The Hunt 14/?

[soncnica]

Title: The Hunt 14/?
Author: soncnica
Rating: 'NC-17'
Genre/pairing: Jared/Jensen AU
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: cca. 5.700 this chapter
Summary: It's the time of The Hunt again. And this year Jensen has to particapate. Jared is a werewolf who hasn't found his mate yet in all the years he's been participating in The Hunt. But this year... he smells something he wants.
Warnings: *takes a deep breath* werewolf!Jared, bloodplay, branding, barebacking, wall!sex, biting, tattoo!kink, mental links, chuffing/presten, scenting, skitish!Jensen (but not too much, he is a man after all), language, dirty talk, knotting, death of minor character(s), age difference (Jared is 28, Jensen is 18), NO CHARACTER DEATH (Jared and Jensen survive, hee), NOT UNDERAGE, NO BESTIALITY (that means no wolf!Jared/Jensen okay a little scene, but it's 'you blink and it's gone' trust me), and a lot more warnings to come. I'll post warnings with chapters, so THIS CHAPTER: erm none?!
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is not mine! NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION!
Art 1: Go HERE to see super awesome witchcraftx13 pics of how Jared looks like when he's a wolf!!!
Art 2: The BANNER was made by spactaculacular ladytiferet </lj>
A/N: Writen for this prompt at spn_hardcore animalistic behavior meme.

He bend down to pull up his pants, feeling tired, spent in the most amazing way; he just wanted to lay back down to the ground and fall asleep. He had never felt anything like it. This... feeling inside... this hum in his veins, this feeling of love and trust and need that hummed inside of him, so strong, so powerful.

So addictive.

He wanted to feel more of it. He wanted to lie beneath Jared again, just lay down on the ground, bare his neck, close his eyes and give everything to Jared. All that he was. His body and soul... wanted to give it all to Jared. To the werewolf that was his mate. His.

And his alone.

But then he heard thunder that pierced his ears and made him turn to the mountains to see a blanket of black clouds hiding their peaks. It was grotesque, how the dark clouds spilled down the slopes, eating up everything in their way; the rocks, stones and pebbles, trees and small bushes.

The storm.

A summer storm coming with all its might; swallowing up the mountains and the forest with its darkness.

He adjusted his pants on his hips and looked at Jared... who already had the elk half out of its skin and was already cutting meat and breaking bones into smaller pieces to be carried with them.

He walked closer, barely seeing the man in the indigo blue light that started to spread through the woods.

"The storm's coming."

He didn't know what else to say. He just... did that with the man, his mate and... what would one say after that? Or would one say anything at all? Should he... kiss the man? Touch him?

What?

"Yeah, 's coming, but don't worry. We'll set camp before the rain hits us."

He smiled up at Jensen, squinting his eyes a little, because the sunlight hit his face funny; all dark blue and warm, with the last rays of the dying sun.

He felt warm. From head to toe. And he could smell that Jensen felt the same way.

"Need any help?"

He crouched beside Jared, in awe of the man's skills; bloody, steady hands working with swift efficient motions, cutting and slicing through the animal with an iron knife. Jensen couldn't help but say: "You're faster than me at that."

Jared looked at him, lips playing with a smile: "I'll teach you how to do it faster. If you want..."

"Okay, yeah that would be great."

It would be. He would have to learn how to do everything different now, he supposed; how to skin an animal faster, how to maybe cook different food, or maybe not cook at all. His mother taught him to cook a lot of things, but maybe ... maybe Jared only ate raw food. Meat and fruit and vegetables. Or maybe he only ate meat. Or... not? Or maybe the pack had a cook, or not?

"Okay, great."

With how wide Jared's mouth split into a smile, Jensen could care less about cooking.

Thunder resonated again, this time so close that Jensen was able to feel it in his chest like a hand squeezing his heart and another hand punching him in the bone. Summer storms were the worst... thunder so loud it made the ground shake, lightning so bright you could go blind if you caught sight of it and rain so cold and powerful it was like being hit by pebbles if you were caught outside when it hit.

But it also brought water. Freshness. It made the plants grow, provided food, give a sense of cleanliness.

A new start.

Mikan loved the summer storms, he remembered... she always talked about how everything smelled so much better after they go away, how the raindrops hitting the straw on the roof made her sleep better, how the coolness of the winds made her skin all soft... Jensen did not like them at all. Not since he was fifteen and lying on his death bed.

Not since then.

Jared looked up at the sky; gray clouds were travelling faster on it, blown in every direction by the strong winds... his hands were elbows deep in the elk's belly and he sniffed the cool air.

It smelled of blood.

It smelled of Jensen.

It smelled of close.

"Jensen, we have to go. Put the meat in the skin, wrap it and let's go."

They had to move.

Now.

The order was there and Jensen always did what he was told. His mother beat that into him; an order is an order and you will follow it no matter what, because sometimes it can bring life or it can bring death.

With Jared's hands wiped in some green leaves, the meat wrapped safely in the heavy elk skin and all together thrown over Jared's shoulder, they started to run through the forest to find shelter.

"Run, run, run!"

Jared was pushing at him, steady pressure on the center of his back, making him run faster than he ever ran before; and he had done some running in his life… always running after the animals, or running with his friends.

Or away from the memories of changing eyes and soft voice.

He knew how to run fast.

It was becoming darker and darker, the sky starless and moonless; dark heavy clouds covering the home of the Gods and Jared's sisters.

It was eerie… no sounds other than them running, no animals, no light, nothing.

The calm before the storm. The silence before the noise.

He could barely see the tall, ancient trees and bushes that all of a sudden came in his way; the trunks were wide and stood their ground, making him grunt whenever he scraped his arm or leg on them.

He was barely ducking just in time, whenever Jared yelled: "Duck!" and a tree branch materialized before his eyes and hit him over the top of his head. Not much, but it still hurt.

He was blind. He was completely blind in the darkness.

The only thing he had was trust.

Trust in Jared that he'd lead him safe.

Trust in the man that he'd find shelter.

Trust in his mate that he'd not let anything happen to him.

That's all he had, while stumbling over dead tree trunks, getting tangled in bushes and fern, flinching at the sound of twigs breaking underneath his feet, getting scratched and whipped by long, thin branches...

... but his mate was there...

... a presence at his back that he trusted...

... a heavy, big hand touching the middle of his back, leading him left and right, never leaving, never wavering in strength.

His mate.

Everything would be okay.

They ran with the sound of thunder hot on their heels, chasing them like they were pray; something to pounce on and devour.

Thunder made them run for their lives; summer storms were the wrath of the Gods.

They ran and ran until Jensen screamed, because the pain in his side was becoming unbearable; pulling at him, pulling him wide open.

"Run!" Jared yelled and pushed at his back some more, stronger, made him almost fall, but the man twisted his fingers in his shirt, never letting go, never letting anything happen to him.

He knew he needed to run, go faster, movemovemove, move your legs, move your arms, breathebreathebreathe, ignore the ache, ignore the burn in your lungs, chest, legs, side... ignore it all and run.

"Come on!"

Jared yelled and pushed at his back again, and it felt as if Jared sent him flying... his body was floating over the ground; over the pine needles, over the dead leaves, over the dried twigs and branches, over the bushes that he couldn't avoid.

He was flying.

And he wasn't hurting anymore.

Jared knew that Jensen was starting to feel the burn, starting to feel the pain... but he also knew that soon the feeling of flying would overtake his mate... when all the pain would numb his body, when the adrenalin would start dominating over everything... then Jensen would start feeling like he was soaring through the sky.

"Run, Jensen, run!"

He yelled and pushed at the kid; making him run even faster, pushing the kid, his mate, to his limits, maybe testing him, maybe not... he couldn't tell, wouldn't... but they needed to run, get away from the rolling clouds and the bright lightning and the cold, heavy raindrops. He didn't want Jensen to get wet... not after what had happened when Jensen was fifteen. They couldn't ... Jensen couldn't go through that again.

Ever if Jared would have anything to say about it, because Jensen was his mate and he would never harm his mate. In any way.

So he pushed Jensen left and Jensen ran.

Good boy.

Good.

He couldn't... no more... stop... please... he couldn't breathe... there was no air in his lungs, they were burning up, they were gonna burn and his body would burn too and he'd die... please...

"Stop!"

He screamed, the word just... came ... torn out from his dry throat...

"Jared!"

He wanted to lie down and die.

He needed to stop.

Just stop running. Stop this hurt that had taken his body as a prisoner and wouldn't let go. He wasn't flying anymore... he was drowning. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move his legs anymore, his eyes were full of water when the sharp winds cut at them, he had to hold his left side with his hand, otherwise he was scared that his guts would spill out and then what?

Maybe Grom would eat them.

"Jared…"

He groaned out, but Jared probably didn't hear him because thunder hit his voice and took it away.

"Stop!"

He would pass out. His vision was getting blurry; really fuzzy around the edges, like fog suddenly came and enveloped him… he couldn't see where he was putting his feet, couldn't feel anything but the steady, strong pressure of Jared's hand on his back.

"Please..."

He wasn't a wuss, he wasn't a snotty kid who had never done anything in his life, and there had been some of those in his village, he had muscles in all the right places, he was strong, he was a warrior, he was...

... he was Jared's mate.

He stumbled and fell and the sky got even darker than it had been, when he closed his eyes and fought to breathe.

Jensen was begging, yelling, screaming, and yet he was still running.

Tough, strong mate.

There was nothing Jared could do... they were only a few more steps away from the shelter where he had spent many, many nights thinking of his mate and now… now his mate would make it there.

He was his mate after all.

He could see Jensen was loosing it, loosing his strength, loosing his footing, loosing his breath, loosing the feeling of flying ... and when Jensen stumbled and fell, Jared had to laugh out loud, because his mate... if nothing else... had great timing.

There was laughter coming from somewhere. He opened his eyes. It was Jared, and he was laughing.

"Whaaat?" he slurred, finally being able to breathe, finally being able to feel his lungs expand like they were supposed to. His legs still felt like jelly, like what his mother used to do from peach and strawberries, and his back was resting on something… hard.

"Nothin'...it's nothing." Jared swallowed down the laugh that was still trying to bubble up to the surface. "We made it to the shelter. The storm won't get us here."

There was a smell of... burning wood?

Fire?

He rose up on his elbows and saw a fire burning right at his feet. It was warm. So warm.

"The rain... fire..."

"We're not out in the open, kiddo."

A shiver ran down his back at that - it felt good to be called like that. Felt really good.

"Yeah, yeah."

He could breathe now. Slowly, taking in the air really slow, steady, measured.

It left a taste of smoke down his throat, but it was good. Safe.

There was no talk about how he got in here, he didn't even want to ask, because he felt embarrassed ... how could he just... pass out... from running ... he couldn't even...

... but Jared hadn't seemed to mind. Hadn't seemed to mind at all.

The man was busying himself with the fire and some wood he obviously dragged into the wherever they were, while he was out, busying himself with putting the meat on sharp sticks and putting them over the fire - so he does eat cooked meat? -, busying himself with getting some leaves bunched up into small piles, maybe a bed or a pillow, Jensen couldn't tell and didn't want to ask... not really ... busying himself with looking at Jensen with soft eyes and shadows dancing across his face.

Good shadows, the ones that Jensen wanted to lean forward and run his tongue over.

The rain finally hit. The roof was probably made of stone, because the sound was ... not something Jensen had ever heard before... heavier, louder, as if someone was banging on a door.

It was loud, but not too loud, coming from somewhere in the distance. It was something he could ignore if he set his mind to it.

The thunder was still there though and that was loud... he wasn't able to ignore that. Not when it felt like someone was hitting him in the chest over and over and over again.

"Hey, you hungry?"

There was a stick full of meat, fresh, crispy meat shoved in his face. It smelled so good, so good that his mouth started to salivate and he grabbed the stick with a shaky hand and bit into the meat until his chin was dripping with hot juices.

He was hungry. Too hungry to care how Jared was looking at him. Too hungry to see how Jared's eyes were half open, half closed, how his breathing was changing from slow to fast, how his fingers were pulled into a fist by his side.

He didn't see all that.

The smell, the sight, the smell, the sight, the smell, the sight...

He pushed Grom down. Pushed him all the way down and told him that Jensen was theirs now, no going back, but he would not take a chance and hurt the kid. They were so close... and just taking Jensen here and now would not go well.

Grom whined, but lay back down.

"Where are we?"

He asked when his stomach felt full, his bones felt warm and he sort of cleaned the mess he made of himself. His mother used to tell him that he ate like an animal and… well… before he was a growing boy, but now… he wouldn't know what he was now.

"I think it's a place of the old religion."

Jensen gasped. No one in their village talked about the old religion… even if someone thought of the old religion, it got him a whipping, and here Jared was saying that out loud like it was nothing.

He looked around himself, sitting on the floor… he felt small. So small, tiny in this huge, huge room.

"That's why… it's so big?"

And it was… walls stretching for miles it seemed, ceiling way up high, with fern growing out of nooks and crannies, with moss and even a spruce tree found its way into the wall.

"Yeah, it was probably used to hoard the dragons in whenever there was a storm outside or something… I don't know, really. Just guessing."

Dragons… he knew they were the protectors of the old religion, of the old priests and priestesses, of everything that existed a long time before his birth, long before Raki was born. He knew that much; picked it up in the village tavern, from the people who had too much to drink and nothing to lose.

"Dragons?"

Jared smirked: "Yeah, dragons. Why? You never heard of 'em?"

"We… weren't allowed to talk about the old religion. In the village."

"No?"

Jensen shook his head: "No."

"It was before my time too, I mean, before I was born. Probably before Looraa even. My parents, they… were alive then… never talked about it much either. Just some words here and there… about dragons and priests, nothing much really."

"What did they say?"

"Just that the dragons were… magnificent, huge, kind, you know? Protectors, guardians of the old religion."

"Anything else?"

"No, not really. My parents… they go with the time," he squinted his eye, "you know? Wherever time brings them… out of the old religion into the new one, from one life to the next. The pack was always faithful to itself, never to someone else. Never to the old religion. We… the pack and the dragons lived side by side, never fought, never…" he sighed, "it wasn't our fault."

"Fault?"

"That the old religion fell, that the dragons just… stopped existing."

"So… there's no more dragons? Anywhere?"

"No."

The answer was a hard word wrapped in sadness, stopping the conversation there and then. Jensen wasn't stupid. He knew when a conversation was over.

He cleared his throat: "So… this is like… a… uh… citadel?"

"Something like that… they lived here, the men and women and this was build as huge as it is, so that even the dragons could come in here, inside, to hide or I don't know… sleep, maybe. It was build to protect the forest, protect the creatures living in it."

Jensen nodded. He could picture it. Candle lit room, bright and clean, smelling of incense and food, heavy drapes over huge windows, tables full of fruit and meat, life in every corner… he could picture it, but when he looked around now, the room was just full of shadows, huge and empty.

Smelling of something rotten and moldy.

Dead.

Cold.

Alone.

The only survivor of something that had been going on long before his time.

Thunder. And heavy rain, falling on a stony roof.

He watched as Jared put another log on the fire; warmth coming from it in waves and waves, hitting his body and lulling him into sleep.

But then came lightning that illuminated the walls, dispersing the shadows for just a split second, allowing him to see that yes, this was once truly magnificent. Probably causing awe in everyone that set foot in the place. Wonder and fear too, probably.

Thunder.

And rain.

And Jared sitting down next to him, knees touching, toes pointed towards the fire, and their backs leaning on the cold, mossy wall.

They breathed, while the fire crackled and flames of red and orange danced before their eyes.

Mates.

Forever; never alone. Never cold. Never like this place.

He wanted to keep the silence alive, this comfortable silence of no touches and no words and nothing but the sound of the storm outside, but…

"I remember," he whispered, thinking about what and how he'd say what he wanted to Jared, but the memories were already coming to words in his head and: "it happened years ago..."

"Yeah?"

Jared's voice held interest and the man's knee jerked a little.

"We were scything the meadows, in my village and leaving the grass to dry, right… so that the animals would have dry grass to eat in the winter. But then the next day there were these black clouds coming from the mountains, like they always did whenever a huge storm was on the way and so we had to go and rake the grass. Just put it into piles, so that it wouldn't all get wet. I mean, it still would get wet, but just… not so much. And then when the storm would pass we'd go back and put it all over the meadow again… to dry."

"Yeah."

He didn't look at the man, just kept his eyes on the flickering flames, allowing its heat to seep into him; into his veins.

"And it was hot, it was really hot that day, just like it always is just before the storm hits…" he snorted," sweat was just dripping off of me, just… running like a river down my back..."

Jared had a brief desire to have Jensen underneath him then, writhing and begging with streams of sweat running down his hot skin for him to lick up.

"... and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere there was this wind and the clouds came and it started to rain like the sky was coming down. It was just... but we had to put the grass into piles, we had to save at least a little bit or the animals would starve… it would get all wet and then it would rot and… and we didn't stop. We couldn't stop even if we knew that the rain was bad for us, bad for us to cool down that fast, ya know? It was hot and then it was cold and… we were shivering, all of us, wet from head to toe, but we had to put the grass into piles and…"

"Yeah, I know."

Jensen nodded and bit his bottom lip and Jared wanted to reach out and pull the lip out from between his mate's teeth and pull it between his own. And bite. And taste blood.

Jared knew where this was going… what Jensen was talking about. He always knew what came after but never knew what was before.

And this was before.

"We... we kept going even when it got so dark I saw nothing. Just... darkness, I couldn't even see the grass anymore, or the piles we already made. But we kept on raking," he looked down at his palms, that were painted in the red glow of the fire, "my hands were bleeding," he whispered, "the wooden stick of the rake," he looked sideways at Jared, "I made that rake, I made it and then it was almost drenched with my blood and the rain and my blisters had blisters and it stung so bad, but we had to finish. We had to."

Jared nodded; lips pressed tight together and poked the fire with a thin stick, letting it get some more air.

Jensen looked at the hand that held the stick… strong hand, still a little bloody behind the fingernails and in the cracks of the knuckles, his mate's hand, a hand that could turn into a paw whenever it desired.

He whispered and held his gaze on the fire: "I got sick. Got really sick. I remember my mother praying to the Gods to pull me to the moon and not push me towards the sun..." he looked at Jared then and met the man's eyes… so soft, "when I die, ya know?"

"Jensen..." Jared whispered back, not daring to give sound to any words.

He knew the people's religion; sun was reserved for bad people to fry in the sun's eternal flames and the moon was a cool, cozy place for souls who deserved it, who deserved to be with… Jared's mother and Jensen's Gods.

"And then..." he whispered like he suddenly got shy, like suddenly the words he wanted to say weren't there, like he forgot them, or didn't want to speak them out loud, but… he came this far: "I remember you. Your eyes, you telling me that everything would be okay. Calling me kiddo."

Jared's eyes got wide and his lips pulled up in a smile: "You remember that?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I remember you… touching me and then I fell asleep and I know I thought to myself that I don't want your touch to go away, you didn't feel like death but you felt... cool, not cold, just cool. And when I woke up, you were still there and your… your eyes..."

"Jensen," he took a deep breath, "me and Kayal... he's a healer, I'm his... let's say apprentice, kinda. We... we went to you; the Elders came to us, told us that they had a sick boy and need some help. And, you know... when we came and when I saw that the boy was you... I knew...," he shook his head, didn't really know how to find words to explain what he needed Jensen to know, but the kid, smart as ever calmly said: "You knew."

"I knew."

Knew you were that kid with the lamb, knew you were my mate, knew I needed to do anything to make you better.

The fire crackled and when the wind blew past it, some sparks flew up into the air, going up high, going way up high.

"Jensen, back then... you were really sick, you were already halfway up to the moon, but... we pulled you back."

Jensen nodded because he remembered darkness, thick like oil running over him and then he remembered green-blue-orange-yellow.

He had been fifteen then.

And now he knows the beginning and the end of that. Now he knows why Jensen got sick, and he knows why the moon gave him back. Why his mother gave Jensen back.

Mate.

Thunder and lightning. It was all there was of noise in the chamber… that and the wood being eaten by flames.

And them breathing.

Comforting.

Soothing.

Calming.

Making Jensen sleepy. He was tired; so tired… but he didn't want to go to sleep yet. Didn't want to stop this day, night. Didn't want to say goodbye to it just yet.

He was thinking about what to say to Jared, what to do, how to interrupt this comfortable silence again, when Jared spoke: "How's your shoulder?"

He startled. Flinched at the words, because they brought with them an ache that had been hidden under layers of other pains, but now…

"I don't know," he shrugged, "itches."

"Can I look?"

"Yeah, alright."

He leaned forward and waited until Jared crawled behind him and settled on his knees behind Jensen's back, the man's bony knees digging into his lower back.

It felt... good. The pressure points. Felt like fire.

"How does it look?" he craned his neck, trying to look behind himself, see the wound for himself, but he couldn't do it.

He'd just have to leave it to Jared. To his mate.

"It looks... fine. Bleeding a bit, because of," he cleared his throat, "earlier," and ran his fingers over the sticky wound, "you have some dirt in it, some small pebbles..."

"Can you...ehh, will you..." he clicked his tongue, his mouth suddenly too dry, "clean it?"

He could feel Jared's fingers touching lightly around the edges of the wound before Jared smirked: "Look at the fire, Jensen."

The fire was small but giving away so much heat, Jensen's cheeks were red but he knew that it wasn't all the fire's fault.

It was the tongue's fault. The tongue that was soft and smooth on his wound, lapping up all the blood and the dirt.

Long, soft strokes.

No hurry.

He closed his eyes and listened to the crackling of dry twigs giving way to the fire, the thunder that was so loud in his ears as if it lived in his head, and the soft shshshshshshs of the rain hitting tree leaves outside.

He was tired. Sleepy.

He relaxed into Grom, let his back fall onto the wolf's neck, giving Grom a chance to taste and feel and clean all he wanted. He wanted to give something of himself to Grom too. Not just Jared. But his wolf too.

He slowly fell on his side, exhaustion and the smooth, soothing licks making him drowsy with sleep just around the corner. There was no pain. There was no hurt. There were no aches and no worries. Not with the soft fur that was all around him, not with the warm breaths that were heating up his skin even more than the fire did…

… a huge, heavy paw settled on his side, and made itself comfortable in the dip between his ribs and hip, sharp claws rhythmically digging into his flesh.

He was being kept steady; he knew that, he was being kept away from the fire, away from rolling onto it when sleep would overtake him.

He felt safe and warm when he slipped into his dreams.

When he woke up he had his arm across Grom's side, the wolf's white fur in his mouth and up his nose.

He wasn't scared.

The wolf was as hot as a furnace on his bare chest, fur tickling him, making his nipples hard and his cock twitch.

He wasn't scared.

The wolf's breaths were slow and easy, coming out in a snore.

He smiled, smacked his lips and pushed his fingers deeper into Grom's fur closing his eyes and breathing the wolf in.

It smelled of the woods heating up in the summer heat. Smelled of the meadows in the spring. Smelled so right.

The hall they were in was still dark, the storm still raging outside, the fire was still burning and all he wanted was to slip back into sleep.

But then there was a hot, soft tongue licking his face.

He opened his eyes and laughed, pushing Grom away.

"What're you doing?"

But Grom growled; a warning to Jensen to stop, to let him. Jensen did and the wolf started to lick at his face again, long strokes up his cheeks and hair, down his neck…

… neck… too close… too close…

"Grom?"

He all but whimpered, not really expecting an answer, but there was fear in his voice so strong and the wolf picked up on that, raised its head and cocked it to the right and then to the left, as if not understanding why his mate was scared.

He whined and lowered his ears for a second, showing his mate that he wouldn't harm him… never harm him…

… and then he started to lick his mate's face again, his hair, leaving his mate's neck alone, because that had apparently scared his mate.

"Are you… cleaning me?"

He barked.

"Gods." He laughed.

He had his mate… sprawled on his back under him, his paws resting each side of his mate's head and waist, restraining him… having him… owning him… he had to lick, lick, lick, taste, have, taste, tasted so good. His mate.

He howled up to the tall ceiling, still smelling some soft undertone of the dragons. Friends.

He howled again… I found my mate, he's mine, wishing that the dragons were still there, to give their blessing, to witness this.

His mate's hands found their way to his neck, stroking up and down, stroking his head, scratching behind his ears, scratching his back… wherever they could reach.

Felt good. Felt right. Wantwantwant…

The wind was howling outside, the rain smashing into the roof, the thunder and lightning becoming louder and louder, stronger … summer storms were horrible and they always seemed never ending.

He pushed his fingers underneath all the soft fur, ran his hands up and down the wolf's sides, feeling muscles and just muscles... over bone and skin. Grom was all muscles and could crush him like a bug. Or tear into him with those pearly whites…

… he shuddered.

Grom would never do that. Not to him. But to anyone else? Yes.

"Okay, stop, stop…" he laughed, rolling around a little, but couldn't roll away, because the wolf had him pinned.

But Grom didn't stop… just kept licking and cleaning him up and howling up at the ceiling, up to the storm. Up to the moon that he couldn't see.

He stroked Grom up and down the black fur of his neck, ran his fingers up the lines of blackness either side of his muzzle, and up to the middle of his head. Up and down, up and down, an action he couldn't stop, just kept on repeating it. Over and over again, until Grom stopped licking his hair and looked down at him.

Grom was a powerful beast with eyes so bright…

… it took his breath away… took his fear away…

Thunder so loud like drums in his head.

… he bared his neck. Pushed his head back, the top of it almost touching the cool ground. He swallowed; his Adam's apple bobbing up and down right before the wolf. Right before that mouth, that tore into the elk's throat with such ease only a few hours ago.

He surrendered. To Grom. To the wolf.

He closed his eyes and waited. Breathed and waited.

Didn't know what he was waiting for… maybe to be bitten? Taken? Ripped apart? Licked? Kissed?

What he got was a heavy paw in the middle of his chest, sharp claws digging into his skin and a lick across his neck, Grom's tongue tickling a little when it passed his Adam's apple.

He curled his fingers into a fist, grabbing hold of the fur at Grom's sides and let go.

Let himself go.

If Grom would bit him… he was ready… for the pain. For his life.

Ready.

Mate.

But all Grom did was lick him over and over and over again. Up his chin, down his neck, from shoulder to shoulder.

Just… that.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Turn." He whispered, hoping and needing Grom to hear him and understand what he was asking.

"Turn, Jared… Grom… Jared…"

Grom stopped. Whined.

And then it was Jared's lips on his, Jared's tongue pushing into his mouth, Jared's hands pulling his shirt up and Jared's hands splaying across his stomach.

He opened his eyes and looked. And saw.

For the first time, really saw…

"Mate."

TBC…

P.S.1: Well I think we all know what the next chapter will all be about. *giggles* And I'm sorry this took so long, I feel awful, but I have all these ideas and it's so hard to put them into some coherent 'thingy', something readable and I have to pace myself and ugh *is tired*

P.S2: I just, never mentioned this, but… this story IS PLOT with some porn and NOT PORN with some plot. I hope everyone understands that. Erm… *grins*

CHAPTER 13 _II_ CHAPTER 15