Mack nods, swallowing hard. “Promise?” he asks.
“Promise.” He kisses him softly, as tenderly as he can. “Now that we’ve got settled, and you’ve put all of this me leaving nonsense out of your mind for good, I have to think about what you just told me for a minute, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, of course. Take all the time you need.”
Caleb can’t think straight so close to Mack, especially shirtless Mack, so he stands and walks to the kitchen and rummages though the cabinets until he finds a water glass that he fills from the faucet. He takes deep, steadying breathes between gulps.
He’s in love with a crazy person.
Does that mean he’s crazy too?
Does it matter?
Caleb empties the glass and stares out the windows overlooking the water for a few moments. “Do you have heightened senses?” He calls out, the question slipping from his mouth without him consciously deciding to ask it.
Mack doesn’t seem surprised; in fact, he still seems stunned that Caleb is still here. “Yes,” he answers from the living room after a beat. “Hearing and smell. Heightened strength, speed, and endurance, too. Even more so when shifted.”
“Healing power?” Caleb isn’t quite sure why he’s talking about werewolves as if he actually believes in them. Well, he he knows why, but he’s not quite ready to acknowledge it yet.
“Yes.”
“Like Wolverine?”
To his surprise, Mack laughs. “Yeah, like Wolverine.”
Caleb laughs too and leans against the counter. “My boyfriend is Wolverine.” He considers it for a moment longer. “Awesome.”
“Boyfriend?” Mack asks, voice hopeful.
“Well, yeah dude. I hope that’s okay.”
“That is more than okay,” he answers, collapsing against the back of the couch, his relief palpable. Ever since he arrived, Caleb has been feeling Mack’s emotions as his own. He suspects it has something to do with their dream sharing…which is apparently a thing that is happening because Mack is a werewolf. A werewolf. Caleb turns to refill his water glass, turning the word over in his mouth quietly, wondering if Mack can hear him.
Something on the stainless steel refrigerator door catches his eye and pulls him out of his contemplation. It’s the only thing on the fridge, in fact: a long narrow strip of black and white photos tucked under a small, plain black magnet. The photoboooth photos from that first night they met, when Caleb was a drunken fool who wrapped himself around him – and Mack, sober and never foolish, let him.
Caleb never saw the photos, and as he plucks them off the fridge to examine them more closely, he understands why, belief starting to settle through him, making his heart race again, but this time with excitement and wonder.
The first three photos are essentially the same. Mack, eyes closed, resting his forehead against Caleb’s soft smile. The fourth one though, the photo that captured the moment Mack nuzzled into Caleb neck and breathed in deep – scenting him, he realizes now, the words coming to him from somewhere deep in his memory, from his childhood obsession with wolves (with Mack?) Caleb’s eyes are closed in the photo, his face showing pure bliss, and Mack’s are slightly open – maybe. It’s hard to tell because there are auroras of light where his eyes should be, radiant lens flares that obscure most of his face, in fact. It casts just enough light across Caleb’s exalted face that so that it looks like he’s slightly glowing, bathed in the heavenly light from Mack’s eyes. Caleb has always thought Mack’s eyes were unnaturally beautiful, but this?
He takes the picture with him when he returns to the living room and sits down on the couch again next to him. “Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath, setting the strip of photos on the coffee table. “Show me.” He supposes what he really means is prove it.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Mack asks.
“To watch you turn into a wolf? The wolf I’ve been dreaming about pretty much my whole life? Pretty sure I’ll never be ready for that, so we might as well just go for it.”
“Caleb, I’m not going to shift fully right now. I don’t want to shock you.”
“Oh, okay. That’s considerate.” He hates to admit it, but be feels relieved. As bold as this new wonder may make him, he’s still not sure he’s ready to jump in to the magic so completely…yet.
Mack looks at the photos and smiles softly. “It’s hard to control our eyes in the flash,” he says casually, making conversation to put Caleb at ease. “I was pretty distracted here…couldn’t really focus on it.” He’s still smiling when he looks back at him, those magical, gold-green eyes wide and hopeful.
“Distracted because you were scenting me?” Caleb asks, his shaky voice belying the growing conviction he feels.
“Yes.”
“Because you’re a werewolf.”
“Because you smell good. And because I’m a werewolf.”
“Prove it,” Caleb says, finally.
Mack actually smiles, like he was expecting him to say it. He turns so he’s seated sideways on the couch, fully facing him. “Ready?”
Caleb nods and holds his breathe, letting it out in a delighted gasp when Mack’s eyes shimmer from green to red, alight with the fire of magic, vibrant and shimmering, bold and powerful, speaking to a legacy of unbridled power. Something warm and deeply familiar stirs inside of him. He still looks like Mack, but his eyes are the eyes of his Wolf. Caleb isn’t scared or repulsed and even stunned – he’s enraptured. He feels drawn to the jeweled light in Mack’s eyes like a month to a flame, and he moves closer on instinct, a hand reaching up to touch Mack’s face. His eyes flare even brighter at his touch and Caleb smiles, the laughter bubbling through him, lighting him up too.
“Holy shit, dude. You’re for real.” He keeps one hand on Mack’s cheek, and brings the other up to tug through his hair, which is the same rich black as his Wolf’s coat. He wonders if his Wolf’s – Mack’s – coat feels the same. Part of him is dying to find out, but he’s also still not quite sure he’s ready to see that.
Holy shit, werewolves are a thing that exist and Mack is one of them. An alpha, which apparently is a thing that means something.
“I’m real,” Mack confirms. “Are you okay?”
“I think I am, as crazy as it sounds. You said something about fangs. Can I see your fangs?” The wonderment of his new knowledge of the supernatural is just as strong as his curiosity, it seems. Mack said he’s a fox spirit. Foxes are inquisitive, right?
“Are you sure?” Mack asks, and it’s adorable, really, how worried he is about scaring him.
“Definitely. I want to see more of you.”
Grinning, he lifts Caleb’s hand to his mouth. His mouth is gentle on his palm, the most tender of kisses, and even somehow even softer as he drags his lips to Caleb’s wrist, hovering over where his pulse beats rapidly under pale, thin skin. Caleb feels the fang before he sees it: a tooth entirely too long and sharp to be human grazing over his delicate skin. He drops his hand and runs his fingers across his bottom lip, cautiously moving to trace them over the fangs that jut up from his teeth. Mack is still, his body rigid. He finally relaxes and breathes again when Caleb pulls his hand away, wrapping it around his. His eyes glow red a moment longer before dimming back to their normal color and the fangs slide away.
“Wow,” Caleb whispers, studying his face. He’s exhilarated and amazed, buzzing with energy, with love. Mack is a wolf, his Wolf, and has been with him all this time. Mack’s always been his, and he’s always been Mack’s. It’s still a bit of a shock, the enormity of it all, but it’s a good shock, a shifting of his perception that makes him feel centered and whole.
That’s it. The realization hits him with a smile, goose bumps rising along his arms, hair on the back his neck rising. The feeling from his dreams that has always tugged at him, that has whispered at the edge of his understanding for as long as he can remember, that has become a part of him – he knows what it is now.
“Mack, when you said the dream sharing
was something that happened to werewolves, what exactly did you mean?”
“It doesn’t happen for all of us, but sometimes, yes, long before they ever meet, some werewolves share dreams.” Mack is speaking carefully, choosing his words very deliberately, like he’s trying to ease Caleb into something difficult. Given the evening's other revelations, Caleb isn’t quite sure what Mack could have left to say that could still surprise him.
“I’m not a werewolf…obviously.” Caleb says.
“No, you’re not,” Mack smiles.
“But we still share the dream.”
“Sometimes, it can happen with a human. If the…bond is particularly strong.”
“The bond?”
“The mate bond. The dream sharing. It only happens with mates. To bring mates together. If you were a werewolf too, we would have recognized each other instantly.”
“I think we did,” Caleb replies, surprising Mack. “I mean, I didn’t know you were my Wolf, but I definitely felt something. Felt like I’d known you forever.”
“Yeah, me too. Your scent…your everything, was familiar to me.” Mack moves closer on the couch so he’s pressed right up against him, hip-to-hip, thigh-to-thigh. He nestles his face into Caleb’s neck, scenting him like he did that first night. “You smelled…you smell, like home to me.” His voice his husky and his words are soft and slightly lisped; Caleb feels the lightest brush of fangs against the tendon of his neck and he moans with pleasure, marveling at the fact that he’s not the least bit scared, because he trusts Mack so completely.
“So we’re mates, then? Wolf mates? Soulmates?” Just a few weeks ago Caleb was lamenting that he hadn’t had a boyfriend in ages and now he as a werewolf soulmate who just happens to be the hottest man in existence as far as he’s concerned. It’s a turvy-topsy world.
“If that’s what you want,” Mack says. “If you don’t, we haven’t solidified the bond yet, so we could still theoretically break it – "
“Mack, what did I say about me leaving you? Totally not going to happen, ever. Why in the hell would you think I wouldn’t want to be your mate?” He knows Mack has some self-loathing issues that stem from his relationship with Diana and his guilt about the fire, but he can’t possibly believe that Caleb wouldn’t want this, can he?
He can, it seems, judging by the defeated look on his face. “I just…I don’t want you to feel obligated, or compelled…or I don’t know. When I was younger, and bitter about everything that happened…I used to try to convince myself that mates were bullshit, that if they did exist than it was a violation of free will. I don’t believe that, never really did, but I can see how someone might. Especially someone not raised with the idea like I was.” His shoulders sag a bit, not completely dejected, but resigned.
Caleb ponders this for a moment, searching his thoughts and feelings for indication that he’s not making the decision to be with Mack of his own free will. There’s nothing; he’s confident that he could walk away at any time if he wanted, but the idea of ever wanting to seems unfathomable.
He kisses him, slowly but with urgent purpose, trying to make his body tell him all of the things he’s struggling to put into words. “Mack,” he says finally, heart pounding and palms beginning to sweat. “I want this. I want you, of my own free will. Even if I never had the dream, even if we weren’t connected the way we are, even if we met each under the absolute worst of circumstances – I can say without a doubt in my heart that I would want you. Would love you. Will love you, no matter what. I love you. Which is the first time I’ve said that, I’m realizing, and holy shit, why is that the scariest thing that’s happened tonight?”
Mack cuts off his breathless chatter with another kiss, this one needy and eager, his tongue swirling into Caleb’ mouth greedily. They’re both panting a bit when they finally stop, Mack cupping Caleb’ face in his big hands, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I love you too.”
11
Upstairs, in Mack’s massive bed, curtains fluttering in the breeze of the open window, cool fall air drifting over their naked, sweaty skin, Caleb smiles around Mack’s flushed cock as he looks up to meet his red, incandescent eyes. Mack’s stretched out on his back, hands tangled in Caleb’s hair, tugging lightly; they still for a moment, and then Caleb feels the delicate graze of wickedly sharp claws tease against his scalp. He moans around Mack’s – his mate’s – dick and his own flushed cock pulses another spurt of precome against the bed where’s he’s nestled between his legs.
Mack’s hips snap up, and he gasps, his hands darting away from Caleb’ head to clutch at the sheets, rending them loudly as he bucks and comes in shuddering gasps, cock pulsing hard and wet into Caleb’s mouth. He swallows as much as he can, relishing Mack’s taste, but he can’t take it all so he pulls off and strokes him through the aftershocks, grinning as the last few bursts of hot come fall across his cheek.
Mack hooks his hands under his armpits and hauls him up the bed so he’s straddling him. He licks the come from his face and cups his ass, squeezing in rhythm with Caleb’ hurried strokes on his cock as he licks a sloppy line across his cheek and down his jaw, settling his teeth into the tender spot behind his ear. His teeth are blunt and human, but they grip him firmly, possessively, sparking a thrumming buzz of powerful, coiling heat that explodes as Caleb comes, his vision going white for a moment as he shoots hard across Mack’s abs. He collapses across the pillows, pulling Caleb with him to lay across his chest.
“I want to see more of you,” Caleb says, voice husky and feeling deeply content. “More wolf-you. Maybe not, you know, full wolf yet, because that’s still kinda, whoa, you know? But you said something about a partial shift, right? Can you do that?” He’s thinking about the glow in Mack’s eyes, the feel of his claws, gentle on his skin but fierce on Mack’s poor sheets, the urgent surge of arousal it sent through him to see him like that, to feel that raw power. Apparently, wolfly does it for him.
Mack seems to know exactly what he’s thinking. “It turns you on, doesn’t it? My wolf?” His smile is half smirk, half cautious wonder, all open adoration.
Caleb likes the way he says my wolf, like it’s a part of him but still distinct, another complex facet of the miraculous Mack Nolan. “That’s a good thing, right?” He rolls to his side and rises up to his elbow, resting his head on his hand. “This whole mate thing would be a lot less fun if it didn’t turn me on. Now wolf me, wolf man.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“And you’re a werewolf.”
“God, are you ever going to let me live that down?” Mack teases, tickling his ribs, the bastard, making Caleb squirm as he cackles. Mack’s laughing too, a sound that wraps itself around his heart and settles there, filling him with warmth.
Mack rolls them so Caleb is back on top of him, claw-shredded sheets tangled around their legs. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Caleb answers, winking and bucking his hips.
He smiles and then quirks his head awkwardly to the side, and abruptly again in the other direction, eyes burning red. It seems to happen both quickly and slowly, the shifting of his features; one second he’s Mack, bearded and dimpled, and the next he’s…well, he’s a damn wolf man. His brow is heavier and his beard thicker. His eyes are an even deeper red, his fangs more pronounced. He’s just lying there, supine – lupine, Caleb thinks with a silly grin – but nonetheless Caleb feels an instinctive, massive strength emanating from him that goes beyond Mack’s impressive physicality and speaks of the ancient, mystical power he’s made of.
Caleb runs his hands through the fur on his face, so much thicker than his regular beard, probably what his wolf coat feels like. Underneath his jawline is the same, and he traces the familiar sharp edge to the hinge and up around the shell of his now-pointed ear. The squeal of delight he gives in response to the utter adorableness of Mack’s pointy wolf ears should embarrass him, but he’s too busy covering them with wet, open mouth kisses to care too much.
“You’re beautiful,” C
aleb says against Mack’s neck. He hopes Mack never tires of hearing it, because he’s pretty sure he’ll never tire of saying it.
“I love you,” he replies, words soft and wistful as they tumble from his fangs.
It’s late and they’re still up, cuddled together in Mack’s bed, kissing as Mack patiently answers all of Caleb’s questions about werewolves and the supernatural. He remembers Mack saying something about how they hadn’t solidified the mate bond yet, and when he asks Mack’s cheeks go a delectable shade of red he’s never seen on him before, even the tips of his non-pointy human ears pinking. “Well,” he starts, in the cautious way he has of carefully choosing his words, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that when we’ve had sex, I, um, haven’t asked to top.”
Caleb has noticed, but he hasn’t given it much thought, distracted as he’s been with all of the other unbelievable things Mack does to his body. When he tells Mack as much he smiles, clearly relieved. “Is that something you want though? Something you like?”
Caleb answers immediately, unable to hold back, because, yeah, he wants that. “Fuck, Mack, yeah, I want you to fuck me. But only if you want to,” he adds hurriedly, because clearly there’s a reason he hasn’t so far?
“I do,” Mack squeezes his ass and closes his eyes, rutting softly against him, their dicks twitching where they lie against each other, soft and comfortable. “But there’s something…when a male alpha is with his mate, or when a male beta is mated with a female alpha….”
“Are you talking about knotting?” Caleb finally blurts out, unable to withstand the pained look of embarrassment on Mack’s face any longer.
Mack’s go wide with a mix of relief and shock. “How do you know about knotting?”
“There was a joke about it in Confessions of a Teenage Werewolf. I googled.”
“Seriously? Isn’t that a book for teenagers?”
“Kids these days. I blame the internet.”
“Caleb.”
“You are talking about knotting, right? Your wolf-dick getting all huge and tying us together.” Caleb is leaning over Mack’s chest, tracing his fingernails over the soft lines of Mack’s fox tattoo, his tattoo for Caleb, and even in Mack’s obvious discomfort, he’s tracing the line of Caleb’s wolf on his back.
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