“Mom loved doing shit like this. And going stargazing,” Chase says, “We used to go once every few months, and she’d tell me the stories of the stars and the heroes who lived there.” He wiggles and Tyler catches him by the waist, holding him still. “When I was eight, they got me a telescope. Dad was so sure I’d break it because I wasn’t really good at staying still, but when Mom showed me the stars, I was always still, like if I wasn’t, I’d ruin the spell, and I never wanted that.”
Tyler hums against his hair and says, “Do you ever go anymore? Stargazing?”
Chase shakes his head. “Not since—”
“I—I haven’t been back here either.”
He knows what it means, that he’s coming here again, that he’s sharing it with Chase.
“Do you think one day it’ll stop hurting?” he asks and Tyler’s hand latches onto his.
“No,” he whispers hoarsely. “But I think it helps, having someone to help carry it.”
Chase is quiet for a long time, and the movie starts. He picks at the popcorn while Tyler murmurs the lines in his ear.
Then, like a secret, he whispers, “Chelsea called me.”
Chase goes stiff against him, all the easy contentment draining away. Tyler’s grip holds him in place and his lips brush Chase’s ear when he murmurs, “She said she missed me. That there was a place for me, in New York, with her and the Cahils.”
Chase closes his eyes. He’s always known that Tyler came back to take care of Lucas. Chelsea didn’t want her Pack when Lucas was healthy—but now? Now, with a degree, a life ready to start and a healthy brother and an Alpha who wanted him back—why the hell would he stay?
“Breathe for me, sweetheart,” Tyler murmurs.
Chase takes a shuddery breath, whining just a little. “When—” he chokes, then stops. He licks his lips and forces it out. “When are you leaving?”
Tyler is quiet and still, then all of a sudden, the stars and moon wheel overhead, the giant screen flashes, and then all he can see is Tyler looming over him, pressing him into the blankets, the long hot length of him blanketing Chase from toe to nose.
“Idiot,” Tyler breathes fondly, then—
Chase makes a noise, shocked and hungry, deep in his throat, and Tyler licks it from his mouth, uses that little noise to deepen the unexpected kiss. It’s nothing like that kiss so long ago in the kitchen—this one is deep and wet and dirty, like Tyler’s pouring everything he’s never said, everything Chase doesn’t quite dare believe into the desperate slide of their lips, the sharp hungry nip of teeth, the needy noises spilling from Tyler—from Tyler—as he cradles Chase’s face in his big hands and thumbs at the hinge of his jaw, kissing him like he’s starving for it.
“Tyler,” Chase gasps and Tyler nips at his neck, sucking hard, like marking Chase has suddenly become his life’s goal and he’s determined to get it right now.
Each hard suck of his lips is like a fucking live wire to Chase’s dick, and he mewls, arching helplessly against Tyler. He grinds down with this dirty twist of his hips that makes Chase fucking moan.
“Not leaving,” Tyler whispers harshly, and Chase can register it distantly, so fucking distantly. “I’m never leaving you, Chase.”
Chase is sobbing by the time Tyler kisses him again, riding the hard thigh presses between his legs almost helplessly as Tyler coos, “There you go, sweetheart. Take what you need.”
He does. Tears in his eyes, fingers in Tyler’s hair, tongue in Tyler’s mouth, he grinds against Tyler’s thigh and whimpers. When Tyler bites him hard, right over the fresh bruise on his pale throat, Chase comes with a low groan, spilling wet and hot in his boxers. Tyler groans and dips down, nosing along his wet crotch and rutting against Chase’s leg until he snarls, claws digging into the mess of blankets until wet heat spreads against Chase’s leg.
~*~
Tyler crawls up his body and sinks into a lazy kiss that feels utterly familiar and impossibly new, and Chase hums happily into it. They curl together to watch the movie on the screen, and Chase plays in the hair on his arm while he breathes in the scent of them.
He isn’t terribly surprised when Chase swallows audibly and asks, “Tyler?”
“Hmm?”
“What was that?”
Tyler presses his lips to the boy’s throat. This side is still pale and unmarked, and it makes him itch to change that.
“I’m tired of fighting something we both want,” Tyler says carefully, “You—you still want it, right?”
“Yeah,” Chase bursts out, “I definitely—all the want, dude, one hundred percent want.”
Tyler laughs and leans down to mark up his pretty skin. “Good,” he murmurs and Chase shivers against him, sighing. He can hear the smile in his boy’s voice as he stares up at the stars. “Good.”
Chapter 22
The thing is, Chase has known Tyler Reid for so long, he almost can’t remember a time when he didn’t. It’s a far distant time of sugar sweet memories wrapped up in a thread of fairy tale happiness, memories of his mother that’ve taken on a haze of disbelief and unrealness.
Chase knows Tyler, knows when he’s happy and angry, when he’s eaten up with guilt, when he’s missing his family, when he’s quietly content. He knows how Tyler eats his pancakes, that he likes his bacon too crispy, and his tea milky and sweet. He knows Tyler runs in silence but wants music when he’s working out, that he loves long too hot baths, and that he hates the attention he gets for his good looks.
He knows the secrets that Tyler doesn’t share with anyone, not even Lucas, like that he tried to kill himself after the accident, that he missed Mia for years, that he cut himself daily when he was living in New York, that Chelsea could smell it but never did anything to stop him.
He knows that Tyler wants a kitten but is afraid it’d hate him, that he adores the Chief but only tolerates Ben, and that on new moons, Tyler sings, feeling so mellow it’s almost a high.
He knows Tyler as well as he knows himself. Hell, Chase thinks he knows Tyler better than he knows Ben, a knowledge bred by intimacy, years of living on top of each other, and the grief that brought them together.
He thinks, with a bone-deep certainty, that he knows everything there is to know about Tyler Reid. He’d stopped being surprised by the older man years ago, maybe the day Tyler looked at him over his brother’s hospital bed and blurted out, “Werewolves.”
It turns out—he’s wrong.
~*~
They stumble into the house, fingers twisted together, and Tyler freezes. He presses Chase into the door, his big body braced between Chase and Lucas. A low growl is in his throat as Chase pets at the nape of his neck.
There’s a quiet tenseness to the room, followed by footsteps, slow but measured, to Lucas’s room. Chase pokes Tyler in the side and gets a low rumbling growl for his troubles.
“Did you just growl at Lucas?” Chase demands.
Tyler doesn’t answer him, just tugs Chase into his room and pushes him in the direction of the bed while he locks the door. He glares at it for a few seconds, then turns to Chase, who’s standing near the bed with a tiny grin on his face, reeking of come, sugar, and satisfaction.
“Wanna tell me what’s up with the caveman routine?” he asks, voice warm and teasing.
Tyler flushes and looks away. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“I’m not,” Chase murmurs, and it draws Tyler’s eyes up, shy and hopeful. He makes a grabby motion to Tyler and the ‘wolf obligingly crowds closer to him, dipping down to press a kiss into the curve of his throat, almost melting into Chase when he wraps his long arms around him.
He’s held Tyler before, but comforting him on bad days or cuddling during a movie marathon was never like this. This feels achingly familiar and shockingly new, electric in a way that it never has before.
“Smell good,” Tyler mumbles into his neck, inhaling and nuzzling.
Chase giggles. “I’m covered in come and sweat, dude.”
Tyler’s head come
s up, his eyes gleaming. “Yeah,” he breathes, and Chase has a moment to think ohhh, before he’s being kissed, Tyler licking into his mouth like he’s starving and Chase is a feast. It’s hot, hungry, and desperate, years of want poured out into a hot rush.
He’s been with guys before—drunk hookups at the local club, a few handjobs in high school, and Ryan who he does his best to not think about at all—but there’s never been anyone like Tyler.
Tyler is sharp nipping teeth and gentle petting hands, tiny gasps when Chase rolls his hips and a deep rumbling groan when he bares his neck. He’s everything Chase didn’t dare imagine, and everything he did. Chase thinks he could come, could get drunk off just this, just the delicious thrust of Tyler’s tongue and the sharp rasp of stubble dragging over his skin.
He whines when Tyler steps back, reaching for him as he twists away, and Tyler blinks. There’s a hint of the wolf in his voice, a gleam of too sharp teeth, blue bleeding into watercolor as he says, “Stay with me?”
A tiny smile ticks up the corners of Chase’s lips. “Yeah. Of course.”
~*~
He doesn’t say always. He thinks it’s far too soon and probably far too late to be making promises like that.
He’s pretty sure Tyler hears it anyway.
~*~
Tyler strips Chase carefully, baring his long pale body with a reverent care that makes Chase itch to squirm and also want to remain still forever, for as long Tyler needs this. Even when Tyler kneels and peels his sticky ruined boxer briefs off him, he doesn’t flinch or shy away, allowing Tyler to look his fill.
“You’re beautiful,” Tyler breathes, and Chase makes a choked noise. Tyler surges to his feet, pulling Chase into a filthy kiss, hands digging in and holding on almost desperately. Chase takes a step back, falling onto the bed and dragging Tyler with him. He groans at the weight of the older man on him, his legs coming up to wrap around Tyler’s waist.
“Chase,” Tyler groans. “I want—” He bites off the words with a whine when Chase slips a hand between them, stroking him over the rough denim, and Tyler’s hips buck up, desperate.
It’s shockingly arousing, watching Tyler lose himself like this. He wonders how far he can push, what pretty noises he can pull out of him. He scratches a hand through Tyler’s hair and murmurs, “You’re overdressed for this.”
Tyler pushes up and stares at him, intent. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” Chase says simply. It’s always been simple for him.
Desiret flickers in his gaze, his pupils blown with lust, but he frowns. “Chase, I can’t lose you because we don’t work out.”
Chase’s magic, usually tucked safely behind the walls in his mind, roars to the surface, burning in his eyes and tattoos, the designs on his arm flaring to life. Even his Celtic knot shines with a flickering firelight. Chase wraps his mind around the Pack bonds, his bond to the Reid territory and his wolves, to Tyler, and yanks.
Tyler shudders, his whole body moving, serpentine sweet, against him, and he can feel Lucas’s aroused fury through the bond. He releases that and strokes a finger down Tyler’s back, pets a sparking line of power down the bond they share.
“You can feel that,” he says, and Tyler gasps through the touch. “I’m not going anywhere,” Chase says. “No matter what happens between us. I belong to you and the Pack.” He drags Tyler’s head up and meets his eyes. He knows his own are burning, hot promise and want. “I’m yours, Tyler.”
Just like that, the last walls between them shatter like glass.
~*~
There’s a part of him that wants to race through this, wants to pin Chase down, hold him still and work him open, fuck him into the mattress, come in him so deep that he’ll always be there.
There’s a part of him, tiny but persistent, that says he won’t get to keep this.
But there’s Chase, his hands steady as he pulls Tyler down on him, his magic a constant caress against their Pack bond, and it settles him.
He can have this. He can have him.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Chase complains, shifting restlessly. Tyler grins, nipping at his lips, then pulls away. Chase immediately reaches for himself, jacking himself almost lazily, and Tyler almost swallows his tongue, losing track of what exactly he’s supposed to be doing as he watches those long fingers stroking—
“Gonna join the party?” Chase teases.
Tyler gives him a bitchy glare before he finishes stripping and crawls back onto the bed, settling between Chase’s legs and leaning down to press his nose into the place where his smell is strongest, the crease of groin and hip. The skin there is pale and white, speckled with a single tiny mole, thin and rich—so fucking rich with Chase’s scent he moans, presses harder into him while Chase pets through his hair.
Chase’s hand is shaking, just a little bit, his whole body strung tight, vibrating with need. Tyler lifts his head up. Chase stares at him, eyes shiny and blown to hell, mouth open. There’s a sheen of sweat on his lip that Tyler wants to lick and a desperation to his clutching hands that makes the wolf in him howl.
“I’m going to ruin you,” Tyler growls, then slides his mouth over Chase’s cock.
Chase groans, his hand in Tyler’s hair gripping brutally tight, making Tyler’s cock jerk in pure want. He groans at the taste of Chase, even better than his scent. The familiar salty musk, the weight of Chase on his tongue, the way Chase isn’t even trying to hold back—he’s cursing, filthy and constant, as he uses that hand in Tyler’s hair to move him, fucking his long cock into the back of Tyler’s throat. He feels a hot pulse of precome oozing from the tip and digs his nails, blunt human nails, into Chase's hips, whining when Chase drags him off his dick with a wet pop.
“Don’t—don’t wanna come like this,” he grits out as Tyler stares up at him, dazed. “Want you inside me, baby.”
Tyler nods, licking his lips. “Yeah. I—yeah.”
Chase grins at him, then scrambles away, twisting, long pale limbs moving quick and sure. Tyler groans as he settles on his hands and knees, ass thrust back like a fucking gift.
Chase gasps, chokes out his name, when Tyler leans in and bites, and presses back into it when Tyler licks up his spine. “Please, please, Tyler, Jesus, more!”
Tyler hums his approval and Chase shudders under him, under his hands and lips. He loses track of time licking and biting his neck, working his fingers in until Chase is loose and shining wet. He quiet, listening as Chase finally, finally goes silent, his mouth open and gaping while Tyler works him open.
The quiet is disconcerting, and Tyler murmurs, “You look so good like this, Chase. So good for me, just waiting for me to fill you up. You want me to, don’t you?” He hooks his fingers, two now, and Chase jolts under him, hands scrabbling in the sheets. Tyler smiles. “Just like that, sweetheart. Gonna take good care of you.”
“Please,” Chase whispers, so soft that if he weren’t a werewolf, Tyler wouldn’t hear it. “Please, need you—”
Tyler slicks some lube on his fingers, then pushes back in with three, rubs his thumb over the stretched out rim of him and croons, “Almost ready for me... Just take a little more...”
When Chase is pressing back against him, a wordless keen in his throat, Tyler swallows and slips his fingers free. Chase whimpers in distress, but it changes, twists into a low groan as Tyler finally pushes into him.
~*~
It hurts.
There’s nothing magical and sappy that takes away the too wide stretch, the burn of Tyler filling him up. But it’s a welcome burn, and he arches, pressing into it. Tyler rewards him with a fucking dirty groan, pulling out and pushing back in with smooth rolls of his hips that do impossibly good things for Chase, lighting him up. He twists his head back, because this—this...
“Ty, stop,” he gasps. Tyler freezes. Chase moves fast, pushes the ‘wolf on his back and settles on his lap, lining his cock up and sinking down with a blissful sigh. Tyler makes a choked cry, something that sounds
almost like his name, and Chase grins. “Need to see you, big guy.”
He needs to see, needs to know that it’s real, that it’s Tyler fucking up into him with impossibly strong thrusts, his hands tight on Chase’s hips. It’s Tyler that’s licking into his mouth, kissing him with a desperate hunger, Tyler who stares at him helplessly as Chase rolls his hips in a dirty grind.
It’s Tyler who twists his head up and away, baring the long line of his thick throat, and—
“Fuck, baby,” Chase groans, falling forward and latching onto the smooth gold skin with his dull human teeth.
Tyler sighs, going liquid and boneless beneath him. Chase feels it, the hot pulse as Tyler orgasms, and it’s that—the feel of Tyler pliant under him, filling him, warm flesh between his teeth, that makes him shudder and whine into Tyler’s throat as he comes.
Chase collapses against him with a huff. Tyler grunts as he takes the weight, arms circling him instinctively.
“Did I hurt you?” Chase asks, nosing at the mark on his throat.
Tyler shakes head and trails a hand down Chase’s spine, down to the place where he’s still inside Chase, running a light finger over his swollen rim. Chase groans and laughs.
“Dude, you’re pushing thirty. You cannot be ready for round two.”
Tyler snorts. “Werewolf, remember? But no. I just—I like it.”
He’s never going to be better with words. Chase gives him a wide happy smile anyway and says, “I do too, big guy.”
~*~
They fall asleep like that. Tyler wakes up in the middle of the night, Chase still starfished on top of him. He’s sleeping deeply, mumbling into the pillow when Tyler carefully slips out from under him.
He looks at Chase sprawled across his bed, at the bruises he left on Chase’s hips, at his stretched and swollen hole still glistening with come, and he wants—badly—to take him again. He wants to lick him clean and fuck into him to dirty him up again.
He wants everything the boy has to offer and everything he doesn’t, every piece of Chase. He wants so deeply it’s terrifying. His hands shake as he tugs a pair of sleep pants on, then he pads out of the room to find a towel to clean him.
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