New Fic: Man and Beast 2/3
Man and Beast
Previous part
*
The human didn’t move.
The wolf stalked, head low, ears pinned back. Nervousness, anxiety, ah yes, fear, he could smell fear now. Fear was good. Humans should fear. They should recognise the danger, know when they were outmatched, outplayed, out-evolved. But there was more. The human heart was pounding, the blood racing through his veins, his eyes shifting, taking in his strong, sleek form.
“Extraordinary,” the human said. “That was just… bloody amazing.”
He stopped and bared his teeth, letting the growl rumble low in his chest. The human stopped talking, while his heart pounded harder. Sweat, scent, sitting there, sitting up, not cowering, not hiding, not attacking. Just sitting and watching. The bravery of a human.
His growl deepened, crouching, threatening.
The human continued to stare wide eyed in fascination and then his eyes lowered, his head tilting to one side, his neck offered… and was accepted.
He leapt, knocking the man sideways off the bed and onto the floor, paws pinning him by the shoulders, mouth open, teeth sharp as he growled in his face. The human gaped, heart hammering but didn’t look away, just offered his throat.
Surrendered.
He pushed his nose down against it and sniffed. Warm skin covered hot blood. He could smell fear but not panic. Breaths were panted and there was something there that called to him.
Mate, part of him finally said. A worthy mate. Take. Have. Claim.
He pressed his snout in further. Testosterone, pheromones and something more.
Not enough. The neck wasn’t enough. Stronger, sharper smells were needed. Armpit. Manly, basic, hot, but shielded by clothing.
He raked his claws against the offending material, the fabric parting with his stroke. The human flinched, his hands rising to try and stop him.
Stop him? He pressed down, snarling, face to face. The man froze but then a hand sank into his thick coat, pushing gently but firmly.
“Let me,” the human said hoarsely. “I’ll help. Just… let me.”
Their eyes met, man and wolf, the man now unmoving but with his hand still pressed against him. Insistent but not challenging.
He watched for a moment, tipping his head one way and then the next before rearing up. The man nodded, his hands pulling at his clothing, tugging it over his head until there was skin and sweat and scent. The man then looked at him expectedly, openly.
He pushed his nose in, sniffing, licking, nuzzling. The man jerked, curling up, a high pitched whimpering noise coming from him.
He pulled back in alarm and growled.
“Sorry,” the man said. “Tickled.”
He paused for a moment before pushing the man back down and resuming his mission. The body below him lay back and relaxed into the touch, a hand sinking back into his fur, to stroke and feel.
Head, neck, chest, armpit, he had the lot but he still wanted more.
Mate. Mate. Mate. Mine.
He pressed his nose to the man’s crotch, growling when he met thick denim.
“Hey,” the man said, a hand pushing sideways at his muzzle.
He growled, pinning the man again, forcing him down.
The man stared back, unblinking, barely reacting when the claws dug into his bare skin. “Yes,” the man said before tipping his head up and back, his hips rising slightly. “Yes, alright, but hold on. Let me.”
He hesitated but then reared back, watching as the man adeptly stripped off all his remaining clothing, tossed them away and then lay back.
He smelt so good. Powerful, strong, a worthy mate.
The wolf pounced and smelt, pushing his nose in everywhere, leaving nowhere unexplored. The man whimpered and then sighed as he started to lick, tasting on his tongue what he had already smelt with his nose.
“Oh god,” the man said but made no move to stop him, hips jerking with certain swipes, hands sinking further into his fur. “Normally I’d ask for a drink first, but to hell with normal.”
Mate, his mind said. Mate. Mine. Now. Mark him and no one else would ever dare come near him.
He licked the human’s front, his back, his bottom and genitals until finally there was nowhere else to explore and he started to whine softly, his explorations softening to nuzzling, rubbing his scent across the human, leaning into the human’s touch in turn. He jerked when exploring fingers touched the sensitive spot on his neck, whining slightly before lowering to his belly, lying with his head nudging those fingers. The human did it again and he shivered. No one had ever touched him like that in years. He pressed against the human wanting more and closing his eyes he slowly relaxed.
The fingers continued to stroke.
*
“You know,” the human was saying, “for such a dangerous creature, you are extraordinary, quite extraordinary.”
He lay with his head on the human’s middle, eyes half open but still fully alert.
“I have no idea if you understand me, but thank you for not harming me, and if you want to finish what you’ve started when you’re back in, you know, human form, then you only have to ask… or pounce, whichever.”
He could feel the moon reaching its pinnacle and it was all he could do not to throw his head back and howl.
*
Sat on the bed, John watched as he turned back.
He stood for a moment, between John and the glass, naked and tall, chin up, shoulders back. John met his gaze, equally naked, skin still a little damp across the scar on his shoulder where the wolf had taken a last interest shortly before. Then John’s eyes dropped, slowly and unabashedly taking in his full form, head to toe and back again, lingering briefly on his crotch before once again meeting his gaze. He said nothing but his eyes were challenging and then, as in slow motion, he tilted his head back and bared his neck.
That was it.
With a growl he pinned John to the bed, forcing the human’s hands over his head, holding him there with his superior strength, their breaths mingling as they stared. He could smell the wolf across the other man and his body screamed at him to take, to claim, to mate.
“Yes,” he heard John say as he angled his hips up. “God yes.”
Their lips met in a bruising kiss, although it was more of a mouth to mouth invasion than a kiss. Despite ceding the dominance, John gave as good as he got, pressing back, nipping at his lip, not letting him have it all his way. Their legs tangled together and he could feel the other man’s interest pressing against his thigh. It was hard to miss the smell of arousal he was giving off.
Tearing his mouth away, he pressed his forehead into the shoulder, rubbing his nose into the offered neck.
“We need to talk,” he managed, giving into the urge to sink his teeth into the skin.
John yelped, body jerking but not fighting him off. The wolf was pleased.
“You owe me a drink… and a new shirt,” John said tugging in an attempt to get his hands free. “And if you continue like that a new neck.”
He nuzzled at the neck, pressing a kiss to the reddening skin but not letting up on the hands.
“There are things…” he said before hissing slightly when John’s hips moved in a particular way.
Take him. Claim him. He wants you. Mate him. Make him yours.
He closed his eyes and panted as he dropped his head.
“If those things don’t involve carrying on with what you’ve started then I don’t want to know,” John said.
Mark him.
“I play the violin,” he finally managed, “sometimes I don’t talk for days… and werewolves mate for life.”
John stilled beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut.
“So you’ve never… mated… before.”
“I have… experience… but the wolf choses the mate. There has never been anyone he’s deemed… worthy.” He let the rest of the sentence go unspoken.
He felt John’s Adam’s apple rise and fall. “Oh, right.”
The seconds felt infinitely long.
“I drink tea,” he finally heard John say. “I have a temper, and I’ve jeopardised every relationship I’ve ever been in by my need to run heedlessly into danger.”
“Nothing more dangerous than mating with a werewolf.” He ran his teeth against the skin nipping gently.
“God yes.”
“We’re strong, fast, possessive. I don’t like anyone touching what is mine. If you cheat on me I will find out and I will kill you.”
John swallowed, his back arching. “Will I regret this?”
“Probably.”
“And if I don’t, will I regret that?”
He licked up to his ear. “Almost certainly.”
“Do you want me?”
Mate, the wolf snarled.
He breathed deeply as the wolf pounded at the last of his defences. His body shook from holding back, from fighting the urge to rub, to rut, to bite, to lick and to claim. John, he could smell John, the musk of arousal, could feel him, the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, could hear him, the intake of his breath. He was so close, everything he had denied himself for so long was right there and he couldn’t think why he might turn it down.
“Yes,” he said, the word reverberating through his chest his want for this human merging with the desires of the wolf, joining and multiplying, becoming one. “Yes, god yes.”
“Then have me.”
*
He didn’t care that they were being watched by the cameras and those tiny little humans, that he was about to bind his life to a human male he had only known for one day and one night, or that he was about to do something he had always vowed never to do, all he cared about was getting as close to this person and making him his.
His arousal was hot and heavy against his stomach as he pressed his pelvis down and against John’s. John let out a soft gasp, mouth open, breath warm brushing his check and neck before being swallowed by his mouth. Part of him - the more rational part - wanted to ask if John had ever done this before, had ever lain with a man, engaged in sexual intercourse with another male, whether he knew what to expect, but the other part - the instinct part - didn’t care to ask. The answer would make no difference to the outcome and had the potential to make him angry. John was his now. He sank his teeth into the flesh on the shoulder. No one else would ever touch him in that way again.
He could smell the wolf all across John and he followed the scents with his own tongue, kissing, nipping and licking in much the same way he had done hours before, except this time he had less restraint, less reason to be gentle.
He moved slowly down the offered body, mapping each line, each contour, each scar and committing them to memory, overlapping them with the sense memories of the night before. John wiggled, giggled and moaned in varying amounts, his hands coming down to burying themselves in his curls.
John’s erection lay hard and swollen, the skin darkened by the blood and he could practically hear the blood rushing through it. His balls were hot and heavy and for a moment he was torn between which he wanted to lavish his attention and tongue on first. The cock won, but only he needed to know what it felt like against his tongue, what the clear, gathering liquid at the top tasted like. He pressed the tip of his tongue to the slit before sucking the head into his mouth. John made the most delightful noise that he had to do it again, adding in a flick of the tongue.
“Jeeezus… Christ… fuck….”
He hummed in vague agreement before sliding his mouth down, making a note of what John appeared to like and by what scale. The noises took on a whining quality that sounded so right that he never wanted it to stop.
Take him. Make him yours.
Pulling his mouth off he pulled the hips up towards him and buried his head lower, nuzzling the gently furred balls, swiping his tongue across them, breathing in the primal scent.
Mate. Mine.
He could hear John saying more words but understanding them was something else, but he didn’t need to understand them, John’s body spoke to him more thoroughly and more truthfully than anything else. Every flex, every jerk, every whine, every sigh told him exactly what he needed to know.
Now. He’s yours. Now, now, now.
He flipped him over, pulling him up onto his elbows and knees, spreading his legs until he had him exactly how he wanted him; shaking with anticipation and need, heady with arousal, gasping with want.
He both felt and heard the sharp intake of breath as he parted the cheeks and then he was between them, circling his tongue round and round, breathing in and blowing out in equal measure, taking his time to caress every inch of skin until bathed in his saliva and the red rim loose and quivering with each touch.
“Please… pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” fell from John’s lips like a ceaseless cascade but this was not something he was going to rush.
Leaving his prize, he ran his tongue slowly up the centre of John’s back, stretching his body against him, stroking soothingly with his fingers.
“Shhhhh,” he murmured nipping at the skin below the nearest ear. “I’ve got you. So responsive.” He ran his fingers down John’s side, gently stroking. “You won’t regret it. Gonna make you mine. Gonna make you feel so good.”
He sucked his fingers before slipped them between John’s arse cheeks, pressing against the softened ring of muscle. John arched and groaned, words lost as he pressed his face into his arms.
“That’s it,” he said soothingly. “Relax. Open up for me.”
His finger slid in and he couldn’t stop the groan at the feel of the warm heat clenching at him. It felt so good, so right that it was all he could do not to drive his cock in and been swallowed by the feelings. But with no additional lubricant other than his saliva they would have to go slowly.
Pressing his lips to the back of John’s neck, he held them both still for a moment, glorifying in the feel of John’s pulse against his finger, then he nipped at the skin and flexed his finger. John jerked up and forward, a string of nonsense words falling from his lips. He waited for a moment, simply holding position before he did it again, moving firmly but carefully across John’s prostate. The outcome was just as good as the first time, John’s body rocking forward and then pressing back desperate for more, his thighs shifting marginally wider.
“Good, that’s it,” he said huskily and pressed in a second finger.
John’s reaction was beautiful; hot, open and so ready, so very, very ready.
He carefully pulled his fingers out, shuddering slightly at the sound of John’s protesting whine, but then he was back down there, replacing his fingers with this tongue, bathing the area in as much saliva as he could manage, pushing his tongue in, swirling it round. He could have kept doing that for hours, but the shifting hips and the needy whines shot straight to his cock and he had to take, take, take.
Take now. Mate. Make him yours.
Growling, he pulled away, spreading the pre-come across his cock as much as possible, coating the rest with saliva. Then he pressed himself back over John and mounting carefully pushed himself in.
It was hot and clenching and so, so good. Never in his life had he felt something like this, something as good, as right as this. Bending his head, he nuzzled at the neck before sinking his teeth into the skin as he pressed his hips forward again. John jerked and cursed, but pressed back with equal desperation, begging and pleading for more.
He gave more, and more and more.
Responsive and greedy, John took it all, swallowing him up with each thrust. He could feel the bond growing between them, his possessiveness increasing with each thrust. My man, my mate. Why he had denied himself of this wonderful feeling he had no idea, but nothing was going to stop him now.
He was nearly there, he had nearly done it. He could feel the heat rushing to his balls ready for the final marking, the final claiming, and then suddenly he was there, on the edge, but he wasn’t alone. John, so powerful and so strong was there with him, reaching out for him, wanting him and as they moved to touch it was as if everything exploded in heat and light. He could feel hot heat clenching tightly at him as everything tensed and shook and then the rush of orgasm was upon him.
Throwing his head back he gave in and howled.
*
“Is it going to be like that every time?”
John lay boneless and sated under his arms, drifting on the edge of sleep. The smell from him was stunning; pheromones and arousal, sex and sweat, him, the wolf and John. If he could he would bottle it to have forever.
“No,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against the fair hairs on John’s chest as John’s fingers idly scratched at the back of his neck. “It’ll get better.”
*
He slept for three hours, twenty-two minutes and fourteen seconds. In that time he could feel the bond strengthening and binding.
John, with his frail human body and need for sleep, slept for an additional two hours, six minutes and thirty-eight seconds. He watched the man for that entire time, a silent vigil, taking note of the scrapes and bruises across the skin while shielding him from unwanted attention from their observers. He had never seen anything so fascinating in his life.
Then again, he reasoned, John was just as fascinating while awake as well, which led him to wonder how he could have ever considered him just an ‘average’ human.
“So, not a dream then?” John said as their eyes met.
He growled, his teeth on full display, but was surprised when John then laughed, tugging him down for a kiss. Mate, the kiss said. Mine. And then John was pushing him away, rolling off the bed to walk to the window, tapping on the glass with purpose and authority. Following, he wrapped a possessive arm around his mate, pulling him back and away, his chest rumbling with a constant growl.
Food, he heard John demanding, water, antiseptic cream, wipes, towels and, for god's sake, some lubricant. It was glorious and he didn’t bother to fight the urge to lick that neck and drag him back to the bed.
*
After John made him eat, they tried to force him out of the cage and onto the treadmill. It became very clear, very quickly that he was going nowhere, and neither was John.
*
He threw his head back and moaned as John’s fingers scored into the skin on his back and sides. It was a moment of exquisite ecstasy as he thrust into John’s responsive body and felt the hot, slick heat clench around him.
Face to face, John’s legs were wrapped high around his waist giving a different angle and feel to the wolf-style of their previous couplings. It also meant he could watch every thrust, every emotion, every thought play across John’s face, from the crinkling of his eyes, to the gasps that fell from his lips. For the first time in his life he couldn’t get enough.
*
“So if you’re an alpha male, does this make me your beta?”
He pressed his ear to John’s chest and concentrated on tapping out his heartbeat.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “I would never mate with a beta.”
“Oh right.” A gentle rumble in the chest. “So I’m an alpha too then?”
“Of course. The alpha mate. An alpha for an alpha.”
It took a moment for it to sink in and then he smiled as John groaned. “Oh god, I’m the bloody girl. I’m the alpha female.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, tracing his name across the offered skin.
*
He didn’t bother with clothing. He felt perfectly at ease in his own skin. Those so called scientists had already seen everything and more. Coyness was a not a trait associated with wolves. Possessiveness, however, was.
He could feel the newly formed bond between him and John, felt it and accepted it. One part of him was surprised by that, by how easily he had given into it, the other part wanted to make it clear to the world that this surprising human was his and only his.
They were watching them, but more than that they were watching John. They wanted John back, he could tell. They wanted to take him away, to test him, to place their hands and their equipment all over him. He was not going to let that happen. John was his.
He bared his teeth, crouching down as he watched them.
“Hey.”
He felt John’s hand in his hair, scratching lightly at the side of his head. Before this he had never liked anyone touching his hair. Now, he couldn’t get enough of it, but only if it was John. It would only ever be John.
He accepted the caress, turning his head to press into it. It helped that it brought his nose closer to John’s equally naked body, the familiar smell washing over him, calming him somewhat. John’s genitals were also close, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle into them, swiping his tongue across the offered flesh.
John tensed slightly before tapping him on the head. “Later.”
Later, yes. It hadn’t actually been a sexual caress, although he could understand why it had been mistaken as such. Humans tended to get confused when things involved their genitals. Such moves weren’t always a sexual act. Sometimes it was just a comfort thing, or a reminder, or a confirmation. Those genitals were his now, but it pleased him that John was more than open to further copulation but at the same time wasn’t afraid to say no to him.
“Stop threatening them and come and play some gin.”
Moving away, John took a seat on the floor and collected up the cards to shuffle without even waiting for an answer. He liked that about John; his ease with himself and the way he wasn’t afraid to given an order, even to someone as dangerous as a werewolf.
A worthy mate indeed.
Rising to his full height, he shot the scientists one last look, before joining his human on the floor.
*
They kissed.
It’s wasn’t something he had been expecting much of, but it was definitely something he wanted more of. It was like licking and nuzzling, only mutual and hotter.
They were sprawled out on the bed, John pressed on top of him leading the kiss - the many kisses -tracing them around his face, his neck, his hair before returning regularly to his mouth. It was more leisurely and nicer than it had any right to be. He could feel John’s arousal pressing against his leg, his own making its presence known, but there was no urge to do anything with it quite yet, not when he could be enjoying the intimacy of this embrace.
“I want to know everything about you,” John had said earlier as they ate their offered evening meal. “I want to know who you were before all this, where you came from, what you’re like away from this place.”
They had both glanced across at the wider room where they were being watched and recorded.
“I want to know what you look like running under a full moon, how you spend the rest of your time, what your interests and activities include. I want to watch crap telly with you, take you to a pub, hold your hand and challenge anyone who objects. I want to meet those closest to you, those you care about, watch you interact with other people. I want to know what’s important to you and I want to be a part of it. But I know you can’t tell me and we can’t do that, so I’ll just have to contend myself with getting to know you, this you, here and now.”
John was certainly making good use of the here and now.
“Tell me this isn’t just about sex,” he heard as John mouthed kisses by his ear.
“Mate,” he said, his voice low and gravely, his arm moving up to stroke along John’s back. “Sex is just part of it.”
“Is that… is that why I feel like this?”
He cocked his head to get a better look at John’s expression, for a moment concerned by what he might see, but he didn’t have to be. The look was one of accepted fondness, not of angry accusation.
“For life,” he replied. “We’re genetically predisposed to keep our mates wanting us; physically, mentally, sexually.”
“So that’s why I can’t get enough.”
“Yes,” he said as the nose rubbed against his check. “Problem?”
“No.” Fingers tangled in his hair. “Just wondered. It’s not as if I’m a teenager any more so I figured it must have been something.”
John’s erection rubbed gently against his side and then their lips were meeting again, warm, moist and deliciously unhurried.
*
He kept vigil most of the night while John slept, pacing restlessly until warm hands caught his and pulled him back to bed.
The sex that followed was rough and he growled and arched into the feel of John’s nails digging into his back and side.
“Yes,” he heard John say, the last letter pushed out from between teeth as he pressed in with more force than usual. “Yes, give it to me. More. God… yes, more.”
The climax left them both drowsy, John’s hand capturing his to stop him from moving away. It was still some hours before daybreak and he could feel the waning moon sinking slowly towards the horizon. He was pleasantly content though, and wrapping his arms around his mate, curled around him and allowed sleep to come.
*
He knew the instant the door opened. Their kind always knew when another was nearby, even if the other was a stranger, and this was no stranger. No, this was far from being a stranger.
Instantly alert, he froze and worked on keeping his breathing regular. He had no desire to draw too much attention to himself, but finally it was the moment he had been waiting for; they had found him.
He couldn’t clearly hear what they were saying, but if he concentrated he could feel it; in the air pressure, in the vibrations. They were talking about him, well of course they were talking about him. The lead scientist was sickeningly enthusiastic about it, his words babbled, his hands rubbing together. Then they were moving away, towards the computer consoles.
Keeping his eyes closed, he concentrated, waiting. He heard the camera above them moving, focusing on them and then… ah, there it was, four clear and careful taps. It was all he could do to stop the small smile.
Opening his eyes, he stared up straight into the camera, unyielding, unblinking. Message received and understood.
John stirred obviously feeling the changes in his body. Relaxing again, he closed his eyes and tightened his arms around his mate, a message of his own; I’m not going anywhere alone.
Calming himself, he concentrated on listening to the vibrations. The day was one thing, the place… Tea? Were they really talking about tea? And then he pressed his lips together. Clever. Of course. That at least explained why it had taken them so long to find him. But not long now. Soon, very soon and they would be free. He could almost smell it.
“What was that about?” John asked eyes closed as he rubbed his nose against his chest.
It was very clever, his brilliant, brilliant mate, who was more awake than he was letting on.
Slipping a hand between them where none of the cameras could see, he carefully drew a house against John’s skin. There was a moment’s pause and then a small nod that he understood before a question mark was drawn against his skin. He pondered for a moment how to relay the message before reaching forward to press a small kiss to John’s lips, then a second, then a third and then finally a forth before running a finger in the shape of a crescent over his face. It just looked like a random caress but John got it instantly.
Four days. They only had four more days of this, or more accurately, four more moons, and then home. They were finally going to go home.
*
“NO!”
Pushing John behind him, he widened his stance and growled. How dare they come here and threaten to take his John away. How dare they demand and try to bully him into doing anything. John was his. It didn’t matter how many of them there were and what weapons they had he wasn’t going to give in without a fight. He would rather die than be alone again.
There was shouting and movement and weapons being raised but none of it concerned him. John would be safe. He would keep him safe. He would rip them to pieces with his bare claws if need be. He would….
“Wait.”
He froze at the word and at the feel of a hand on his shoulder. Spinning, he found himself face to face with John - his John - the growl that had been rumbling in his chest easing slightly at the sight of his mate.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay. How could it possibly be okay? They had already taken so much from him and still they wanted more. But then John’s hand was on his face and he was sinking into the feeling, leaning into the touch.
“It’s okay, they only want to run a few tests, let me have a shower, shave, that sort of thing.”
No, no, no, no, no, they wanted to take him away.
“Then I’ll be back. Isn’t that right?”
The last question was aimed at the scientists behind them, firm in pitch and meaning. They confirmed it but he still didn’t trust them. Why should he trust them? After everything they had done.
“A couple of hours, that’s all.” John’s voice was soothing, reasonable. “You’ll barely know I’m gone.”
No, he would know every second, feel every moment.
He looked around, his eyes drawn to the tranquiliser guns. There were so many of them. To fight them would be futile and yet he would try.
“Promise,” he said hoarsely pulling John towards him until their forehands met. “I can’t… I can’t….”
John’s finger touched his lips stilling his words. “They couldn’t keep me from you. Not now.” A press of those lips against his, the breath of a promise and then John was slipping from his grasp, calmly walking to the door, ready to be let out.
He felt frozen to the spot, afraid that any movement he would make would result in him pulling John back or harming someone. Then the door opened and John was stepping through, head high, arms held slightly away from his nude body. The door shut and locked.
He growled, rushing forward to press himself to the glass.
“I’m fine,” John said with a small smile. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.”
Then his mate was being pushed from the room and it was like he had been plunged in icy water.
*
He paced. He growled. He flung himself on the bed and pressed his nose against the material, immersing himself in the smell. He threw the balls against the wall. He wrote John’s name across the cell wall over and over again, breaking three crayons in the process.
He paced some more.
He sniffed at the clothing John had worn before the change, looked critically at the slashes in the shirt. John’s scent both settled and unnerved him in equal measure. He could smell John there but he wanted more. He wanted the real thing.
He counted the seconds, marking off the minutes on the wall as they passed.
He paced some more.
He stood and watched the door, waiting for John to come back. Part of him knew he was acting irrationally, that John would either be back or he wouldn’t and there was nothing he could do about it, but the other part, the overwhelming part, demanding that John be brought back now.
He scrapped his fingernails down the glass, growling at a constant rumble.
An hour passed and still no John.
He started pacing again. Up, down. Four steps then turn. Four steps then turn. Four steps then turn. He slammed his fist against the glass.
Ten minutes passed and then ten more.
Throwing himself to the floor started to do press-ups, counting out the seconds as they went. It felt good to do something physical but he needed more, much more.
Another ten minutes passed.
John had said a couple of hours. So two hours. He could wait two hours. He could.
He curled up on the bed and tried to think of something else, anything else. He ran through the elements on the periodic table including their properties and groups. He named all the prime numbers up to a thousand. He listed all the counties in England in alphabetical order.
Another ten minutes passed and he resumed his pacing.
He redrew over the smiley face on the wall and paused by the quote from King Lear. With a snarl he grabbed the remains of another crayon and crossed over to the glass. Delving into the depths of his memory he searched for the texts he had once been forced to study and learn, those that had avoided deletion and stuck with him. Then he started to write.
Long minutes later he tossed down the crayon, checking through his backwards lettering, knowing that even these humans wouldn’t be able to miss his meaning. They would also be able to read it from the outside. No excuses.
John would be back soon.
He resumed sitting on the bed, letting their joined lingering scent wash over him, his fist tightening as he waited. He could not explain why he was so agitated, only that he didn’t trust them. They had given him John so suddenly and they could take him away again so suddenly. Had it really only been a couple of days since they had first met? It felt like a lifetime now.
Maybe in some respects it was a lifetime. His life had only really started when they had mated and joined.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. His internal clock ticked passed the second hour mark.
Still no John.
Rising to his feet he tapped at the glass. They ignored him.
“How much longer?” he asked. “You promised me.”
You promised me.
He started pacing again. It was like torture. The not knowing was now even worse than the waiting. How had he allowed himself to get into such a state? He had always been so independent, hadn’t needed anyone, and now he was brought to his knees by a single human male. His human male.
He slammed his fist into the glass, the door, the wall. He kicked, he shouted, he punched. He wanted out. He wanted John. They were keeping him from his mate and they would regret that. They would be sorry. He would make them pay.
He scored his fingernails down his arms, across his chest, the pain grounding him, giving him something else to focus on, something other than John, John, John.
What if they were hurting John? What if they were hooking him up to different machines and testing his pain thresholds? What if they were touching him in inappropriate ways? No one should touch his John.
John. John. John. Where are you?
Was this what it was really like to be bonded? To be separated? Or was there something wrong? Was there something wrong with him? Had he denied it too long, pushed it aside? Would he always be like this; clingy, desperate, emotional.
No, he was better than this. He was more than just the wolf.
He forced himself to sit, wedging himself in between the wall and the bed. Pulling up his knees, he lowered his head and gripped it with his arms. He could get through this. It would only be for a while longer. John would be back soon.
He would be back.
*
He was on his feet the moment the doors opened.
Three hours and nine minutes his internal clock said, but now John was back.
John was back.
He watched as John was walked in, flanked on either side by guards. It was obvious he had showered and changed. His hair was lying differently and his cheeks were smooth after a shave. They had him in clothing, just jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, but they looked strange on him.
Their eyes met the instant John was in the wider room, an affectionate and apologetic smile gracing his mate’s mouth. He knew that it had been more than two hours. Did he know what that had done to him? Could he see it in his stance, in the scratch marks across his skin, in the desperation showing in his eyes?
He stepped away from the door, not thinking of escape but rather of doing anything to get his John back to him as quickly as possible. If that meant backing away even momentarily then that was what he would do.
The door opened and then John was back and he could feel him, hear him, smell him. Within two steps he had his arms wrapped around the smaller man, dragging him against his body, fingers scrabbling with the clothing. He smelt like soap and them - the scientists. It was distracting and wrong and he had to fight to get to the proper smell underneath.
He tugged aimlessly at the clothing until steady hands helped dispose of it and then he was back, pressing against his mate’s naked body, burying his nose into the crook of the neck, breathing in deeply to get at the base smell.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he heard spoken as arms wrapped around his back and a hand tangled in his hair to hold him there. “Shhhh, I’m back. I’m here. It’s fine. Look at me.” The hands cupped his face, lifting his head so their eyes met and all he could see was John, his John, with his smile and his warm eyes. “It’s fine, I’m fine. See.”
He nodded, feeling his heart rate slow, the tension in his body starting to ease. Lowering his head again, he pressed it against the nearest shoulder, rubbing his nose against the skin.
“Sorry,” he said, his word muffled by his position. “I… I can’t….”
“It’s alright,” he heard again. “That was difficult for you, wasn’t it? But it’ll get better. It’ll get easier. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere.”
It was all illogical, this overwhelming need for this human. It was weak and dangerous and something he would have derided in the past, but now it made so much sense. He felt like a better person, a fuller person when John was around and he wanted to hold onto it.
He pressed his lips to the offered skin and started to kiss, lick and bite it. He just had to get rid of the smell of the others, make John smell more like John again and then things would be better, he would be able to think again.
He felt John sigh, relaxing into his ministrations and for a moment he wandered about that, about the ease at which John accepted his interest, but distracted he pushed it aside and concentrated on making John his once more.
*
They lay on the bed, him on his back, John on his front by the wall, an arm slung across his chest.
“It’s backwards.”
He almost missed the words, concentrating as he had been on the very faint marks on John’s wrist. They had tied him down, broad strap, probably leather, about three inches wide. He had tugged against it, more than once, more than just to test the give. Had most probably been strapped to a chair, similar marks on his ankles. Legs bound to the chair legs, arms to the arm rests. Not just a medical examination then, they had wanted him in a seated position but didn’t trust him not to fight. Had he fought them? Probably wanted to ask him questions. What sort of questions? Had he answered? What had he said?
“Hmmm?” he managed before tilting his head to follow John’s gaze. Oh, the writing, his latest masterpiece. “Wanted them to read and know,” he said. Backwards so to them it would be forwards and they would have no excuse.
“What does it say?”
He ran his fingers across John’s wrist over the fading mark. He knew that if John wanted to he would be able to read it but this was about more than just the words.
“It’s a quote,” he said, “more or less.”
“Tell me.”
He closed his eyes and sank back fully onto the mattress.
“I am a wolf,” he spoke softly. “Hath not a wolf eyes? Hath not a wolf hands, organs, dimensions, sense, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a human is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not… revenge?”
He stayed still as John’s hand stroked soothingly over his chest in the silence that followed.
“Merchant of Venice,” John finally said.
“Yes.”
They lay there for a while longer, comfortable and still, not dozing but not completely awake either. The next question caught him as unprepared as the first.
“Who are you?” John asked simply.
The wolf, he thought instantly.
He didn’t reply.
*
They took him the next day, in between breakfast and lunch. It had been expected and they didn’t fight it.
They gave him a full medical, carefully going over every inch of his body, noting changes, spending more time than he thought necessary on his genitals. They even tried to arouse him but to no avail of course. There was only one person who would interest him there from now on.
They stuck him on the treadmill and then on the exercise bike. He endured it as he always had, but flinched more when they moved to touch him. They then let him shower, shave, wash his hair. It was the same shower John had used the day before, a thought that comforted him. At least now he would be able to picture where John had been. It would also make future partings easier. Not that there would be many more partings. Three moons to go and then it would all be over, one way or another.
He could still smell his brother in this room. It was extremely faint, but it was a scent he would never be able to miss. No doubt the lead scientist had brought him here while on the tour of the facilities. See where we test the specimen. Yes, we make him run and skip and jump through hoops. And with your generous investment we would be able to do so much more. Of course it will be off the record but for that price we would be more than willing to share our findings with you. Which government department did you say you were from?
It amused him to think that despite everything that these people knew and had found out, they had completely missed the fact they had had a second of his kind under their roof. His brother had been playing a dangerous but necessary game. Someone had had to come in, just to find out if he was still alive, and if he was, what state he was in. Considering his positions and roles in the British Government, it was hardly surprising that his brother had been deemed the best suited.
Just three more moons.
They strapped him down to a chair and asked him more questions.
Why had he mated?
Why hadn’t he ever mated before?
Is this normal for his species?
Are there many gay werewolves?
How do werewolves reproduce?
What the difference between an alpha and a beta werewolf?
What constitutes a pack?
How long will this mating frenzy last for?
For the most part he ignored them waiting for the time they would get fed up and let him get back to his cell and his John.
It took over four hours in the end in total for everything.
John was sat on the bed, his head in his hands, when they finally took him back.
“Is this what it was like for you? This waiting? The not knowing?”
Unlike the scientists’ questions, John’s were pleasant, broken up as they were by grabbing hands and greedy lips pressing warm kissing against his skin.
“What is it that makes me want to be near you all the time? What have you done to me?”
His back hit the bed as John asserted his physical strength. He didn’t respond verbally, but suspected that John knew the answers anyway.
*
It was what he had most feared. Of course it had only been a matter of time, but he had hoped to be able to put it off for just a little longer, but that was not the case.
Another moon set, another day and this time rather than removing them separately they were taken out together. They were then strapped to different treadmills and told them to run. Between them they had to cover twenty miles and neither would be allowed to stop until the distance had been covered.
It was very clever. John was obviously the weaker of the two of them, especially with his frail human body, which meant there would be a limit to his speed and distance. So it would be mainly up to him. They were trying to force him to show exactly what he could do, and there was a chance it would work.
He shouted and argued with them, then ran harder and faster than he had been, desperate to spare John the prolonged agony of exhaustion. The scientist already knew what each of them were capable of, except in his case he had never had a reason to exceed their expectations before, never had to run at near capacity, until now.
John was his weak spot and they knew it.
He had been holding back. Of course he had been, both physically and verbally and now they had leverage.
How many of your kind do you know of?
Is there a pack leader?
Do werewolves regularly mate with humans?
What happens to a werewolf if a mate is killed?
Are there werewolf children?
Are humans and werewolves able to breed together?
Were your parents werewolves?
Will your children be werewolves?
How far will you go to protect your mate?
It was painfully inevitable. Bound to the chair, the straps bit sharply into his arms and legs as they placed electrodes over John’s body. The intent was clear.
“You bastards. You bloody, fucking bastards.”
John’s curse words covered verbally pretty much what he had been thinking.
“Don’t do this,” he said his voice low and far steadier than he was feeling. “Take those things off and I’ll answer your questions.”
It wasn’t going to work like that.
“How many of your kind are there?”
“Take those things off!”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
He snarled and tugged sharply at his bonds as John sucked in a breath and slammed his mouth shut, every muscle in his body appearing to go rigid.
“How many of you are there?”
“I said I don’t know.”
John gasped but made no other sound as another wave hit him, his fists clenching tightly.
“I. Don’t. Know. I don’t know. Idontknow. For fuck sake, I don’t know. It’s not that easy.”
“Tell us.”
John breathed in deeply and measuredly, his eyes not leaving the lead scientist. They were cold and hard and full of hate.
“Every country is different,” he said quickly. “Some are more organised that others. Some are more remote or wild than others. There could be hundreds, tens of hundreds, across Australia, Canada, parts of Africa or South America which we just don’t know about.”
“Estimate.”
He did some quick calculations, his shoulders slumping. “Between two and five million.”
“How many in Britain?”
“About four hundred.”
He could feel John staring at him, his head shaking, but he ignored it.
“How do you hide?”
“How do you think?” he snapped. “We look like you, we act like you, we just happen to make sure we’re not in public when there is a full moon.”
“What do you do for money?”
“What do you think? We have jobs, we pay bills, we vote in pointless elections.”
“What did you do?”
“As a job? Office temp.”
“Location?”
“All over, but mainly the south west. A month or so here or there, then move on. Less questions.”
“How many in your pack?”
“I don’t have a pack.”
He fought against his bonds as John went rigid in pain.
“Twelve, alright!” he shouted. “There are twelve. Just please, stop that. Stop hurting him!”
He was going to kill them. He was going to kill them all.
*
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me.
Back in their cage he fell to his knees in front of his mate, pressing his face against the legs, needing to know that he was alright while unable to ask for anything more.
Fingers buried in his hair as a tired arm tugged him upwards. They toppled onto the bed together, a tangle of shaking limbs.
They hurt you and it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’msorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.
“Shushhh. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
He clutched and he held on and he refused to let go.
*
Part Three
Previous part
*
The human didn’t move.
The wolf stalked, head low, ears pinned back. Nervousness, anxiety, ah yes, fear, he could smell fear now. Fear was good. Humans should fear. They should recognise the danger, know when they were outmatched, outplayed, out-evolved. But there was more. The human heart was pounding, the blood racing through his veins, his eyes shifting, taking in his strong, sleek form.
“Extraordinary,” the human said. “That was just… bloody amazing.”
He stopped and bared his teeth, letting the growl rumble low in his chest. The human stopped talking, while his heart pounded harder. Sweat, scent, sitting there, sitting up, not cowering, not hiding, not attacking. Just sitting and watching. The bravery of a human.
His growl deepened, crouching, threatening.
The human continued to stare wide eyed in fascination and then his eyes lowered, his head tilting to one side, his neck offered… and was accepted.
He leapt, knocking the man sideways off the bed and onto the floor, paws pinning him by the shoulders, mouth open, teeth sharp as he growled in his face. The human gaped, heart hammering but didn’t look away, just offered his throat.
Surrendered.
He pushed his nose down against it and sniffed. Warm skin covered hot blood. He could smell fear but not panic. Breaths were panted and there was something there that called to him.
Mate, part of him finally said. A worthy mate. Take. Have. Claim.
He pressed his snout in further. Testosterone, pheromones and something more.
Not enough. The neck wasn’t enough. Stronger, sharper smells were needed. Armpit. Manly, basic, hot, but shielded by clothing.
He raked his claws against the offending material, the fabric parting with his stroke. The human flinched, his hands rising to try and stop him.
Stop him? He pressed down, snarling, face to face. The man froze but then a hand sank into his thick coat, pushing gently but firmly.
“Let me,” the human said hoarsely. “I’ll help. Just… let me.”
Their eyes met, man and wolf, the man now unmoving but with his hand still pressed against him. Insistent but not challenging.
He watched for a moment, tipping his head one way and then the next before rearing up. The man nodded, his hands pulling at his clothing, tugging it over his head until there was skin and sweat and scent. The man then looked at him expectedly, openly.
He pushed his nose in, sniffing, licking, nuzzling. The man jerked, curling up, a high pitched whimpering noise coming from him.
He pulled back in alarm and growled.
“Sorry,” the man said. “Tickled.”
He paused for a moment before pushing the man back down and resuming his mission. The body below him lay back and relaxed into the touch, a hand sinking back into his fur, to stroke and feel.
Head, neck, chest, armpit, he had the lot but he still wanted more.
Mate. Mate. Mate. Mine.
He pressed his nose to the man’s crotch, growling when he met thick denim.
“Hey,” the man said, a hand pushing sideways at his muzzle.
He growled, pinning the man again, forcing him down.
The man stared back, unblinking, barely reacting when the claws dug into his bare skin. “Yes,” the man said before tipping his head up and back, his hips rising slightly. “Yes, alright, but hold on. Let me.”
He hesitated but then reared back, watching as the man adeptly stripped off all his remaining clothing, tossed them away and then lay back.
He smelt so good. Powerful, strong, a worthy mate.
The wolf pounced and smelt, pushing his nose in everywhere, leaving nowhere unexplored. The man whimpered and then sighed as he started to lick, tasting on his tongue what he had already smelt with his nose.
“Oh god,” the man said but made no move to stop him, hips jerking with certain swipes, hands sinking further into his fur. “Normally I’d ask for a drink first, but to hell with normal.”
Mate, his mind said. Mate. Mine. Now. Mark him and no one else would ever dare come near him.
He licked the human’s front, his back, his bottom and genitals until finally there was nowhere else to explore and he started to whine softly, his explorations softening to nuzzling, rubbing his scent across the human, leaning into the human’s touch in turn. He jerked when exploring fingers touched the sensitive spot on his neck, whining slightly before lowering to his belly, lying with his head nudging those fingers. The human did it again and he shivered. No one had ever touched him like that in years. He pressed against the human wanting more and closing his eyes he slowly relaxed.
The fingers continued to stroke.
*
“You know,” the human was saying, “for such a dangerous creature, you are extraordinary, quite extraordinary.”
He lay with his head on the human’s middle, eyes half open but still fully alert.
“I have no idea if you understand me, but thank you for not harming me, and if you want to finish what you’ve started when you’re back in, you know, human form, then you only have to ask… or pounce, whichever.”
He could feel the moon reaching its pinnacle and it was all he could do not to throw his head back and howl.
*
Sat on the bed, John watched as he turned back.
He stood for a moment, between John and the glass, naked and tall, chin up, shoulders back. John met his gaze, equally naked, skin still a little damp across the scar on his shoulder where the wolf had taken a last interest shortly before. Then John’s eyes dropped, slowly and unabashedly taking in his full form, head to toe and back again, lingering briefly on his crotch before once again meeting his gaze. He said nothing but his eyes were challenging and then, as in slow motion, he tilted his head back and bared his neck.
That was it.
With a growl he pinned John to the bed, forcing the human’s hands over his head, holding him there with his superior strength, their breaths mingling as they stared. He could smell the wolf across the other man and his body screamed at him to take, to claim, to mate.
“Yes,” he heard John say as he angled his hips up. “God yes.”
Their lips met in a bruising kiss, although it was more of a mouth to mouth invasion than a kiss. Despite ceding the dominance, John gave as good as he got, pressing back, nipping at his lip, not letting him have it all his way. Their legs tangled together and he could feel the other man’s interest pressing against his thigh. It was hard to miss the smell of arousal he was giving off.
Tearing his mouth away, he pressed his forehead into the shoulder, rubbing his nose into the offered neck.
“We need to talk,” he managed, giving into the urge to sink his teeth into the skin.
John yelped, body jerking but not fighting him off. The wolf was pleased.
“You owe me a drink… and a new shirt,” John said tugging in an attempt to get his hands free. “And if you continue like that a new neck.”
He nuzzled at the neck, pressing a kiss to the reddening skin but not letting up on the hands.
“There are things…” he said before hissing slightly when John’s hips moved in a particular way.
Take him. Claim him. He wants you. Mate him. Make him yours.
He closed his eyes and panted as he dropped his head.
“If those things don’t involve carrying on with what you’ve started then I don’t want to know,” John said.
Mark him.
“I play the violin,” he finally managed, “sometimes I don’t talk for days… and werewolves mate for life.”
John stilled beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut.
“So you’ve never… mated… before.”
“I have… experience… but the wolf choses the mate. There has never been anyone he’s deemed… worthy.” He let the rest of the sentence go unspoken.
He felt John’s Adam’s apple rise and fall. “Oh, right.”
The seconds felt infinitely long.
“I drink tea,” he finally heard John say. “I have a temper, and I’ve jeopardised every relationship I’ve ever been in by my need to run heedlessly into danger.”
“Nothing more dangerous than mating with a werewolf.” He ran his teeth against the skin nipping gently.
“God yes.”
“We’re strong, fast, possessive. I don’t like anyone touching what is mine. If you cheat on me I will find out and I will kill you.”
John swallowed, his back arching. “Will I regret this?”
“Probably.”
“And if I don’t, will I regret that?”
He licked up to his ear. “Almost certainly.”
“Do you want me?”
Mate, the wolf snarled.
He breathed deeply as the wolf pounded at the last of his defences. His body shook from holding back, from fighting the urge to rub, to rut, to bite, to lick and to claim. John, he could smell John, the musk of arousal, could feel him, the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, could hear him, the intake of his breath. He was so close, everything he had denied himself for so long was right there and he couldn’t think why he might turn it down.
“Yes,” he said, the word reverberating through his chest his want for this human merging with the desires of the wolf, joining and multiplying, becoming one. “Yes, god yes.”
“Then have me.”
*
He didn’t care that they were being watched by the cameras and those tiny little humans, that he was about to bind his life to a human male he had only known for one day and one night, or that he was about to do something he had always vowed never to do, all he cared about was getting as close to this person and making him his.
His arousal was hot and heavy against his stomach as he pressed his pelvis down and against John’s. John let out a soft gasp, mouth open, breath warm brushing his check and neck before being swallowed by his mouth. Part of him - the more rational part - wanted to ask if John had ever done this before, had ever lain with a man, engaged in sexual intercourse with another male, whether he knew what to expect, but the other part - the instinct part - didn’t care to ask. The answer would make no difference to the outcome and had the potential to make him angry. John was his now. He sank his teeth into the flesh on the shoulder. No one else would ever touch him in that way again.
He could smell the wolf all across John and he followed the scents with his own tongue, kissing, nipping and licking in much the same way he had done hours before, except this time he had less restraint, less reason to be gentle.
He moved slowly down the offered body, mapping each line, each contour, each scar and committing them to memory, overlapping them with the sense memories of the night before. John wiggled, giggled and moaned in varying amounts, his hands coming down to burying themselves in his curls.
John’s erection lay hard and swollen, the skin darkened by the blood and he could practically hear the blood rushing through it. His balls were hot and heavy and for a moment he was torn between which he wanted to lavish his attention and tongue on first. The cock won, but only he needed to know what it felt like against his tongue, what the clear, gathering liquid at the top tasted like. He pressed the tip of his tongue to the slit before sucking the head into his mouth. John made the most delightful noise that he had to do it again, adding in a flick of the tongue.
“Jeeezus… Christ… fuck….”
He hummed in vague agreement before sliding his mouth down, making a note of what John appeared to like and by what scale. The noises took on a whining quality that sounded so right that he never wanted it to stop.
Take him. Make him yours.
Pulling his mouth off he pulled the hips up towards him and buried his head lower, nuzzling the gently furred balls, swiping his tongue across them, breathing in the primal scent.
Mate. Mine.
He could hear John saying more words but understanding them was something else, but he didn’t need to understand them, John’s body spoke to him more thoroughly and more truthfully than anything else. Every flex, every jerk, every whine, every sigh told him exactly what he needed to know.
Now. He’s yours. Now, now, now.
He flipped him over, pulling him up onto his elbows and knees, spreading his legs until he had him exactly how he wanted him; shaking with anticipation and need, heady with arousal, gasping with want.
He both felt and heard the sharp intake of breath as he parted the cheeks and then he was between them, circling his tongue round and round, breathing in and blowing out in equal measure, taking his time to caress every inch of skin until bathed in his saliva and the red rim loose and quivering with each touch.
“Please… pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” fell from John’s lips like a ceaseless cascade but this was not something he was going to rush.
Leaving his prize, he ran his tongue slowly up the centre of John’s back, stretching his body against him, stroking soothingly with his fingers.
“Shhhhh,” he murmured nipping at the skin below the nearest ear. “I’ve got you. So responsive.” He ran his fingers down John’s side, gently stroking. “You won’t regret it. Gonna make you mine. Gonna make you feel so good.”
He sucked his fingers before slipped them between John’s arse cheeks, pressing against the softened ring of muscle. John arched and groaned, words lost as he pressed his face into his arms.
“That’s it,” he said soothingly. “Relax. Open up for me.”
His finger slid in and he couldn’t stop the groan at the feel of the warm heat clenching at him. It felt so good, so right that it was all he could do not to drive his cock in and been swallowed by the feelings. But with no additional lubricant other than his saliva they would have to go slowly.
Pressing his lips to the back of John’s neck, he held them both still for a moment, glorifying in the feel of John’s pulse against his finger, then he nipped at the skin and flexed his finger. John jerked up and forward, a string of nonsense words falling from his lips. He waited for a moment, simply holding position before he did it again, moving firmly but carefully across John’s prostate. The outcome was just as good as the first time, John’s body rocking forward and then pressing back desperate for more, his thighs shifting marginally wider.
“Good, that’s it,” he said huskily and pressed in a second finger.
John’s reaction was beautiful; hot, open and so ready, so very, very ready.
He carefully pulled his fingers out, shuddering slightly at the sound of John’s protesting whine, but then he was back down there, replacing his fingers with this tongue, bathing the area in as much saliva as he could manage, pushing his tongue in, swirling it round. He could have kept doing that for hours, but the shifting hips and the needy whines shot straight to his cock and he had to take, take, take.
Take now. Mate. Make him yours.
Growling, he pulled away, spreading the pre-come across his cock as much as possible, coating the rest with saliva. Then he pressed himself back over John and mounting carefully pushed himself in.
It was hot and clenching and so, so good. Never in his life had he felt something like this, something as good, as right as this. Bending his head, he nuzzled at the neck before sinking his teeth into the skin as he pressed his hips forward again. John jerked and cursed, but pressed back with equal desperation, begging and pleading for more.
He gave more, and more and more.
Responsive and greedy, John took it all, swallowing him up with each thrust. He could feel the bond growing between them, his possessiveness increasing with each thrust. My man, my mate. Why he had denied himself of this wonderful feeling he had no idea, but nothing was going to stop him now.
He was nearly there, he had nearly done it. He could feel the heat rushing to his balls ready for the final marking, the final claiming, and then suddenly he was there, on the edge, but he wasn’t alone. John, so powerful and so strong was there with him, reaching out for him, wanting him and as they moved to touch it was as if everything exploded in heat and light. He could feel hot heat clenching tightly at him as everything tensed and shook and then the rush of orgasm was upon him.
Throwing his head back he gave in and howled.
*
“Is it going to be like that every time?”
John lay boneless and sated under his arms, drifting on the edge of sleep. The smell from him was stunning; pheromones and arousal, sex and sweat, him, the wolf and John. If he could he would bottle it to have forever.
“No,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against the fair hairs on John’s chest as John’s fingers idly scratched at the back of his neck. “It’ll get better.”
*
He slept for three hours, twenty-two minutes and fourteen seconds. In that time he could feel the bond strengthening and binding.
John, with his frail human body and need for sleep, slept for an additional two hours, six minutes and thirty-eight seconds. He watched the man for that entire time, a silent vigil, taking note of the scrapes and bruises across the skin while shielding him from unwanted attention from their observers. He had never seen anything so fascinating in his life.
Then again, he reasoned, John was just as fascinating while awake as well, which led him to wonder how he could have ever considered him just an ‘average’ human.
“So, not a dream then?” John said as their eyes met.
He growled, his teeth on full display, but was surprised when John then laughed, tugging him down for a kiss. Mate, the kiss said. Mine. And then John was pushing him away, rolling off the bed to walk to the window, tapping on the glass with purpose and authority. Following, he wrapped a possessive arm around his mate, pulling him back and away, his chest rumbling with a constant growl.
Food, he heard John demanding, water, antiseptic cream, wipes, towels and, for god's sake, some lubricant. It was glorious and he didn’t bother to fight the urge to lick that neck and drag him back to the bed.
*
After John made him eat, they tried to force him out of the cage and onto the treadmill. It became very clear, very quickly that he was going nowhere, and neither was John.
*
He threw his head back and moaned as John’s fingers scored into the skin on his back and sides. It was a moment of exquisite ecstasy as he thrust into John’s responsive body and felt the hot, slick heat clench around him.
Face to face, John’s legs were wrapped high around his waist giving a different angle and feel to the wolf-style of their previous couplings. It also meant he could watch every thrust, every emotion, every thought play across John’s face, from the crinkling of his eyes, to the gasps that fell from his lips. For the first time in his life he couldn’t get enough.
*
“So if you’re an alpha male, does this make me your beta?”
He pressed his ear to John’s chest and concentrated on tapping out his heartbeat.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “I would never mate with a beta.”
“Oh right.” A gentle rumble in the chest. “So I’m an alpha too then?”
“Of course. The alpha mate. An alpha for an alpha.”
It took a moment for it to sink in and then he smiled as John groaned. “Oh god, I’m the bloody girl. I’m the alpha female.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, tracing his name across the offered skin.
*
He didn’t bother with clothing. He felt perfectly at ease in his own skin. Those so called scientists had already seen everything and more. Coyness was a not a trait associated with wolves. Possessiveness, however, was.
He could feel the newly formed bond between him and John, felt it and accepted it. One part of him was surprised by that, by how easily he had given into it, the other part wanted to make it clear to the world that this surprising human was his and only his.
They were watching them, but more than that they were watching John. They wanted John back, he could tell. They wanted to take him away, to test him, to place their hands and their equipment all over him. He was not going to let that happen. John was his.
He bared his teeth, crouching down as he watched them.
“Hey.”
He felt John’s hand in his hair, scratching lightly at the side of his head. Before this he had never liked anyone touching his hair. Now, he couldn’t get enough of it, but only if it was John. It would only ever be John.
He accepted the caress, turning his head to press into it. It helped that it brought his nose closer to John’s equally naked body, the familiar smell washing over him, calming him somewhat. John’s genitals were also close, and he couldn’t help but nuzzle into them, swiping his tongue across the offered flesh.
John tensed slightly before tapping him on the head. “Later.”
Later, yes. It hadn’t actually been a sexual caress, although he could understand why it had been mistaken as such. Humans tended to get confused when things involved their genitals. Such moves weren’t always a sexual act. Sometimes it was just a comfort thing, or a reminder, or a confirmation. Those genitals were his now, but it pleased him that John was more than open to further copulation but at the same time wasn’t afraid to say no to him.
“Stop threatening them and come and play some gin.”
Moving away, John took a seat on the floor and collected up the cards to shuffle without even waiting for an answer. He liked that about John; his ease with himself and the way he wasn’t afraid to given an order, even to someone as dangerous as a werewolf.
A worthy mate indeed.
Rising to his full height, he shot the scientists one last look, before joining his human on the floor.
*
They kissed.
It’s wasn’t something he had been expecting much of, but it was definitely something he wanted more of. It was like licking and nuzzling, only mutual and hotter.
They were sprawled out on the bed, John pressed on top of him leading the kiss - the many kisses -tracing them around his face, his neck, his hair before returning regularly to his mouth. It was more leisurely and nicer than it had any right to be. He could feel John’s arousal pressing against his leg, his own making its presence known, but there was no urge to do anything with it quite yet, not when he could be enjoying the intimacy of this embrace.
“I want to know everything about you,” John had said earlier as they ate their offered evening meal. “I want to know who you were before all this, where you came from, what you’re like away from this place.”
They had both glanced across at the wider room where they were being watched and recorded.
“I want to know what you look like running under a full moon, how you spend the rest of your time, what your interests and activities include. I want to watch crap telly with you, take you to a pub, hold your hand and challenge anyone who objects. I want to meet those closest to you, those you care about, watch you interact with other people. I want to know what’s important to you and I want to be a part of it. But I know you can’t tell me and we can’t do that, so I’ll just have to contend myself with getting to know you, this you, here and now.”
John was certainly making good use of the here and now.
“Tell me this isn’t just about sex,” he heard as John mouthed kisses by his ear.
“Mate,” he said, his voice low and gravely, his arm moving up to stroke along John’s back. “Sex is just part of it.”
“Is that… is that why I feel like this?”
He cocked his head to get a better look at John’s expression, for a moment concerned by what he might see, but he didn’t have to be. The look was one of accepted fondness, not of angry accusation.
“For life,” he replied. “We’re genetically predisposed to keep our mates wanting us; physically, mentally, sexually.”
“So that’s why I can’t get enough.”
“Yes,” he said as the nose rubbed against his check. “Problem?”
“No.” Fingers tangled in his hair. “Just wondered. It’s not as if I’m a teenager any more so I figured it must have been something.”
John’s erection rubbed gently against his side and then their lips were meeting again, warm, moist and deliciously unhurried.
*
He kept vigil most of the night while John slept, pacing restlessly until warm hands caught his and pulled him back to bed.
The sex that followed was rough and he growled and arched into the feel of John’s nails digging into his back and side.
“Yes,” he heard John say, the last letter pushed out from between teeth as he pressed in with more force than usual. “Yes, give it to me. More. God… yes, more.”
The climax left them both drowsy, John’s hand capturing his to stop him from moving away. It was still some hours before daybreak and he could feel the waning moon sinking slowly towards the horizon. He was pleasantly content though, and wrapping his arms around his mate, curled around him and allowed sleep to come.
*
He knew the instant the door opened. Their kind always knew when another was nearby, even if the other was a stranger, and this was no stranger. No, this was far from being a stranger.
Instantly alert, he froze and worked on keeping his breathing regular. He had no desire to draw too much attention to himself, but finally it was the moment he had been waiting for; they had found him.
He couldn’t clearly hear what they were saying, but if he concentrated he could feel it; in the air pressure, in the vibrations. They were talking about him, well of course they were talking about him. The lead scientist was sickeningly enthusiastic about it, his words babbled, his hands rubbing together. Then they were moving away, towards the computer consoles.
Keeping his eyes closed, he concentrated, waiting. He heard the camera above them moving, focusing on them and then… ah, there it was, four clear and careful taps. It was all he could do to stop the small smile.
Opening his eyes, he stared up straight into the camera, unyielding, unblinking. Message received and understood.
John stirred obviously feeling the changes in his body. Relaxing again, he closed his eyes and tightened his arms around his mate, a message of his own; I’m not going anywhere alone.
Calming himself, he concentrated on listening to the vibrations. The day was one thing, the place… Tea? Were they really talking about tea? And then he pressed his lips together. Clever. Of course. That at least explained why it had taken them so long to find him. But not long now. Soon, very soon and they would be free. He could almost smell it.
“What was that about?” John asked eyes closed as he rubbed his nose against his chest.
It was very clever, his brilliant, brilliant mate, who was more awake than he was letting on.
Slipping a hand between them where none of the cameras could see, he carefully drew a house against John’s skin. There was a moment’s pause and then a small nod that he understood before a question mark was drawn against his skin. He pondered for a moment how to relay the message before reaching forward to press a small kiss to John’s lips, then a second, then a third and then finally a forth before running a finger in the shape of a crescent over his face. It just looked like a random caress but John got it instantly.
Four days. They only had four more days of this, or more accurately, four more moons, and then home. They were finally going to go home.
*
“NO!”
Pushing John behind him, he widened his stance and growled. How dare they come here and threaten to take his John away. How dare they demand and try to bully him into doing anything. John was his. It didn’t matter how many of them there were and what weapons they had he wasn’t going to give in without a fight. He would rather die than be alone again.
There was shouting and movement and weapons being raised but none of it concerned him. John would be safe. He would keep him safe. He would rip them to pieces with his bare claws if need be. He would….
“Wait.”
He froze at the word and at the feel of a hand on his shoulder. Spinning, he found himself face to face with John - his John - the growl that had been rumbling in his chest easing slightly at the sight of his mate.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay. How could it possibly be okay? They had already taken so much from him and still they wanted more. But then John’s hand was on his face and he was sinking into the feeling, leaning into the touch.
“It’s okay, they only want to run a few tests, let me have a shower, shave, that sort of thing.”
No, no, no, no, no, they wanted to take him away.
“Then I’ll be back. Isn’t that right?”
The last question was aimed at the scientists behind them, firm in pitch and meaning. They confirmed it but he still didn’t trust them. Why should he trust them? After everything they had done.
“A couple of hours, that’s all.” John’s voice was soothing, reasonable. “You’ll barely know I’m gone.”
No, he would know every second, feel every moment.
He looked around, his eyes drawn to the tranquiliser guns. There were so many of them. To fight them would be futile and yet he would try.
“Promise,” he said hoarsely pulling John towards him until their forehands met. “I can’t… I can’t….”
John’s finger touched his lips stilling his words. “They couldn’t keep me from you. Not now.” A press of those lips against his, the breath of a promise and then John was slipping from his grasp, calmly walking to the door, ready to be let out.
He felt frozen to the spot, afraid that any movement he would make would result in him pulling John back or harming someone. Then the door opened and John was stepping through, head high, arms held slightly away from his nude body. The door shut and locked.
He growled, rushing forward to press himself to the glass.
“I’m fine,” John said with a small smile. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.”
Then his mate was being pushed from the room and it was like he had been plunged in icy water.
*
He paced. He growled. He flung himself on the bed and pressed his nose against the material, immersing himself in the smell. He threw the balls against the wall. He wrote John’s name across the cell wall over and over again, breaking three crayons in the process.
He paced some more.
He sniffed at the clothing John had worn before the change, looked critically at the slashes in the shirt. John’s scent both settled and unnerved him in equal measure. He could smell John there but he wanted more. He wanted the real thing.
He counted the seconds, marking off the minutes on the wall as they passed.
He paced some more.
He stood and watched the door, waiting for John to come back. Part of him knew he was acting irrationally, that John would either be back or he wouldn’t and there was nothing he could do about it, but the other part, the overwhelming part, demanding that John be brought back now.
He scrapped his fingernails down the glass, growling at a constant rumble.
An hour passed and still no John.
He started pacing again. Up, down. Four steps then turn. Four steps then turn. Four steps then turn. He slammed his fist against the glass.
Ten minutes passed and then ten more.
Throwing himself to the floor started to do press-ups, counting out the seconds as they went. It felt good to do something physical but he needed more, much more.
Another ten minutes passed.
John had said a couple of hours. So two hours. He could wait two hours. He could.
He curled up on the bed and tried to think of something else, anything else. He ran through the elements on the periodic table including their properties and groups. He named all the prime numbers up to a thousand. He listed all the counties in England in alphabetical order.
Another ten minutes passed and he resumed his pacing.
He redrew over the smiley face on the wall and paused by the quote from King Lear. With a snarl he grabbed the remains of another crayon and crossed over to the glass. Delving into the depths of his memory he searched for the texts he had once been forced to study and learn, those that had avoided deletion and stuck with him. Then he started to write.
Long minutes later he tossed down the crayon, checking through his backwards lettering, knowing that even these humans wouldn’t be able to miss his meaning. They would also be able to read it from the outside. No excuses.
John would be back soon.
He resumed sitting on the bed, letting their joined lingering scent wash over him, his fist tightening as he waited. He could not explain why he was so agitated, only that he didn’t trust them. They had given him John so suddenly and they could take him away again so suddenly. Had it really only been a couple of days since they had first met? It felt like a lifetime now.
Maybe in some respects it was a lifetime. His life had only really started when they had mated and joined.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. His internal clock ticked passed the second hour mark.
Still no John.
Rising to his feet he tapped at the glass. They ignored him.
“How much longer?” he asked. “You promised me.”
You promised me.
He started pacing again. It was like torture. The not knowing was now even worse than the waiting. How had he allowed himself to get into such a state? He had always been so independent, hadn’t needed anyone, and now he was brought to his knees by a single human male. His human male.
He slammed his fist into the glass, the door, the wall. He kicked, he shouted, he punched. He wanted out. He wanted John. They were keeping him from his mate and they would regret that. They would be sorry. He would make them pay.
He scored his fingernails down his arms, across his chest, the pain grounding him, giving him something else to focus on, something other than John, John, John.
What if they were hurting John? What if they were hooking him up to different machines and testing his pain thresholds? What if they were touching him in inappropriate ways? No one should touch his John.
John. John. John. Where are you?
Was this what it was really like to be bonded? To be separated? Or was there something wrong? Was there something wrong with him? Had he denied it too long, pushed it aside? Would he always be like this; clingy, desperate, emotional.
No, he was better than this. He was more than just the wolf.
He forced himself to sit, wedging himself in between the wall and the bed. Pulling up his knees, he lowered his head and gripped it with his arms. He could get through this. It would only be for a while longer. John would be back soon.
He would be back.
*
He was on his feet the moment the doors opened.
Three hours and nine minutes his internal clock said, but now John was back.
John was back.
He watched as John was walked in, flanked on either side by guards. It was obvious he had showered and changed. His hair was lying differently and his cheeks were smooth after a shave. They had him in clothing, just jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, but they looked strange on him.
Their eyes met the instant John was in the wider room, an affectionate and apologetic smile gracing his mate’s mouth. He knew that it had been more than two hours. Did he know what that had done to him? Could he see it in his stance, in the scratch marks across his skin, in the desperation showing in his eyes?
He stepped away from the door, not thinking of escape but rather of doing anything to get his John back to him as quickly as possible. If that meant backing away even momentarily then that was what he would do.
The door opened and then John was back and he could feel him, hear him, smell him. Within two steps he had his arms wrapped around the smaller man, dragging him against his body, fingers scrabbling with the clothing. He smelt like soap and them - the scientists. It was distracting and wrong and he had to fight to get to the proper smell underneath.
He tugged aimlessly at the clothing until steady hands helped dispose of it and then he was back, pressing against his mate’s naked body, burying his nose into the crook of the neck, breathing in deeply to get at the base smell.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he heard spoken as arms wrapped around his back and a hand tangled in his hair to hold him there. “Shhhh, I’m back. I’m here. It’s fine. Look at me.” The hands cupped his face, lifting his head so their eyes met and all he could see was John, his John, with his smile and his warm eyes. “It’s fine, I’m fine. See.”
He nodded, feeling his heart rate slow, the tension in his body starting to ease. Lowering his head again, he pressed it against the nearest shoulder, rubbing his nose against the skin.
“Sorry,” he said, his word muffled by his position. “I… I can’t….”
“It’s alright,” he heard again. “That was difficult for you, wasn’t it? But it’ll get better. It’ll get easier. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere.”
It was all illogical, this overwhelming need for this human. It was weak and dangerous and something he would have derided in the past, but now it made so much sense. He felt like a better person, a fuller person when John was around and he wanted to hold onto it.
He pressed his lips to the offered skin and started to kiss, lick and bite it. He just had to get rid of the smell of the others, make John smell more like John again and then things would be better, he would be able to think again.
He felt John sigh, relaxing into his ministrations and for a moment he wandered about that, about the ease at which John accepted his interest, but distracted he pushed it aside and concentrated on making John his once more.
*
They lay on the bed, him on his back, John on his front by the wall, an arm slung across his chest.
“It’s backwards.”
He almost missed the words, concentrating as he had been on the very faint marks on John’s wrist. They had tied him down, broad strap, probably leather, about three inches wide. He had tugged against it, more than once, more than just to test the give. Had most probably been strapped to a chair, similar marks on his ankles. Legs bound to the chair legs, arms to the arm rests. Not just a medical examination then, they had wanted him in a seated position but didn’t trust him not to fight. Had he fought them? Probably wanted to ask him questions. What sort of questions? Had he answered? What had he said?
“Hmmm?” he managed before tilting his head to follow John’s gaze. Oh, the writing, his latest masterpiece. “Wanted them to read and know,” he said. Backwards so to them it would be forwards and they would have no excuse.
“What does it say?”
He ran his fingers across John’s wrist over the fading mark. He knew that if John wanted to he would be able to read it but this was about more than just the words.
“It’s a quote,” he said, “more or less.”
“Tell me.”
He closed his eyes and sank back fully onto the mattress.
“I am a wolf,” he spoke softly. “Hath not a wolf eyes? Hath not a wolf hands, organs, dimensions, sense, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a human is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not… revenge?”
He stayed still as John’s hand stroked soothingly over his chest in the silence that followed.
“Merchant of Venice,” John finally said.
“Yes.”
They lay there for a while longer, comfortable and still, not dozing but not completely awake either. The next question caught him as unprepared as the first.
“Who are you?” John asked simply.
The wolf, he thought instantly.
He didn’t reply.
*
They took him the next day, in between breakfast and lunch. It had been expected and they didn’t fight it.
They gave him a full medical, carefully going over every inch of his body, noting changes, spending more time than he thought necessary on his genitals. They even tried to arouse him but to no avail of course. There was only one person who would interest him there from now on.
They stuck him on the treadmill and then on the exercise bike. He endured it as he always had, but flinched more when they moved to touch him. They then let him shower, shave, wash his hair. It was the same shower John had used the day before, a thought that comforted him. At least now he would be able to picture where John had been. It would also make future partings easier. Not that there would be many more partings. Three moons to go and then it would all be over, one way or another.
He could still smell his brother in this room. It was extremely faint, but it was a scent he would never be able to miss. No doubt the lead scientist had brought him here while on the tour of the facilities. See where we test the specimen. Yes, we make him run and skip and jump through hoops. And with your generous investment we would be able to do so much more. Of course it will be off the record but for that price we would be more than willing to share our findings with you. Which government department did you say you were from?
It amused him to think that despite everything that these people knew and had found out, they had completely missed the fact they had had a second of his kind under their roof. His brother had been playing a dangerous but necessary game. Someone had had to come in, just to find out if he was still alive, and if he was, what state he was in. Considering his positions and roles in the British Government, it was hardly surprising that his brother had been deemed the best suited.
Just three more moons.
They strapped him down to a chair and asked him more questions.
Why had he mated?
Why hadn’t he ever mated before?
Is this normal for his species?
Are there many gay werewolves?
How do werewolves reproduce?
What the difference between an alpha and a beta werewolf?
What constitutes a pack?
How long will this mating frenzy last for?
For the most part he ignored them waiting for the time they would get fed up and let him get back to his cell and his John.
It took over four hours in the end in total for everything.
John was sat on the bed, his head in his hands, when they finally took him back.
“Is this what it was like for you? This waiting? The not knowing?”
Unlike the scientists’ questions, John’s were pleasant, broken up as they were by grabbing hands and greedy lips pressing warm kissing against his skin.
“What is it that makes me want to be near you all the time? What have you done to me?”
His back hit the bed as John asserted his physical strength. He didn’t respond verbally, but suspected that John knew the answers anyway.
*
It was what he had most feared. Of course it had only been a matter of time, but he had hoped to be able to put it off for just a little longer, but that was not the case.
Another moon set, another day and this time rather than removing them separately they were taken out together. They were then strapped to different treadmills and told them to run. Between them they had to cover twenty miles and neither would be allowed to stop until the distance had been covered.
It was very clever. John was obviously the weaker of the two of them, especially with his frail human body, which meant there would be a limit to his speed and distance. So it would be mainly up to him. They were trying to force him to show exactly what he could do, and there was a chance it would work.
He shouted and argued with them, then ran harder and faster than he had been, desperate to spare John the prolonged agony of exhaustion. The scientist already knew what each of them were capable of, except in his case he had never had a reason to exceed their expectations before, never had to run at near capacity, until now.
John was his weak spot and they knew it.
He had been holding back. Of course he had been, both physically and verbally and now they had leverage.
How many of your kind do you know of?
Is there a pack leader?
Do werewolves regularly mate with humans?
What happens to a werewolf if a mate is killed?
Are there werewolf children?
Are humans and werewolves able to breed together?
Were your parents werewolves?
Will your children be werewolves?
How far will you go to protect your mate?
It was painfully inevitable. Bound to the chair, the straps bit sharply into his arms and legs as they placed electrodes over John’s body. The intent was clear.
“You bastards. You bloody, fucking bastards.”
John’s curse words covered verbally pretty much what he had been thinking.
“Don’t do this,” he said his voice low and far steadier than he was feeling. “Take those things off and I’ll answer your questions.”
It wasn’t going to work like that.
“How many of your kind are there?”
“Take those things off!”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
He snarled and tugged sharply at his bonds as John sucked in a breath and slammed his mouth shut, every muscle in his body appearing to go rigid.
“How many of you are there?”
“I said I don’t know.”
John gasped but made no other sound as another wave hit him, his fists clenching tightly.
“I. Don’t. Know. I don’t know. Idontknow. For fuck sake, I don’t know. It’s not that easy.”
“Tell us.”
John breathed in deeply and measuredly, his eyes not leaving the lead scientist. They were cold and hard and full of hate.
“Every country is different,” he said quickly. “Some are more organised that others. Some are more remote or wild than others. There could be hundreds, tens of hundreds, across Australia, Canada, parts of Africa or South America which we just don’t know about.”
“Estimate.”
He did some quick calculations, his shoulders slumping. “Between two and five million.”
“How many in Britain?”
“About four hundred.”
He could feel John staring at him, his head shaking, but he ignored it.
“How do you hide?”
“How do you think?” he snapped. “We look like you, we act like you, we just happen to make sure we’re not in public when there is a full moon.”
“What do you do for money?”
“What do you think? We have jobs, we pay bills, we vote in pointless elections.”
“What did you do?”
“As a job? Office temp.”
“Location?”
“All over, but mainly the south west. A month or so here or there, then move on. Less questions.”
“How many in your pack?”
“I don’t have a pack.”
He fought against his bonds as John went rigid in pain.
“Twelve, alright!” he shouted. “There are twelve. Just please, stop that. Stop hurting him!”
He was going to kill them. He was going to kill them all.
*
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me.
Back in their cage he fell to his knees in front of his mate, pressing his face against the legs, needing to know that he was alright while unable to ask for anything more.
Fingers buried in his hair as a tired arm tugged him upwards. They toppled onto the bed together, a tangle of shaking limbs.
They hurt you and it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’msorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.
“Shushhh. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
He clutched and he held on and he refused to let go.
*
Part Three