by Alex Kidwell
Ten minutes later, he’d hauled a load of branches back to the birch trees. Most of them were thick and strong, but he had several very thin, flexible ones as well. Working quickly, rain streaming down his face, soaking him right down to his ass crack, he got the logs leaning against the birch trees, using the thinner branches to weave them together. He’d gotten lucky and found a pine tree. The long, thick-needled branches were perfect for a rain-resistant roof.
He left one corner mostly uncovered except for a thin layer of pine before ducking inside, hauling the few branches he’d found underneath trees with him, the dryer handfuls of leaves, and several stones. Kneeling, shoulders hunched over as he worked, Jed made a small circle with the stones in the corner under the hole. He used his body to shield it as he worked. The rain was still thundering down, but it was slightly quieter in here.
The kindling was laid out, then the sticks, cut down to the right length and made into a teepee. Jed took the stones and started striking them together, waiting for a spark. It took him a few tries. He was out of practice—it’d been a long-ass time since he’d had to do survival shit—but eventually he got a tiny tendril of smoke curling up from the leaves. He bent down, ear on the ground next to the fire pit, pursing his lips and blowing gentle, encouraging breaths to fan the start of the flames.
Several aching minutes later, they had a fire.
Sagging back, Jed ran a hand through his hair. “You okay?” he asked, turning to Redford, rubbing his hands briskly along Redford’s arms. “Cold? Come on, switch me spots. Get closer to the fire.”
Redford was too busy beaming at him, like he’d invented fire. “You’re a genius,” he told Jed, holding his hands out to the flame. He didn’t look especially bothered by being soaked, instead leaning up close against Jed to share their mutual shivers. “Can you predict the weather too?”
“If I could do that, we’d still be in the damn car,” Jed grumbled. He hauled Redford into his lap, frowning as he kept up his brisk rubbing down Redford’s arms and then to his chest, trying to get him warm, to stop him from shivering. “Seriously, Fido, let’s focus on getting you warmed up.”
Redford shifted, getting comfortable in Jed’s lap, hooking his own arms over Jed’s to keep both wrapped tight around his waist. “In those books I’m reading, everybody always warms up using body heat,” he said, so matter-of-fact. “You know, in Her Lovelorn Wolf.”
And that was the last time Jed let Redford have free rein of the library. The guy totally judged all books by their covers—and once he’d seen that title, the wolf on the cover, the Fabio look-alike, there’d been no talking him out of it. Cheesy, bodice-ripping romances weren’t exactly Jed’s thing, but Redford had devoured it with the same enthusiasm as he’d ripped through Chaucer and that really big book of sexual positions. Apparently, Redford was the pansexual of the book world. If it had writing, he’d read it, and then earnestly quote it to Jed for the next week.
He shouldn’t find that as endearing as he did.
Jed nipped Redford’s shoulder with a low, rumbling sigh. “That is a terrible title,” he said for the umpteenth time. But Redford did have a very interesting point. First Jed dug his gun out of the holster, his knife out of his boot, checking both. They’d stayed nice and dry, thankfully. Jed never bought a holster that couldn’t stand up to a flood.
After peeling off his shirt, he found a twig to hang it on. He did the same with Redford’s. Hopefully they’d dry out a bit. Hauling Redford in close, arms wrapping around him, Jed rubbed his chin along the slope of Redford’s shoulders. “This more like what you’re imagining, darlin’?”
“It’s not exactly what the books describe, but on the bright side, neither of us has potential pneumonia.” Redford laughed, taking Jed’s hands in his. “And that is a great title.”
“You’re crazy,” Jed murmured, far more interested in tracking kisses along the back of Redford’s neck. “Are you going to tell me what we’re missing?”
“Well,” Redford said thoughtfully, “at that point in the story, the protagonists aren’t certain about what they feel for each other. But they realize, by being vulnerable, that they really do love each other. And then there’s declarations of love.” He paused, leaning his head back against Jed’s neck, and said, perfectly genuinely, “I love you, Jed.”
Well, who was he to argue with that? Jed huffed a laugh, trailing fingers across Redford’s cheek. “I love you too.” And then, with absolute sincerity, “Please stop reading romance novels.”
Redford’s laugh was a rusty purr of a noise, louder and freer than Jed had often heard from the man. When he’d pulled Redford out of the cage of his dead grandmother’s house, he hadn’t looked like a man who even knew what laughing was. Now his shoulders shook with it, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Never,” Redford said solemnly.
God, Jed loved that laugh. He wished he could bottle it, could wrap it around himself like a comfortable coat. If he could hear just one more thing before dying, just one last sound, it’d be those words—I love you, Jed, said like he mattered, like he meant something—and that laugh, it’d be Redford’s voice surrounding him.
Which is not to say he didn’t hitch up an eyebrow at Redford before very deliberately flipping them over. Blanketing Redford, Jed leaned in, biting his lower lip. “Never?” he asked, threatening. Really, he was very threatening, as he slowly rolled his hips against Redford’s.
“Never,” Redford promised, a light of mischief—and heat—in his eyes. “We’ll have a pile of them on our bedside table until we’re eighty.”
There was an emotion choking in Jed’s throat at that, some intense vulnerability that Redford always seemed to draw out of him. “Eighty?” he asked, rubbing his thumb along Redford’s jaw. “Promise?”
“I’m actually planning for us to live longer than eighty,” Redford said, leaning into Jed’s hand. “But I’ll get rid of the romance books then. I’ll spare you a few years of seeing me read them.” His teasing expression softened. “I promise.”
Leaning in, Jed caught those words in a kiss. He pressed them between them, fingers threading through Redford’s hair, a smile lost against Redford’s lips. “You’re not going to get sick of me before then?”
“Never,” Redford murmured. He reached up to cup Jed’s face in his hands. “Since you’ll still be trying to do these jobs when you’re eighty, I’ll be close behind every step of the way.” That mischievous little smirk came back. “Except then I’ll be trying to nag you sit down instead of handing you your gun.”
“You like to handle my gun,” Jed returned, grinning. He leaned in to nuzzle kisses against Redford’s throat. Their fingers laced, and he guided Redford’s hand down to cup the front of his jeans, laughing against Redford’s skin. “See? It’s just your size.”
He felt Redford turn his head, pressing his nose to Jed’s throat. “You smell like other wolves,” Redford muttered.
“Yeah, probably.” Jed frowned, turning to sniff his own arm. He just caught a faint whiff of deodorant and the slightly earthy scent of mud and rain. Then again, he didn’t have Redford’s nose. “Kinda surrounded by them.” This was not really the topic he’d been going for, so he smirked, lightly nipping at Redford’s jaw. “Not a lot of room in here, but I think we could try for some of that body heat if we’re careful.”
Redford shifted under him like he wanted to roll them over—Jed recognized that movement of his shoulders, the way his expression would get a little stubborn—but there was a tree on one side and a fire on the other. Instead, Redford hooked a hand around the back of Jed’s neck, bringing him down again so Redford could kiss his throat, inhaling deeply. “Telling you to stay away from other wolves would probably be weird, right?”
“Maybe impossible,” Jed agreed, voice dipping down to a rumble. He turned as much as he could, back now pressed against the tree and the logs, lying on his side to face Redford. There was a flare of yellow in Redford’s eyes, a flash of instincts ri
sing to the surface. “I’d say we just go home but…. I don’t know. I guess I feel kind of responsible for the furry idiots. And the princess. Something stinks here, for sure.” Jed paused, frowning, thumb touching the corner of Redford’s eye. “You okay, sweetheart?”
There was that saying, leopards changing stripes or whatever. Spots. Whatever the fuck leopards had. In any case, in Cairo, he’d seen that look on Redford’s face. Some mix between hurt and insecurity and the possession he craved. His instincts craved. Whichever—maybe there wasn’t a difference at all. Point was, Jed knew that expression, and he used to think he knew what caused it. He’d gotten so used to flirting with every older guy with a fat cock he’d kind of forgotten how to not. But Redford had hated it. Never really said much, a few things here and there, but Jed had put enough pieces together to realize that it was hurting Redford.
He was hurting Redford. The one thing he’d never wanted to do. He did it without even thinking.
So he’d stopped. Hadn’t been that hard, really. He didn’t want anyone but Redford. But Jed didn’t let himself get into that mindset anymore, that weird headspace that had him turning himself into who he’d been before Redford. Before he’d gotten found. And now Redford had that look on his face again, something deeper, something that said he wasn’t happy, and Jed couldn’t even begin to imagine what had put it there.
“Hey, babe?” he murmured, cocking his head, studying Redford’s face. “Talk to me.”
Redford wasn’t listening. Jed could tell that much from the way Redford’s eyes were fixed on his throat instead of his face. His only answer came in the form of Redford’s grip around the back of his neck tightening to near-bruising strength, and the sharp bite of teeth against his throat, right against where Redford had been sniffing earlier. A strangled little moan escaped Jed, his head falling back, giving Redford the entire long curve of his neck.
“I know it’s illogical,” Redford rasped lowly, his teeth worrying what would definitely be a bruise into Jed’s skin. “I know it’s stupid. I know you haven’t gone near any wolves in a… you know, bad way.”
He dragged Jed yet closer, moving an inch up so that he could get to a new patch of skin, seemingly determined to make another mark. Jed was whimpering, he realized dimly. Redford was claiming him so thoroughly and Jed couldn’t even think for how turned on he was. A few stupid little bites, the steel in Redford’s throat, and he was ready to come. Maybe Victor wasn’t so dumb after all.
“But you’re mine, and people have to know it,” Redford continued. He sounded half possessed, his eyes bright yellow now.
“God, all yours,” Jed agreed dimly. As Redford pulled him in closer, Jed wound up on his back, Redford hovering above him. Jed was just clinging to Redford’s upper arms, legs spread for him, hitching moans and whimpers in his chest. “Tell every-damn-body if you want.”
For a second, there seemed to be a brief hesitation in Redford, the pressure of his teeth lightening up slightly as if he was apologetic—but that moment didn’t last very long once he got a look at Jed’s face and saw that Jed was definitely enjoying it. He met Jed’s eyes for a long time, the harsh panting of their breaths underscored by the thunder of rain outside, the feral yellow so unlike the Redford that Jed was used to. This wasn’t the shy, soft-spoken man he spent his evenings with, the one that kept trying to make him play Scrabble instead of cleaning his guns.
This was a wolf.
And that thought was only reinforced by the hard movement Redford made, pushing his hips down against Jed’s as if he’d forgotten their pants were even there. He moved with a feral grace, an abandon that happened so rarely with Redford. Jed met him with a low groan, wrapping his arms around Redford’s shoulders, breathing kisses along his jaw. “Jeans,” he reminded Redford lowly, word caught up in a moaning laugh. “Hang on, babe. We need to take them off.”
He was met with a growl.
Okay, maybe Redford didn’t have time for removing clothes right then.
Redford’s teeth sank into Jed’s throat again, one of his hands grasping Jed’s hip and pulling him up close. What would ordinarily be painful as fuck—and okay, maybe it was, Jed was wearing tight jeans that didn’t leave much room for Margaret Thatcher or Rambo, much less Winston Churchill at full salute—he didn’t care so much about right then. Not with Redford showing this side of himself, the side that didn’t care they were in the middle of a thunderstorm on the side of a mountain, the side that had no time for anything other than getting closer to Jed.
Their hips ground together, Jed’s cock practically begging for release. Jed heaved in a breath, fingers digging into Redford’s shoulders. Every time he tried to get a hand between them to at least unzip, Redford pinned him harder, sucking and biting down his neck, rocking down onto him and sending sharp jolts of friction rocketing through his body. Jed was begging, he realized, in soft little gasps. Not for it to stop, hell fucking no. His legs spread wider, his body lifted to meet Redford, and he just kept asking for more.
It took him even longer to realize that Redford was speaking too. Just a single word, every once in a while, in between pants. Mine, he was saying, mumbled against Jed’s throat, barely audible.
And Jed had to reply. Yours, in every moan, every shuddering breath. Fucking right he was Redford’s.
He kept meaning to get his pants off. To find the lube, to get Redford’s cock in his mouth—something. Instead he was completely taken over, Redford grabbing his ass and lifting him up, fucking them together like their jeans didn’t even exist. Every rock together, every movement, every bite, only drove him higher. He came as thunder crashed overhead, as he moaned Redford’s name, fingers digging into Redford’s arm, grasping at the dirt, spread out on the ground and completely Redford’s.
Redford hadn’t reached the same peak, but he stilled as Jed did, the bites turned into gentle nuzzling, the occasional growl turned into a happy-sounding rumble. Holy fuck. Jed smirked faintly, running fingers along Redford’s shoulder, kissing his neck, and….
Fuck. He’d come in his goddamn jeans.
Wincing, Jed kicked his boots off before he reached down and managed to wiggle out of his pants. With a sigh, he tossed the denim out into the rain. Nature’s washing machine. “Haven’t done that since I was a teenager,” he sighed, flopping back down and hauling Redford in close again.
Redford’s eyes were still that bright, feral yellow, but instead of growling, he grinned. “Is that a compliment?” His voice was rougher than usual, and not just in an I made Jed come really hard in his pants way.
“Hell, yeah.” Jed smiled, arching his neck up to catch that beautiful grin with a kiss. “I am going to be so pissed later when I have to walk around in wet jeans. That is how good you are.” His neck ached with the bruises, and Jed loved the feel of them. He wanted to wear them always, like badges, like a sign that someone wanted him that fucking much. That Redford loved him. Rubbing his thumb along Redford’s hip, Jed’s smile grew. “Get your pants off,” he murmured. “I want you to come on me.”
“I know I’ve said I like it when you smell like me, but isn’t that a bit overkill?” Redford made a sound like a laugh, mostly a rumble of noise, rising up to his knees to smooth his hands over Jed’s chest, smiling down at him.
Well, that line had apparently worked better with the over-fifty and married crowd. Jed couldn’t count the number of times some thick-waisted older guy would pound his ass and then come all over his chest, like he was marking a prize. He was, frankly, a little surprised that the wolfish side of Redford wouldn’t want that.
Then again, the way Redford was looking at him, no one had ever even come close to that before. Yellow eyes or no, instincts or no—and these days, honestly, sometimes Jed wasn’t sure what to think about all of that—this was his Redford. And he didn’t need some porn set show to prove he’d had Jed. “Then get your pants off so I can suck you so hard you fall over,” Jed amended in a lazy drawl, tugging Redford close. Mouthing kisses along Redfo
rd’s stomach, Jed murmured, “You’re so goddamn beautiful. Best I’ve ever had. I don’t tell you that enough.”
Sitting on Jed’s hips, Redford leaned down, tugging Jed up to meet him halfway for a kiss. He traced his fingertips so lightly over the bruises that Jed barely felt his touch. “You could help me get them off,” Redford suggested. “If I try I’m likely to put my elbow in the fire.”
Jed kissed him first. Simply, intently, they kissed, Jed’s hand slipping into Redford’s messy hair, sprawling out near the warmth of the fire. They kissed, and Jed forgot his jeans were outside getting soaked or there was now dirt in his ass. It was just Redford, and how could he really want to change anything about that?
Fingers fumbling, Jed managed to get Redford’s jeans unsnapped, the zipper tugged open, and, finally, the pants shoved down Redford’s hips just enough that Jed could get his cock out. “Hello, darlin’,” he all but purred. Ducking down, he ran his tongue along the length of Redford’s dick, sucking lightly on the head. If he sprawled out, Redford kneeling above him, there was just enough room for Jed to get the right angle for Redford to fuck his face.
Digging his nails into Redford’s ass, he jerked him in closer, swallowing around Redford’s cock and managing not to grin at Redford’s surprised little noise. They’d had enough lead up, as his own jeans would attest. He just wanted Redford to come hard and fast.
Redford was apparently as wound up as Jed had been, though there was no growling this time, no bruising grips. Instead, Redford was gently carding his fingers through Jed’s hair, following Jed’s lead, and Jed guided his hips, his moan muffled around a bitten lip. When he came, he dug his fingers into the dirt beside Jed’s head, head thrown back in ecstasy.
And when he promptly collapsed in a puddle of contentment over Jed, his hip was digging into Jed’s shoulder. Jed couldn’t even find it within himself to protest the odd position for the moment. He painted kisses along Redford’s thigh, his side, whatever skin he could reach, hands smoothing along Redford’s legs.