fic: Pack
title: Pack
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: PG-13
words: 1300
warning: werewolves, slight Dom/sub
summary: Frank's a very playful werewolf.
a/n: for my kink bingo square of "possession/marking", spuzz requested something involving werewolves. since it is her birthday today, I figured I should fill that request. ♥
Because they’re constantly touring, they don’t really have their own territory. Gerard guesses the forest in Jersey they used to play in is the closest thing they have to home turf, but they haven’t been home during a full moon in, well, years. It’s probably been claimed by another pack by now.
This means that when they do transform, they often do it in another pack’s territory. It makes Gerard nervous; it feels like they’re intruding, but they have nowhere else to go. He can’t ask the guys to stay cooped up in the buses or hotel rooms, which are cramped even for humans, when there are usually wide open fields and forests just outside the door.
If there is another pack around when they transform, Mikey and Frank usually do something to break the ice, show the other alpha that they’re not here to stay, just passing through. Gerard doesn’t know what they do, but it works most of the time. Sometimes they even get playmates out of it.
Frank, in his wolf form, is easily the most playful of their group. Hell, he’s the most playful as a human too, but Frank-wolf runs and runs and runs. He tackles the others, wrestles them, barks at them, and they love it.
Gerard’s pack disperses, but they won’t get into trouble, so Gerard lets them go. He keeps an eye on Frank playing with the other group. It doesn’t take long before Frank’s involved in a fairly brutal wrestling game with two of the other pack. He snaps at their fur, smacking his paws against the hard ground to keep things playful.
But then one of Frank’s harmless bites sinks in a little too deep and the other wolf yelps. He’s a big wolf with white fur, and Frank, the idiot, doesn’t let up, just keeps bouncing around and yapping like a pup, even when the white one growls at him. The other, a smaller, brown female, bats her paws at Frank and pushes him away.
The white one, obviously the more dominant of the two, snaps at Frank and tackles him to the ground. Gerard takes a few steps into the clearing; the wolf has the right to put Frank in his place, but… It’s Frank, his Frank.
Another brown wolf comes over, circling warily, and then it’s three against one and Gerard thinks that’s a little unfair. Gerard’s hackles rise as he moves closer. Frank keeps wriggling and flailing, and Gerard’s not sure if Frank even realizes that it’s not a game anymore. Frank’s had that problem in the past, even as a human; he lets the exhilaration take over and forgets to look for visual cues.
The dominant white wolf flattens Frank to the ground and bites the scruff of his neck hard. Frank finally clues in and goes limp. The two brown wolves crouch around him, tense, waiting for him to fight back. Gerard smells blood and lets out a growl when Frank actually does try to get up.
The wolf bites Frank again and pushes him down. The others bare their teeth. Frank thrashes for a split-second before giving in with a high-pitched whimper of pain.
Gerard thinks it’s time to step in. Frank’s not part of their pack. Frank is his. Frank is an idiot, but he’s Gerard’s idiot.
He leaps into the clearing and digs his claws into the dirt. He puffs himself up as much as he can, hackles raised and teeth bared fiercely. He’s a pretty big wolf, all black and sleek, and he knows he can look menacing. The two brown ones back off, but the white wolf doesn’t let go of Frank. Gerard snaps his teeth, growling deep in his throat.
He can feel Mikey, Ray, and Bob gathering behind him, tensing for a fight. They’re outnumbered, but it’s getting close to sunrise. They just need to get Frank back to the bus.
Gerard throws himself at the white wolf, bowling him over. Frank squirms underneath them, still pinned; Gerard sees blood matted in the dark fur on his neck and suddenly recognizes the sharp smell of it as Frank’s. Red stains the other wolf’s snout.
Gerard lashes out, biting and growling and scratching, and finally Frank wiggles free and runs to the protective circle the others have formed. Gerard backs off slowly, still flashing his teeth at any of the other wolves that move. He and the white one stare each other down for a long, tense moment, and then Gerard turns around and gives his pack the signal to go home.
Frank trots back close to Mikey, head and tail both lowered, and when they get back, Mikey takes Frank aside to lick at the blood in his fur. Gerard waits outside with Ray and paces the perimeter. He doesn’t expect the other pack to follow them, not over something as dumb as a game gone too far, but he’s angry and still on high alert, and if he goes inside now, he’ll most likely end up hurting Frank even more.
***
In the morning, Gerard finds Frank curled up in his bunk, naked and lying on top of the blankets. There’s a mug with a dribble of water left and three opened packets of Advil at the foot of the bed. Mikey’s in the lounge making coffee, and Gerard thinks the others are napping in their own bunks. It’s always strange, the morning after, when he loses the sense of his pack. He can’t smell them and he can’t hear them-that is, except for Ray’s snoring.
They’re all tired in the morning, but Frank has the weakest body to return to. As a wolf, he’s healthy and strong, his lungs and his stomach don’t give him any trouble. Gerard knows it’s a shock to his system when he’s suddenly dumped back into his usual form. The transformation hits him hard and it usually takes him a few days to sleep it off.
Gerard climbs into the bunk and pushes Frank over, so he’s pressed against the wall. Gerard flattens himself against Frank’s back and Frank still doesn’t stir.
There are teeth marks at the junction of Frank’s shoulder and neck; they’re not bleeding anymore, but the skin hasn’t yet healed. Gerard fights the urge to growl at the sight of them. He wraps his arm around Frank’s torso and scratches his chest a little, just hard enough to pull Frank from sleep. He wakes with a low, satisfied hum and snuggles back against Gerard’s body, warm and languid in his arms.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Gerard whispers. He can’t quite keep the growl out of his voice, but at least it has the effect of making Frank shiver and press his ass against Gerard’s dick.
“Mmmsorry,” Frank mumbles, still mostly asleep.
“You’re not,” Gerard says. He fits his mouth over the teeth marks and swirls his tongue around them. They won’t scar, so Gerard enjoys the texture on Frank’s skin while he can.
Frank hums again, but it’s not clear if he’s agreeing or disagreeing. Gerard grazes his own teeth over the wolf’s bite.
“Gee…”
“You’re mine,” Gerard says against Frank’s shoulder. “My pack, Frankie. Mine. Not theirs. Mine.”
He digs his teeth in. He doesn’t have the powerful jaw or the sharp teeth he needs, but Frank as a human is more fragile anyway, and he still gets the message. He squirms and claws at the pillow, finally grabbing a handful of the pillowcase and pressing his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. Gerard doesn’t let up. He digs his nails into the space just beneath Frank’s ribs and pushes his hardening cock against Frank’s ass. Frank shifts back, rubs himself on Gerard, and covers Gerard’s hand with his own. Gerard finally eases up on the bite to lick at the bruise instead.
“Your pack,” Frank breathes, his whole body shuddering. “Yours.”
fin.
pairing: Frank/Gerard
rating: PG-13
words: 1300
warning: werewolves, slight Dom/sub
summary: Frank's a very playful werewolf.
a/n: for my kink bingo square of "possession/marking", spuzz requested something involving werewolves. since it is her birthday today, I figured I should fill that request. ♥
Because they’re constantly touring, they don’t really have their own territory. Gerard guesses the forest in Jersey they used to play in is the closest thing they have to home turf, but they haven’t been home during a full moon in, well, years. It’s probably been claimed by another pack by now.
This means that when they do transform, they often do it in another pack’s territory. It makes Gerard nervous; it feels like they’re intruding, but they have nowhere else to go. He can’t ask the guys to stay cooped up in the buses or hotel rooms, which are cramped even for humans, when there are usually wide open fields and forests just outside the door.
If there is another pack around when they transform, Mikey and Frank usually do something to break the ice, show the other alpha that they’re not here to stay, just passing through. Gerard doesn’t know what they do, but it works most of the time. Sometimes they even get playmates out of it.
Frank, in his wolf form, is easily the most playful of their group. Hell, he’s the most playful as a human too, but Frank-wolf runs and runs and runs. He tackles the others, wrestles them, barks at them, and they love it.
Gerard’s pack disperses, but they won’t get into trouble, so Gerard lets them go. He keeps an eye on Frank playing with the other group. It doesn’t take long before Frank’s involved in a fairly brutal wrestling game with two of the other pack. He snaps at their fur, smacking his paws against the hard ground to keep things playful.
But then one of Frank’s harmless bites sinks in a little too deep and the other wolf yelps. He’s a big wolf with white fur, and Frank, the idiot, doesn’t let up, just keeps bouncing around and yapping like a pup, even when the white one growls at him. The other, a smaller, brown female, bats her paws at Frank and pushes him away.
The white one, obviously the more dominant of the two, snaps at Frank and tackles him to the ground. Gerard takes a few steps into the clearing; the wolf has the right to put Frank in his place, but… It’s Frank, his Frank.
Another brown wolf comes over, circling warily, and then it’s three against one and Gerard thinks that’s a little unfair. Gerard’s hackles rise as he moves closer. Frank keeps wriggling and flailing, and Gerard’s not sure if Frank even realizes that it’s not a game anymore. Frank’s had that problem in the past, even as a human; he lets the exhilaration take over and forgets to look for visual cues.
The dominant white wolf flattens Frank to the ground and bites the scruff of his neck hard. Frank finally clues in and goes limp. The two brown wolves crouch around him, tense, waiting for him to fight back. Gerard smells blood and lets out a growl when Frank actually does try to get up.
The wolf bites Frank again and pushes him down. The others bare their teeth. Frank thrashes for a split-second before giving in with a high-pitched whimper of pain.
Gerard thinks it’s time to step in. Frank’s not part of their pack. Frank is his. Frank is an idiot, but he’s Gerard’s idiot.
He leaps into the clearing and digs his claws into the dirt. He puffs himself up as much as he can, hackles raised and teeth bared fiercely. He’s a pretty big wolf, all black and sleek, and he knows he can look menacing. The two brown ones back off, but the white wolf doesn’t let go of Frank. Gerard snaps his teeth, growling deep in his throat.
He can feel Mikey, Ray, and Bob gathering behind him, tensing for a fight. They’re outnumbered, but it’s getting close to sunrise. They just need to get Frank back to the bus.
Gerard throws himself at the white wolf, bowling him over. Frank squirms underneath them, still pinned; Gerard sees blood matted in the dark fur on his neck and suddenly recognizes the sharp smell of it as Frank’s. Red stains the other wolf’s snout.
Gerard lashes out, biting and growling and scratching, and finally Frank wiggles free and runs to the protective circle the others have formed. Gerard backs off slowly, still flashing his teeth at any of the other wolves that move. He and the white one stare each other down for a long, tense moment, and then Gerard turns around and gives his pack the signal to go home.
Frank trots back close to Mikey, head and tail both lowered, and when they get back, Mikey takes Frank aside to lick at the blood in his fur. Gerard waits outside with Ray and paces the perimeter. He doesn’t expect the other pack to follow them, not over something as dumb as a game gone too far, but he’s angry and still on high alert, and if he goes inside now, he’ll most likely end up hurting Frank even more.
***
In the morning, Gerard finds Frank curled up in his bunk, naked and lying on top of the blankets. There’s a mug with a dribble of water left and three opened packets of Advil at the foot of the bed. Mikey’s in the lounge making coffee, and Gerard thinks the others are napping in their own bunks. It’s always strange, the morning after, when he loses the sense of his pack. He can’t smell them and he can’t hear them-that is, except for Ray’s snoring.
They’re all tired in the morning, but Frank has the weakest body to return to. As a wolf, he’s healthy and strong, his lungs and his stomach don’t give him any trouble. Gerard knows it’s a shock to his system when he’s suddenly dumped back into his usual form. The transformation hits him hard and it usually takes him a few days to sleep it off.
Gerard climbs into the bunk and pushes Frank over, so he’s pressed against the wall. Gerard flattens himself against Frank’s back and Frank still doesn’t stir.
There are teeth marks at the junction of Frank’s shoulder and neck; they’re not bleeding anymore, but the skin hasn’t yet healed. Gerard fights the urge to growl at the sight of them. He wraps his arm around Frank’s torso and scratches his chest a little, just hard enough to pull Frank from sleep. He wakes with a low, satisfied hum and snuggles back against Gerard’s body, warm and languid in his arms.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Gerard whispers. He can’t quite keep the growl out of his voice, but at least it has the effect of making Frank shiver and press his ass against Gerard’s dick.
“Mmmsorry,” Frank mumbles, still mostly asleep.
“You’re not,” Gerard says. He fits his mouth over the teeth marks and swirls his tongue around them. They won’t scar, so Gerard enjoys the texture on Frank’s skin while he can.
Frank hums again, but it’s not clear if he’s agreeing or disagreeing. Gerard grazes his own teeth over the wolf’s bite.
“Gee…”
“You’re mine,” Gerard says against Frank’s shoulder. “My pack, Frankie. Mine. Not theirs. Mine.”
He digs his teeth in. He doesn’t have the powerful jaw or the sharp teeth he needs, but Frank as a human is more fragile anyway, and he still gets the message. He squirms and claws at the pillow, finally grabbing a handful of the pillowcase and pressing his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. Gerard doesn’t let up. He digs his nails into the space just beneath Frank’s ribs and pushes his hardening cock against Frank’s ass. Frank shifts back, rubs himself on Gerard, and covers Gerard’s hand with his own. Gerard finally eases up on the bite to lick at the bruise instead.
“Your pack,” Frank breathes, his whole body shuddering. “Yours.”
fin.