Things that Go Bump in the Night

by BA Tortuga

  “Am I crowding you? Does sleeping with me make you scared?” Goddamn those fucking soldiers. What had they done to his poor mate?

  “No! I mean, I sleep with you fine here.” One hand touched his cheek, shaking the tiniest bit.

  “Then what?” He stared into those eyes, trying to make Houston see that he was safe, that Jacks wanted to know what he could do to make it right.

  “I left. It’s not my bed,” Houston finally said, eyes dropping to the floral comforter that had been Jacks’s mother’s.

  “Oh, bullshit.” If that was it, if he had been sleeping alone and listening to Houston breathe a room away all this time for this?

  Shit.

  Jacks rolled off the couch, grabbed Houston, and lifted him right up. “No more couch, baby. You’re coming to bed with me.”

  “Are you sure?” Mate. He could hear Houston whisper that against his throat, that spiky new hair rubbing his skin.

  “I’m sure. You’re home, baby. This is where you belong.”

  He’d do whatever it took to convince Houston of that. Anything at all.

  HOUSTON WANDERED around Jacks’s bedroom, touching the top of the oak dresser, feeling the dust rub against his fingertips. Jacks was always neat, but he hated to dust, and out in the desert it was always dusty.

  The bedroom seemed more like his now. Hell, it smelled like him, along with Jacks, the scent of their skin and hair and come everywhere. The blankets and sheets had his impression in them.

  They’d done just about everything in the last forty-eight hours.

  Everything but fuck.

  Jacks had never offered to roll him over and push into him. Oh, there had been fingers. Jacks’s tongue. But not… that.

  The little TV stand had a beer cooler on it. Jacks said TV didn’t come in for shit out here, so he’d gotten rid of all of the sets but one, the one hooked up to a DVD player in the living room.

  God knew Jacks had never been one for technology at the best of times.

  The sound of the front door opening had his back up, the hair rising on his arms, but then Jacks poked his head through to the bedroom, staring at him quizzically.

  “What’s up, baby?” Jacks asked, coming on in.

  God, heat and sweat was a good look for Jacks—a good smell too.

  “Just wandering. What can I do to help?” He was starting to ask things like that, starting to think of Jacks’s place as home-good-home.

  “There’s some yard work.”

  “That yard is all cactus.”

  Jacks grinned, a low chuckle sounding. “I’m trying to get it to be, yeah. Better defense than creosote.”

  “Then I’m all for it.” He scratched his arms, his feet starting to shuffle again.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” A blink of the eye was all the time he had to see Jacks move, the man pressing right up against him, hands on his ass.

  “Nothing. I’m good. I… I was going to dust.” He grinned, knowing it was a lie, knowing Jacks knew.

  “You’ll tell me when you can, yeah? When it’s time?” Those eyes were almost all gray, a sure sign Jacks was worried.

  “I will.” That he could do. When he could think about it without wondering if he could do it, when he could tell Jacks what he needed….

  Yeah. He could do that.

  JACKS FINISHED digging out the damned bush that was trying to knock the lean-to wall in, wiping sweat off his face. Fucking hot. Like surface-of-the-sun hot.

  He sighed, rolling his head on his neck. God, he wished he had a cold beer, but they were out. Maybe just some cold water.

  The splash of water hit him square in the back, cold and shocking and…. He spun, getting a snootful of water from the hose, Houston laughing at him.

  Sputtering, he made a rush for the man, admiring the newly suntanned skin, the hair that was growing out glossy and fine. Someone was on the mend, and damned if Jacks didn’t get a happy every time he realized it.

  Houston turned and ran, lean and quick, darting through the dried grass, muscles working.

  Giving chase made him laugh out loud, made him put on a burst of speed and try to get at Houston’s heels. His lover had put on a great deal of muscle.

  His mate was laughing, the sound ringing out, just filling the air. How he loved that fucking sound. Jacks ran faster, herding Houston toward the stand of rocks that would cut him off.

  Houston fell for it, heading right for the rocks, legs working.

  Distracted momentarily by the sight of muscles shifting under tight skin, he almost lost his chance. Then Jacks zigged when Houston zagged, and that was it. They hit the ground and rolled, covering themselves with a fine layer of sandy grit.

  Houston’s eyes shone, that laughter not fading a bit.

  “Man, you’re getting better, baby. You gave me a hell of a chase.” Damn, it felt good to laugh in the sun, to just let go and be.

  “Mmm. You still caught me.” Houston nuzzled, humming low.

  “Yeah. Well….” Laughing, he rolled them over and over, getting almost muddy as their sweat mixed with the sand. “I’ll always hunt you down now, you know?”

  “Swear it.” Houston’s eyes were serious, staring into him.

  “You have my vow.” Jacks stared right back, willing Houston to believe it. Willing the man to believe it was true.

  “Mate.” The word was little more than a growl, Houston right there, with him.

  “Mine,” he agreed, biting at that long, thin throat. “Very much mine.”

  “Yes.” Houston held him close, vibrating and growling and rubbing against him.

  “Want you. Right here. Right now.” Damn, but he was erect suddenly, just shaking with it. He needed to stake his claim.

  “Take me. I’m yours.” Houston bit his ear, hard.

  Growling, he pushed Houston up, spreading those wiry legs and easing between them. They didn’t have a lot of time for pleasantries, but he did make sure they were grit free.

  “Need.” He got another bite, another, moving down toward his throat.

  “Ready, then?” He wouldn’t hurt Houston for the world, but after the change his lover had always liked it hard and fast.

  “Now. Make me yours again.” They’d fucking taken so much from his mate.

  “Yes. Mine.” Surging up and forward, he pressed his cock against that sweet hole, feeling it give for him. Open for him.

  Houston moaned, bore down and took him in, just so easy, like it was fucking supposed to be.

  Of course, that was it. It was supposed to be. Him and Houston. Mated. Jacks rocked in and out, moving his hips like there was no tomorrow.

  Houston’s arms wrapped around his neck, holding on, fingers digging in.

  “Baby….” His whole body arched over Houston’s, his teeth sinking in and really marking up one shoulder. Drawing a little blood. Bonding.

  “Jacks.” Houston bucked, body gripping his prick, muscles gripping his shaft.

  “Yours.” It went both ways and he had to say it. “Need this.” Faster and faster, he moved his cock in and out, really rocking Houston back and forth.

  “Yes.” Those hungry eyes stared into him, refusing to look away.

  Jacks stared back, needing Houston to feel all of him, every inch, every bit of skin. The man had to know he could never leave again. He could see it, the need and the pain and the pure joy Houston felt in this, in being his, in being home.

  If those men ever came for him, Jackson would rip them to pieces and let the coyotes have them. For now, though, he’d concentrate on loving Houston into a puddle. Houston’s hands mapped his chest, fingers dragging through the mat of hair, tugging and teasing around his nipples.

  “Mmm.” The deep rumble vibrated all through him, right into Houston. Good. More.

  “Yeah. More.” The touches became pinches and the barest scratches.

  “Harder.” Houston needed to give some of his own back, to know that if he went too far, Jacks would back him down. He needed the pack structur
e….

  Houston nodded, pushed up and bit at his throat, nails dragging deep. That was it. Fuck yes. It took him over, made him wild, and Jacks fucked Houston like he meant it. Moaning, he braced himself on one arm, the other hand running along that hot skin.

  Houston’s growls vibrated his throat, over and over.

  “Yeah. Yeah, baby. Wrap your legs around me. We’re going to town.” More. They needed more.

  The laugh he got was rough, wild. “No. No more towns. Not for me.”

  He howled his laughter, his hips starting to jerk, their dance getting clumsy. Goddamn.

  Jackson found that heavy cock, started jerking firmly, the back of that hand rubbing his belly.

  “Oh. Oh fuck.” He was so close he was shivering with it. Jacks moved faster, all but dragging them along the earth, his body begging Houston to come for him.

  Heat sprayed between them, Houston howling out his name, the sound ringing out, echoing. That was it. That was all Jacks needed to send him over the edge. He shot so hard he grayed out a little, his balls emptying in great, forceful pulses.

  “Mate. Mate. Mate.” Houston whispered it over and over, like a prayer or something.

  “I’ve got you, baby. Got you so good. Love you.” That was his own mantra. His very own fucking truth.

  “Love.” Houston nodded, kissed his throat. “Shower?”

  “God, yes.” Now that they were done he was feeling a lot like wet sandpaper. “Then food.”

  “Food.” Houston’s belly could rumble. Damn.

  “You know it, baby. Come on.” He hauled Houston up, heading toward the house. With Houston back with him, it seemed more like a home.

  Even if they were hauling mud in on their asses.

  THE SMELL of chocolate and butter and shit had Jackson following his nose to the kitchen. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time his kitchen had been used to make anything but breakfast and steaks.

  Now he could smell cookies. Maybe that trip to the market had been worth something after all.

  Because damn. Chocolate chips.

  “Lord, baby. It smells good in here,” he told Houston, wandering in and brushing flour off the counter into the sink. It looked good too. Houston’s sweet ass swaying a little to some internal music.

  “Yeah? I was hungry. I haven’t had these in years.” It looked like a good chunk of the chocolate chips were gone already—either into the cookies or into Houston.

  “Yeah?” Jacks thought about it. “Me either. So this is good.” Nabbing a bit of dough, he leaned against the counter, smiling at how good Houston looked.

  “Yeah.” Houston had stopped jumping at every noise, had stopped going wolfy at the drop of a hat. The man had also stopped talking about anything—anything—that had happened from the time Houston’d headed west to the day he’d shown back up.

  That probably wasn’t good, but Jackson hated to complain, because Houston looked like he was healing. They needed to start working on getting rid of the rest of the physical signs….

  The stove timer dinged, and Houston pulled a tray out. The cookies weren’t beautiful, but damn him they smelled great. Reaching for one just got him burned fingers, but the ooey-gooey goodness of it in his mouth soon made up for it. Houston chuffed in pleasure, sliding in close enough to lick the corner of his mouth clean.

  “Mmm.” His sticky hand curled around Houston’s waist, the pads of his fingers tracing the line of rib and hip. “Hey.”

  “You want another?” Houston leaned, hips rocking into him.

  “Uh-huh.” Oh, someone had eaten lots of chocolate. Lots. It had always made Houston happy.

  “It’s good.” Yeah, yeah, he could smell how good it was, in Houston’s musk, in the hint of need on that fine skin.

  “It is.” Jacks rubbed right back, loving on the man, hands searching out all the sensitive spots. Beautiful man. Fucking glorious wolf.

  Houston moved under his touch, shifting and growling subvocally, calling to him. Calling back with low sounds for Houston’s ears alone, Jacks pushed the man back against the counter, muscling between his legs. He got nuzzled and licked, Houston scenting him, tongue dragging on his jaw.

  “Sweet, baby. So sweet.” Not just the cookies. Houston made him want to howl with joy.

  “Jacks. Want.” The soft hair was starting to grow out, long enough to feel good against his skin instead of tickling.

  “What do you want, baby?” Like he didn’t know. There was no way he could miss that hot prick when it slid into his hand, reaching for his touch.

  “You.” Those sharp teeth caught his ear, tugging at it and making it sting.

  “Got me. Any way you want me, baby.” His own hips arched, begging, his cock hard and leaking, just like that.

  “Jacks.” His oral mate started licking, tongue slipping on his skin as that hungry mouth headed south.

  “Mmm.” Oh, it had taken too long for Houston to feel easy doing anything. Now it came more easily, more often, and Jacks fucking reveled in it. “That’s it, baby. Take what you want.”

  One of his nipples got a sharp bite and enough suction to make him ache, but then Houston kept going lower, licking at his belly. Muscles quivering, Jacks moved closer, cupping the back of Houston’s head. Fuck, he wanted. And not just cookies.

  “Smell good.” The growl echoed through him as Houston nuzzled his cock, tongue pressing across the tip.

  “Do I taste better than chocolate?” Grinning down, he stroked Houston’s cheeks, thumbs coming to rest at the corners of those fine lips.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Houston reached up, dragged his fingers along the cookie sheet, gathering up a bit of melted chocolate and easing them into that hungry mouth alongside his cock.

  “Oh fuck.” That was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Well, possibly the hottest thing. At least since Houston had come back.

  The suction got harder, Houston sucking his cock, those long fingers, all at the same time. The deep growls were enough to send him over the fucking moon; the way Houston openly needed him now just made him wild.

  His balls drew up, his teeth grinding as he fought the orgasm riding up along his spine. He needed to make this last a bit. Just like a good dessert. Those pretty eyes stared up at him, shining as long, slick fingers popped out of Houston’s lips and pressed behind Jacks’s balls. Oh. Oh, Houston was pushing.

  The question was, did he let that go anywhere? Or did he shut Houston down? Once upon a time he would have resisted. Now, just maybe, he thought Houston might need that tiny bit of give.

  That touch didn’t make him growl, either, one finger slipping inside deep enough to rub his gland, work it as that head bobbed over his cock. Every muscle in his body tried to seize up, his hips pumping, his cock fucking that mouth. He just… damn. “Houston….”

  Those eyes…. Fucking hell. Houston took him all the way in, swallowing and sucking, that touch inside him threatening to make him scream.

  All he could do was stare down into those amazing eyes and let it all go, let himself come like a freight train. Just like that. Everything in him poured right out.

  Houston groaned, swallowing and sucking, cleaning him off with that hot tongue.

  “Oh. Baby. So good.” He petted and stroked that head of growing hair, showing how much he loved, how he admired.

  Listen to that happy sound. Houston leaned into his touch, nuzzling his belly and balls, playing with him, loving on him.

  Shivers wracked his body, every particle awake and alive and just fucking happy. “Love you, Houston.” He cupped those lean cheeks in his hands, tipping Houston’s face up. “You know that, right?”

  “I know.” Houston kissed the base of his thumb, lips swollen and fevered. “Mate.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Who else would make me cookies?” Laughing, he sank right to his knees, kissing Houston square on the mouth.

  Oh. Him. Houston tasted like him with a hint of chocolate.

  Fucking A. He kissed so hard their lips pressed back against th
eir teeth, reaching down to see if Houston needed a little help with the happy, just because. That heavy prick flowed across his palm, hotter than the hinges of hell as it dragged. God, yeah. He grabbed ahold, pulling at Houston’s prick. Sweet. So fucking needy.

  Houston bared his teeth, head tossing as he bucked. The tip of Houston’s cock moved along his palm, wet and slick.

  “Got you, baby. Feel you. Need to see it.” He wanted every bit of need, every bit of love. There. Right there in his hand.

  “Yours.” Houston’s motions sped, those lean hips rocking furiously into his touch.

  “Mine. All mine.” God, that man. Smell that musk, the scent making his mouth water a lot more than the cookies ever had. Jacks eased Houston down, nuzzling his belly, licking his way to that burning cock.

  Houston was as needy as he’d ever been, bucking up with a wild cry, thighs hard as rocks.

  He just pushed those hips back down and took Houston all the way in, rubbing his tongue up and down. Fucking A. He could die happy.

  Good goddamn thing he didn’t have to, because Houston was howling out his name, bitter-salty seed on his tongue.

  Drinking the man right down, Jacks moaned and licked and nuzzled, giving praise. He left a tiny bruise on that flat belly, just by the navel. Right at the tender part. Marking.

  Houston reached down, stroking the mark with a rumble that sounded as satisfied as he felt.

  “Good, baby. Real good.” The cookies started to smell real good again, reminding him that he needed to eat a few more. “Almost as good as chocolate.”

  Houston chuckled, bit him. “Almost.”

  JACKSON HAD a huge plot of land. Huge.

  It took three hours and thirty-eight minutes a night to patrol it.

  Houston slipped from bed at 2:00 a.m., every day the moon wasn’t full, and walked it. Sometimes the wolf took him, sometimes it didn’t.

  Tonight it had, and he’d run until he’d forgotten himself, only heading back when the sun was turning the sky pale and his paws were raw.

  He was maybe fifty yards from the house when Jacks appeared right in front of him, growling at him like the fucking alpha he was. Beautiful bastard.