Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are you planning to kill me?”

The question almost does send them both to their untimely demise, the car swerving as Jeremy startles. Jean is unfazed, watching the swell of Jeremy’s chest as he takes a deep breath and straightens back out on the road. It would take more than a car crash to kill either of them anyway.

“Of course not,” Jeremy says once he’s recovered, affronted. “Why would you even ask me that?”

Jean is more amused than he would ever let on. “Because you are driving me out to the middle of nowhere, and it is getting dark. This is the premise of many murders, Jeremy.”

“People drive out to the middle of nowhere to do other things in the dark too, you know,” Jeremy murmurs. Jean smiles just wide enough for the tips of his fangs to appear. The expression vanishes quickly. Despite his amusement, Jeremy’s demeanor is worrying him.

“Your heartbeat is not right. Too fast,” Jean tells him. The glance Jeremy sends his way says he’d rather not have this pointed out. Too bad. “What are you afraid of?”

Jeremy sighs, flicking on his turn signal. There is a decidedly Not Good sound as the pull off of the main road, the car bouncing. They both wince. “I’m not afraid.”

Jean mimics Jeremy’s heavy sigh. Semantics. “Why are you nervous, then?”

Jeremy shuts off his headlights, his foot remaining on the brake as they let their eyes adjust to the darkness. They’ll see better without the unevenness of the light flickering off their surroundings. He still hasn’t answered by the time the car begins driving forward again, so Jean prods.

“I did not sit here for an eternity and agree to sleep in a tent for you to get cold feet now,” he huffs. The forest alongside the dirt road is not as densely packed, allowing the glow of the full moon to outline Jeremy’s handsome face. Even if he does end up with cold feet, the drive wasn’t a waste. It is not often that Jean is granted the opportunity to simply sit and admire his mate.

Jeremy does not respond until they have reached their destination, parking in a small clearing hidden amongst the trees. His voice is quiet. “I…I’ll probably need to shift.”

Jean’s brows furrow, taken aback by how timid he sounds. He has no reason to be nervous. Jean likes wolf Jeremy very much. He catches the faint trembling of Jeremy’s hand as he lifts it off of the gear shift, and he’s quick to take it in his own. “Why would that bother me? I have seen you shift plenty of times.”

“Not like this,” Jeremy says, threading their fingers together.

Okay, now that is a little concerning, Jean thinks, frowning. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jeremy looks pained. “Never mind. I’ll be fine. Just overthinking.”

Jean does not believe that flimsy excuse for a second, but he trusts Jeremy completely. If whatever he’s concerned about would harm Jean, he would not keep it from him. That, Jean knows for certain. He also knows that it is near impossible to try and pry information from him before he’s ready to share it, and he genuinely wants to enjoy himself tonight. Provoking Jeremy won’t do either of them any good.

“Promise you will tell me before you are not fine, please,” Jean requests, and is rewarded with a moonlit smile.

“Cross my heart.” Jeremy kisses the back of Jean’s hand, and Jean is relieved that his heartbeat has returned to normal.

•••

Camping is actually pretty nice, Jean decides, pleased by their efficiency in getting set up. (But if Jeremy ever lets it slip that he got his leg tangled up in the tarp and tripped over a tent pole, know that he is a liar and not to be trusted).

“Are you sure you can’t try this?” Jeremy asks, in the middle of creating a diabolical combination of marshmallows and chocolate.

“We’re going triple decker s’more, baby,” Jeremy had announced after building up their little fire. Jean did not understand. He does now. Unfortunately.

“So you are planning to kill me.”

“I am not!” he protests. “I just don’t want you to miss out on this masterpiece of culinary excellence.”

Jean arches a skeptical brow.

“Bon appétit,” Jeremy says gleefully, biting into his triple decker abomination. Half of it melts down his fingers, and Jean watches a bit too intently as he licks it up. The soft hums of pleasure coming from his mate are not helping.

“This was calculated, wasn’t it?” Jean asks, running his tongue over his fangs.

“It’s the price you pay for s’mores,” Jeremy says, sucking chocolate off of his thumb. He climbs into Jean’s lap, mercifully putting only one marshmallow on the end of his stick this time. Jean rests his chin on his shoulder, arms wrapping snugly around his waist.

Jeremy rumbles in contentment, taking the opportunity to scent Jean as his marshmallow turns golden over the flames.

Yes, Jean thinks. Camping is very nice.

“I would like to try one,” Jean murmurs, equally impressed and horrified by how many s’mores Jeremy managed to consume. He isn’t surprised, though. He has witnessed the werewolf eat as much as half of their team does in one sitting. On multiple occasions.

Jeremy swallows his last mouthful, swiftly turning himself around to straddle Jean. He’s not foolish enough to assume Jean would like him to make another s’more, nor does he pretend that he will.

He tastes sticky sweet as Jean kisses him, hands lightly cupping his face. He licks into Jeremy’s mouth, and all right, maybe he can see why someone would willingly eat most of a bag of marshmallows and an unholy amount of chocolate.

Jean draws back to let Jeremy catch his breath, pressing his lips to the warm column of Jeremy’s throat. The thick neckline of his sweatshirt gets in the way of where he wants to sink his fangs into, so he settles for sucking a bruise at the base of his jaw. It’ll fade within moments, but it’s the thought that counts. Jeremy is his.

“Go ahead, Jean,” Jeremy says, relaxed in his hold.

He slides his hands beneath the layers of Jeremy’s clothing, taking the opportunity to feel him up as he rucks the fabric up his chest for Jeremy to pull the rest of the way off. There is so much strength packed into Jeremy’s body, making his pliant state all the more pleasing to Jean. He does not take for granted the trust his werewolf has in him. He holds his life in his hands each time he feeds, but following that line of thought is too overwhelming.

Jeremy grunts softly as Jean bites him, the instant of tension gone as his venom does its job. The pleasure courses through them both, Jeremy’s hips beginning to roll forward familiarly. Jean encourages him wordlessly, already tenting his sweatpants.

He forces himself to slow down, not wanting the feeding to be over quite so soon. Jeremy’s touch is practiced as he guides Jean’s cock out of his sweatpants before his own, his breath coming in soft pants beside Jean’s ear.

There’s a labored edge to his breathing that has Jean’s earlier concern beginning to resurface, as if Jeremy is struggling to keep something restrained. A quick press of his hand at the base of Jeremy’s spine confirms that he’s not sprouted his tail, which means no wolf ears either, and the fingers curled around one of Jean’s biceps are not tipped with claws. Odd. Jeremy is usually not shy about his half-shift. Especially while being fed from.

He’s not able to dwell on this realization for long, clutching Jeremy tighter when he begins to stroke him in earnest. He has no room for thoughts at all as the final pull of Jeremy’s blood tips him over the edge, releasing between their bodies with a groan.

He licks contentedly over the rapidly healing bite on Jeremy’s neck, quickly gathering his presence of mind when Jeremy’s praising tone shifts to a pleading one. Jean’s hand wraps around the swelling base of Jeremy’s cock before the second ”Please, Jean” can leave his mouth, automatically tightening his grip around his knot in the way Jeremy has taught him.

Jeremy buries his face against Jean’s shoulder with a muffled growl, his cock pulsing against Jean’s as he comes. Jeremy’s biology seems to know whenever he is not inside of his mate, making his orgasm a far less extended affair. Jean slackens his grip as Jeremy’s knot goes down, nosing at his cheek until he lifts his head to kiss him.

Jeremy apologizes when they pull apart, looking down at Jean’s torso. He wipes ineffectively at the cum now painting his crewneck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll get you a new one.”

Jean finds that he could not care less that his crewneck might now be irreversibly stained, tugging it off without flourish and laying Jeremy down on the blanket they’ve been sitting on. He grimaces when Jeremy wipes his hand on it, stretching out beside him.

“I’ll get us a new blanket too,” Jeremy promises, tangling their legs together.

“Why bother?” Jean asks, feeling only a little smug about the fact that he will have Jeremy this way again. Sooner rather than later, judging by the way his cock twitches with interest.

Jeremy’s grin widens, curling forward to rest his forehead against Jean’s. His hands slide down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants to palm his ass and tug him closer, and Jean obliges him.

The way Jeremy kisses him is slow and syrupy, the lingering sensitivity of earlier pleasure ignored as they rut against each other. Jean’s body is especially eager after feeding, having an excess of energy to spare.

He turns easily onto his back at the slightest nudge from Jeremy, earning several fluttery kisses across his cheeks in reward. Jean rids himself of his bottoms as Jeremy sits up and paws through his bag, humming triumphantly as he locates the lube packed inside.

Jean spreads his thighs as Jeremy returns his gaze to him, a shiver of anticipation rolling through him at the low, hungry sound that rumbles out of his werewolf.

An involuntary whine sneaks out of Jean in response, and Jeremy is atop him faster than he can comprehend. The urgency leaves him no time to be embarrassed by how needy he sounded, distracted by Jeremy mouthing down his neck and chest. His teeth scrape over the swell of his pectorals, and Jean’s hands sink into his hair.

He still finds it strange that Jeremy’s ears and tail have not made their appearance yet, but the thought is swept away when Jeremy’s tongue laves over his nipple. Coherency shows its face briefly as Jeremy moves to rub his cheek against the stretch of skin beneath Jean’s navel, immediately vanishing again as the heat of his mouth envelops the head of his cock.

Jean vaguely picks up on the speed of Jeremy’s heartbeat, struggling to grasp the concern that flits through him while Jeremy sucks him like his life depends on it. He doesn’t lift his head until Jean’s thighs begin to tremble and his voice cracks in warning, nosing at the crease where his thigh meets his pelvis.

“You always smell so good,” Jeremy mutters to himself, and Jean feels his face heat up. Blushing is the only downside to feeding. Jeremy would disagree. Strongly.

Jean draws his knees up closer to his chest in silent encouragement, not trusting whatever sound might come out of his mouth if he opened it. Jeremy kisses his thigh as the bottle cap clicks open, unable to resist tasting his mate as he slicks up his fingers.

Jean arches at the broad strokes of Jeremy’s tongue against his hole, biting down on his knuckles to stifle the moan building in his throat. One of Jeremy’s fingers soon presses in alongside his tongue, and Jean keens at the second that follows to rub over his prostate.

His mate attends to him with singleminded enthusiasm until Jean’s impatience gets the better of him, cupping Jeremy’s jaw and gently pulling upwards.

A vicious snarl tears out of Jeremy at the interruption, making Jean drop his hand instantly. Jean stares as Jeremy shudders hard, pushing himself back on his haunches to put distance between them.

“You are not fine,” Jean says, biting back the urge to chastise him. Jeremy promised him.

“I’m sorry, Jean. I’m sorry,” Jeremy whispers, crossing his arms over his chest as he shakes. He chokes on his next words, hunching over as a growl resonates out of him instead.

Jean cautiously gets to his knees, mirroring Jeremy’s position as he reaches for him. He runs his hands along the slope of his shoulders, relieved when Jeremy does not recoil. He can feel the tremors beneath Jeremy’s skin, muscles tensing and releasing erratically.

“It is hurting you,” Jean states. “Shift, Jeremy.”

Jeremy shakes his head, and Jean is taken aback by the fear shining in his eyes. Jean watches the way his canines elongate and retract as he fights to speak. “I don’t want you to see it.”

“I have already seen you,” Jean says, confused. “Many times.”

“Not—” Jeremy groans, a deep, agonized sound. His entire body shudders again. “Not like this.”

“Like what? You are not making sense, Jeremy.” Perhaps that is a bit unfair. Jean would not be making much sense if he was experiencing whatever Jeremy is battling right now either. He softens his tone. “Tell me so I can help you. Please.”

His claws finally emerge, gouging into where he’s still clutching his arms. Jean is quick to wrestle his hands away, holding them firmly in his own. The wounds are already healing, but that does not mean they are not painful.

Jeremy grits his teeth as he keeps his claws from curling into the backs of Jean’s hands, so careful even in this state not to harm him. He whimpers, and Jean aches for him.

“There’s another form,” Jeremy pants. “I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“I could never hate you,” Jean murmurs. He lowers Jeremy’s palms flat against the blanket, taking his face in his hands. “Shift, Jeremy.”

Jeremy kisses him before stumbling backwards out of his hold, already beginning to shift. What he becomes is not the wolf Jean has experienced.

Jean slowly gets to his feet, his eyes wide. Jeremy towers over him like this, broad and powerful. His gaze begins to travel, swallowing at the size of his clawed hands, large enough to encircle his thighs completely. It’s not just his hands that Jean is drawn to. Everything about Jeremy in this form is bigger. And Jean suddenly feels very empty.

Jean lifts his chin to look his mate in the eye, and then he does something completely fucking moronic.

He runs.

He runs faster than he’s ever been allowed to, free under the cover of night and in the knowledge that Jeremy will catch him. But that does not mean he will make it easy for his mate.

Leaves crumple and moss gives way beneath his feet, branches whispering across his arms and legs as he weaves a path through the woods. A howl echoes around him, raising the hair on his arms.

It should probably be terrifying, sprinting bare through the darkness with a werewolf after him, but Jean feels downright gleeful. The volume of Jeremy’s rolling growls increase with his proximity before dropping off, and Jean realizes that he is being toyed with. It sends a strange thrill through him, being able to get away only because Jeremy is choosing to let him.

He stumbles over a rotting log, spitting out a curse as he scrambles to regain his footing. Jeremy has gone too quiet, raising Jean’s suspicions as he veers back towards their little site, following the faint scent of the campfire smoke.

Jean does not get very far.

He’s knocked off his feet by a creature far too silent and far too swift for his size, Jeremy bearing the entirety of the impact as they crash to the ground. Jean doubts any other werewolf is half as considerate.

Jean fights out of his hold, refusing to let Jeremy best him so quickly. He matches Jeremy’s snarls with his own, enjoying finally being able to put the entirety of his strength to use. There are no rules of the court to follow, no suspicious eyes watching them too closely, nothing to stop them at all. Jean is safe with Jeremy.

It does not seem like defeat when Jeremy eventually subdues him—although Jean highly suspects the werewolf of holding himself back for most of their “fight”—those huge clawed hands of his manhandling him onto all fours.

A deep, satisfied crooning sound that he has never heard before comes from Jeremy, making him further relax underneath his heavy frame. Jeremy’s tongue swipes along the nape of Jean’s neck, the soft fur covering his belly tickling Jean’s back as he squirms in response.

He pushes his hips back experimentally, and Jeremy rumbles out another growl. He tries again, earning a warning nip for his troubles. Jean growls right back at his werewolf, his cock achingly hard. Jeremy left him empty, so it is only fair that he remedies the situation. Another rock of his hips confirms that Jeremy is not exactly unaroused either. Far from it.

“Are you not going to claim your prize?” Jean grumbles, letting out a frustrated noise when Jeremy’s weight lifts off of him. “Jeremy—”

He gasps, pitching forward onto his elbows as Jeremy tugs his hips higher without warning. He struggles to look over his shoulder, choice insults turning into a moan when Jeremy gets to work. His tongue is long and broad and flexible in this form, his jaws opening wide to taste him fully.

Jean’s own jaw slackens, cheek pressed against his forearms as Jeremy’s wicked tongue licks its way into him. He can do nothing to stop the stuttering sounds of pleasure that embarrass him but spur Jeremy on, grateful that there are miles and miles of land between them and anyone who could bear witness.

Jeremy doesn’t cease until Jean is slick and open and pleading, hesitant in the way he gets Jean back onto his hands and knees. Jean has to spout a few more words that he will never admit to saying before Jeremy grinds his length against him, the tip catching on his entrance.

Jean’s fingers tremble with eager anticipation as he reaches back to guide Jeremy into him, surprised by how slippery his cock is. Unique to this form, Jean supposes. He is certainly not complaining.

His lips part as Jeremy begins to ease his way inside, an almost pained sounding whine coming from his mate at the snail’s pace he’s going. Jean assumes that the rational side of Jeremy must currently be arguing fervently with his wolf.

He stifles a cry when Jeremy’s cock hits the spot that has stars flashing behind his eyelids, fangs sinking savagely into his lower lip. Jeremy’s hands are tight around his waist, his claws a subtle pressure against his taut skin. He sinks in deeper, meeting resistance as his swelling knot nudges at Jean’s entrance.

Jean drops his head, hissing out a breath he did not need to draw in. Fuck, Jeremy’s fucking knot. Jean wants it.

Jeremy pants, nosing at Jean’s cheek in what might be an apology. Jean lifts his head and comes face to muzzle with Jeremy, reaching up to bury his hand in the thick ruff of fur around his neck.

“Move, Jeremy. You are not hurting me,” he adds as an another whine starts to leave the wolf. “You could never hurt me.”

Jeremy chuffs, complying with Jean’s demand. Shallow thrusts swiftly ramp up in intensity, Jean’s fingers curling into the earth below him as Jeremy relentlessly strokes over his prostate. He tries matching Jeremy’s pace, left with no choice but to give in and let his mate take care of him when his hips don’t budge in Jeremy’s hold and his guttural growls fill his ears.

A shout rips its way out of him as he finally gets what he’s been wanting, shaking through an orgasm as Jeremy’s knot pushes past his rim.

Jeremy’s teeth gnash as he buries his cock to the base, instincts satisfied as he pumps his mate full of his release.

Jean moans raggedly when he’s hauled up onto his knees, Jeremy rocking him on his knot. His gentle crooning starts up again when noises too garbled to be words in any language come from Jean, licking at his neck affectionately.

Jean’s nails dig into the corded muscle of Jeremy’s forearms as a final climax is wrung out of him, his head lolling back. Jeremy makes one of his pleased sounds, and Jean just knows that the swishing he’s hearing is the wag of Jeremy’s tail against the ground.

He groans wearily when Jeremy lifts him off of his softened knot, going back down on all fours as his thighs wobble beneath him. The obscene amount of cum beginning to leak out of him is almost enough to distract him from the sound of Jeremy shifting, greeted by the light press of wolf Jeremy’s snout against his cheek when he looks up. That is all right. He was not entirely expecting a return to human quite yet.

Jean gives Jeremy’s big head a couple of pets, mustering enough energy to stand. Jeremy sticks like glue to his side, his hand braced on the wolf’s back as they move steadily toward their camp. He increases his pace as the liquid running down his inner thighs begins to dry uncomfortably, relief flickering across his features as their things come into view. He never imagined he’d be so glad to see a blanket on the ground.

Jeremy shifts once more as Jean situates himself, his brows pinched together with worry. His mouth opens, but Jean beats him to it.

“Do not dare apologize,” Jean warns him, grabbing a pack of wet wipes. “I mean it.”

“Okay,” Jeremy says hoarsely, kneeling beside him. Jean hands the wipes to him without fuss, letting Jeremy clean him up. His guilt would consume him otherwise. Even without an apology, it is written all over his face.

There is not a single speck of dirt left on him by the time Jeremy has finished, extending his wrist in offering. Jean takes it only to place a kiss over where his pulse kicks beneath his skin, tugging him closer. He feels fine.

“You may speak now,” Jean says, and Jeremy gives him a half-smile.

“That wasn’t how I wanted to show you,” Jeremy whispers. “Not at all.”

Jean shrugs. “Were you expecting me to cower?”

“No.” Jeremy shakes his head adamantly. “I just…I wasn’t supposed to go berserk like that.”

“I provoked you,” Jean says. “And I do not regret it. Do you?”

Jeremy regards him silently for a moment, his dimples appearing as he grins. “Not in the slightest.”