd been using to hold opened the wound shifted to cut wider, his compromise to the ache his teeth felt to scissor and tear. His eyes slipped shut as blood began to flow anew. Just a few more mouthfuls..
He flushed darker at the snort, frowning helplessly. "Jack," he repeated. The new cut made him hiss again, and he started to lean away, trying to pull his arm with him. "S- Stop." Each throb of blood that left his arm made him feel dizzier, but it didn't diminish his body's reaction to the suck and press of Jack's lips. "Jack," he said again, this time angrily.
The more Cristofolo jerked his arm, the more intent he was on sucking more blood from it. Only when he finally felt full did he pull his lips away from it and lick at it slowly until he was satisfied the bleeding had come to a stop. His head fell back with a long, satisfied groan. "Your blood tastes really good, did you know?" It was a wonder all the mosquitoes in Tyrol weren't attached to Cristofolo at that very moment.
His belly felt warm and hunger sated. He licked at his mouth carefully sucked the blood from his claw. He could still plainly smell Cristofolo's arousal as a result of what he'd done. It left him feeling a strange satisfaction as he looked to the other man's face, taking in the sight of him.
"No," he muttered, half to himself. He drew his arm back and tilted it to see where Jack had broken the skin, but all that was there now was a faint pink line. "I didn't." Cristofolo brushed his thumb over the spot, then looked back to the older wolf. His smugness was apparent; he was still looking at him in the same way he had before: curious, predatory.
He turned to sit, back facing Jack, and rubbed a hand at his forehead. He was still lightheaded, still flustered. After a moment's hesitation, he looked over his shoulder at the other wolf. "Will you give me some of yours?"
The smell of Cristofolo's arousal was still plainly in the air. It was something he didn't know could happen, or why. He'd never left his prey alive long enough to notice if it effected them in the same way. There was something comforting about knowing it made Cristofolo the same way, and he felt strangely closer to him for it.
Jack licked at his lips again and turned himself to lay on his side, tugging the blanket over him as he did. "If you want," he said softly, shoulders tense with anticipation and curiosity.
He said nothing for a moment, stayed motionless, hesitating, and then rolled back onto his hands and knees. With Jack on his side, there was only one option for which arm to pick, and he lifted it and turned it over so the pale skin of Jack's forearm faced upward. He could see the faint jump of pulse in his veins, and Cristofolo wet his lips and swallowed, gold eyes everywhere but Jack's face.
His claw glinted when he pressed it to the older wolf's forearm, and he drew it across the skin in a quick slice. The smell of blood was immediate, and Cristofolo lifted Jack's arm to press his mouth against the wound, lapping and sucking as his eyes fell shut.
The first suck of blood from his veins made him grunt with discomfort. It wasn't natural, to feel his blood swirling in a way it wasn't meant to. He watched Cristofolo's face uneasily. Even with blood staining his face and dripping from his chin, he still looked beautiful. The next suck of blood felt as if it was pulled directly from his belly. He hissed and shut his eyes, turning his face away into the mattress. It was embarrassing as it had been the first time, only now the young wolf knew exactly what he was doing.
Jack's thoughts were both lustful and confused. Did he want him to feel this way? Cristofolo only fucked whores. Would he be offended if he kissed him? Did he want to? "Not too much," he mumbled, voice muffled further by the sheets.
His eyes opened to gold slits, and he watched Jack squirm with shy, uneasy pride. The older wolf wasn't immune to discomfort and embarrassment. For a moment Cristofolo felt guilty, but then he swallowed another mouthful of blood and felt nothing at all except a need to keep drinking. He could smell Jack's arousal too. It wasn't a matter of whether the other wolf wanted this; he knew he did. All the staring, all the times he'd told Cristofolo he was beautiful. But did he want it? He'd only ever had passing interest in men, but Jack was different. Not a man, not really, but a wolf... and he was curious, and - for once - eager to please. Would Jack be kinder to him if he returned his interest?
Cristofolo eased his mouth away when the flow of blood slowed, then licked the wound clean in short brushes of his tongue, eyebrows furrowed. Jack was right. It tasted better than anything.
Once Cristofolo's grip had loosened enough he twisted his arm away and tucked it back against him. He still held his face to the sheets, breathing ragged. His mind was spinning. In a way, it was exactly what he wanted. A true friend to share in all aspects of his life. Wanting to kiss Cristofolo shouldn't have felt strange. Attraction shouldn't have felt strange. They were the same creature, they were without clothes all the time. It was natural to stare.
When he felt he'd rationalised it enough, he pushed up onto his hand with a loud sigh. Where Cristofolo had cut him gave a twinge of pain in protest, but it was fleeting. His eyes searched the young wolf's for any sign of immediate protest, then cupped his chin with a clawed hand and brought their mouths together.
Cristofolo's eyes shut. He let Jack kiss him for a moment, immobile and hesitant, before he raised a hand to grip one of the other wolf's shoulders. It wasn't like kissing Gomer or any of the other girls at Inanna's. Jack's lips were rougher, and he could feel their beards scratching together, feel the muscles of Jack's jaw. It was exciting and strange, but he didn't know what was expected of him. He kissed him back, lips brushing in soft, eager strokes.
Was it his blood he tasted or Jack's? The smell of him this close was intoxicating, and the hand he gripped Jack's shoulder with tightened and flexed.
He took the squeeze to his shoulder and prick of claws against his skin as encouragement. His hand moved from Cristofolo's chin to the back of his neck, anchoring them together. He felt as if he might never stop kissing the other man, partly out desire and fear. If they stopped, Cristofolo might begin to doubt what he was doing. He caught Cristofolo's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, and his tongue swept over the area soon after. His claws tugged at the hairs at the back of Cristofolo's head.
Eventually Jack did pull away, breath ragged when he did. This felt right. He bit at his bottom lip, head tilting back to look at the younger wolf. His lips were swollen as he imagined his own were, the area around his mouth red from the scratch of their beards.
>
His eyes opened when Jack pulled away, and he stared, dazed. Had he done something wrong? Why had he stopped? But no, the look Jack was giving him was anything but offended or irritated. Cristofolo swallowed, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths he tried to calm. His scalp stung from where the older man had twisted and tugged at his hair, and his lips felt almost numb.
He swallowed, uneasy now that they were apart. Should he say something? What would he say? 'That wasn't so bad'. 'Bet you've wanted to do that for months'. 'I've wanted to do that for months.' Instead, all he managed out was a slightly timid, cautious, "Good?" He winced almost as soon as he'd said it. What did that even mean?
"No." Wait--
Jack winced, too, and leaned back to sit upright. "Um." He frowned. He'd said the wrong thing straight away, and now his thoughts were muddle with anger and embarrassment. It was lucky that his face was already flushed. "That's not what I meant," he started, eyes darting away from Cristofolo to glare at the bed. "It wasn't good." Shit--
Why did his brain work this way? He gave Cristofolo a long, silent, frustrated look. It was great! "I gotta go." Fuck--
No. No? Cristofolo's mouth moved, and he stared at Jack while the older man scowled and snapped at him. What? He was confused more than offended; it had been Jack to pull him into the kiss, Jack that had always stared at him. He hadn't liked it?
"G--..." The young wolf wet his lips with a frown, still trying to wrap his thoughts around what was happening. "Go? Go where?"
His eyes lingered on Cristofolo's lips as he spoke, his tongue flicking out at his own. "I'm not." He shook his head. Going anywhere wouldn't solve anything permanently, that much he knew. It would be nice to be away from Cristofolo for awhile and bury his head in the sand, but he'd still have to come back. They were both into the facade of Rom now. And while he hadn't said as much to him, he was beginning to understand the young lord's penchant for paranoia.
"I'm really.. bad," he managed finally, mouth turned down in a frustrated frown. "At words." It felt like pulling his own teeth out, to extract a complete thought from his mouth. "All the time."
Cristofolo watched him silently. After a moment, he nodded, mouth twitching into a quick grimace. "I know." Some of the things that Jack said to him were awful, yet the man himself didn't seem unkind. He'd learned to simply ignore half of what came out of the older wolf's mouth. But, when it came to things like this... 'No'? 'It wasn't good'? He held in his restlessness and nodded again.
"It's alright," he said after a moment. "I shouldn't have asked." He knew the effect taking Jack's blood would have on him, but he'd done it anyway to... what? Embarrassed as he was to admit it, he knew he'd wanted to arouse Jack. He was curious. Cristofolo slid away to sit on the edge of the bed, back hunched as he rubbed at the back of his neck. His lips still felt sore from their kiss, and he drew his fingers against his lower lip, then let his hand fall away. "If you want to go, go. Just be back by morning."
Jack had to remind himself to breathe. His young wolf was beautiful even when he thought he was rejected, heartbreakingly so. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and brushed the back of his claws against Cristofolo's bare shoulder. He should have been better at this, he knew. If only for Cristofolo's sake. The longer he gazed at his young wolf, the guiltier he felt. "I'll come back."
He stood, careful to keep the blanket around him until he fell to his paws. Determined to stare straight ahead, he waited expectantly at the bookcase.
Cristofolo glanced up in time to see Jack shift, and he pushed to his feet with a wince. He shouldn't have asked. What a stupid thing to do... And now they would be awkward, and silent, and Jack wouldn't want to come back. Even as he thought it, Cristofolo knew he was overreacting... but still, he couldn't even look at the wolf beside him as he tugged the latch on his bookcase and stepped aside to pull it open.
"Goodnight," he mumbled.
What: christ i don't even know. gnawing on each other? mutual fanboy? we play our own version of creeper chicken?
When: a week from this
Where: Lord Snufflywumpkins' room
Warnings: strong pg-13??? there is blood and boners. this is officially your skinemax teenwolf parody, gh.
Even after the funeral, he'd kept his old rooms, leaving his father's for his mother to keep. He hadn't thought to ask if she wanted them, but the idea of giving his mother a room with a tunnel made him nervous. He could smell intruders, should anyone find it and attempt to break in. His mother couldn't. Even safe in his father's rooms he worried; perhaps he could convince Jack to sleep outside her door, or at the foot of her bed. She might not like having a wolf so near, but for all Jack's faults he knew the older wolf would protect his mother if someone sought to harm her.
The wolf padded beside him now as Cristo took the stairs. His guards were still visibly uneasy with the beast trailing their Lord, but 'Rom' was nothing if not friendly. It'd been... a relief, as much as it surprised him, to have Jack at his side like this. It reminded him of what he was. And, although he was still too hesitant to ever admit it to Jack - the older man would be insufferably smug about it - it also reminded him of how little he had to be afraid of. The men he met with to settle debts, to manage his accounts, all stammered and faltered and gave nervous glances to the wolf at his side. Cristofolo, in turn, had scratched and petted at Jack without a hint of fear. It had made the men all the more nervous.
He opened the door to his room and let the wolf inside first, then shut and latched it behind them both. The first thing he did was strip off his gloves and flex his hands with a wince. His claws grew back remarkably fast, and his fingers cramped when he kept them too long shoved inside his gloves. "That accountant," he said with a faint smile, still stretching his hands, "He almost wet himself at the sight of you."
It had been a strange week for Jack. Being Cristofolo's hunting beast meant he could no longer spend so much time at his uncle's shop. He'd admitted the truth to his uncle insofar as to say he had a friend he needed to protect. His uncle was a smart man, he knew, and he'd figure it out eventually when rumours began to swirl that the new Lord Sabreme walked beside a wolf.
He enjoyed his time as Rom, though he found himself growing less bored of noble talk and more anxious to be outside. It was too easy to let his thoughts turn to feral things. The heartbeat of frightened men or the smell of their sweat, even the cheeping and rustling of birds outside the windows. Even his human form was beginning to feel awkward, his limbs sore in strange places from where they became flanks and paws.
It was with a wince that he shifted back, one hand immediately rubbing at the opposite wrist with a frown. "He did a bit, yeah? Stank like piss, anyway." His back cracked loudly as he stood and reached for a freshly folded blanket at the food of Cristofolo's bed. Some of the maids had balked at the sudden rise of hair that littered Cristofolo's things, but he liked having the blankets cleaned every day. His fur was as irritating to his human skin as sand was between his paws.
He glanced over his shoulder when Jack spoke, eyes drifting before he smiled shyly and looked back to his hands. By now he ought to be used to the sight of the other man naked, but it was still a surprise to turn and see so much pale, muscled skin. "He did," Cristofolo agreed, shrugging out of his jacket and loosening the cuffs of his undershirt. It was sweltering in Tyrol, another still summer day that made him yearn for a lake or a cool bath. If only they could get away with leaving more often... but no, he had responsibilities here.
"Your uncle," he said after a pause, glancing over to Jack again. "He is alright without you?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Got loads of his own kids to boss around." Loving every minute of it, too, if he knew his uncle. He let out a puff of breath to blow a curl out of his eyes and looked around the room with another small frown. The Sabreme household could have fit multiples of his own inside of it, but even a room as large as Cristofolo's still felt too tiny. He finished his survey of disappointment with a slow circle and headed for the bed, blanket brushing the back of his knees as he walked. The sheets were cool from their absence, and he had to resist sprawling facedown on them instead of simply sitting at the edge.
"Are we done for the day?" He watched Cristofolo adjust himself with a swipe of his tongue at the side of his mouth, a movement that felt (and looked) natural when he was a wolf. "It's too hot. I'm tired."
"If," Cristofolo started hesitantly, "If it hurts his business, having you gone, tell me. I can pay him for your time here." Even as he said it he wondered if the suggestion would anger Jack rather than satisfy him. The older wolf took offense to anything that suggested Cristofolo's status as a Lord. He doubted it was simple jealousy; he suspected it had something more to do with animal dominance, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.
"Yes, we're done. If I have to sign another thing my hand will fall off." He pulled his shirt off over his head and shook his hands through his hair, wincing when it was damp from sweat.
Whether it was the heat, his own fatigue, or his time shifted, he did not immediately balk at the offer. Instead he only gave Cristofolo a wan smile, eyes lingering on the newly exposed dark skin. "He doesn't know about you," he shrugged. "He'd say something if it did."
He flexed his wrist with a wince. "At least you don't walk on your hands all the time." A thread of annoyance niggled at him that Cristofolo would complain over something like that. His hand couldn't fall off. Jack let himself fall back to the bed with a thump, curls falling over the top half of his face in a black heap. "I'm hungry."
Hungry? Cristofolo frowned, arms falling back to his sides. "We don't have any more food here. We ate the last... yesterday," he said after a thoughtful grimace. By himself, he'd managed to eat only as much as he needed to, but with Jack beside him... watching the other wolf eat made him hungry in kind, and they'd quickly gone through every kill they'd dragged back.
He'd known that, too. His mouth opened to suggest a hunt, but quickly closed again when he considered the heat and his own malaise. Jack felt out of sorts, tired, and ready to do nothing besides burrow himself into a block of ice and lay there for a day.
"I'm still hungry," he said, and propped himself up on his elbows with a toss of his head to look at the young wolf. His frown slowly faded as an idea took shape. He'd fed Cristofolo before from his own veins. The same could be done in kind. "Come here." The smile he gave his young wolf was one full of teeth.
The smile was worrying, but he did as he was told. The bed creaked softly when he leaned a knee on it, and Cristofolo waited, uncomfortable with the other wolf's predatory stare. Jack was... disarmingly pretty, sometimes, when he smiled. Now it was something else, something that made him wonder if he'd be nursing more bruises for the rest of the night. The other wolf seemed to think that their accelerated healing meant that casual violence was more playing than anything, something Cristofolo had yet to get used to. Nobles did not touch, let alone hit one another.
It was a chore to keep his eyes from lingering on the young wolf's chest. Cristofolo was lean where he was thick and dark where he was pale. The differences between them was enough for him to be entertained and amused for awhile, that he found it attractive was only a plus. What Cristofolo thought of it, he didn't say. Sometimes he thought the younger man smug over how much he stared.
His tongue flicked at his lower lip before his eyes moved back to the young wolf's face. "Which hand do you write with?"
The swipe of Jack's tongue didn't go unnoticed. The older wolf stared more than was comfortable, but Cristofolo never said a word. In a way, he did like it. Only the whores at Inanna's stared at him so boldly, but Jack's stares were different. Admiration more than crude lust... but maybe both, sometimes.
Cristofolo lifted his right hand in answer, still puzzled. "My right. Why?" It was only another sign of Jack's upbringing that he would even ask; it would've been unacceptable in his family's eyes if he'd been left-handed.
He pushed the offered hand away from him with another smile. "Give me the other one."
Whichever arm he fed from wouldn't matter to him in theory, but he suspected Cristofolo would only howl and complain more if he had to use the arm in question. More credence to his hand falling off theory, if anything. His elbows moved from underneath him and he fell flat with a quiet thump, clawed hands held out expectantly.
Cristofolo glanced down to his arm, then leaned further to hold it out, resting his weight on his knees and his other hand. Was he going to- to feed from him? He hesitated, eyebrows knitting in concern. Would it hurt? He remembered when Jack had done the same for him, remembered how good it had tasted. He swallowed his protest and wet his lips instead, watching and waiting.
His claws were now in prime condition. Whole and shiny where they'd previously been cracked. He'd sat through the Sabreme's houndmaster taking a file to them with what he considered incredible patience. Only when the man had squeezed his paws too roughly did he snap at him, though he snarled the entire time. The yellowed tip of one dragged over the underside of Cristofolo's forearm now, mouth watering as he traced the visible line of veins under the skin.
All thought of what he'd been about to say to the young wolf evaporated from his mind. Whether it was a thank you or a warning left him as he tilted the claw to pierce skin. The vein beneath opened with a similar push, and he brought the arm to his mouth to suck greedily at it.
Cristofolo sucked in a sharp breath, flinching when he felt Jack begin to suck the blood from the wound. It felt strange, unpleasant. His veins felt tight, and each suck made his head spin. "Jj--" he started, then stopped. He couldn't protest this. Jack had done the same for him. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, lips parted as he tried to distract himself from the sensation. The brush of Jack's lips wasn't unpleasant, Cristofolo admitted, and when he glanced down again he caught himself staring at the older man's expression. It was... it was almost vulgar, the way he looked.
The young wolf swallowed and looked away again. He could feel the flush rising in his cheeks, and was all too aware of the warmth settling low in his stomach. Jack would notice. He would tease him... Cristofolo shut his eyes briefly, then opened them to look back down at Jack, flustered and uneasy. "Jack, that is- that is enough..."
Was it enough? The blood coursing down his throat was hot and satisfying. It tasted differently from a human's blood. He wondered all once what a vampire, redcap, or werecat would taste like. Would each one be as rich as his own young wolf? Probably not.
Another smell besides blood crept past his nose as he fed. His eyes darted to Cristofolo's face. The flush of his skin and uneasy breath made Jack snort against the skin pressed to his mouth, eyebrows raised. The claw he'd been using to hold opened the wound shifted to cut wider, his compromise to the ache his teeth felt to scissor and tear. His eyes slipped shut as blood began to flow anew. Just a few more mouthfuls..
He flushed darker at the snort, frowning helplessly. "Jack," he repeated. The new cut made him hiss again, and he started to lean away, trying to pull his arm with him. "S- Stop." Each throb of blood that left his arm made him feel dizzier, but it didn't diminish his body's reaction to the suck and press of Jack's lips. "Jack," he said again, this time angrily.
The more Cristofolo jerked his arm, the more intent he was on sucking more blood from it. Only when he finally felt full did he pull his lips away from it and lick at it slowly until he was satisfied the bleeding had come to a stop. His head fell back with a long, satisfied groan. "Your blood tastes really good, did you know?" It was a wonder all the mosquitoes in Tyrol weren't attached to Cristofolo at that very moment.
His belly felt warm and hunger sated. He licked at his mouth carefully sucked the blood from his claw. He could still plainly smell Cristofolo's arousal as a result of what he'd done. It left him feeling a strange satisfaction as he looked to the other man's face, taking in the sight of him.
"No," he muttered, half to himself. He drew his arm back and tilted it to see where Jack had broken the skin, but all that was there now was a faint pink line. "I didn't." Cristofolo brushed his thumb over the spot, then looked back to the older wolf. His smugness was apparent; he was still looking at him in the same way he had before: curious, predatory.
He turned to sit, back facing Jack, and rubbed a hand at his forehead. He was still lightheaded, still flustered. After a moment's hesitation, he looked over his shoulder at the other wolf. "Will you give me some of yours?"
The smell of Cristofolo's arousal was still plainly in the air. It was something he didn't know could happen, or why. He'd never left his prey alive long enough to notice if it effected them in the same way. There was something comforting about knowing it made Cristofolo the same way, and he felt strangely closer to him for it.
Jack licked at his lips again and turned himself to lay on his side, tugging the blanket over him as he did. "If you want," he said softly, shoulders tense with anticipation and curiosity.
He said nothing for a moment, stayed motionless, hesitating, and then rolled back onto his hands and knees. With Jack on his side, there was only one option for which arm to pick, and he lifted it and turned it over so the pale skin of Jack's forearm faced upward. He could see the faint jump of pulse in his veins, and Cristofolo wet his lips and swallowed, gold eyes everywhere but Jack's face.
His claw glinted when he pressed it to the older wolf's forearm, and he drew it across the skin in a quick slice. The smell of blood was immediate, and Cristofolo lifted Jack's arm to press his mouth against the wound, lapping and sucking as his eyes fell shut.
The first suck of blood from his veins made him grunt with discomfort. It wasn't natural, to feel his blood swirling in a way it wasn't meant to. He watched Cristofolo's face uneasily. Even with blood staining his face and dripping from his chin, he still looked beautiful. The next suck of blood felt as if it was pulled directly from his belly. He hissed and shut his eyes, turning his face away into the mattress. It was embarrassing as it had been the first time, only now the young wolf knew exactly what he was doing.
Jack's thoughts were both lustful and confused. Did he want him to feel this way? Cristofolo only fucked whores. Would he be offended if he kissed him? Did he want to? "Not too much," he mumbled, voice muffled further by the sheets.
His eyes opened to gold slits, and he watched Jack squirm with shy, uneasy pride. The older wolf wasn't immune to discomfort and embarrassment. For a moment Cristofolo felt guilty, but then he swallowed another mouthful of blood and felt nothing at all except a need to keep drinking. He could smell Jack's arousal too. It wasn't a matter of whether the other wolf wanted this; he knew he did. All the staring, all the times he'd told Cristofolo he was beautiful. But did he want it? He'd only ever had passing interest in men, but Jack was different. Not a man, not really, but a wolf... and he was curious, and - for once - eager to please. Would Jack be kinder to him if he returned his interest?
Cristofolo eased his mouth away when the flow of blood slowed, then licked the wound clean in short brushes of his tongue, eyebrows furrowed. Jack was right. It tasted better than anything.
Once Cristofolo's grip had loosened enough he twisted his arm away and tucked it back against him. He still held his face to the sheets, breathing ragged. His mind was spinning. In a way, it was exactly what he wanted. A true friend to share in all aspects of his life. Wanting to kiss Cristofolo shouldn't have felt strange. Attraction shouldn't have felt strange. They were the same creature, they were without clothes all the time. It was natural to stare.
When he felt he'd rationalised it enough, he pushed up onto his hand with a loud sigh. Where Cristofolo had cut him gave a twinge of pain in protest, but it was fleeting. His eyes searched the young wolf's for any sign of immediate protest, then cupped his chin with a clawed hand and brought their mouths together.
Cristofolo's eyes shut. He let Jack kiss him for a moment, immobile and hesitant, before he raised a hand to grip one of the other wolf's shoulders. It wasn't like kissing Gomer or any of the other girls at Inanna's. Jack's lips were rougher, and he could feel their beards scratching together, feel the muscles of Jack's jaw. It was exciting and strange, but he didn't know what was expected of him. He kissed him back, lips brushing in soft, eager strokes.
Was it his blood he tasted or Jack's? The smell of him this close was intoxicating, and the hand he gripped Jack's shoulder with tightened and flexed.
He took the squeeze to his shoulder and prick of claws against his skin as encouragement. His hand moved from Cristofolo's chin to the back of his neck, anchoring them together. He felt as if he might never stop kissing the other man, partly out desire and fear. If they stopped, Cristofolo might begin to doubt what he was doing. He caught Cristofolo's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, and his tongue swept over the area soon after. His claws tugged at the hairs at the back of Cristofolo's head.
Eventually Jack did pull away, breath ragged when he did. This felt right. He bit at his bottom lip, head tilting back to look at the younger wolf. His lips were swollen as he imagined his own were, the area around his mouth red from the scratch of their beards.
>
His eyes opened when Jack pulled away, and he stared, dazed. Had he done something wrong? Why had he stopped? But no, the look Jack was giving him was anything but offended or irritated. Cristofolo swallowed, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths he tried to calm. His scalp stung from where the older man had twisted and tugged at his hair, and his lips felt almost numb.
He swallowed, uneasy now that they were apart. Should he say something? What would he say? 'That wasn't so bad'. 'Bet you've wanted to do that for months'. 'I've wanted to do that for months.' Instead, all he managed out was a slightly timid, cautious, "Good?" He winced almost as soon as he'd said it. What did that even mean?
"No." Wait--
Jack winced, too, and leaned back to sit upright. "Um." He frowned. He'd said the wrong thing straight away, and now his thoughts were muddle with anger and embarrassment. It was lucky that his face was already flushed. "That's not what I meant," he started, eyes darting away from Cristofolo to glare at the bed. "It wasn't good." Shit--
Why did his brain work this way? He gave Cristofolo a long, silent, frustrated look. It was great! "I gotta go." Fuck--
No. No? Cristofolo's mouth moved, and he stared at Jack while the older man scowled and snapped at him. What? He was confused more than offended; it had been Jack to pull him into the kiss, Jack that had always stared at him. He hadn't liked it?
"G--..." The young wolf wet his lips with a frown, still trying to wrap his thoughts around what was happening. "Go? Go where?"
His eyes lingered on Cristofolo's lips as he spoke, his tongue flicking out at his own. "I'm not." He shook his head. Going anywhere wouldn't solve anything permanently, that much he knew. It would be nice to be away from Cristofolo for awhile and bury his head in the sand, but he'd still have to come back. They were both into the facade of Rom now. And while he hadn't said as much to him, he was beginning to understand the young lord's penchant for paranoia.
"I'm really.. bad," he managed finally, mouth turned down in a frustrated frown. "At words." It felt like pulling his own teeth out, to extract a complete thought from his mouth. "All the time."
Cristofolo watched him silently. After a moment, he nodded, mouth twitching into a quick grimace. "I know." Some of the things that Jack said to him were awful, yet the man himself didn't seem unkind. He'd learned to simply ignore half of what came out of the older wolf's mouth. But, when it came to things like this... 'No'? 'It wasn't good'? He held in his restlessness and nodded again.
"It's alright," he said after a moment. "I shouldn't have asked." He knew the effect taking Jack's blood would have on him, but he'd done it anyway to... what? Embarrassed as he was to admit it, he knew he'd wanted to arouse Jack. He was curious. Cristofolo slid away to sit on the edge of the bed, back hunched as he rubbed at the back of his neck. His lips still felt sore from their kiss, and he drew his fingers against his lower lip, then let his hand fall away. "If you want to go, go. Just be back by morning."
Jack had to remind himself to breathe. His young wolf was beautiful even when he thought he was rejected, heartbreakingly so. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and brushed the back of his claws against Cristofolo's bare shoulder. He should have been better at this, he knew. If only for Cristofolo's sake. The longer he gazed at his young wolf, the guiltier he felt. "I'll come back."
He stood, careful to keep the blanket around him until he fell to his paws. Determined to stare straight ahead, he waited expectantly at the bookcase.
Cristofolo glanced up in time to see Jack shift, and he pushed to his feet with a wince. He shouldn't have asked. What a stupid thing to do... And now they would be awkward, and silent, and Jack wouldn't want to come back. Even as he thought it, Cristofolo knew he was overreacting... but still, he couldn't even look at the wolf beside him as he tugged the latch on his bookcase and stepped aside to pull it open.
"Goodnight," he mumbled.