Something Magic

by Justine Taylor

  “Not that I’ve ever heard of. But sometimes – some people, if they have a really strong spirit, when they’re bitten, they take the shape of their spirit instead of a wolf. It doesn’t happen often, but I think it would with you. I think maybe that’s what my mom meant when she said you were special.”

  “Huh.” Caleb looks over the water and ponders this for a few minutes. He knows Mack sees him as a fox in his dream, but he’s never really thought seriously about what it would like to actually be one, for his body to shift and transform like Mack’s – which he still hasn’t seen. To have four legs and paws and a fur coat and to really run alongside his wolf like in his dream. It’s tempting, but not something he can really wrap his head around right now.

  “Mack,” he says, smiling twitching at the corners of his mouth, breaking the silence. “We when get home, can we watch The Fox and the Hound?”

  The sun – what little of it they can see peeking behind the heavy gray clouds threatening a night of steady rain – is just starting to set when Mack finally slows and stops the engine, letting the boat bob slightly in the calm water. He leads Caleb out of the cabin to the small deck, lined on each side with cushioned benches. Mack still hasn’t revealed what in the hell they’re doing in the middle of the ocean as night is falling, but he’s practically buzzing with excited energy so Caleb knows whatever he has planned, it’s going to be spectacular.

  It’s damn cold, but Caleb is wrapped in a worn flannel blanket cuddled up against Mack’s solid heat as they stretch out on one of the benches looking over the water. Caleb is about to ask again what they’re doing out here when Mack grabs his hand and points, whispering. “Look.”

  He follow the direction of Mack’s hand and sees, maybe fifty feet from them, the water breaking with the smooth, dark dorsal fin of a massive orca, surfacing. It blows a spray of water before diving back down, snapping his huge tail against the surface as another one, a little further out, breaches too.. Caleb’ mouth in hangs open in wonder as he marvels at the incredible sight. Another orca surfaces, closer to them, nose first, playful, as if saying hello. It seems Mack has lead them right to the edge of a large, active pod, just close enough to get a spectacular view, but not close enough to disturb or endanger them.

  Mack is watching in wonder too, but Caleb’s rapt expression more than the whales. “Can you smell them? Is that how you knew where to go?”

  “There’s a reason Boyd’s the most popular and successful whale-watching boat captain on the Sound,” Mack whispers, breath warm against his temple. Caleb laughs, befuddled and thrilled once again by just how weird his life has gotten since he met him, and just how much he loves it.

  They watch the pod for a long time, feeling a rush of exhilaration each time one of the magnificent creatures surfaces and dives. Eventually they start to stay down longer, surfacing farther away, until they’re quickly fading smudges against the horizon.

  “Wow,” Caleb breathes, feeling like he can speak normally again. “That was…amazing. Coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you.”

  “Glad you liked it.” Mack hugs him closer as they sit awhile longer, the gentle swaying of the boat rocking them steadily. “I don’t want to bite you,” he says after awhile. “But, if you were ever severely injured or sick, I would, to heal you, to save you. If that’s what you want.”

  Caleb thinks about this for a moment. “Yeah, I would want that, I think. Life-saving bites approved.”

  Mack looks at him, face blank in that way he gets when he’s trying to carefully choose his words. “I would have bitten her,” he says after a while. “Your mom. Offered to, I mean. If I had still been there when she was sick. I would have tried to save her.”

  “Mack,” Caleb croaks, voice breaking. He’s too overwhelmed to say anything else, but he knows that he doesn’t have to. Mack will feel how deeply he’s moved in the press of his kiss, in the desperate way that he clings to him, in the ache in his heart.

  It’s late when they get home, but Caleb isn’t tired. He feels very awake, in fact, thrumming with energy and desire. Mack heads upstairs to shower, and Caleb snacks on some homemade cookies while loading a pipe. He deeply looking forward to getting very stoned, letting his body melt and soften, and then taking his sweet, sweet time fucking Mack until they’re covered in come and unable to move.

  When Caleb comes up to the bedroom he finds Mack, naked, lying diagonally on the bed, head towards the foot, lazily stroking his hard cock.

  “You read my mind,” Caleb tells him, gaze raking over the long, elegant lines of Mack’s thighs, dusted with dark hair. He tosses the pipe on the bed so he can strip, imagining nibbling into the flesh there.

  Mack’s cheeks hollow prettily as he takes a hit, those cheekbones sharpening to knife-edges. It turns out werewolves have to lace alcohol with wolfsbane to feel its effects, but pot affects them just fine on its own. Caleb is glad for it; stoned Mack is a little silly, a giant affectionate puppy. “I could smell your leaking cock from downstairs,” Mack informs him, blowing smoke rings, because he’s also a bit of cocky showoff, and Caleb f loves him for it.

  “You’re so romantic," he says as he straddles him, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on each of the wolf claw tattoos on his hips, then moving up his body to take the pipe from him. He takes a long hit, closing his eyes at the slight burn in his throat, holds it as long as he can before bending down to exhale into Mack’s open mout and, they fall into a messy, smoky kiss.

  It practically kills him, taking it slow, but Caleb wants it to last. They smoke and talk and laugh and kiss, languidly bucking their hips now and again to grind against each other, cocks leaking, groans becoming insistent as time goes on. Mack breaks first, tossing the cashed pipe and lighter to the floor and rearing up to grab him firmly by the back of the neck, kissing him deeply. He moves his lips down to kiss and lick at Caleb’s chest, fingers teasing his nipples into hard peaks before sucking each one into his warm mouth. “Need to taste you,” Mack murmurs into his skin before lying back again, hands sliding to his waist to pull him up his chest until he’s straddling Mack's neck and his straining cock falls across his mouth.

  Caleb yips and gasps, twitching with anticipation. Mack’s big hands hook under his thighs and move up to cup his ass, pulling him just a bit further and spreading him open over his waiting mouth. The hot rush air and the soft tickle of his beard against his cleft and hole pulls a squeaking moan from Caleb before breaking off into a gasping keen when Mack’s lips circle him in a wet kiss, the tip of his tongue pushing in before darting out again. “Mack,” he pants, feeling like he’s dissolving into a heap of molten pleasure as his tongue starts to ravish him. He can’t help his pathetic little mewls, greedy sounds that fall from his open mouth as Mack’s tongue works harder, faster, his cock rubbing along the side of his face, dripping precome in his beard.

  Caleb can’t help but rut against his face, softly at first, asking permission. He hears a pleased growl from underneath him and the hand on his ass squeezes, spurring him on. He moves faster, adding friction to the rapid wet thrusting of Mack’s tongue, a riot of powerful sensations that has him abuzz with heat and love. He finally grips his dick and slicks it down with precome before rising a bit to pull Mack’s mouth away from his split-slick hole to rub his cock over his swollen, red lips. Caleb slides the head in, smiling as Mack closes his mouth around him, sucking hard. He begins thrusting again, harder now, hips snapping, swearing at the hot wet heat of Mack’s mouth. He turns back to see Mack’s other hand, the one not still squeezing his ass, stroking his own dick, hips snapping up while Caleb fucks his gorgeous face.

  He has just enough self-control left to slow his thrusting before he gets past the point no return, taking a few panting breaths and squeezing the base of his cock while Mack still sucks eagerly at the tip, tongue teasing the slit. Mack’s eyes are bloodshot, pupils wide, his face shiny with spit and Caleb’ precome, thoroughly ravaged. Caleb has beard burn on his ass, and he fucking loves it. He scoo
ts back down Mack’s chest, stopping to kiss him, cock twitching at the taste of himself on his lips.

  He’s sex-stupid and stoned, uncoordinated as hell, but he manages to turn around on top of Mack without kicking him in the face, an accomplishment he’ll remember to feel proud of as soon as he’s able. Now though, he’s still on top, mouth just inches from Mack’s cock, his own dick and roughed up ass hovering over Mack’s face again but from a new angle. Mack doesn’t waste anytime getting back to work, and not to be outdone, Caleb dives in, teasing the foreskin before swallowing him down.

  Mack rolls them so they’re on their sides, arms and legs tangled in a sweaty twist as they suck each other, voracious and frenzied, feverish. Mack’s cock is piercing hot, stretching his mouth wide, fucking delicious as it slides across his tongue. Mack does something with his own tongue and his teeth on the head of his dick, and it sends Caleb over the precipitous edge, makes him gasp and pull back, body going rigid as he comes, the spasms of otherworldly pleasure rattling his bones. Mack swallows the first pulse but then pulls off, letting Caleb finish across his face and neck, a rumbling growl shaking through him. Caleb gets his mouth back around Mack while he’s still trembling, sucking hard, wanting to be covered too. He reaches up to Mack’s neck and scoops up a sticky puddle of his come, running it between his fingers before bringing his hand back down to tease at Mack’s hole, and roughly shoves two come-slicked fingers into him up to the first knuckle as he buries his face at the base of Mack’s cock, swallowing around him.

  Mack nearly howls as he comes, and Caleb can’t see his face but he knows his eyes are burning red. Like Mack, he takes the first pulse of scorching come down his throat and then slips off, smiling as the rest of his impressive load sprays across his chest, drenching him. “Fuck yes,” he can’t help but pant, body twitching with the urge to come all over again as his mate marks him so thoroughly. Mack is keening softly, hips still thrusting erratically, fingers clutching into Caleb’s thighs hard enough to bruise.

  By the time Mack stills, he’s shoved himself completely onto Caleb’s fingers, so Caleb keeps going, adding Mack’s come from his chest, massaging his prostate as he stretches him, rising up to his knees and spreading Mack’s legs around him. He can finally see his face, flushed and raw, eyes half-closed, fangs jutting from his panting mouth. The sight of them sends a shock straight to his cock, already starting to harden again.

  Mack is still hard, even after his magnificent orgasm, moaning and pleading for Caleb to fuck him. “Soon, wolfman, soon.” He pets Mack’s thigh and pushes a third finger in. Their combined come isn’t the best lube, but Mack doesn’t seem to mind at all, seems to be melting into the burn. Caleb loves this about him, loves that he can be a little rough and know that he can’t really hurt him, just like Mack loves how fragile he is, loves how his skin bears his marks so easily.

  He fingers him until his pleas begin to sound more like snarls, pulling away long enough to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand, knowing that come isn’t going to cut it and it’s starting to dry on his chest anyways. When he turns back he nearly dissolves with the burst of love and want that fills him at the sight of Mack, a goddamned vision, legs spread wide, knees up, canting his hips, holding himself open. Caleb is fully hard again; he slicks himself and pushes into Mack with a firm slap of his hips, arching back with the swell of power he feels in his chest when Mack’s loud sigh of pleasure pushes through him. He fucks him slowly at first, long, slow strokes that have them both shaking with each sundering drag. Mack is meeting each thrust forcefully, like he’s trying to take all of Caleb inside of him for good.

  His second release is cresting with each desperate thrust, arms and legs going weak, falling on top of Mack, kissing messily, tasting his own come on his lips, hips still bucking. He’s lost all finesse, all control of his body, his entire existence narrowed down to the clench of Mack around him. It feels like something cracks and splinters deep within him, flooding him with light and burning pleasure; he comes with a grunt, biting into his collarbone, locking his hips tight against him as he fills him, body finally going limp and heavy as he shudders through it.

  Mack’s still thrusting up, his cock seeking friction. Caleb wants to get him off again, but he’s not sure he can move, wrecked and wrung out as he is. Mack doesn’t seem to mind though, because he’s moving out from under him. Caleb splays across the foot of the bed on his stomach, his skin still tingling with the aftershocks. Mack rises to his knees, straddling Caleb's back, stroking himself hard and fast. There's a sharp intake of breath and a deep moan, and Mack spills across Caleb’s back on to the wolf tattoo, come splattering against his sweaty skin.

  The last thing he feels before falling asleep is Mack’s chest, hard with muscle and soft with hair, damp with sweat, pressing heavily into his messy back, a slightly-fanged bite nibbling gently into his neck.

  For once, Mack is awake before he is, those green-gold eyes big and close, right there in his face when Caleb peels his own eyes open from a heavy, dense sleep. He’s laying the right way on the bed, head buried in his favorite pillow, cozy in the sheets. A shrug and roll of his body tells him that he’s not itchy with dried come, so Mack must have cleaned him up before tucking him in.

  “You’re alive,” Mack whispers, face still close.

  “Barely.” His voice is thick with sleep. “Can someone be sexed to death? I think you’re trying to sex me to death.”

  Mack just smiles, and Caleb thinks that if that is the case, he’s going to die extremely happy.

  15

  Mack grows increasingly silent and tense during the flight to Sacramento, and then even more so during the two-hour drive from the airport to Lighthouse Cove. He’s stony and silent by the time Caleb steers the rental car into the driveway of his dad’s house, those big, talented hands fisted in his lap, his breathing tight and controlled.

  “We can go,” Caleb says, ready to put the car in reverse and drive away, waste their money and piss everyone off, but he doesn’t give a damn about that, not when Mack looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

  “No, I’ll be okay.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself “It’s just…overwhelming. The pull of our territory.”

  Mack had told him about this, had warned him of it. The Nolans have been the supernatural guardians of this area for centuries, the land itself echoing with the same mystical power that runs through Mack, a wolf’s anchor to his territory.

  “Do you always feel its pull?” Caleb had asked when Mack first explained it.

  “Yes. It was stronger at first, right after we left. It’s dulled over time, but it’s still there. I know it’s trying to bring me back to my family’s land…but, every time I think about it…I taste ash. I’ve learned to ignore it.” Mack had offered him a weak smile as they packed their bags, and Caleb felt again that pang of guilt for asking Mack to come with him. “I’ll be fine, Caleb,” he had said, more than once. “It has to happen eventually. Maribel and Boyd think it will be good for me. I trust them. I trust you.”

  Sitting in his driveway next to Mack in the too-clean smell of the rental car, Caleb hopes to all that is holy that he is worthy of that trust. He uncurls one of Mack’s fists and wraps his fingers up with his. “Come on in, then. Dad and Ramona won’t be home until later. We can relax and get settled.”

  Caleb’s bedroom is largely unchanged, save for the bare walls and empty closet, which he tosses their bags into as Mack falls heavily on the bed, burying his face in a pillow. “Smells like you, but different,” he mumbles into the fabric, curling into as small of a ball as his bulky body will let him. Caleb curls up behind him and presses his chest against his broad back, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight. After a moment, Mack relaxes, body and breath softening as he eases into his chest. “Better,” he murmurs, eventually, lifting Caleb’s hand to kiss the inside of his wrist.

  Mack falls asleep like that, while Caleb stares at all of the tiny holes in the wall next
to his bed where he hung the adoption certificates and wolf photos: the wolves his mother gave him.

  He eventually falls asleep too, holding on tight to the wolf she gave him without even knowing it.

  Caleb wakes to the familiar early evening light filtering into the room. They've turned over in their sleep, and Mack now spooned around his back, a heavy arm slung possessively across his waist. It’s strange, waking up in his old room with Mack. For a moment he imagines he’s back in high school, thinks about what it would have been like if he had met him back then. Mack would have been in his early twenties; according to Maribel, in those days he was even angrier and surlier.

  He’s well into a fantasy that involves a lot of too-close talking and bickering that bursts into passionate angry-but-really-we-yell-because-we-love-each-other-sex with Alternate Universe Mack when actual Mack starts to shift closer, mouth hot on the back of his neck.

  “Feeling better?” Caleb rolls his hips just a bit, exploring.

  “Much better,” Mack murmurs, the teasing of his lips growing more insistent. Caleb closes his eyes and focuses, trying to zero in on Mack’s emotions. It’s still hard for him to control when and what he feels from him, a weird mental and emotional gymnastics that Mack says he’ll get better at with practice. Right now, he mostly just feels his emotions when he’s feeling something powerful, but every once in a while, when he really tries, he can feel a tingle of something else that is and isn’t part of him. Mack. Them.

  Mack much calmer now, less tense, the anxiety that was rolling off him in waves before their nap still there, but nowhere near as intense. He’s got his hand under his shirt, drifting down to tease at the button of his pants. “Do we have time,” he asks, fingers tucking under the waistband of his boxers.

  Caleb can just reach his phone on the nightstand; it’s a few minutes after five. “Dad said both he and Ramona are working until seven tonight,” he answers with a smile.