Chapter Text
Jason feels like he is floating. Drifting along a puffy cloud of pure sugar. He feels dizzy in the best way, but something is off. He can’t quite figure out what.
“I’m sorry, Jaybird.” Is that Roy? Is he floating too? He tries to reach out his hand towards the voice, but he is so tired. Maybe if he just closes his eyes for a little bit, everything will get better.
“TIM!” Jason bolts upright, then passes out from the pain of the sudden action, nearly hitting his head on the way down. If he was awake, he would have seen his best friend Roy startle awake from his seat and dash to his side, cursing.
“All the Trees in the Forest, you bastard! It took me a long time to close that wound, and you went and reopened it just to pass out again?!” The ginger elf mutters to himself, gathering up more energy to send to Jason, hoping to reseal the wound that would have killed him, had Roy not been hunting in the forest.
He heard the yelling, and saw three men emerge from Jason’s cave, two guards and one small body, not dead, but drugged. As soon as they were out of sight, Roy bolted into the cave, finding his friend bleeding out on the ground, paralyzed with venom from a rare snake.
Luckily for Jason, Roy is part elf, part druid. He got to him in the nick of time, using most of his power to seal the wound, and sucking most of the venom out by mouth. It had a lesser effect on him because of his heritage, but still hurt like a bitch and left his mouth numb for hours.
Who knew befriending the most hostile and withdrawn person in town would lead him here? Jason is the only person who doesn’t care what Roy used to be. Probably doesn’t care what he is now, but Roy feels like they are getting closer to true friendship.
It is, in part, thanks to Roy’s past as a drug addict that he knew what doses of what drug to give to Jason to keep him knocked out and let him ride out the worst of his pain. It was tricky at first, given that werewolves have an increased metabolism and Jason kept waking up. But he eventually got the hang of it.
Combined with Roy’s natural ability to heal, and Jason’s increased healing factor, the wound is healing up nicely, and Roy only has to keep him under for a few more days. He is not going to miss cleaning up after the bastard.
Nearly a week after the attack, Roy feels safe about letting Jason wake up. The puncture in his lung is completely healed and the wound itself is shallow, if Jason reopens it, he will have no problem bandaging it up again.
Cold. He is so cold. It feels like he is sinking into ice, and the shock of it makes his eyes fly open, arms flailing.
“Trees and vines! Jason! It’s me! It’s Roy! OW- fuck! Jason!” It takes a moment, but Jason knows that voice. He stops struggling and goes limp, his head dunking underwater. He sits up a moment later, feeling refreshed and awake.
He looks around, takes in his surroundings. He is in his cave. In the pool to be specific. Shallow enough to sit in, but deep enough to have the water up to his shoulders. A dripping and miserable looking elf stares at him with a bit of betrayal.
“Roy? What are you doing here?” He moves to stand, but Roy puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. “Don’t move too suddenly, buddy. I was able to fix you up pretty good, but you are still hurt.”
Hurt? Jason thinks back to the last thing he can remember. The full moon, waking up in his cave-
“Tim!” Jason looks around frantically, and Roy gives him a sad look. He firmly grips Jason and forces the man to look at him.
“Listen, I don’t really know who Tim is, but I saw some thugs leaving this cave with a smaller man. I could have followed them, but I didn’t, I chose to look for you. Good thing too, if I had been even a minute later, I think you would have died.” Jason barely registers the words, his head spinning.
“They took him. They took Tim.” Everything comes flooding back to him and his chest starts to burn. “They took Tim. They took Tim. They took Tim.” He chants, fury rising fast. He is going to rip them to shreds for even touching his mate.
He shrugs off Roy’s hand, standing up and walking over to his storeroom, goal in mind. He goes to reach for a fresh tunic and notices the bandages on his torso. He blinks, fury abating slightly. He thinks back to what happened and remembers the blade sticking out of him.
He touches his chest where the blade was, and his skin feels super hot, even to his standards. Roy is suddenly beside him, worry etched into his features. “Jaybird, hold on-”
Jason rips the bandage off, and the two men stare at the smooth expanse of skin on his chest. Roy’s eyes look like they are about to bug out of his head.
“I just changed those bandages this morning! There is no way I was able to heal it completely!” Jason looks at his friend.
“You can heal?” He asks, completely behind in his own story. Roy gives him an exasperated sigh and an eye roll.
“Yes Jason, I can heal. Part elf, part druid.” He points to himself. “Now that we straightened that out, care to let me in on as to why your gaping chest wound disappeared like it was never there in the first place?”
Jason shrugs, “Beats me. Which way were the people going? The ones that had Tim.” Jason ignores the whining elf and continues getting dressed. “You can track, right? I need you to help me track them.” Jason asks, rifling through his weapon stash.
“I just stopped you from dying! You never even said thanks! Why would I help you?!” Roy pushes Jason to face him for what feels like the millionth time. “Who is this Tim? Why is he so important?”
Jason growls, pushing Roy against a wall with his forearm. “Tim is my mate, my soulmate. I only got to be with him for half a day before he was ripped away from me. Now are you going to help me or not?!” Roy looks unimpressed with Jason’s show of strength, knowing the man is just frustrated, can’t find the words to tell him what is really going on.
“Alright, I get it. Well, not really, but I know Tim is important to you. How long have you known him? You never brought him up before.” Not that Roy ever even suspected Jason of knowing anyone else, other than him of course.
The arm on his chest is lifted, and Jason flushes a little. “Well, I kinda met him yesterday.” Jason stops, looking at Roy. “Wait, how long was I out?”
This man is all over the place. “Sit down,” Roy commands, and cuts him off when he opens his mouth to argue. “No, we are going to sit down and tell each other what we know so we can decide what to do next.” He knows he is right.
Jason knows the elf is right, but makes a show of reluctantly going along with it. Yeah, he is a little dramatic. So what? He sits down on the wooden bench he put in after accidentally destroying the previous furniture during a past full moon.
Roy pulls up the only other chair in the cavern, a carved stump that took Jason far too long to make. “So, I am going to go first. No interrupting.” Jason snorts at the last part, but knows he has a bad habit of cutting the man off in the middle of speaking.
Roy eyes him skeptically, but starts his side of the story. “I was out hunting when I heard yelling. I knew I was near your cave, and made my way here to see what was going on. I got here just as those thugs were carrying Tim away, and as soon as they were out of sight, I ran in here to find you.”
Jason nods at him to continue. “I thought I was too late, but started giving you energy anyway, hoping I was wrong. Good thing I did, because I was wrong, you were still alive. Barely. To spare the bloody details, and trust me, there was a lot of blood, I managed to bring you back from the brink of death and stabilize you. I had to keep you sedated though, because you kept thrashing around and reopening your wound.”
Jason lets out a protest at that. “What? Who gave you the right-” Roy stops him with a hard look. “I gave myself the right when I put all my energy into healing you only for you to keep undoing my work. I nearly drained myself dry to keep you from killing yourself, so the least you can do is not critique my methods!” Jason looks away, blushing in shame.
“I’m sorry, Roy. I just…” He tries to find the words, but feelings are difficult to portray for him. Luckily, Roy knows him, and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “I know, Jay. I shouldn’t have yelled. I am just really tired.” Roy tries to remember the last time he got any sleep. True sleep, not accidentally napping on Jason as he tried to heal him.
Roy shakes his head slightly, clearing his thoughts. “That was a week ago. I have to ask though,” He pauses and Jason nods in encouragement. “Is it common for werewolves to have wet dreams? You had, like, at least three a day and I had to clean you up every single time. As your friend, it was more than a little awkward.”
Jason is pretty sure his face is crimson with embarrassment. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out except a very eloquent squeak. Roy bursts into laughter, and Jason sputters. “Oh man, your face is priceless right now! I’m just pulling your leg man.” Jason has to physically restrain himself from strangling the pointy eared bastard.
To stop himself from doing something he will regret, Jason starts to tell his side of the story. Roy listens patiently as Jason explains waking up, the earth shaking, which Roy confirms was only felt by them as there were no earthquakes that day, and spares no detail in telling him of all the things he wanted to do with Tim, satisfaction filling him at the mortification on Roy’s face.
“Trees and vines! Stop! I’m sorry for what I did, just please stop talking about your dick!” Roy has his hands over his ears, and is hunched over, as if curling into the fetal position will help block out the vivid imagery Jason is describing to him.
Jason relents, and finishes his story with getting stabbed. “I can’t say I know how my wound healed so completely. Maybe you are just stronger than you think?” Jason suggests.
Roy looks thoughtful. “I suppose, but I really think something else is at work here.”
“Well, no time to figure that out right now. If I was out for a week, then Tim probably thinks I am dead, and I am a week behind on tracking him. Will you help me? Please?” The word feels foreign in his mouth, and he actually cannot recall the last time he said that word to another person.
Roy gives in easily. “Yeah, I’ll lend you a hand. I worked so hard to fix you so it would be a waste to have you go and get yourself killed.” Jason wraps his friend in a tight hug surprising them both. Roy pats his back companionably. “Tim must really be something special, huh?”
“Yeah. He really is.” Jason replies fondly.
“You think you’re special? Huh?” Janet Drake towers above the cowering form of her disappointment of a son. “You really think you can do whatever you want with no consequence?”
Tim is in hell, suffering through the last lingering symptoms of withdrawal from the drugs the hired muscle pumped him full of for the three days it took to drag him back home. Not that his mother cares, as she continues to lecture him.
“Do you even realize what you did to our image? The guards saw that brute charge in and unchain you! He tore a hole in the wall of our home! And you went with him! Happily!” The shrill voice pierces his skull like a thousand needles, and he curls up even tighter on the cold marble floor. “Had your father and I not recovered from the full moon so quickly, the news would have been the talk of the town!”
Typical mother, Tim thinks. She probably never even worried about his wellbeing while he was gone. The shivers that rake his body are almost gone, and he is left cold and empty. He tunes out his mother’s yelling and puts on a passive face, detaching himself from the situation.
It’s the only way he can cope.
His mother scoffs, knowing he is no longer listening. “You stupid little child,” She hisses, “would it kill you to act like a suitable heir? I trained you better than this, and I am about to give you more than what you deserve.”
With that final cryptic comment, she spins on her heels and stalks away, leaving Tim alone in the small closet, with nothing more than a thin blanket to keep out the cold.
“Jason.” Tim whimpers, tears filling his eyes. What did he ever do to deserve this fate? He did everything he was told, acted proper and never reacted to others when they were so obviously offended by his smell. And how did the world repay him?
By killing his mate. His other cosmic half, who, against all odds, managed to find him and break him free from his torment, just to be killed for his efforts. Tim never really knew what happiness was until Jason. No one had ever given him the time of day.
He remembers waking up next to the man, confused and scared. Holding a knife to his throat for the Great Wolf’s sake. He lets out a choked noise, half laugh, half sob. He felt so complete in his arms. The way the whole world seemed to have shifted, and it did. Well, Tim’s world did. The unbridled joy he felt when Jason told him he liked his smell was the best moment of Tim’s life, he remembers with a bitter smile. He only spent a day with the man, and they spent most of it sleeping off the exhaustion of the full moon.
Is Jason still lying there, in his cave, all alone? The thought saddens Tim, and steels his resolve.
He has no reason to live now that Jason is dead. He is going to escape, find the cave again, and give Jason a proper burial. Then he can die in peace, knowing he will join his mate in the plains of the Great Wolf.
He just needs a plan.
“The tracks go this way, dumbass!” Roy yells in frustration, throwing his hands in the air when Jason pointedly ignores him and ambles off in the opposite direction. “Son of a- wasn’t it you who asked me to come along and help you find them?” It has barely been three hours and Roy is ready to throw something at Jason. Preferably a heavy rock.
Jason sighs, turning back. “Listen, Roy, I know this is crazy, but I can smell him. The tracks may lead that way, but I know he went this way.” Jason doesn’t know how he can still pick up a week-old scent, but he can.
Roy sighs in defeat, knowing Jason can’t be talked down. “Alright, fine. But if we lose the trail, you don’t get to complain about me leading you astray!” Jason nods in affirmation and the elf follows along, scanning the forest for clues.
“Trees of the Great Forest, Jason!” Roy exclaims, holding out a piece of ripped fabric for Jason to see. The wolf nearly bowls him over in excitement, and brings the cloth to his face to loudly sniff at the fabric.
“Tim?” Roy inquires, purposefully using one-word sentences to irritate Jason. The man simply nods, the jibe going over his head in his one minded pursuit.
Roy sighs, fun spoiled. “Wouldn’t it be easier to pick up his scent in wolf form?” Roy complains. “Plus, we could move a whole lot faster.”
Jason blinks owlishly at him, the thought having apparently never crossed his mind. Roy would laugh if they weren't on a quest to save Jason’s prince charming. “Alright, give me your sword so I can hang on to it for you.” Roy holds out his hand and Jason readily gives his weapon, already antsy to shift.
He doesn’t even bother to undress, clothes ripping off his back and landing on the dirt in shreds. He shakes off the remaining scraps that cling to his tawny fur and Roy snorts at his impatience. “Ready to give me a lift, Jaybird?”
Jason shakes his giant head in confusion, and when Roy jumps on his back like he is some sort of horse, he understands. Jason growls, a deep and angry sound, and Roy just laughs, settling himself further on Jason’s back, grabbing handfuls of his fur to hold on. “This is going to be the best piggyback ride ever!”
Resigning to his fate as Roy’s pack mule, Jason takes off, ready to give Roy a run for his money. The elf yelps and squeezes his legs around Jason’s sides, and if wolves could laugh, Jason would be howling. Instead he settles for a snort, and Roy starts to say something, only to burrow his head between Jason’s ears on the back of his head as Jason leaps over a fallen log.
They eventually reach a place where his prey must have settled down for the night, given the long dead firepit and heavy scent of Tim. Jason slows to a jog before stopping completely, and Roy slides off his back in a boneless heap, muscles sore from being tense for so long.
“All the Trees! Jason, did you have to go that fast?” Roy whines from his spot on the ground, his intent to stay there obvious as he bundles his pack into a makeshift pillow to lie his head on. “I almost fell off at least three times!”
Jason fixes him with a blank stare, obvious even with his lupine features and Roy pouts, “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m sorry for living my lifelong dream of riding a werewolf into battle.” Jason gives another snort, making sure to spray some slobber onto Roy’s face.
As Roy scrambles to wipe it off his face, Jason puts his nose to the ground and sniffs, looking for any clues that might tell him of Tim’s condition. Was the other wolf alright? From the concentrated smell of their attackers, Jason is able to determine that they are both human.
Which means they must have drugged Tim to keep him from shifting, Jason concludes, anger once again boiling in his veins. Just who is Tim Drake? He must be important for people to send this level of muscle after him.
He thinks back to what little conversation they had, and remembers something about him reading books a lot, being alone, private access to personal libraries…
For Tim to know so many nobles, he has to be of pretty high status. Jason shifts back into human form, and walks over to a still sputtering and fuming Roy. “You ever heard of the Drakes?” He asks, as Roy has been all over the countryside, a wandering traveler before he made his home in the Burrows.
Roy takes a moment to consider, pointedly ignoring Jason’s nude form practically standing over him. “Like a family name, Drake?” Jason nods.
“Yeah, now that you mention it, they are one of the top families of Gotham. Right alongside the Wayne’s. Why? Were these Drake men? Are they the ones who took Tim?” Understanding flashes in Roy’s eyes.
“Is Tim a noble? Is this some kind of high-class drama thing?” Jason hesitates, wondering whether or not to tell Roy everything. Well, Roy did save him from certain death, so Jason guesses he can give the guy the benefit of the doubt.
“Actually, Tim is a Drake. Timothy Jackson Drake, as he introduced himself to me.” Jason relents, hoping Roy wouldn’t turn around and stab him in the back. He knows that is about as likely to happen as a meteor crashing into them, but Jason was raised never to trust others, and to rely on no one but himself. Old habits die hard.
Roy, oblivious to the internal struggle going on within Jason’s mind, gapes at Jason before letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned. This really is a story right out of one of those books you like so much, huh? The untouchable noble, soulmates with the heroic commoner,” He drones.
Jason shifts back into wolf form, ignoring Roy’s teasing. Picking up Tim’s scent is easy as a wolf, and he stares in the direction it leads, thinking of his mate.
So of course, Roy picks that time to climb up on his back again, like he is some kind of horse. He feels like he should be offended by the treatment, but he knows Roy is mostly doing it to tease him and fulfill every little boys dream of riding on the back of a majestic werewolf.
Doing the best eye roll this form will allow, Jason follows the scent of Tim, focus unwavering.
There are few things Tim hates more than dinner with his family. Usually he is allowed to eat on his own, given that his smell tends to ruin the appetite of others around him. The few times he does eat with others were pure hell, this time is no exception.
The three of them are seated at a table many sizes too large, putting into physical form how the family dynamics work. His parents are seated close to each other on one side of the table, with Tim alone on the far side. When he says close, he means in relation to his distance from them, not an actual closeness. If his parents needed to touch to pass some dish or drink, one of them would have to get up and actually walk to the other.
Every family dinner he ever heard about in books and overheard conversations were portrayed to be happy and gave people a chance to bond.
He isn’t even sure that is ever going to be possible for him.
“I received word from a marriage candidate this past week.” That’s his mother for you. Cutting straight to the heart of the matter. He has been through this process many times, some other family covets the title his family holds, tries to secure it by marrying their son or daughter off to him, only for them to meet, and be repulsed by his smell.
Feeling bold, Tim speaks up. “What makes you think this one will fare any different than the rest?” He isn’t hungry, hasn’t touched the food in front of him at all, not even lifting a fork. He stares his mother down across the table, feeling braver than he has in his entire life.
His mother smiles, and a spike of fear goes through his body at the sight. She only ever smiles at funerals and will readings, so this can’t be good.
Taking a sip of her wine, she takes her time in explaining, reveling in the horror written on her pathetic child's face. “That’s the beauty of it, sweetie. He doesn’t have a sense of smell.”
Tim balks at the implication, his father choking on his wine. In all honesty, Tim forgot his father was even present, the broken man usually made no noise. Tim knows his father harbors no ill will towards him, unlike his mother. He was simply a pawn his family used to marry into the Drake name, and Tim honestly felt nothing but pity for the man.
“J- ahem, Darling,” His father quickly corrects himself, “When did this happen?”
It’s no secret that Janet Drake is the decision maker of the house, but for her to keep something like this from his father, who, even if he did know, wouldn’t even do anything about it? This is bad.
Tim schools himself as quickly as he can, fighting to keep his face and voice even. “What family does he come from?” Tim asks, knowing that the more information he has, the more he can plan.
His mother takes another sip of wine, addressing his father first. “Just this morning, darling, I told you while I was getting ready for the day.” His father, brainwashed and conditioned by his mother for so many years, easily accepts this explanation, nodding and turning back to his meal.
Not for the first time, Tim feels anger at his father for staying so meek and easily accepting anything his wife tells him. It deflates quickly, replaced by fear. Fear that he may fall to his mother’s schemes and end up just like his dear old dad.
“And Tim, you needn’t worry yourself with the details. All you need to do is stand around, look pretty, and stay quiet. Let your mother do all the worrying.” She gives him a smile that looks more like a snarl, and rises from her seat.
“I arranged for an outfit to be sent to your quarters. Be in the reception room by sundown. I care not what you do until then.” With that, she stalks out of the room, his father quick to follow, leaving Tim all alone, a feeling all too familiar to him.
He sits for a while longer, knowing he has only a few precious hours until he meets the suiter his mother spoke of. He had really hoped for more details on the person he is supposed to wed, but is not surprised his mother is playing her cards close to her chest.
He is the only heir to the Drake house, and his mother deemed him unworthy as soon as he presented as an omega. The status of second gender is barely even spoken of in society, having been deemed an archaic way of segregation many generations ago.
Today, it is impossible to tell what status another holds by scent or shape. And females of any status are able to conceive, while male omegas lost the ability, unable to carry or sire a child.
Too feminine to be a proper heir, and too masculine to sire a new one, his mother deemed him unworthy of her love, unworthy of her attention, and unworthy of her time. Tim always kept his head down, always listened to her every word, following her every command in the hope of gaining her love.
He pities the child he used to be.
The chair gives a slight squeak as he rises, and a guard materializes out of the woodwork. “Can I show you to your quarters, young master?”
Of course, his mother would keep him under surveillance. Her words about spending his last free hours doing as he pleases a lie. Good thing Tim has been dodging guards and escorts his entire life.
“I would like to freshen up first, if you don’t mind.” Tim asks, purposefully sounding shy. The guard buys it, features softening almost immediately. Tim almost feels bad for the guy. He must be new, and Tim is about to get him fired.
Once they reach the bathing area, the man looks around nervously, not knowing how to proceed. It is a large room, pools of all shapes and sizes strewn about, the smell of sulfur lingering in the air from the hot spring that runs beneath the facility, keeping the water warm all year round. Luckily for Tim, there are no maids or servants around, and he turns to the guard, keeping his face expectant.
He caves easily. “Well, I hardly think you need supervision in here, I will wait for you outside the door.” It’s a good plan, there is no other exit, the only other way out is through a series of slatted windows, designed to let the sulfuric air out and let the light in. Not even a small child could fit through one of the windows, leaving Tim trapped.
Well, as far as the guard is concerned.
Once alone, Tim makes his way to the far side of the room, to the natural pool. While the others were mostly filled in with mosaic stones to look more pristine, this pool is all carved rock, and very deep.
It isn’t the pool that Tim is here for. It’s the large potted plant that sat against the wall behind the pool.
As a young child, Tim had made the mistake of shifting in one of the pools, and his survival instinct had kicked in, making him panic and let the wolf take over. When he came to, he was outside of his family’s property, in the neighboring woodlands. Turns out, his inner wolf managed to get him out of the water, then panicked itself and busted a hole through a weak point in the wall to get outside. Tim hid the hole behind this huge plant and never heard anything about it since, so he hopes it is still there.
And he is right. The hole is there. Just small enough for a tiny person to crawl through. The only problem is the cart that seemed to be parked against the wall on the other side. Tim curses his luck, pushing at the wooden barrier in an aborted attempt to break through.
Just as he suspected, the wall is strong and sturdy, most likely reinforced with some type of metal. He sits back on his haunches, scowling as his first plan crumples to dust.
He strips quickly, washing in record time, the warm water from the hot springs doing nothing to ease him. Time is running out, and he needs to get away before his supposed suiter shows up and tries to do something stupid, like claim him.
In a way, he is glad he and Jason didn’t bond. It feels like it would have hurt far more than what he is feeling now. There is nothing ceremonious about claiming. There is no audience, unless the person is some kind of royalty, like the consummation of marriage. All it takes is a bite to the neck with intent to claim. It can be one sided, meaning that Tim doesn’t have to consent for the claiming to take place.
He shivers slightly because of the cool air on his skin when he gets out and the thought of being tied to someone other than Jason. A claiming essentially ties the claimed to the claimer, meaning Tim would be bound to that person and that person only. The mark would heal but never fade, and Tim could never be with another.
Were Tim to claim the person back, their lives would be intertwined, and they would share the same life force, or whatever people call it nowadays. If one were to perish, the other would fall too, a feat yet to be explained by any scholar.
Unsolvable mysteries are usually Tim’s forte, but tonight he has not the luxury of delving into such a topic. He finishes drying off and sweeps out the door past the guard, who startles a bit at his sudden reappearance. “Done already, sir?” He calls out, running a little to catch up to Tim, who had started walking in the direction of his room.
Tim doesn’t grace him with a reply, too lost in thought to think of a response. If he can’t use the baths to escape, the gardens would be his next best bet, but they are crawling with people at the moment, getting ready to welcome Tim’s new betrothed.
Tim sweeps into his room, shutting the door in his escorts face. There is a muffled sound of indignation and what sounds like a light kick to the door, but Tim couldn’t find it in himself to care about the man’s fragile feelings of masculinity and importance.
Tim strips, heading towards the large trunk situated at the foot of his bed. He shifts through the blankets and pops the false bottom open, revealing his hidden cache of weapons he pilfered over the years.
Some are priceless artifacts, taken from his parents after they looted, or as they like to call it excavated, one of the ancient religious sites from across the sea. Tim has knives worth more than most common folk make in a lifetime. He straps those to his thighs and ankles first.
As he arms himself to the teeth, Tim can’t stop thinking about how much Jason would have loved to see Tim’s collection. From what he remembers about the cave, Jason had quite the collection of weapons himself, although the larger man had mostly battle axes and larger swords rather than knives and shuriken.
He manages to fit the last throwing star in his hair, disguising it as a hair adornment. Tim takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror before slipping on the outfit his mother picked for him. He looks dangerous, all the sleek and glimmering blades sparkling in the torchlight. His eyes are what draw his attention though. He looks like a wild animal backed into a corner. There is a gleam of acceptance deep within, as if he knows deep down how the cards will play out, but it is overshadowed by a feral haze, the wolf inside him not allowing Tim to give up without a fight.
When he smiles, it’s scary. He shows more teeth than necessary, and it reminds him of his mother. He spins away, dressing himself and moving around to test the durability of his holsters. If he accidentally drops a weapon, his element of surprise.
After adjusting the final cuff of his ridiculously frilly outfit, his mother breezes in, not even bothering to knock. She gives him a slow look up and down, cold gaze assessing.
“Well, it’s better than nothing I suppose,” She relents, and Tim sighs at the off handed insult, falling into step behind her, the guard scrambling to keep up. “Time to meet your husband, darling.” She doesn’t bother to spare him a glance as she speaks. “Trust me, this will be the best thing to ever happen to you.”
Tim has never doubted anything more in his life.
“Holy roots of the Great Tree! That’s a house?!” Roy gapes as the pair crest the final hill before the Drake estate. For once, Jason agrees wholeheartedly with the elf.
The gardens make up much of the property around the stronghold, and that is what it is, not a house but a stronghold. Jason appreciates the fact that he can use the cover of the bushes in his escape with Tim.
And he will escape with Tim. There is no doubt in his mind that Tim is here, and from what Roy told him of the nobles on the trek here makes Jason think it won’t take a whole lot of convincing to get Tim to leave with him.
Jason is about to shift into human form to talk infiltration when Roy goes still, slipping off Jason’s back and taking cover behind a bush. Jason follows suit just in time for him to hear the approach of a carriage.
Great Wolf! He was so lost in thought that he never heard it approach! Roy makes a dangerous sound in his throat that makes Jason stare. Roy looks ready to kill, and when the carriage comes into view, Jason can see why.
There is no horse pulling the carriage. Instead, slaves in thick chains strain to bring the monstrous thing over the hill. The man sitting out front has a whip, which upon closer inspection is barbed, making the slaves bleed each time he mercilessly hits them.
Jason bumps Roy’s shoulder with his snout and gestures to the carriage, stomping his huge paw into the ground three times. Roy catches on fast, and a sharp smile is brought to his face, eyes lighting up. “I like the way you think, buddy.”
Just before the slaves crest the hill, the driver raises his whip to spur them along. Jason is able to jump out and catch the man’s whole hand in his jaws, momentum pulling them both off the wagon. A quick succession of arrows rains down on the chains tethering the slaves to the carriage, and the added tension causes them to snap, stopping the carriage in its tracks.
There is a surprised muffled shout from the interior, before the wheels begin to move backwards, picking up momentum quickly because of the weight of the damn thing.
The poor slaves are still attempting to process what happened as the carriage bounces back down the sizable incline at incredible speeds before crashing into a mighty oak, which weathers the blow. The same cannot be said for the iron monstrosity, which lays in jagged pieces at the foot of the tree.
Roy jumps through the treetops to make sure the bastard is good and dead, and Jason realizes the man he grabbed is still alive under him, attempting to pull out his fur with his free hand. Jason puts pressure on the hand in his mouth and before he knows it, snaps it clean off the guys wrist. Blood spurts everywhere as the man screams in agony. Only a fraction of the pain the slaves had likely endured just on the journey here.
The slaves begin to catch on to what is happening around him and they all circle around the giant wolf, falling to their knees. “Savior.” They chant, “Kill him.”
Jason would normally be really creeped out by this very strange occurrence, but honestly, he just wants to hurry this up so he can get to Tim. With a slash of his blunt claws, Jason rips the man’s throat out, a disturbing chunk of flesh lopped clean off, and landing somewhere in the undergrowth.
Well. That's that. Jason tries to walk out of the circle of people around him, but even when he nudges them with the back of his paw, they refuse the budge. Great Wolf! Why does this have to happen now! Tim needs him!
“Jason? You all right?” Roy calls from the lower branches of a nearby pine. There is a suspicious hint of laughter in his tone, and Jason elects to ignore it. The slaves move in slowly, and Jason bristles at the attention. He senses no danger, and even if they all attacked at once, they are too weak to be of any danger to him.
Instead of attacking, the slaves reach out their hands, running them through his mottled fur in reverence. Jason doesn’t want to risk hurting them by getting away, and they weren’t doing anything bad, so he looks to Roy for help.
Of course, the damn elf is red in the face, trying to hold in his laughter. Roy manages to calm down enough to relay some new information. “The guy miraculously survived the little joyride down the hill, and was kind enough to let me know that he was to be wed to one Timothy Drake this night.”
Jason is frozen in place. If he had been asleep for even a day longer… He focuses on Roy, who is still talking. “Luckily, the nice man has never met our esteemed Timothy, nor his family.”
Jason catches on to Roy’s plan fast, changing back to human form without thinking. The slaves around him gasp and remove their hands. They must have never seen a werewolf change before, and Jason uses their shock to his advantage, slipping through them to get closer to Roy. The man grins, producing a garish signet ring, still attached to its previous owners’ finger. “I now dub thee, Sir Harold VonMise, lord of the Marshlands!” Roy flourishes, dropping from his seat in the tree to kneel dramatically in front of him. “May his lordship live a long and prosperous life.”
Jason feels like hitting the elf on the side of the head, but before he can do anything, the slaves converge on them. They assume the same stance as Roy and mumble, “His lordship Harold VonMise… may he prosper.” Or some variant of the phrase.
“Roy, all I have is a ring. I can’t show up to the Drake estate in my tunic and trousers!” Roy can’t even lift his head before the slaves are moving, running down the slope en masse. The duo stare incredulously at their retreating backs as they move out of sight.
“Well, that’s one problem taken care of.” Jason states, flippant as ever. “I say we stick to the first plan. We storm in, kill anyone who tries to stop us, and save Tim. It’s simple, to the point, and classy.” Roy stands up with a whine.
“But Harold…” He pouts, wrestling the ring off the pudgy finger and throwing the appendage into some nearby bushes. “My plan is so much more romantic and fun! Infiltration is the classiest move in the epics!” Jason puts a hand through his hair, leaves and branches falling out. “It won’t work when I look like some feral wolf who just ran through half the woods in a day, which I did!”
Roy isn’t looking at him anymore, gaze fixed past the man and on the tree line behind him. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Jason knows what he will see when he turns around, but the sight still shocks him. The slaves are back, carrying all manner of cleaning supplies and tacky noble clothing. Roy practically shakes in excitement behind him and Jason lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“All right, all right. You have one hour. If you try- AH!” He doesn’t get to finish talking before a slight wisp of a man raises a giant bucket of water over his head and douses the wolf, blood and twigs falling to the ground from their previous spot of being caked on his skin.
The next hour is one of the longest hours of Jason’s life, and Roy enjoys every minute of it, the bastard. The slaves are surprisingly forceful, pushing him around, cleaning him thoroughly. He chooses the least flashy pieces of clothing from the pile of options and still ends up looking like some kind of fool, practically swimming in the fabric. With a bit of tucking and folding and a few well-placed porcupine needles, Jason is a new man.
Jason finally calms the slaves down enough to break their individual chains. He tried to do so before they started washing him, but they slapped his hands away, too intent on their task.
After the last of the chains fall to the ground, Jason straightens up to address them. “I cannot thank you enough for the help. You are all free now, and may do what you wish.” The group doesn’t move. Jason clears his throat and steps back, intending to leave. He stops when they all take a step towards him.
“No, you can leave. You don’t have to help me anymore; you have done enough already. Go.” Still no movement. Roy finally breaks, laughter ringing out loudly. Jason shifts in his new shoes, the ends pinching his toes. “Can you understand me?”
There is a collective nod, and Jason lets out a long-suffering sigh. Roy sniggers from beside him, and if Jason wasn’t wearing this fancy ass suit, he would have strangled him.
“You can follow me for tonight only. After I get Tim, you have to leave. Is this acceptable?” Normally, Jason would never even consider letting these people tag along, especially on such an important mission. Sure, they helped him out now, but would they turn on him?
The earnest looks of respect and excitement at tagging along are what convince Jason that he made the right choice. He nods to Roy, who claps his hands in excitement. “Ok, here is the plan so far…”
They are late. Tim shifts from foot to foot, glancing at his mother from the corner of his eye. Her face is pinched in annoyance, and his father is as stoic as ever beside her.
Just as he is about to make a comment, a servant rushes up to them and whispers something in his mother’s ear. She smiles wide, no real emotions behind it.
They must have arrived then.
His mother makes a small hand gesture, shooing the servant away, and turns to him. “Timothy, darling. Wait here for me with your father, won’t you? I am going to greet our guests and will bring them here.” She knows she has him trapped. The increased amount of guards means that there’s always eyes on him, and as soon as he tries anything, she will know about it.
He has no choice but to nod, his hands twitching to reach for his knives. He taught himself how to fight, reading book after book on the art of throwing knives, and close combat. He used the cover of the gardens at night to practice, and now he is able to boast about his ability to pin the wings of a moving fly from up to three yards away.
He also can trim a shrub like nobody’s business, but that is beside the point. Whether it be from a distance or up close and personal, Tim can fight his way out.
Or he will die trying.
The gardens are beautiful, of that Tim cannot deny. Fragrant blooms cover what little scent he gives off and provide a breathtaking sight. If Tim could just get over the one stone wall in the back, he could be free, rolling fields and the sprawling forests calling to him.
Running would be futile, especially with so many people keeping their eyes on him. He would likely have better luck playing dead and hope they decide to forgo a funeral and just throw his body in a lake or something.
He wouldn’t put it past his mother.
The sliding door from the house opens, and Tim is brought out of his thoughts. His mother leads two men through the doors, the first a ginger haired elf, who looks a little worse for wear, blood and leaves stuck to his clothing.
When the second man steps through the door, Tim looks away, not yet wanting to see the face of the man he might have to kill. If what his mother hinted at was true, this man would attempt to claim him tonight, and Tim has no intention of letting that happen.
“May I introduce you to Sir Harold VonMise, Lord of the Marshlands.” His mother’s voice is smug, knowing there is little Tim can do to stop the events about to unfold. “And his faithful servant, Roy.”
Roy? A ginger haired elf named Roy? Jason mentioned that he had a friend named Roy that fit that description. Tim raises his head to look the elf in the eyes, and decides that perhaps Roy will die this night too, given that he most likely used and betrayed Jason. Perhaps he was the one to tell the thugs where Jason’s cave was.
The elf pales under his icy stare, and looks away first, tugging at the hem of his dirty tunic. The noble, Harold, clears his throat, and Tim forces himself to look at him.
The first thing Tim sees are his eyes. A familiar mixture of jade and cerulean, soft and loving. The dark hair that is now slicked back with some sort of hair product is marred by a lone white streak above his forehead.
Jason. He’s alive.
Tim schools his expression and blinks away the tears of joy prickling at the corners of his eyes. Jason is alive! He is also right here and judging from the air of discomfort around him, he must have killed the real Harold and taken his place.
Tim’s thoughts are spinning, and Jason finally speaks up. “Good evening, Lord and Lady Drake. I apologize for my late arrival, there was an… incident with the carriage on the way here. We were forced to walk the rest of the way.” Tim doesn’t trust himself not to cry or shout when he opens his mouth, so he elects to let his mother speak.
“Good heavens! My deepest apologies for your hardships, my good sir!” Tim cannot stop staring at Jason. He is alive! Jason is alive and he is here to save Tim!
His mother catches his blunder and gives him a none to gentle shove on his lower back. “It’s quite rude to stare, Timothy. Hurry up and greet our guests properly.” There is a moment of panic, as his mother almost brushes her finger along one of the many, many knives strapped to his person, but a quick glance at her face lets him know that she still thinks she has the upper hand, her smile vicious and victorious.
The thought of turning the tables on his mother so utterly and completely steels his emotions for the moment. He turns his full attention to Jason and manages to greet him properly, not able to tear his gaze away from his mate even as he greets Roy.
His mother cuts in, as always. “I must say, you are far younger than I thought you would be, sir VonMise.” A compliment and a challenge to his authority, typical of mother.
Jason takes it in stride, giving her one of his own cold and calculating smiles. “Why thank you, my lady. I must say you look exactly like I expected.” Tim is glad he has his back to his mother, just so she couldn’t see the unbridled glee on Tim’s face as his mate challenges her authority. He only wishes he could see how his mother reacted to Jason’s comment.
She clears her throat, and speaks up once more, always trying to get the last word in. “Well then, will you honor the agreement we made?” Tim keeps his eyes glued to Jason, and it’s only because of his close proximity that he can see the slight panic in his eyes at the question.
It is quickly washed away and replaced with smug confidence. “Oh, yes. The agreement. Would you be so kind as to remind me what it is exactly that we agreed upon? My memory is not as it used to be.” Well played, Tim thinks, his smirk growing. He can practically hear his mother grinding her teeth.
“To put it simply,” She grinds out, “I asked that you take my darling Timothy to be your partner, thus combining the strength of our two houses.” Tim risks a look at her face and is not disappointed. She is practically fuming, a light blush breaking through the makeup slathered on her face.
Jason pretends to think about the offer, going to far as to rub his chin in thought. “A nice offer. I can see how we both benefit. Of course, I would have to take him to live with me in my home.” Tim is able to suss out the general plan from here and decides it is time for him to step in.
“Well of course. Nothing would please me more.” Tim smiles sweetly. His mother takes a physical step towards them, as if she is just now realizing the shift in power. “Timothy! We have not yet discussed the technical details. Would you be so kind as to let me speak privately with our guest for a moment?” Her gaze is dangerous.
Tim doesn’t even want to know what kind of things his mother will say about him and after twenty years of blind obedience, decides to pick this hill to die on.
“Actually, mother,” Tim starts, standing slightly in front of Jason, as if to shield the man from her wrath. “Would you mind giving me and my prospective husband a moment in private?” His request is far from unreasonable, but the obvious power play pushes his mother off the edge.
Her eyes go from dangerous to deadly, and she moves to take another step. Tim flicks his wrist and a thin red line emerges on her cheek, a small chunk of hair falling to the ground. Tim smirks at his mother’s inability to speak. “I will not be asking again, mother.”
Roy, who until this point was gaping open mouthed at the scene in front of him, actually chokes, and his mother snaps out of whatever trance she was in and wipes the blood dripping down her now cut face, doing nothing but smear the liquid further.
She wordlessly turns and stalks through the now open doors, his father for once staying put. Once she is out of sight, he turns to Tim, a small smile on his face. “You two should check out the blue roses in the back. They look really pretty this time of day.” The smile disappears and he scampers off after Tim’s mother.
The moment they are alone, Tim throws himself into Jason’s arms, a strangled sob breaking free from his throat. “Jason!” Strong arms wrap around him, Jason dropping his head to press a kiss to Tim’s hair.
“Ow! Is that a throwing star in your hair?” Tim pulls out of Jason’s embrace and untangles the weapon from his hair, handing it over to Jason, who has a small bead of blood forming on his bottom lip.
Tim smirks, leaning up and sucking the lip into his own mouth, trailing his tongue over the cut, cleaning the small wound that already started healing. Jason moans at the action, letting the weapon clatter to the stones and burying his hands in Tim’s now de-weaponized hair.
“Uh, guys? Maybe we should focus on getting out of here rather than getting it on?” Roy speaks up from where he is currently leaning on the wall near the double doors. “I can hear a lot of footsteps through this wall, so either there is a fun dance party going on inside or the Drake lady is amassing some sort of army.”
The pair reluctantly part, Tim giving Jason’s lip a quick nip before pulling away. “Let’s go see those flowers my dad mentioned.” Tim suggests, Jason and Roy looking at him skeptically. “My dad has said a total of maybe one hundred words to me my entire life, for him to string that amount together and wait for my mother to be gone to say them,” Tim pauses, giving the two other males expectant looks.
Roy is the first to put two and two together. “OH!” Jason seems to have an epiphany soon after. Tim rolls his eyes and quickly leads the two to the part of the garden where the blue roses grow. At first, Tim cannot see anything noteworthy, but after closer examination of the wall, there appears to be a door hidden behind the barbed vines.
“Here!” Tim calls the other two over, brushing away the overgrowth. Jason finds the handle and turns it, hinges squeaking loudly. Behind the hidden door is what looks to have been a path, long since overtaken by nature. It leads directly into the outer gardens, and from there, the forest.
Tim sends a quiet thanks to his dad and the trio races through the door, making sure to shut it completely on their way out.
Tim guides them through the mazes of the gardens but puts a hand out to stop their advance at the line of trees. “Wait, someone is there.” He hisses, readying one of his knives. Jason and Roy share a look and walk past him casually.
“It’s all right, Timmy.” Jason throws over his shoulder at Tim, “They’re with me.” Figures start to appear from the undergrowth, dressed in rags and dirt smeared on their skin. All of them bear the marks of slaves, the chains curiously missing from their wrists and ankles.
Jason tugs off the bulky signet ring from its spot on his finger as Tim relaxes his grip on the knife. “You are all free to go, take what you can from the carriage and start a new life.” Jason announces, and Tim looks to Roy for more information.
“These are- sorry were, Harold VonMise’s slaves. We liberated them and they helped us infiltrate your place.” Roy fills in helpfully, watching as each slave walks up to Jason and bows deeply, the large man bowing back each time. “They tried to follow us all the way up to the door, but Jaybird managed to convince them to wait here and act as backup.”
Tim feels a warm glow in his chest as he watches Jason smile and thank every slave individually. “So, what happens now?” Roy asks, looking at Tim. “I don’t expect your mother will just let us go without tracking you.”
A cruel smile spreads across Tim’s face, and Roy fights not to step back in fear. “Oh, you let me worry about that.” He says, and Roy takes his word for it, dropping the subject immediately.
As the last of the slaves disappears, Jason returns to Tim’s side, sweeping him up into his arms and kissing him deeply. Tim moans into the kiss, fingers digging into the shoulder pads on his ridiculous jacket, eyes falling closed. He can’t complain, given that he is wearing an equally garish and ugly suit.
Roy clears his throat, gathering the attention of the two wolves, slightly pissed off at being interrupted yet again. “Sorry to break you guys up, and trust me, after what we went through to get this, I am, but there is literally a hoard of guards coming at us so we might want to run. Just saying.” He gestures a hand to the gardens below, where there is an impressive number of torch-wielding soldiers combing through the gardens towards them.
Jason takes a step forward, like he is going to take all of them on by himself.
“Wait, Jason.” Tim asks, reaching out to grab his hand. “I know you have done so much for me, and I cannot thank you enough, but can you do me one last favor before we go?” Jason stops, turning around to face Tim. “I will do anything for you, Tim.” He says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world, and Tim believes it is.
Tim wants with all his being to just rush forward and kiss the man stupid, but he files that away for later. “Good, because I think it is time someone took my mother down a peg.” Jason and Roy blink in shock.
“You want to go back there?” Roy asks incredulously. Jason immediately follows up with, “Do you have a plan?”
Tim smiles and answers their questions in order. “No. And I have three.”
Jason stands behind Tim, who single handedly took out the pathetic guard unit stationed in the manor singlehandedly. With all the men out looking for them in the gardens and Roy leading them further away, there is a frankly pitiful amount of security for a building this large.
When Tim told them his plan, Jason opposed it. Go back? Why would he go back when there is nothing there for him? But Tim asked again, and Jason caved, willing to go to hell and back to make Tim happy.
Which brings them to the door of Janet Drake’s study. The sounds of crashing furniture and angry yelling reaches his ears and he looks to Tim to make sure he still wants to do this.
Tim grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, and Jason wants nothing more than to be alone with Tim and just cuddle all of their struggles away. But he understands that his mate needs closure. He gives a nod and Tim knocks on the door.
The hinges creak as the wooden door is wrenched open, surprise spilling across the woman's features at seeing them.
Her first mistake is taking a swing at Tim, which he easily deflects, catching her forearm in his hand, applying enough pressure to make her wince. “Try to touch him again and I’ll kill you, snake.” He growls, pleased to see her look down in submission.
When he lets go, she stumbles back and takes to glaring at them with deadly intent. Tim sighs, shaking his head a bit. “Come now, mother, that wasn’t very becoming behavior for the head of the Drake household, now was it?” He feigns indifference, but Jason can see the tension in his shoulders and puts a gentle hand on the small of his back for comfort.
Tim relaxes slightly and steps around his mother, Jason quick to follow. When Tim takes a seat in the giant leather chair behind the wooden desk, Jason takes his place behind him, ready to act if Janet tries to do anything stupid again.
Jason preens a bit at seeing the red line that stretches across her cheek, proof that Tim bested her once before, and is about to do so again.
“Now let's not waste any time here,” Tim starts, steepling his fingers in front of him. “I have an offer for you.”
Janet balks for a moment before regaining her composure. “You are in no position to be making offers, pup.” She snarls.
Tim sighs, and Jason tenses, ready to act. “I thought you would say as much, but I have to say, I am disappointed, mother. You know you have no power right now.” Pride fills Jason’s chest at how good Tim is handling the situation.
Janet sputters, and Tim quiets her with a withering glare. “I am leaving. You have treated me with nothing but unkindness and I am sick of it. I am not some pawn to be used to further your own greed. My offer is as stands; You let us go and promise to never come after us and I will allow you to keep your lands, title, and dignity. I will not be giving this offer again.”
Is it wrong to find Tim really hot in this moment? Because Jason almost has to adjust himself in his ridiculously colored slacks. Maybe Tim would bring his business voice to bed someday? Jason almost drools just thinking about it.
Janet seems to find her voice, breaking Jason out of his thoughts. “You think I will just let you walk out of here? Abandon your duty as an heir to the Drake name?” She demands, taking a step towards them.
Tim opens one of the drawers without looking down, pulling out a wickedly long knife and stabbing it into the wood of the table, never breaking eye contact with his mother.
“You will not receive this offer again, mother. Think carefully.” Tim replies, voice cool. Jason can see him white knuckling the handle of the blade, and has to keep himself from reaching out a hand to comfort Tim.
His mother seems to have calmed a bit, thinking before she speaks. “If I refuse?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.
Tim pauses, yanking the knife out of the desk. “Then I have no choice but to kill you.” Jason howls internally, so proud of his strong mate for standing up to the woman who did nothing but hurt him all his life.
She blinks, then lets out a slightly manic laugh, composure slipping once again. “You think you can kill me?” She wheezes out. “You got in a lucky shot earlier, whelp, I’ll give you that.” She brings a hand up to the shallow cut on her cheek as if in remembrance.
Tim regards her for a moment, and Jason wishes he could see his face. “Perhaps not. Although I can say without doubt that Jason will rip you limb from limb if I so much as think about it.” Damn straight. Jason cracks his neck, and revels in the fear that the sound evokes from her.
They both watch as the emotions pass through the woman’s face, and Jason can pinpoint the exact moment where she concedes defeat. “I will allow you to leave with this man. I give you my word.”
Jason is about to take it and go, but Tim stops him. “You will give me your word that you will never attempt to contact me or get me back here. You will give me your word that when I walk out that door, you will never try to get me back.” The strength in Tim’s words almost draws a pleased rumble from him but he suppresses it before it gets out.
Janet flinches under Tim’s verbal assault, but relents, giving her word.
Jason and Tim meet up with Roy about halfway back to the cave, and spend the rest of the long trek home swapping stories.
“How did you manage to heal so completely? There isn’t even a scar!” Tim marvels at Jason’s broad, smooth chest, lightly dusted with some faint hair, but otherwise pristine. He runs his fingers over each muscle, delighting in the way they dance and flex under the stimulation.
Roy pretends to gag, overdramatically covering his eyes. “Save the touchy-feelies for home, would ya?” Tim chuckles, and Jason just gives him a look. Roy dodges the halfhearted swipe from Jason and stands up, stretching his arms over his head.
“Well, as much fun as it has been, I am afraid that it is time we went our separate ways.” Roy announces, and Jason mumbles something along the lines of “It’s about damn time.” But Tim ignores the gruff man in favor of standing up himself, bowing deeply to the elf.
“I cannot thank you enough for what you have done, Roy. From healing Jason to rescuing me, I owe you more than words can express.” He hears Roy chuckle a bit, and looks up. The elf is blushing from the praise.
“It was nothing, just helping out a friend.” He avoids Tim’s quizzical gaze and shifts on his feet. “Well, better head out. See you love birds later!” He is gone in a blink and Tim feels a smile growing on his face.
“Aw, I think Roy is a little shy!” Jason grins back at him from his spot on the makeshift bed. “That or he got sick of all the glares I have been giving him the whole trip back.” Jason retorts, grasping Tim’s hand in his own and pulling the small man down to lay on top of him.
Tim giggles, happily snuggling into Jason’s warm chest. “Yeah, on second thought, I think you might be right.” He easily concedes, content to just stay like this forever.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you so damn prickly?” Jason asks as his hands skim over Tim’s back, bumping into the multiple knives he strapped there two nights ago. Tim smiles at the older man. “I already said, that’s a surprise for when we get back to the cave.”
Jason groans, impatient, shifting into wolf form easily, making Tim yelp at the sudden movement. “Jay?” It is still a little disorienting; the way Jason can so easily and quickly change forms. Tim always feels exhausted after the change, needing at least a day to recover from the energy drain that accompanies it.
Jason gives him a look, lupine eyes soft and expecting as he rolls to his side and stands up. Tim follows suit and clambers onto Jason’s back, and they are off in an instant, the forest blurring around them from the speed of Jason’s sprint.
The sun isn’t even at its apex when Jason arrives at the mouth of the cave, and Tim slides off his back, only to yelp as Jason smoothly shifts back into human form and easily lifts Tim into a princess carry.
Tim doesn’t even bother to act like he dislikes the treatment, arms winding around his broad shoulders, the horrible shoulder pads from the suit long gone.
The cave is just how Tim remembers, and the spot where he had seen Jason fall is cleaned up, no trace of blood to be seen. Roy had explained how he found Jason just in the nick of time, and managed to stabilize him. He must have cleaned up the mess as well.
Jason sets Tim down on the bed from last time, look expectant. Tim gives the man a small smile and hooks his fingers in the straps holding his suit together. With a bit of pressure, the whole thing falls apart, pooling at his feet.
Tim preens as Jason’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the sight. There have to be about fifty knives strapped in various places on Tim’s lithe body, crisscrossing his arms, legs and torso, all within arm’s length for Tim to grab at any given time.
Jason closes his jaw with an audible snap and Tim laughs, for once in his life completely unashamed of his naked body. He does a little twirl and Jason lets out an honest to god's whimper.
Tim choses to take mercy on the poor man and steps up to him, winding his arms around Jason's neck and leading his head down for a kiss. The man is more than eager to comply, hands flailing in the air as he tries to figure out how to hold Tim without getting stabbed.
Tim takes pity on him once more and steps back, avoiding the grabby hands Jason makes when he breaks the kiss to disarm himself, knives clattering to the ground on top of the discarded clothes. Around the time the last knife falls away, Jason seems to regain the ability to speak.
“Wanna take a quick swim with me?” Jason asks, voice low and gravelly from arousal. The thought of seeing Jason’s muscled form glistening wet nearly brings Tim to full hardness, and the man is quick to accept.
The crystal-clear water is refreshing, the cold temperature curbing his arousal. He suspects that Jason didn’t want to embarrass himself by coming quickly, but is grateful for the chance to calm down and clean up.
The two play water tag and generally goof off, making a competition of who could make a bigger splash, but somehow the perfectly juvenile playtime becomes heated, and before Tim can really process what is going on, they are kissing, Tim settled in Jason’s lap, the cool water lapping at their chests.
The sensation of cold lapping on his sensitive nipples makes Tim squirm, whining a bit around Jason’s tongue. “What is it, baby?” Jason asks, nosing at the scent gland on Tim’s neck, but stopping short of actually scenting him.
Tim whines louder from the duel stimulus, and can feel his body start to produce slick, a strange watery sensation from deep within his body. “Jason! The water…” Tim pants, trying to explain, only to let out a high-pitched whine when Jason runs their scent glands together, making him see stars.
“What about the water, baby? Use your words.” Jason replies, and Tim can’t see his face, but he knows the bastard is smiling. In an act of rebellion, Tim settles himself more firmly on Jason’s lap, grinding down on his erection with purpose.
The growl that Jason emits makes more slick rush out of him, and Jason groans at the sudden burst of heat around his cock. Emboldened, Tim makes his voice as whiney and teasing as he can. “My nipples, Jay. The water feels weird on my nipples. They are so sensitive…” He trails off, and bites down on Jason’s ear for good measure.
Jason bucks up against him, and causes the water to splash his chest again. Tim has to bite down on his hand to stop himself from coming, the reactions from Jason proving far more arousing than he expected.
Jason slips his hands from Tim’s hips to cup his ass, lifting him from the water and carrying him back to the bed, each step causing them to rub against each other in the most delicious way.
He lays Tim out gently and gets to work licking all the water droplets off of him. Tim revels in the feeling of Jason’s tongue licking and sucking its way across his body and when Jason gets to his cock, he blows air on it, causing Tim to shake with the stimulation.
Gripping Tim’s milky thighs in his hands, Jason gently coaxes him to spread his legs, baring himself fully to Jason. There is a small gasp when Jason beholds the glistening slit beneath Tim’s small cock. “Timmy,” Jason breathes out reverently, and Tim can see the way the sight causes his eyes to dilate dramatically.
Tim is trying to find the words to explain why he never told him about his secondary gender, but Jason licks a stripe right up his dripping slit, and all the words leave Tim’s head in a rush. “Jason! Ah-mhh,” Tim says smartly instead, fingers digging into the man's scalp as he takes him apart with his tongue.
Tim is blindsided by the force and suddenness of his orgasm, back bowing as he attempts to curl himself around Jason’s head buried in his lap. His cock remains hard, the absence of testicles meaning he is unable to ejaculate. He does, however, manage to release a flood of slick, drenching the bottom half of Jason’s face as the man continues to eat him out through his orgasm.
When the sensations turn from pleasant to too much, Tim tugs forcefully at Jason’s hair, lifting his head and drawing the man into a messy kiss, tasting himself on Jason’s tongue.
When they part, Jason wipes his face with the back of his hand, doing nothing but smearing the slick on his face further. Tim is hit with an intense and sudden urge, darting forward and licking his essence from Jason, feeling the prickle of stubble under his tongue.
When he finishes, Tim realizes that Jason had maneuvered them so that Tim sat atop Jason’s chest, his big strong hands resting on Tim’s small, and surprisingly plump, ass. They dive back at each other for more kisses, taking turns sucking on the other’s tongue.
Eventually, the need to breathe overpowers their collective lust, and the two part, lips remaining connected by a thin strand of saliva. “When are you going to fuck me, Jason?” Tim asks, his voice low and seductive. “I have been so good, waiting so patiently…” The growl he rips out of Jason is primal, and Tim feels himself clench down around nothing, never before feeling so utterly empty.
Jason flips them over again, crowding Tim in, and kissing him stupid for the hundredth time. Tim feels so powerful with Jason, even though the man could easily rip him apart, he is so easily baited by Tim’s words and body. He feels like some sort of prince, the way Jason pampers him and puts all of his needs before his own.
The feeling of Jason’s sizable length rubbing against his drenched slit sends shivers through him, making him moan. The sound seems to spur Jason on, if the increased pace is any indication, so Tim allows himself to be more vocal, moans and whines bouncing off the cave walls.
The head of Jason’s cock keeps catching at Tim’s hole, and he whines with need every time it slips past, his slick coating Jason fully. After Jason deems himself ready, he sits up, giving them both a clear view of Jason’s cock sinking slowly into Tim’s body.
The first stretch burns a bit, but with Jason’s gentle rocking and tiny kisses peppered all over his face, Tim relaxes, allowing Jason to bring his hips flush to Tim’s.
They both gasp, Jason’s length pressing right up to Tim’s womb, the sensation new and foreign to both of them. Tim takes one of his hands from its spot-on Jason’s arm and places it on his stomach. He doesn’t feel a bump or anything, but the thought of Jason filling him so fully that he bulges with it…
Tim keens as he orgasms again, Jason cursing at the pulsing around his cock. He gently pulls out a bit and rocks back in, stretching Tim’s pleasure out even further, fucking him through it.
Tim doesn’t even feel himself come down from it before he feels the coil of heat once more, threatening to snap. He tries to form words, to tell Jason how close he is and how he never wants him to stop, but luckily for him Jason doesn’t need to be told, jackhammering in and out of Tim’s sloppy hole with a lewd squelch.
Just as Tim feels ready to tip over the edge, Jason bites down on his neck, right over the scent gland, claiming him. Tim nearly feels his soul leaving his body as he is hurled over the ledge of pleasure, body seizing in ecstasy.
Right as he starts to come down, Jason buries himself to the hilt in Tim, the head of his cock grinding against his deepest parts, and loses himself, cum spurting out and filling him up so completely that Tim thinks he might have orgasmed again, the pleasure all swirling together.
He ends up passing out, waking later to the feeling of being full. Jason is asleep beside him, hair falling over his face as he gently snores.
Tim brings a hand to his neck, feeling the claiming bite Jason gave him. The wound is practically healed, aided by the ancient magic of the practice.
Tim shifts to more snugly fit himself against Jason and nearly jolts at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. He looks down to find him and Jason still connected, cum oozing out of his hole around Jason’s cock.
Tim gives an experimental shimmy of his hips, and feels Jason grow hard inside of him. Fully awake now, Tim sets up a slow rhythm of gyrating his hips, fucking himself back onto Jason’s cock, the loud squelch of their union is music to his ears, and he can feel Jason’s cock displacing all the cum he let out inside of him.
Sudden hands grip Tim’s hips, stilling him. Tim looks over his shoulder to find a bed headed Jason, pupils blown with arousal. “Having some fun without me, Timmers?” The new nickname causes Tim to squeeze the length inside him, nearly making Jason’s eyes cross in pleasure.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, but it felt so good-” He didn’t mean to make Jason angry, he thought he would let the man rest after all the work he did. Tears well up in Tim’s eyes unbidden.
Jason lets out a soothing rumble, mouth dipping down to lap at the claiming bite. “I’m not mad, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just want in on the action, you know?” Jason punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, and they both moan. “You feel so wet and hot, squeezing me so tight,” Jason continues, taking Tim apart with his words.
Tim lets out a continuous whine at Jason’s comments, not ready to get a taste of his own teasing. “You are such a good boy, Tim, taking me so deep.” The tears continue to gather in his eyes, though now for a different reason. He can’t figure out what to do with his hands, one trying to bury itself into Jason’s hair, and the other on top of Jason’s hand on his hip.
After a long lick up Tim’s sensitive neck, Jason gives him a breathy command. “Play with your nipples, baby. I know how much you want to.” Tim sobs with pleasure, hands immediately getting to work, pinching and plucking at his aching nipples.
Neither of them is going to last long, the desperation in the air palpable. Jason loses himself first this time, stilling inside of Tim and letting out another torrent of cum. Tim feels it shooting into his deepest parts, the burst of liquid heat bringing him over the edge as well, Jason’s name a plea from his parted lips.
They are so lost in sensation that they never even realized Roy outside of the cave, face beet red, holding Jason’s sword that he forgot to give back. The elf wisely opts to prop the weapon up at the mouth of the cave, and runs back to his beautiful and pure forest, where wolves were not fucking each other’s brains out with the volume of a thousand screaming monkeys.