Things that Go Bump in the Night

by BA Tortuga

  Days.

  “No. Never theirs. Mine. My mate, baby. No matter what.” One hand stroked down his side where the barcode lay on his skin like a mark of ownership. “When you get strong enough, we’ll cut it, scar it…. No one will ever see it and know what it is.”

  “Jacks.” Oh fuck. Something deep inside him cracked, and he whined with it.

  “That’s it, baby. Just let it out. God knows we don’t internalize for shit….” That hard body covered his, pressing down, making it easy for him to be less than alpha, just for a bit.

  “They fucking caged me….” His howl bubbled up out of him, raw and rough.

  Houston ranted. He raved. He struggled. Jackson let him rage, let him do what he needed, holding him when it got too much and he lashed out. Keeping him from hurting either of them.

  When the storm passed, he was lathered and panting, eyes rolling in his head like dice. His scent, though, was him and Jacks, the foreign chemicals worked out of his skin.

  When he slumped down under Jackson, the man rolled off him and picked him up, hauling him easily to the shower. “There we go, man. Let’s get us all clean. Get it all gone.”

  He nodded, refusing to look at himself in the mirror. “Hot water.”

  “Very. Soap. Us all slick.” Grinning, Jackson stripped off and started the water up.

  “Slick.” He stared at Jackson, watching the muscles move under the deeply tanned skin. He remembered the first time he’d seen Jacks bare. He’d chased the big asshole for months, panting like a puppy.

  It had been work, Jackson really doing that whole lone wolf thing. Man, when they’d finally gotten naked, it had been explosive.

  He’d been cocksure and so randy that he hadn’t been able to hold back; he’d pounced and rubbed off on one strong thigh. It would have been embarrassing, if Jackson hadn’t looked so fucking happy.

  The man had stroked his hair then, kissing his neck and cheeks, telling him he was beautiful and hot and amazing.

  Kinda like Jacks was doing right now, pulling him under the shower.

  Back then it hadn’t been a lie.

  Still, he needed the comfort of that touch, of his mate’s hands. The water cleansed the sweat away, the soap smelling like pine and lemons. But it was Jackson’s scent that he focused on, them together that made him lean and sigh.

  He nuzzled into Jacks’s throat, daring to lick and taste the vulnerable flesh.

  Stilling, Jackson held him, just going quiet and letting him explore. Not a fucking ounce of submission lay in the man, but a lot of fucking heart. All for him.

  Houston closed his eyes, searching Jackson’s body with his fingers and lips. He found new scars that he didn’t remember, heavier patches of hair, lines. The second his mouth left Jackson’s throat, the man started touching back, washing him with long, soapy strokes. God, it felt good. Right.

  They made noises that he had only dreamed about for years—soft growls and little yips and rumbling moans. Just like they were pack, more than human, more than wolves.

  It was all about getting to know each other again, and all about how some things had never changed. Finally Jacks shoved him against the wall and set those sharp teeth to his throat, marking him right up. Jackson’s mark.

  “Yours.” Please. He went still, chin lifted for Jackson’s mouth.

  A low growl that meant nothing else sounded, Jacks biting down hard, giving him what he needed to erase some of the stench of that fucking cage.

  Jackson. Jackson. Mate. Jackson. The words throbbed in his head, over and over like a motherfucking prayer to the moon.

  Jackson pressed him down to the tile floor, his back against the wall, pushing between his legs to rub hard on him. Those teeth kept worrying his skin, making him pant.

  His cock surprised him, trying to fill, to respond to Jacks, to reach for that rough paw.

  “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Just feel.” Sweet. It just felt so sweet to have someone touch him with care, with heat.

  He spread a bit, heart pounding. He couldn’t be worried, not with Jackson’s thick hair against his cheek, not with the scent of Jackson all around him.

  A low moan came across loud and clear, Jackson licking along his chin, little love bites following each one. Jesus, he was going to burn up if Jacks kept that up.

  Jackson’s chest felt like home to his fingers, the way the broad chest dipped into lean hips as familiar as breathing. He traced circles around Jacks’s hips with his thumbs, moving slow.

  “Mmm.” Oh, growly. Like, hot growly, something he’d never thought he would hear again. Look at that beautiful man, wet and slick and moving on him like he was the best thing since sliced bread.

  “Thought I’d lost this.” He nipped Jacks’s ear, wrapping one hand around Jacks’s hip.

  “Got me now. Not gonna let you go again.” There. Oh, there. Jackson moved against him, cock hard and hot against his belly, up and down.

  His ass slid on the tile, eyes rolling wildly as they started humping and snarling and loving each other. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t gentle. It never was. Jacks bit at him, scratched him, nails scoring the marks on his side. Threatening. Promising.

  Houston let himself go, let his voice and his need and his passion free, trusting in Jackson to take it.

  Jacks took it all and then some, two fingers pressing right inside his body, claiming him there too. Washing everything else away. Those eyes never left him, that light ring around the edge threatening to swallow the dark.

  “Yours.” He bore down, squeezed tight, hoping Jacks felt him, knowing Jacks would.

  “Mine. Mine, baby. Not gonna make it inside you this time.” Jackson’s free hand brought their cocks together, that big body twisting against his, arms all crossed. But it worked. Goddamn, it worked.

  “Uhn.” He wasn’t sure what that meant; it was just all he had to say as he shot, seed pouring from him.

  Approval, love, need… he could hear it all in Jackson’s cry, the sound almost a full howl, deep and rough. Then Jacks was coming for him. He’d seen that in his dreams at night.

  He slid down, licking and lapping Jackson’s belly, that heavy cock, the soft balls. The flavor overwhelmed him, flooded him, and he keened. Finally he just lay there, exhausted, but feeling clean for the first time in who knew how long. Jacks stroked his head, murmuring nonsense words.

  Home.

  He was home.

  Houston prayed they would let him stay long enough to enjoy it.

  GOD, JACKSON was ready to kill something. Preferably a soldier, one who would put his proud lover in a cage and shave him and mark him. If he had one handy, he would do just that, shred that sumbitch with teeth and claws until there was nothing left.

  For now he’d have to settle for a real hunt. The full moon called, vibrating along his spine, making him squirm and whimper as his body readied for the change.

  Soon. Soon.

  Padding naked and barefoot around the house, Jacks listened to Houston sleep, the deep breathing as relaxed as the man had been since he came. The moon should be calling Houston too, should be waking him and drawing the beast up. Hell, Houston’s wolf was as close to the surface as he’d ever seen, but his mate just slept.

  Jacks wandered to the pullout bed and slid a hand down Houston’s side. He wanted his mate in his bed, but that seemed to be some kind of hurdle. They’d cross it.

  Houston’s eyes popped open, muzzle growing just like that, teeth glowing.

  “Shh. Shh. Not yet, baby, wait for the moon.” He petted the concave belly, all but growling at the loss of muscle.

  “I…. They didn’t let us. I broke free and ran.” Houston wallowed a little, moving under his touch.

  “Of course you did. Of course you did, baby. You’re strong. So fucking strong. So proud of you.” He bent and kissed that bruised throat.

  “They were gonna take my balls.” The words were whispered, so ashamed, so furious. “That’s what they did to the others.”

 
; Fury built in him, the change trying to come before it was time, his hands itching as they tried to morph into claws. His howl stuck in his throat, staying there just so Houston wouldn’t have to hear his rage. “You got away. They’ll never take you again.”

  “No. No, I’ll die first. Never again.” Houston nudged his throat, nose sliding on his skin. “I won’t bring them to you, either. I swear.”

  Close. The moon was close, shadows creeping over the floor. “If they come here, we’ll burn them down. We should get ready to run, baby. It’s almost time to hunt.”

  Houston stared at him, the hunger in the too-lean face almost painful. “With you. I’ll hunt with you.”

  “You know it, baby. We’ll run together. We’ll howl. We’ll eat. Missed you.” He had too. It had been an ache he couldn’t tear out, even with all the time in the fucking world to contemplate how he was the one who had stayed.

  Oh. That grin, wild and honest and toothy? That was what he’d been needing.

  He rose, pulling Houston with him, pulling him to the door of the little adobe, opening it to the cooler evening air. Open range stretched out in front of them as far as the eye could see. Only scrub brush and cactus dotted the horizon, the sounds of small animals scuttling about, making him twitch with the need to run. “Look at that desert. Waiting for us.”

  Houston’s nostrils flared, eyes searching the sky, the moon. “I thought she’d fallen from the sky.”

  “Now you know better.” Smacking that too-skinny ass, Jacks laughed for the sheer joy of the night. “Come on, baby.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Jacks.” Houston’s body rippled, eyes suddenly sharp and bright.

  The moon broke right up over the horizon then, and boom, the change was on him, leaving him writhing, shedding his human skin. All he could do was howl his joy at having Houston right there beside him.

  Houston stood beside him, fur matted and ruined, one ear drooping, but that tail was high, nose wet and sniffing the air. All Houston needed was to hunt, to eat fresh meat. He’d get his gloss back, get his strength. Jackson started slow, sniffing his way away from the house, knowing something small would go down best. A jackrabbit, maybe.

  Houston followed, getting sidetracked by the littlest things, just like always. The bounce was less pronounced, the spring in Houston’s legs all but wound down, but his mate still wandered off the scent every few steps.

  Sometimes it was good to know things didn’t change. He kept Houston on track with growls and yips, nips and barks. Christ, there was still a hint of the pup left, just the barest bit, and he could just wallow in it. In his mate come home.

  A flash of motion caught his eye, and they were off, running hard in the bright moonlight. Houston couldn’t go as fast as before, but it was enough to catch them something.

  His mate might have been slower, but the hunger was driving him, driving them both, Houston snapping at the hare’s heels. The rough ground crumbled away under their feet, sharp plants trying to grab at them.

  Putting on a burst of speed, Jacks turned in front of the rabbit, turning it right back into Houston.

  Houston snapped, the hare’s scream sudden and sharp, huge feet kicking at the ground. The scent of a fresh kill made him dance and bite at the air. Houston ripped the jackrabbit open, snarling and growling and protecting the kill. Even so, even as lost as Houston was, the choice bits were nosed over, offered to him.

  Oh. Sweet mate. He nosed the heart back to Houston, knowing the strongest part of the hare would make his love well again.

  Houston snapped it up, both of them bending to eat, the peace and pleasure between them echoing.

  They’d hunt some more, then maybe curl nose to tail and sleep part of the night under the stars. Contrary to what most folks believed, they weren’t man-killers. Not unless they had to be. They just had to give in to the wolf.

  Houston came close, grooming him carefully, tongue sliding over his face and fur and loving him. Whiskers tickling, he let his tongue loll, laughing and loving. Jackson panted a little, the heat of the hunt all over him.

  They’d needed this, him and Houston both. Houston lifted his muzzle to the sky, the cry ringing out—sorrowful and triumphant all at once.

  His own howl came from deep inside, his snout rising to the sky, his ears back hard. Yeah. God, yeah.

  Home. Houston had come home.

  He’d fight to protect that with everything in him. No matter what came after them and tried to split them up. He would never let Houston go again.

  HE WOKE up behind the house, curled in the shade of the workshop. They’d run and hunted, romped and napped. They must have landed here. Houston carefully stood, human legs feeling gangly and wrong as he leaned, searching for signs of his mate.

  Jacks stood a few feet away, naked in the sun, stretching for all he was worth. Even muddy and a little bloody, scratched all up, nothing had ever looked better.

  “You need a bath.” His voice was raw and his muscles ached, but goddamn, he felt good.

  “Uh-huh.” Cheerful as all fuck; Jacks always was after a change.

  Houston caught himself laughing, just leaning against the workshop and howling with the pure pleasure of being free.

  Jacks came to him, hugging him, swinging him around. “God, I missed you, baby. My stubborn mate.”

  “Big lug.” He pressed close, rubbing their scents together.

  “Mmm-hmm. Yours. Man, I could eat about a pound of waffles.”

  “I remember those. Do you have the stuff to make them?”

  “I do. Eggs and shit. And I think I might just have bacon.”

  Oh. Bacon. Yeah. That would work. His mouth watered, and he pushed harder. He’d do a lot for bacon. Really.

  Laughing, Jacks picked him right up and carried him into the house. “Water first. Then food. And somewhere in there I might fuck you raw.”

  “Promises, promises.” He nipped Jacks’s throat, jaw, the lobe of one ear.

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  No. No, Jackson had never done that. Not even when he was leaving and needed to hear it was okay and Jacks had cussed him instead. “No.” Jackson was his true north. It might well kill him to have to leave again.

  “Well, then. There you go.” Yanking him close suddenly, Jacks kissed him, hands bruising on his ass.

  It shocked him bad enough that he went still for a second, caught in the hunger before he growled and shoved back, diving into the kiss. That hot tongue slipped into his mouth, demanding and deep, claiming him. Yeah. So warm, so salty.

  Houston rubbed and grabbed, twisting and moaning like a needy pup. The sensation of desire was unfamiliar enough to shock him, to make him work. They sank right to the floor, the shower forgotten, everything going white-hot and full of static. Jacks drove him down, covering him, scenting him.

  The man in him went rabbit-rabbit, his brain telling him to protect himself, but the wolf? The wolf rejoiced in the way his legs spread instinctively. They rubbed, Jacks making him forget everything but the scent of the wolf and the hunt, of need and fucking and love. Goddamn.

  They rolled across the floor, Jackson growling as he licked the vulnerable belly, nuzzled into Jacks’s throat before being rolled again, his own throat nipped. They tussled, both of them growling and laughing. Jacks gave him everything, kisses and nips, touches and rubbing. He barked and yipped, pure joy pouring from him. He threw his head back, howled with it.

  Flinging both arms around him, Jacks laughed right out loud. “Love you, baby.”

  “Good.” He leaned and licked Jacks’s lips. He could hear that again and again.

  His stomach growled and Jacks grinned. “Let’s eat, H. To hell with clothes and washing.”

  “Waffles.” He panted and nodded. “Bacon.”

  Bacon.

  “You got it.” Someone had always loved to feed him, had a thing for it. Jacks always said food was love. The man got up, hauled him up, and set him to cracking eggs.

  Home.

 
He was home.

  He poured them both a glass of milk and lapped at the cold cream. Home.

  The smell of the waffle iron heating made him want to whine, made the memories of a hundred summer Sundays come back to him. He should never have left. He stared into the glass, the weight on his shoulders seeming huge. Sorry. He was so sorry.

  Warm hands landed on his shoulders, rubbing deep into the muscles. “Has the milk gone bad?”

  “No. No, I did. I should have listened to you, Jacks. I should never have left.”

  A soft kiss was pressed to his neck. “You did what you did. So did I. We’re here, now. I have a lot of territory to show you.”

  “I want to see it all.” He needed to see where to hide.

  “I’ll show it to you.” Jacks’s smile pressed right into his skin. “I’ll show you everything.”

  Houston nodded, reaching back for Jacks’s hand. “I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Then we’ll do it.”

  Jacks went back to making breakfast, the sizzle of bacon and the smell of waffles and syrup surrounding him. It wouldn’t always be this easy. He and Jacks were too volatile for that. But right now Jacks was giving him just what he needed. A place to run to.

  That would be enough to start with.

  JACKS TRIED not to push. He really did. But he wanted Houston in bed with him at night, not curled up like a rescue puppy on the foldout. He wanted to stop sneaking out in the middle of the night and curling around that too-skinny form, the bar under the mattress digging into his back.

  Slipping into the living room, he watched Houston toss and turn, watched the long, too-pale legs shift restlessly while Houston growled and whined.

  Okay. Okay, that was it. He couldn’t take any more.

  He slid his hands over Houston’s skin, his voice low and soothing when he crooned, “I got you, baby. I got you.”

  “Huh? Jacks. Oh….”

  Jacks nodded. “You know it would be easier to hold you if I didn’t have to come out here all the time.”

  Houston’s eyes shone in the dark, the animal gloss coming through in the low light. “I’m not sure I… I mean… I just don’t want to….”