Fic: In The Flesh (Jensen/Jared) 1/?
Fandom: J2
Pairings: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R (Whoa! Be still my heart!) -- Wordcount: 6,400
Warnings: werewolf!AU, otherwise, pretty tame this chapter (I promise to make up for it later)
Notes: This is why I should not be allowed to go to the spnkink_meme - I get crazy ideas. This was just gonna be porn, and then somebody gave the plot bunnies Viagra and now it wants to be a real story. Sigh! Currently WIP but I suspect it will be about 4 chapters.Special Thanks - to the splendiferous stillastranger for betaing this and making me feel like I'm slightly less insane for trying it.
Summary - Jared's one of the few people who can pass through the woods unharmed by the fierce wolves that roam there - has been able to ever since he was a little boy and befriended a wolf pup. But there's a lot more to the story than Jared knows and when it comes time to make a choice, which life will he want?
Now with fantastic podfic and art by mustnttellies and eosrose!
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It's the first warm day of the year, the air still wet from the frost that melted overnight, finally giving way after months of holding the ground captive. The sun's blinding bright, blue sky unmarred by clouds and the crispness of the breeze is nothing but refreshing after what feels like weeks on end trapped inside the cottage.
Jared knew he shouldn't have wandered out beyond the tree line - a lifetime of admonishments was enough to beat that lesson into his brain - but still, in all of his vast nine years of experience, he'd never seen any of the supposedly fearsome wolves that roamed the forest to the west side of the village, and as long as he didn't go far it didn't seem like there could be any harm.
Of course, that had been this morning and Jared's mother is always getting on to him for letting his imagination get away with him. He really hadn't meant to get out of sight of the village but then there had been some kind of red bird flying overhead he'd never seen before and then he'd stumbled on a growth of brambles he'd had to go around so now he's not sure how far into the trees his is anymore, or exactly which direction he came from.
Overhead the sun is still high and his stomach hasn't started to grumble yet for the little roll of snacks he has with him, so it can't be past midday. He knows what to do, he's not a woodsman's son for nothing; he just needs to wait until it sinks a little lower so he can tell which direction to point himself in.
Rather than get himself even further turned around, Jared finds a comfortable spot against the base of a tree and relaxes back to wait listening to the soft forest noises all around him.
***
It must be the silence that wakes him; the woods are always quiet but not silent, not like this. Jared's heart jumps into action immediately, hammering at his chest, and he holds his breath to try and keep himself quiet. Something's out there. He can't quite make himself open his eyes, like if he sees whatever danger it is coming toward him, it will make it real.
The melt-damp underbrush doesn't crackle nearby so when he feels the cold press of a snuffling nose at his ankle, reflexively he jerks away, eyes flying open.
The wolf skitters backward a step or two, ears flat to its tawny head. It's small, young, still fluffy and pudgy around the middle but with big, heavy paws that say it'll get much bigger one day. It dips its head, ears easing forward as it slinks sideways across the ground, corralling Jared.
His back presses so hard into the tree he can feel the rough texture of the bark through his clothes. The pup moves in closer, pulling its body low to the ground. Jared kicks his feet out at it, instinct telling him to run, run fast, but he skids on the loose soil, his legs coming out from under him as the ground rushes up to meet him.
The sound and the pressure are almost instantaneous; a rough, high growl and the solid weight of warm paws on his back. The air next to his ear shivers with the noise, hot little puffs of breath against his skin and it's the only thing Jared can really feel beyond the blinding cold of terror.
And then, just as he's sending up his prayers to the gods and promising to always listen to his mother no matter what if only he can get out of this, the growl settles, lulling down to a barely audible vibration that's completely overshadowed by the loud sniffing noises as the animal noses at the hair behind Jared's ear. There's a quick swipe of warm and wet that he doesn't register as a lick until after the weight has moved off of him.
He turns over in a flash, but there's no point in pretending he could outrun the wolf like this, when it's still practically standing on top of him, but it doesn't seem nearly as menacing now. Instead it's just watching him with its head cocked curiously to the side, green-gold eyes shining. There's something strange about the way it's looking at him though. It's not the same way their dogs at home look, there's something... more there, as though Jared can see it thinking. He feels sharply uncomfortable in ways that have less to do with the danger in front of him than the unsettling unnaturalness of it all.
He needs to make it stop watching him like that, but every time he tentatively scoots back and it follows, closing the distance but never coming any closer. If he could only distract it somehow...
The wolf flinches when his hand shoots to his pocket, digging out the little roll of food he'd brought with him. There are a couple of slightly mashed pieces of bread inside the fabric along with a hunk of hard cheese and a few strips of dried venison from the storeroom. Perfect.
He breaks off a small piece from one of the strips of meat, holding it out in his fingertips just close enough for the pup to strain forward and scent. Before it can snatch the food from Jared's fingers though, he pulls it back and throws body tense and at the ready for the moment the wolf follows the path of the treat through the air.
He doesn't even have a chance to stand before the lithe animal springs from the ground and catches the leathery meat mid-flight, landing almost daintily to sit right in front of Jared again. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the pup looked smug as it - heh - wolfed down his offering.
It licks it's lips happily, pink tongue peeking out of its open mouth as it pants something that looks uncannily like a smile. It takes one slow step in and then another and Jared knows he should move, should run, but he'll never make it and all he can do is sit frozen as the creature walks up between his spread legs and noses at the pouch of food resting in his lap.
It's a stupid thing to do of course, but somehow Jared can't help himself and little brother reflex takes over.
"Hey," he whines snatching the food up in his hand before the wolf can get at the rest of it. He realizes his mistake the moment he does it but the pup doesn't growl or try to snatch the pouch back, in fact, it lowers its head ears flat again and looks up at Jared with the pitiful guilty eyes his mother swears he invented.
And it's... it's so much like one of their dogs, so much, really, like his baby sister, that he can't help but give in. He tears off another strip of the meat, barely getting a chance to let go before the wolf laps it out of his fingers, ears perked up and cheerful again.
It waits patiently for him to offer another bite, this time letting the animal nibble it right out of his hand and lick his palm clean afterward. He doesn't realize how quickly the meat is dwindling away between each gentle exchange until it's all gone. There's a momentary swipe of panic when he realizes there's no more, but bizarrely, as if the wolf senses his worry, it pushes forward to nuzzle its head underneath his chin.
It feels nothing but natural from there to reach a hand up and scratch behind the pup's ears and the action earns him a soft lick against his neck. The feel of it is ticklish and makes him giggle, but that only seems to encourage the pup, which moves his tongue around the spot almost playfully letting out a high-pitched yip that's nearly a laugh.
It stands over him, paws braced on his chest as he manages to catch his breath from the fit of laughter. Its eyes are shining, mouth open on that smile again, tail wagging happily behind it. It gives a little hop with its front paws, forcing a little grunt out of him with a move he knows from his own dogs - its 'come on, play with me', and somehow that doesn't seem like a bad idea.
Jared uses his weight to roll them over, wrestling the pup gently to the ground. It worms out from under him, nipping at his tunic before scampering a step or two away and turning expectantly. He pounces again and the two of the roll around until he knows he's got twigs and leaves stuck all through his hair and his cloak is so dirty his mother's bound to throw a fit.
The thought of his mother makes him stop. She's probably worried sick. There is still plenty light out, but the sun is lower in the sky than he thought and now it's no challenge at all to figure out which way home is.
The pup looks up at him from where it - he, obviously - lays on his back, the downy, off-white fur of his belly exposed for Jared to absently rub through.
"I have to go home now," he says out loud, without really knowing why. It's not as though he expects the wolf to actually understand him.
The pup rolls over onto its feet anyway, making a whining sound in his throat and giving Jared the sad eyes again. He cups both hands behind the wolf's ears and scrubs their foreheads together.
"I can come back," Jared promises, petting through the coarser fur along the wolf's spine. He doesn't give up the whining noise, but he does nuzzle his head against Jared's and for no good reason at all, Jared gets the impression the pup understands.
It walks along beside him as he makes his way back, occasionally running up a few paces ahead to sniff at something interesting but always rushing right back to his side. He's not as far from home as he'd thought before and dusk is only just beginning to settle when he sees the break in the trees.
For a while he's been wondering what to do about the pup - he doubts his parents would let him keep a baby wolf, but Jared's worried about leaving him out here all alone. What if he doesn't have a family to take care of him?
The wolf stops short though as they approach the tree line, looking up at Jared then back down, turning in a nervous little circle in place before glancing back over his shoulder. Far in the distance, Jared can just barely pick out the sound of another wolf howling. The pup whines again and paws at the ground.
"You have to go too, huh?" he asks. He knows his brother would tell him it's just his imagination, but it really does seem like the wolf understands when he talks.
The pup takes a step forward to butt his head roughly at Jared's legs and automatically he kneels down to put them on level. He scratches affectionately at the top of the wolf's head, smiling as its bright eyes slowly close in contentment.
Before he can pull away, the animal buries his snout in Jared's hair, snuffling around him and huffing out fervent breaths like he's got a goal to accomplish. Then there's a sharp stinging pain just behind his left ear where the pup's muzzle is rubbing, wicked little puppy teeth breaking the skin. It's not a deep bite, he can tell, and the wolf is already making apologetic little whimpers into his skin and lapping at the cut by the time he really feels the sting.
Reluctantly, the pup pulls away, bumping Jared's with his cold, wet nose and giving him once last lick, right across the mouth which makes Jared laugh and surge backward. By the time he's righted himself, the wolf is already winding his way through the trees, turning around every few seconds to look back at Jared. They watch each other until the forest swallows up the view. He can't for the life of him figure out why it feels so important.
***
The bite was small, but it leaves a silvery scar, just a little one behind his ear, covered most of the time by hair anyway. Even after all of these years, Jared would swear on a stack of holy books that he can feel it tingle when he walks into the forest.
He still goes regularly, once a week if he can manage it, and while his family worries something fierce, they let him go because it's necessary - it's not as though he's not plenty big enough to take care of himself now anyway.
There aren't very many people who can venture into the woods unscathed - that fact hasn't changed since he was a little boy, even though Jared himself seems to be immune to the misfortunes that befall others beyond the trees. Because of it, he can go hunting where others cannot and bring back meat even when the larders are lean. It has earned him a reputation as the best hunter in the village; little do they know he has a partner. He's always respectful of the forest, never takes more than they need, and always makes sure to offer something to his hunting companion.
A part of him feels like he ought to have named the wolf after all of this time, but nothing he's ever come up with has felt right. Name or not, the wolf is almost always there when he goes into the woods, even if sometimes he only glimpses him from a distance. Most of the time though, the animal - broad and strong, big for his kind, but with the same tawny fur and speckled green eyes as the first time they met - follows along beside him, helping him find game that's beyond his human senses to track.
He's never told anyone about the wolf, and as he so often finds when it comes to the creature, he's not sure why. Somehow, it just feels like something private, some kind of understanding they have between them and he doubts it would make sense to anyone else. Also, he's not particularly keen on the village thinking he's any crazier that they already do.
Still, he looks forward to those times in the wood more than he probably ought to. It feels, in the strangest way, like coming home; much more so than in the village where it always seems as though people are looking at him sideways, ever wary of his height and strength and the whispers of pacts with the devil for safe passage through the forest. And the wolf - though he'd never say so out loud - has become more of a friend to him than any human he's ever known.
Jared lies back from trussing up the carcass of a freshly killed deer, the bindings tight to keep out insects, though this late in the fall, there are few to be found. They're in a little clearing, the wolf and he stars bright and glimmering in an inky sky above.
It's chilly out, but the ground is soft, and when the wolf comes and lies down against his side - always and only after he's finished fastidiously cleaning his muzzle from whatever meal Jared provides him - it's plenty comfortable.
There's a tiny shock of cool on his skin as the wet nose buries itself behind his left ear - it seems to be his friend's favorite spot - overtaken by the steady fug of warm breath against his skin. Occasionally soft licks will punctuate the feeling when he finds a particularly good spot as he pets through thick fur.
The wind howls around the uneven rocks of the little hillock he's laid them beneath, almost but not quite like the noises of the other wolves he sometimes hears in the distance.
"Have you found a mate yet?" he asks, getting a high sound and a couple of strong swipes of tongue in return. It's become more than a bit of a habit for him to talk out loud to the wolf, just saying whatever things happen to wander through his mind. "It's getting awfully late in the season. You're going to be a lonely old man, you know if you don't find someone soon."
It's an odd sort of thing to wonder about, he supposes, but he gets enough badgering in his own life about finding a woman and settling down, raising children. It seems like everyone he grew up with had already paired off long ago and a part of him can't help but be curious if that truth extends to his furry friend as well.
There's a part of him that insists that he would have known about it if the wolf had a mate that he'd have seen her or the pups, even though he knows there must be a whole pack roaming these woods that he's never seen. Most of him knows it's ridiculous, but if he's being honest, he still thinks somehow that he'd know.
The wolf makes a mournful sound - he has a whole plethora of noises Jared's come to know like their own private language - and lifts his head, eyes catching hauntingly in the moonlight as he looks pleadingly at Jared.
He chuckles softly, scooping a hand around the back of the wolf's head, "I know, I know. I'm one to talk." He presses a soft kiss to the silky hairs along the wolf's forehead, breathing in the warm, earthy scent.
It's not that there have never been girls who wanted him or caught his eye, it's just that he's never been able to feel himself - with anyone really, anyone human at least - and he just can't imagine spending the rest of his life on the edge of his seat, waiting for the first chance to go running off into the forest again. It would hardly seems fair, to the woman he chose or to himself.
The wolf's heavy head settles on Jared's chest, one paw splayed out next to it, and Jared lets his fingers find that little spot just behind the right shoulder blade that always makes his friend twitch and sigh contentedly.
There's another thought that weighs on his mind too, one he's had for years and years now and it presses at him more with the passing of each season until he feels rubbed raw by it. It's the only thought he's never been able to say aloud, even here, as though it will somehow become a reality by him saying it out loud.
He doesn't really know much about wolves beyond the basics, but they seem to be reasonably similar to dogs and so he supposes they must have similar life spans too. He was only nine when he first came into the forest that day, not even sure then if he'd ever see the wolf again, and now twelve years later, he knows that their time will come to an end, sooner rather than later. Something inside of him clenches tight at the thought, a lump he can't seem to swallow forming in his throat.
It's ridiculous, he knows, to be so attached to an animal that he could get more choked up at the idea of losing him than he would over most of the people he knows. But still, in his heart of hearts, that's how he feels and he's not sure if he'll be able to make it through the inevitable day when he finally walks into the forest and his friend doesn't come to greet him.
He doesn't say any of that, because it's not the wolf's fault for being what he is and Jared certainly doesn't need to burden him - even as he knows that the creature wouldn't actually understand him - but it wears on him more than he'd ever care to admit, and if some nights he chooses to stay in the woods with furry warmth curled beside him instead of making the easy trek home and well, that's their little secret.
***
Jared's breath is freezing into little clouds in front of him with every step. It's nothing compared to the cold nestled down in his gut; colder than the snow crunching under his feet or the icicles hanging from the limbs above.
The wolf's not here. He's usually here by now; Jared's been out for hours already.
His fingertips tingle in the sharp bursts of air flowing between the unfriendly trees but he can't seem to keep them in his pockets. He's wandering aimlessly through the areas they usually hunt, eyes darting around in the impending darkness; not for game or for danger, but for his friend and with each passing minute the search seems more frantic.
Worry gnaws hungrily at his tender insides. The last time he'd been out, it looked like the wolf had been in a fight, bloody little scratches and what could have been bite marks on him. Jared has stayed out an extra three days just to make sure his friend was healing properly. Maybe he hadn't been cautious enough, though, maybe he had overlooked some more serious wound, or infection had overtaken the wolf and Jared had just left him out here to die in the cold all on his own.
There's not nearly enough air dragging into his lungs, the hearty gulps of it burning inside of him like frozen fire. He wants to run, to scramble and make sure his friend's alright, but he doesn't know where to go because he doesn't even know where the wolf makes his home and it's too hard to breathe, too hard to think. He's losing his mind over a gods-damned animal that he never even bothered to name and he doesn't care if it's crazy to kneel down and let fire-hot tears track down his frigid cheeks into the snow because he's got nothing left to do.
He must be more wrapped up in it that even he'd guessed; the swirl of throbbing blood rushing in his ears and his sobs drowning out the approaching crunch of ice under booted foot until thick fingers gently push the curtain of hair back from his flushed face.
Jared startles then, so violently he ends up crab walking backward vainly groping for his belt knife.
"Shh, it's alright," the man who touched him says soothingly, his voice something deep and creamy that rockets to the tight place in Jared's chest. He drops to his knees in the snow and dimly Jared thinks the man's going to freeze to death dressed like that - light cotton pants and a matching shirt and simple leather boots, no coat or cloak or anything at all to protect him from the elements. Still he puts his broad hands right down into the snow and tentatively crawls toward Jared on his hands and knees.
It hits Jared square in the gut, harder than anything has since the second time he found his way into the trees and discovered the wolf waiting happily for him.
This is him.
He doesn't know why he thinks it and it makes no sense at all, but he can't make his mind let go of the idea as the man moves steadily closer. The stranger has hair cropped close, a color caught between blond and brown - tawny, his mind supplies - strong features, just slightly rounded and almost feminine and yet starkly male at the same moment. The light is getting low as night creeps in but the man is nearly on top of him now - his hunter's instincts are screaming at him to do something about that before it's too late, but he's still locked up in thought - and he can make out a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose leading like a trail up to thick lashed eyes. Green eyes, flecked with gold, so familiar it physically hurts and finally drives a naked, unchecked sound out of Jared's throat.
Full lips break into a smile that he knows so well but has never seen plastered across a human mouth. This cannot. Be. Happening.
The man presses his face close to Jared's, the stubble on their cheeks rasping - how can his skin be so warm? - before he presses his lips behind Jared's left ear and breathes in deep; opens his hot mouth to nip and lick at the scarred skin.
Something in that finally strikes a chord. Jared's sitting in the middle of the woods with a man straddling his lap, licking at his old wolf scar. A man who... a man... oh gods!
Jared braces his hands on the strong chest in front of him and shoves hard enough to dislodge the stranger and send him toppling backward into the snow. For a moment there's shock painted across those achingly well-known eyes and then the man breaks out into a grin and actually laughs. Laughs!
"You're... you're not... you can't be..." Jared stutters, his mind reeling around this one single thought that he still can't make himself grasp because it's just not possible!
"Am, can," the man says simply, getting back to his knees so he's all but spread out in Jared's lap again. It might help if Jared moved, he supposes but it seems like the odds of that happening are very slim. Actually, the only good odds are the he's lost his mind because the wolf's dead and this is all some bizarre grief dream he's having as he drifts off into the cold embrace of a winter's death.
The stranger with his wolf's eyes sighs. "Jared," he says, exasperation clear in his tone. Jared tries not to shudder at the effect hearing his name in that man's voice has on him. "You've heard the legends. You used to talk about them, remember? How much you wished I could be one?"
"Werewolves aren't real!" he spits back, the words suddenly rolling off his tongue with as much ease as desperation. The man smirks back at him and Jared's mind can't help but superimpose the image of the matching expression on a much more canine face.
"Demonstrably false."
Then the man's leaning in close again, his head tilting just so and Jared realizes they're about to kiss just in time to duck away.
The man - wolf? Wolf-man? - is strong though and well settled so Jared's attempts to roll him off do nothing but press himself more firmly in to the snow, packed chill sliding down the back of his coat. The man snorts, obviously put out and crosses his arms over his powerful chest.
"I really expected you to take this better. Look, do you want me to shift for you?" he rolls his bright eyes, "I'd much rather have a conversation. Finally. Or, other things..." one of his hands disentangles itself and slides up to cup Jared's jaw, thumb playing at his lower lip, "But if it will make you believe me, I'll do it."
There's absolutely nothing for Jared to say to that. On the one hand, yes, 'shifting' assuming it means what he thinks it means would definitely make him believe all of this insanity. Well, maybe. But on the other hand, he's really not sure he's prepared for what's going to happen if the man sitting so blithely on top of him actually manages to turn into Jared's wolf right in front of his eyes.
What finally chokes his way out of his tight throat is "You're not real," because this absolutely has to be a dream; a cruel, deceptive dream.
The man picks up Jared's hand from where he now realizes they've been laying in the snow beside him. He pulls them both together between his own warm palms and brings them to his face to puff hot air across the stinging skin.
"I am real," he says, slow and deliberate, like he's talking to a very young child or someone particularly stupid. Alright, so maybe that's fair. "I look real, don't I?" He doesn't pause for Jared to answer before he brings Jared's hands to his chest, pressing the palms flat over the steady thud of his heartbeat. "And don't I feel real too?" He leans in close again, not trying for a kiss this time, just nuzzling his face up against Jared's so that the soft prickle of the hairs along the side of his face tickle Jared's nose with a familiar earthy scent. "And smell real." The turn of his face is so sudden Jared misses it until the man's tongue has already slipped into his agape mouth, coaxing his own tongue into action before pulling back. "Mmm, taste real," the last is nothing but a moan and for some reason, it settles low in Jared's stomach, where, he suddenly realizes, the cold dread has vanished.
"Real," he purrs against Jared's lips, "Yours. Please, Jared, I've been waiting so long." Their mouths catch on one another, pressing into a soft, moist kiss. Jared falls into it unconsciously; his body operating naturally with the smooth wetness of the other man's caressing tongue.
The heat is almost overwhelming, sweltering between their bodies even as the snow melts through Jared's clothes, and he can't fight the instinct that makes his hands slide under the man's shirt to absorb the warmth of strong, flexing muscle. Under his wrist, the hard fever-hot line of the man's erection presses into him and that's what finally snaps Jared out of his stupor.
"So long?" he gasps, ignoring the familiar needy whine that worms out of the man's throat as he chases the kiss. "You've been... you could have done this all along?!"
"Well, not exactly. The alpha forbid it, so I had-"
"What?"
"The alpha. It's, well, it's like a king, our leader. The alpha's word is law and ours forbid me to turn you. But it's alright; see, because I'm alpha now. I can do whatever I want," his grin is almost blinding and Jared feels the corners of his mouth twitching up in echo without his permission, "There's nothing to keep us apart anymore."
"Turn? Keep us a- What!?" He doesn't know where the surge of strength comes from, but it's enough to get him on his feet, the man toppling to the ground again with a playful smile. It pulls at something deep inside of Jared like heartache, or maybe just want. He starts to pace.
"Turn. Make you one of us," The man says, green eyes gleaming mischievously. If he didn't know better, he'd say that he caught a glint in them as they reflected the light, just like a wolf's. But then he doesn't really know better, does he?
The man catches him around the waist on the next pass, still kneeling in his snow-soaked clothes, and rubs his face against Jared's abdomen until he finds warm skin beneath the layers. There too, he kisses and nips, letting out these low pleased little sounds that Jared knows. He knows, because he's heard them so many times before, and sickeningly his body is responding; it feels far too right for how wildly wrong this is. And... 'make you one of us'.
Panic shoots through him like fire, the first clear thing that's come to him since the fog of sorrow - fear. This man, this thing, wants...
Damned if he doesn't remember this feeling, every sharp clear second of it from years ago - little him, facing down a little wolf and he needs to run. The difference is that now, his traitorous instincts are screaming at him to stay, but he can't, he can't let- no. Run. He has to run.
The creature's grip on him is loose enough that he's free with the first stumbling step. His body and the shifting snow work against him as he pushes to his limit, every inch of him burning with exertion with only ten yards behind him and the man's voice barking, "No! Jared, don't run!"
It's a second to late when he sees the wolf - not his wolf, his wolf's behind him looking like something Jared doesn't know how to contemplate- mahogany fur and blue eyes flying at him out of the near-dark of the trees and he's pinned to the ground instantly. The animal's right in his face, its growl intensifying as he tries to move his hand to his belt knife and it's only in this moment that it occurs to him that he's never actually laid eyes on another wolf in all this time.
Sludgy snow batters his shoulders and cheeks as, seconds later; the man is upon them, a mirror of the vicious growl from the animal on Jared's chest tearing from the stranger's human throat. The wolf backs down instantly, rolling over to expose its belly with a whine. Jared doesn't have time to marvel as he's hauled to his feet again, by the nape of his cloak.
"Don't ever," the man shakes him hard, teeth still bared, "Ever, run from a wolf! You know better, Jared!"
The wolf at their feet whines again and the man spares it enough of a glance to lose a more subdued growl, pulling Jared in tight to his body at the same moment. His breath catches in his throat. It's too much, he can't- he doesn't even know what's happening and it's just far too much. He scrabbles his hands at the man, manages to push away, but all that gets him is laid out flat in the snow all over again.
And that's when he notices the others, a sandy-colored wolf with piercing blue eyes and a russet one, dancing warily from foot to foot. They're only a few yards off and slowly working closer but the man pays them no mind.
Of course he doesn't, Jared thinks, they're his. His to command and they're hemming Jared in, trapping him. He would have never thought his friend would... how dare he!
"So this is it, then?" he shouts, his voice echoing off of the trees, but at least it's steady with anger. "You'll trap me here, force me to join you? I thought better of you than that! I thought a-"
"No!" the man rushes, green eyes wide. Jared doesn't miss the obvious hurt there. "No, I would never force you. I thought if there was ever a chance... you talked about it so many times, I just..." He looks shattered, heartbroken, and it pulls at things inside of Jared again to see it, the need to comfort him so ingrained it's like flaying his own flesh not to.
He had talked about it, many times; silly, childhood fantasies that he held onto far, far longer than he ever should have. Dreams of his friend somehow turned human by the magic of the moon just like in the legends; the two of them standing side by side, hunting, living, always together, but he never truly believed.
Of course his friend would think he wanted this. This impossible thing, a small voice inside keeps saying that he does.
The three wolves have moved together, all of them shifting nervously as their glances jump from the man - their alpha, he supposes - to Jared. He sees the man swallow heavily, green eyes casting to the ground, shining wetly but no tears fall. His proud, stubborn friend.
"I understand," the man's voice is rough as he turns half away from Jared. "You will always be safe here, and under my protection. You needn't worry about that."
He hadn't, honestly, not in the least. In fact, it seems the only thing he can think about at the moment is pulling the man's face to his own and running his fingers through silken hair and somehow making it better. He's being offered this incredible thing he wished for years upon years in the quiet of his own mind. It's possible now, even though every ration bit of his says that this must all be impossible, and yet it's right here. And he wants it. It's disconcerting and leaves him wavering awkwardly in the silence.
It's the sound that breaks him, of course, the high pitched whine of genuine injury; it should be odd coming from a human form, but it isn't. It's just his friend.
"Wait," he says, as the man turns to go, wolves curving around him like a protective force. "Please, I... What's your name?"
His friend, the best and truest he's ever had, stops, turning just enough so that their eyes meet when he says over his shoulder, "Jensen."
"Jensen," Jared repeats, watching green eyes slam shut and flat, white teeth find plump lips at the sound of it. "I'm sorry. It's just, just so much. Can we... talk? Please?"
The man - Jensen - smiles, still soft and trembly around the edges, but enough to soothe the ache in Jared's chest.
"Of course," he says quietly, backtracking to help Jared to his feet. His hands are still burning hot against Jared's own, but he doesn't push to get any closer. "Let's get you somewhere dry, and then we can talk about everything."
His hand lingers against Jared's, the fingers plucking at each other like instrument strings singing through Jared before he finally lets the touch fade away. It takes more effort than it should for Jared not to reach out and reclaim the contact. It takes him a moment to realize what he's just heard.
"Somewhere dry?"
When Jensen grins at him this time, it's genuine, that hint of cunning in his eyes that Jared's thrived on for years.
"Sure. You didn't think we lived out in this mess, did you?" Jensen quips, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jared's ear like he just can't keep himself from touching. At that, he turns heel and starts jogging off easily - as if Jared hadn't nearly killed himself trying to run a hundred feet just minutes ago - the wolves in tow. Jared has nothing left to do but clumsily follow.
On to Chapter 2!
Pairings: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R (Whoa! Be still my heart!) -- Wordcount: 6,400
Warnings: werewolf!AU, otherwise, pretty tame this chapter (I promise to make up for it later)
Notes: This is why I should not be allowed to go to the spnkink_meme - I get crazy ideas. This was just gonna be porn, and then somebody gave the plot bunnies Viagra and now it wants to be a real story. Sigh! Currently WIP but I suspect it will be about 4 chapters.Special Thanks - to the splendiferous stillastranger for betaing this and making me feel like I'm slightly less insane for trying it.
Summary - Jared's one of the few people who can pass through the woods unharmed by the fierce wolves that roam there - has been able to ever since he was a little boy and befriended a wolf pup. But there's a lot more to the story than Jared knows and when it comes time to make a choice, which life will he want?
Now with fantastic podfic and art by mustnttellies and eosrose!
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It's the first warm day of the year, the air still wet from the frost that melted overnight, finally giving way after months of holding the ground captive. The sun's blinding bright, blue sky unmarred by clouds and the crispness of the breeze is nothing but refreshing after what feels like weeks on end trapped inside the cottage.
Jared knew he shouldn't have wandered out beyond the tree line - a lifetime of admonishments was enough to beat that lesson into his brain - but still, in all of his vast nine years of experience, he'd never seen any of the supposedly fearsome wolves that roamed the forest to the west side of the village, and as long as he didn't go far it didn't seem like there could be any harm.
Of course, that had been this morning and Jared's mother is always getting on to him for letting his imagination get away with him. He really hadn't meant to get out of sight of the village but then there had been some kind of red bird flying overhead he'd never seen before and then he'd stumbled on a growth of brambles he'd had to go around so now he's not sure how far into the trees his is anymore, or exactly which direction he came from.
Overhead the sun is still high and his stomach hasn't started to grumble yet for the little roll of snacks he has with him, so it can't be past midday. He knows what to do, he's not a woodsman's son for nothing; he just needs to wait until it sinks a little lower so he can tell which direction to point himself in.
Rather than get himself even further turned around, Jared finds a comfortable spot against the base of a tree and relaxes back to wait listening to the soft forest noises all around him.
***
It must be the silence that wakes him; the woods are always quiet but not silent, not like this. Jared's heart jumps into action immediately, hammering at his chest, and he holds his breath to try and keep himself quiet. Something's out there. He can't quite make himself open his eyes, like if he sees whatever danger it is coming toward him, it will make it real.
The melt-damp underbrush doesn't crackle nearby so when he feels the cold press of a snuffling nose at his ankle, reflexively he jerks away, eyes flying open.
The wolf skitters backward a step or two, ears flat to its tawny head. It's small, young, still fluffy and pudgy around the middle but with big, heavy paws that say it'll get much bigger one day. It dips its head, ears easing forward as it slinks sideways across the ground, corralling Jared.
His back presses so hard into the tree he can feel the rough texture of the bark through his clothes. The pup moves in closer, pulling its body low to the ground. Jared kicks his feet out at it, instinct telling him to run, run fast, but he skids on the loose soil, his legs coming out from under him as the ground rushes up to meet him.
The sound and the pressure are almost instantaneous; a rough, high growl and the solid weight of warm paws on his back. The air next to his ear shivers with the noise, hot little puffs of breath against his skin and it's the only thing Jared can really feel beyond the blinding cold of terror.
And then, just as he's sending up his prayers to the gods and promising to always listen to his mother no matter what if only he can get out of this, the growl settles, lulling down to a barely audible vibration that's completely overshadowed by the loud sniffing noises as the animal noses at the hair behind Jared's ear. There's a quick swipe of warm and wet that he doesn't register as a lick until after the weight has moved off of him.
He turns over in a flash, but there's no point in pretending he could outrun the wolf like this, when it's still practically standing on top of him, but it doesn't seem nearly as menacing now. Instead it's just watching him with its head cocked curiously to the side, green-gold eyes shining. There's something strange about the way it's looking at him though. It's not the same way their dogs at home look, there's something... more there, as though Jared can see it thinking. He feels sharply uncomfortable in ways that have less to do with the danger in front of him than the unsettling unnaturalness of it all.
He needs to make it stop watching him like that, but every time he tentatively scoots back and it follows, closing the distance but never coming any closer. If he could only distract it somehow...
The wolf flinches when his hand shoots to his pocket, digging out the little roll of food he'd brought with him. There are a couple of slightly mashed pieces of bread inside the fabric along with a hunk of hard cheese and a few strips of dried venison from the storeroom. Perfect.
He breaks off a small piece from one of the strips of meat, holding it out in his fingertips just close enough for the pup to strain forward and scent. Before it can snatch the food from Jared's fingers though, he pulls it back and throws body tense and at the ready for the moment the wolf follows the path of the treat through the air.
He doesn't even have a chance to stand before the lithe animal springs from the ground and catches the leathery meat mid-flight, landing almost daintily to sit right in front of Jared again. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the pup looked smug as it - heh - wolfed down his offering.
It licks it's lips happily, pink tongue peeking out of its open mouth as it pants something that looks uncannily like a smile. It takes one slow step in and then another and Jared knows he should move, should run, but he'll never make it and all he can do is sit frozen as the creature walks up between his spread legs and noses at the pouch of food resting in his lap.
It's a stupid thing to do of course, but somehow Jared can't help himself and little brother reflex takes over.
"Hey," he whines snatching the food up in his hand before the wolf can get at the rest of it. He realizes his mistake the moment he does it but the pup doesn't growl or try to snatch the pouch back, in fact, it lowers its head ears flat again and looks up at Jared with the pitiful guilty eyes his mother swears he invented.
And it's... it's so much like one of their dogs, so much, really, like his baby sister, that he can't help but give in. He tears off another strip of the meat, barely getting a chance to let go before the wolf laps it out of his fingers, ears perked up and cheerful again.
It waits patiently for him to offer another bite, this time letting the animal nibble it right out of his hand and lick his palm clean afterward. He doesn't realize how quickly the meat is dwindling away between each gentle exchange until it's all gone. There's a momentary swipe of panic when he realizes there's no more, but bizarrely, as if the wolf senses his worry, it pushes forward to nuzzle its head underneath his chin.
It feels nothing but natural from there to reach a hand up and scratch behind the pup's ears and the action earns him a soft lick against his neck. The feel of it is ticklish and makes him giggle, but that only seems to encourage the pup, which moves his tongue around the spot almost playfully letting out a high-pitched yip that's nearly a laugh.
It stands over him, paws braced on his chest as he manages to catch his breath from the fit of laughter. Its eyes are shining, mouth open on that smile again, tail wagging happily behind it. It gives a little hop with its front paws, forcing a little grunt out of him with a move he knows from his own dogs - its 'come on, play with me', and somehow that doesn't seem like a bad idea.
Jared uses his weight to roll them over, wrestling the pup gently to the ground. It worms out from under him, nipping at his tunic before scampering a step or two away and turning expectantly. He pounces again and the two of the roll around until he knows he's got twigs and leaves stuck all through his hair and his cloak is so dirty his mother's bound to throw a fit.
The thought of his mother makes him stop. She's probably worried sick. There is still plenty light out, but the sun is lower in the sky than he thought and now it's no challenge at all to figure out which way home is.
The pup looks up at him from where it - he, obviously - lays on his back, the downy, off-white fur of his belly exposed for Jared to absently rub through.
"I have to go home now," he says out loud, without really knowing why. It's not as though he expects the wolf to actually understand him.
The pup rolls over onto its feet anyway, making a whining sound in his throat and giving Jared the sad eyes again. He cups both hands behind the wolf's ears and scrubs their foreheads together.
"I can come back," Jared promises, petting through the coarser fur along the wolf's spine. He doesn't give up the whining noise, but he does nuzzle his head against Jared's and for no good reason at all, Jared gets the impression the pup understands.
It walks along beside him as he makes his way back, occasionally running up a few paces ahead to sniff at something interesting but always rushing right back to his side. He's not as far from home as he'd thought before and dusk is only just beginning to settle when he sees the break in the trees.
For a while he's been wondering what to do about the pup - he doubts his parents would let him keep a baby wolf, but Jared's worried about leaving him out here all alone. What if he doesn't have a family to take care of him?
The wolf stops short though as they approach the tree line, looking up at Jared then back down, turning in a nervous little circle in place before glancing back over his shoulder. Far in the distance, Jared can just barely pick out the sound of another wolf howling. The pup whines again and paws at the ground.
"You have to go too, huh?" he asks. He knows his brother would tell him it's just his imagination, but it really does seem like the wolf understands when he talks.
The pup takes a step forward to butt his head roughly at Jared's legs and automatically he kneels down to put them on level. He scratches affectionately at the top of the wolf's head, smiling as its bright eyes slowly close in contentment.
Before he can pull away, the animal buries his snout in Jared's hair, snuffling around him and huffing out fervent breaths like he's got a goal to accomplish. Then there's a sharp stinging pain just behind his left ear where the pup's muzzle is rubbing, wicked little puppy teeth breaking the skin. It's not a deep bite, he can tell, and the wolf is already making apologetic little whimpers into his skin and lapping at the cut by the time he really feels the sting.
Reluctantly, the pup pulls away, bumping Jared's with his cold, wet nose and giving him once last lick, right across the mouth which makes Jared laugh and surge backward. By the time he's righted himself, the wolf is already winding his way through the trees, turning around every few seconds to look back at Jared. They watch each other until the forest swallows up the view. He can't for the life of him figure out why it feels so important.
***
The bite was small, but it leaves a silvery scar, just a little one behind his ear, covered most of the time by hair anyway. Even after all of these years, Jared would swear on a stack of holy books that he can feel it tingle when he walks into the forest.
He still goes regularly, once a week if he can manage it, and while his family worries something fierce, they let him go because it's necessary - it's not as though he's not plenty big enough to take care of himself now anyway.
There aren't very many people who can venture into the woods unscathed - that fact hasn't changed since he was a little boy, even though Jared himself seems to be immune to the misfortunes that befall others beyond the trees. Because of it, he can go hunting where others cannot and bring back meat even when the larders are lean. It has earned him a reputation as the best hunter in the village; little do they know he has a partner. He's always respectful of the forest, never takes more than they need, and always makes sure to offer something to his hunting companion.
A part of him feels like he ought to have named the wolf after all of this time, but nothing he's ever come up with has felt right. Name or not, the wolf is almost always there when he goes into the woods, even if sometimes he only glimpses him from a distance. Most of the time though, the animal - broad and strong, big for his kind, but with the same tawny fur and speckled green eyes as the first time they met - follows along beside him, helping him find game that's beyond his human senses to track.
He's never told anyone about the wolf, and as he so often finds when it comes to the creature, he's not sure why. Somehow, it just feels like something private, some kind of understanding they have between them and he doubts it would make sense to anyone else. Also, he's not particularly keen on the village thinking he's any crazier that they already do.
Still, he looks forward to those times in the wood more than he probably ought to. It feels, in the strangest way, like coming home; much more so than in the village where it always seems as though people are looking at him sideways, ever wary of his height and strength and the whispers of pacts with the devil for safe passage through the forest. And the wolf - though he'd never say so out loud - has become more of a friend to him than any human he's ever known.
Jared lies back from trussing up the carcass of a freshly killed deer, the bindings tight to keep out insects, though this late in the fall, there are few to be found. They're in a little clearing, the wolf and he stars bright and glimmering in an inky sky above.
It's chilly out, but the ground is soft, and when the wolf comes and lies down against his side - always and only after he's finished fastidiously cleaning his muzzle from whatever meal Jared provides him - it's plenty comfortable.
There's a tiny shock of cool on his skin as the wet nose buries itself behind his left ear - it seems to be his friend's favorite spot - overtaken by the steady fug of warm breath against his skin. Occasionally soft licks will punctuate the feeling when he finds a particularly good spot as he pets through thick fur.
The wind howls around the uneven rocks of the little hillock he's laid them beneath, almost but not quite like the noises of the other wolves he sometimes hears in the distance.
"Have you found a mate yet?" he asks, getting a high sound and a couple of strong swipes of tongue in return. It's become more than a bit of a habit for him to talk out loud to the wolf, just saying whatever things happen to wander through his mind. "It's getting awfully late in the season. You're going to be a lonely old man, you know if you don't find someone soon."
It's an odd sort of thing to wonder about, he supposes, but he gets enough badgering in his own life about finding a woman and settling down, raising children. It seems like everyone he grew up with had already paired off long ago and a part of him can't help but be curious if that truth extends to his furry friend as well.
There's a part of him that insists that he would have known about it if the wolf had a mate that he'd have seen her or the pups, even though he knows there must be a whole pack roaming these woods that he's never seen. Most of him knows it's ridiculous, but if he's being honest, he still thinks somehow that he'd know.
The wolf makes a mournful sound - he has a whole plethora of noises Jared's come to know like their own private language - and lifts his head, eyes catching hauntingly in the moonlight as he looks pleadingly at Jared.
He chuckles softly, scooping a hand around the back of the wolf's head, "I know, I know. I'm one to talk." He presses a soft kiss to the silky hairs along the wolf's forehead, breathing in the warm, earthy scent.
It's not that there have never been girls who wanted him or caught his eye, it's just that he's never been able to feel himself - with anyone really, anyone human at least - and he just can't imagine spending the rest of his life on the edge of his seat, waiting for the first chance to go running off into the forest again. It would hardly seems fair, to the woman he chose or to himself.
The wolf's heavy head settles on Jared's chest, one paw splayed out next to it, and Jared lets his fingers find that little spot just behind the right shoulder blade that always makes his friend twitch and sigh contentedly.
There's another thought that weighs on his mind too, one he's had for years and years now and it presses at him more with the passing of each season until he feels rubbed raw by it. It's the only thought he's never been able to say aloud, even here, as though it will somehow become a reality by him saying it out loud.
He doesn't really know much about wolves beyond the basics, but they seem to be reasonably similar to dogs and so he supposes they must have similar life spans too. He was only nine when he first came into the forest that day, not even sure then if he'd ever see the wolf again, and now twelve years later, he knows that their time will come to an end, sooner rather than later. Something inside of him clenches tight at the thought, a lump he can't seem to swallow forming in his throat.
It's ridiculous, he knows, to be so attached to an animal that he could get more choked up at the idea of losing him than he would over most of the people he knows. But still, in his heart of hearts, that's how he feels and he's not sure if he'll be able to make it through the inevitable day when he finally walks into the forest and his friend doesn't come to greet him.
He doesn't say any of that, because it's not the wolf's fault for being what he is and Jared certainly doesn't need to burden him - even as he knows that the creature wouldn't actually understand him - but it wears on him more than he'd ever care to admit, and if some nights he chooses to stay in the woods with furry warmth curled beside him instead of making the easy trek home and well, that's their little secret.
***
Jared's breath is freezing into little clouds in front of him with every step. It's nothing compared to the cold nestled down in his gut; colder than the snow crunching under his feet or the icicles hanging from the limbs above.
The wolf's not here. He's usually here by now; Jared's been out for hours already.
His fingertips tingle in the sharp bursts of air flowing between the unfriendly trees but he can't seem to keep them in his pockets. He's wandering aimlessly through the areas they usually hunt, eyes darting around in the impending darkness; not for game or for danger, but for his friend and with each passing minute the search seems more frantic.
Worry gnaws hungrily at his tender insides. The last time he'd been out, it looked like the wolf had been in a fight, bloody little scratches and what could have been bite marks on him. Jared has stayed out an extra three days just to make sure his friend was healing properly. Maybe he hadn't been cautious enough, though, maybe he had overlooked some more serious wound, or infection had overtaken the wolf and Jared had just left him out here to die in the cold all on his own.
There's not nearly enough air dragging into his lungs, the hearty gulps of it burning inside of him like frozen fire. He wants to run, to scramble and make sure his friend's alright, but he doesn't know where to go because he doesn't even know where the wolf makes his home and it's too hard to breathe, too hard to think. He's losing his mind over a gods-damned animal that he never even bothered to name and he doesn't care if it's crazy to kneel down and let fire-hot tears track down his frigid cheeks into the snow because he's got nothing left to do.
He must be more wrapped up in it that even he'd guessed; the swirl of throbbing blood rushing in his ears and his sobs drowning out the approaching crunch of ice under booted foot until thick fingers gently push the curtain of hair back from his flushed face.
Jared startles then, so violently he ends up crab walking backward vainly groping for his belt knife.
"Shh, it's alright," the man who touched him says soothingly, his voice something deep and creamy that rockets to the tight place in Jared's chest. He drops to his knees in the snow and dimly Jared thinks the man's going to freeze to death dressed like that - light cotton pants and a matching shirt and simple leather boots, no coat or cloak or anything at all to protect him from the elements. Still he puts his broad hands right down into the snow and tentatively crawls toward Jared on his hands and knees.
It hits Jared square in the gut, harder than anything has since the second time he found his way into the trees and discovered the wolf waiting happily for him.
This is him.
He doesn't know why he thinks it and it makes no sense at all, but he can't make his mind let go of the idea as the man moves steadily closer. The stranger has hair cropped close, a color caught between blond and brown - tawny, his mind supplies - strong features, just slightly rounded and almost feminine and yet starkly male at the same moment. The light is getting low as night creeps in but the man is nearly on top of him now - his hunter's instincts are screaming at him to do something about that before it's too late, but he's still locked up in thought - and he can make out a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose leading like a trail up to thick lashed eyes. Green eyes, flecked with gold, so familiar it physically hurts and finally drives a naked, unchecked sound out of Jared's throat.
Full lips break into a smile that he knows so well but has never seen plastered across a human mouth. This cannot. Be. Happening.
The man presses his face close to Jared's, the stubble on their cheeks rasping - how can his skin be so warm? - before he presses his lips behind Jared's left ear and breathes in deep; opens his hot mouth to nip and lick at the scarred skin.
Something in that finally strikes a chord. Jared's sitting in the middle of the woods with a man straddling his lap, licking at his old wolf scar. A man who... a man... oh gods!
Jared braces his hands on the strong chest in front of him and shoves hard enough to dislodge the stranger and send him toppling backward into the snow. For a moment there's shock painted across those achingly well-known eyes and then the man breaks out into a grin and actually laughs. Laughs!
"You're... you're not... you can't be..." Jared stutters, his mind reeling around this one single thought that he still can't make himself grasp because it's just not possible!
"Am, can," the man says simply, getting back to his knees so he's all but spread out in Jared's lap again. It might help if Jared moved, he supposes but it seems like the odds of that happening are very slim. Actually, the only good odds are the he's lost his mind because the wolf's dead and this is all some bizarre grief dream he's having as he drifts off into the cold embrace of a winter's death.
The stranger with his wolf's eyes sighs. "Jared," he says, exasperation clear in his tone. Jared tries not to shudder at the effect hearing his name in that man's voice has on him. "You've heard the legends. You used to talk about them, remember? How much you wished I could be one?"
"Werewolves aren't real!" he spits back, the words suddenly rolling off his tongue with as much ease as desperation. The man smirks back at him and Jared's mind can't help but superimpose the image of the matching expression on a much more canine face.
"Demonstrably false."
Then the man's leaning in close again, his head tilting just so and Jared realizes they're about to kiss just in time to duck away.
The man - wolf? Wolf-man? - is strong though and well settled so Jared's attempts to roll him off do nothing but press himself more firmly in to the snow, packed chill sliding down the back of his coat. The man snorts, obviously put out and crosses his arms over his powerful chest.
"I really expected you to take this better. Look, do you want me to shift for you?" he rolls his bright eyes, "I'd much rather have a conversation. Finally. Or, other things..." one of his hands disentangles itself and slides up to cup Jared's jaw, thumb playing at his lower lip, "But if it will make you believe me, I'll do it."
There's absolutely nothing for Jared to say to that. On the one hand, yes, 'shifting' assuming it means what he thinks it means would definitely make him believe all of this insanity. Well, maybe. But on the other hand, he's really not sure he's prepared for what's going to happen if the man sitting so blithely on top of him actually manages to turn into Jared's wolf right in front of his eyes.
What finally chokes his way out of his tight throat is "You're not real," because this absolutely has to be a dream; a cruel, deceptive dream.
The man picks up Jared's hand from where he now realizes they've been laying in the snow beside him. He pulls them both together between his own warm palms and brings them to his face to puff hot air across the stinging skin.
"I am real," he says, slow and deliberate, like he's talking to a very young child or someone particularly stupid. Alright, so maybe that's fair. "I look real, don't I?" He doesn't pause for Jared to answer before he brings Jared's hands to his chest, pressing the palms flat over the steady thud of his heartbeat. "And don't I feel real too?" He leans in close again, not trying for a kiss this time, just nuzzling his face up against Jared's so that the soft prickle of the hairs along the side of his face tickle Jared's nose with a familiar earthy scent. "And smell real." The turn of his face is so sudden Jared misses it until the man's tongue has already slipped into his agape mouth, coaxing his own tongue into action before pulling back. "Mmm, taste real," the last is nothing but a moan and for some reason, it settles low in Jared's stomach, where, he suddenly realizes, the cold dread has vanished.
"Real," he purrs against Jared's lips, "Yours. Please, Jared, I've been waiting so long." Their mouths catch on one another, pressing into a soft, moist kiss. Jared falls into it unconsciously; his body operating naturally with the smooth wetness of the other man's caressing tongue.
The heat is almost overwhelming, sweltering between their bodies even as the snow melts through Jared's clothes, and he can't fight the instinct that makes his hands slide under the man's shirt to absorb the warmth of strong, flexing muscle. Under his wrist, the hard fever-hot line of the man's erection presses into him and that's what finally snaps Jared out of his stupor.
"So long?" he gasps, ignoring the familiar needy whine that worms out of the man's throat as he chases the kiss. "You've been... you could have done this all along?!"
"Well, not exactly. The alpha forbid it, so I had-"
"What?"
"The alpha. It's, well, it's like a king, our leader. The alpha's word is law and ours forbid me to turn you. But it's alright; see, because I'm alpha now. I can do whatever I want," his grin is almost blinding and Jared feels the corners of his mouth twitching up in echo without his permission, "There's nothing to keep us apart anymore."
"Turn? Keep us a- What!?" He doesn't know where the surge of strength comes from, but it's enough to get him on his feet, the man toppling to the ground again with a playful smile. It pulls at something deep inside of Jared like heartache, or maybe just want. He starts to pace.
"Turn. Make you one of us," The man says, green eyes gleaming mischievously. If he didn't know better, he'd say that he caught a glint in them as they reflected the light, just like a wolf's. But then he doesn't really know better, does he?
The man catches him around the waist on the next pass, still kneeling in his snow-soaked clothes, and rubs his face against Jared's abdomen until he finds warm skin beneath the layers. There too, he kisses and nips, letting out these low pleased little sounds that Jared knows. He knows, because he's heard them so many times before, and sickeningly his body is responding; it feels far too right for how wildly wrong this is. And... 'make you one of us'.
Panic shoots through him like fire, the first clear thing that's come to him since the fog of sorrow - fear. This man, this thing, wants...
Damned if he doesn't remember this feeling, every sharp clear second of it from years ago - little him, facing down a little wolf and he needs to run. The difference is that now, his traitorous instincts are screaming at him to stay, but he can't, he can't let- no. Run. He has to run.
The creature's grip on him is loose enough that he's free with the first stumbling step. His body and the shifting snow work against him as he pushes to his limit, every inch of him burning with exertion with only ten yards behind him and the man's voice barking, "No! Jared, don't run!"
It's a second to late when he sees the wolf - not his wolf, his wolf's behind him looking like something Jared doesn't know how to contemplate- mahogany fur and blue eyes flying at him out of the near-dark of the trees and he's pinned to the ground instantly. The animal's right in his face, its growl intensifying as he tries to move his hand to his belt knife and it's only in this moment that it occurs to him that he's never actually laid eyes on another wolf in all this time.
Sludgy snow batters his shoulders and cheeks as, seconds later; the man is upon them, a mirror of the vicious growl from the animal on Jared's chest tearing from the stranger's human throat. The wolf backs down instantly, rolling over to expose its belly with a whine. Jared doesn't have time to marvel as he's hauled to his feet again, by the nape of his cloak.
"Don't ever," the man shakes him hard, teeth still bared, "Ever, run from a wolf! You know better, Jared!"
The wolf at their feet whines again and the man spares it enough of a glance to lose a more subdued growl, pulling Jared in tight to his body at the same moment. His breath catches in his throat. It's too much, he can't- he doesn't even know what's happening and it's just far too much. He scrabbles his hands at the man, manages to push away, but all that gets him is laid out flat in the snow all over again.
And that's when he notices the others, a sandy-colored wolf with piercing blue eyes and a russet one, dancing warily from foot to foot. They're only a few yards off and slowly working closer but the man pays them no mind.
Of course he doesn't, Jared thinks, they're his. His to command and they're hemming Jared in, trapping him. He would have never thought his friend would... how dare he!
"So this is it, then?" he shouts, his voice echoing off of the trees, but at least it's steady with anger. "You'll trap me here, force me to join you? I thought better of you than that! I thought a-"
"No!" the man rushes, green eyes wide. Jared doesn't miss the obvious hurt there. "No, I would never force you. I thought if there was ever a chance... you talked about it so many times, I just..." He looks shattered, heartbroken, and it pulls at things inside of Jared again to see it, the need to comfort him so ingrained it's like flaying his own flesh not to.
He had talked about it, many times; silly, childhood fantasies that he held onto far, far longer than he ever should have. Dreams of his friend somehow turned human by the magic of the moon just like in the legends; the two of them standing side by side, hunting, living, always together, but he never truly believed.
Of course his friend would think he wanted this. This impossible thing, a small voice inside keeps saying that he does.
The three wolves have moved together, all of them shifting nervously as their glances jump from the man - their alpha, he supposes - to Jared. He sees the man swallow heavily, green eyes casting to the ground, shining wetly but no tears fall. His proud, stubborn friend.
"I understand," the man's voice is rough as he turns half away from Jared. "You will always be safe here, and under my protection. You needn't worry about that."
He hadn't, honestly, not in the least. In fact, it seems the only thing he can think about at the moment is pulling the man's face to his own and running his fingers through silken hair and somehow making it better. He's being offered this incredible thing he wished for years upon years in the quiet of his own mind. It's possible now, even though every ration bit of his says that this must all be impossible, and yet it's right here. And he wants it. It's disconcerting and leaves him wavering awkwardly in the silence.
It's the sound that breaks him, of course, the high pitched whine of genuine injury; it should be odd coming from a human form, but it isn't. It's just his friend.
"Wait," he says, as the man turns to go, wolves curving around him like a protective force. "Please, I... What's your name?"
His friend, the best and truest he's ever had, stops, turning just enough so that their eyes meet when he says over his shoulder, "Jensen."
"Jensen," Jared repeats, watching green eyes slam shut and flat, white teeth find plump lips at the sound of it. "I'm sorry. It's just, just so much. Can we... talk? Please?"
The man - Jensen - smiles, still soft and trembly around the edges, but enough to soothe the ache in Jared's chest.
"Of course," he says quietly, backtracking to help Jared to his feet. His hands are still burning hot against Jared's own, but he doesn't push to get any closer. "Let's get you somewhere dry, and then we can talk about everything."
His hand lingers against Jared's, the fingers plucking at each other like instrument strings singing through Jared before he finally lets the touch fade away. It takes more effort than it should for Jared not to reach out and reclaim the contact. It takes him a moment to realize what he's just heard.
"Somewhere dry?"
When Jensen grins at him this time, it's genuine, that hint of cunning in his eyes that Jared's thrived on for years.
"Sure. You didn't think we lived out in this mess, did you?" Jensen quips, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jared's ear like he just can't keep himself from touching. At that, he turns heel and starts jogging off easily - as if Jared hadn't nearly killed himself trying to run a hundred feet just minutes ago - the wolves in tow. Jared has nothing left to do but clumsily follow.
On to Chapter 2!