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marble counter and groaned, the hoarse sound ripping
out of his chest with its intensity.
Teague continued, tongue and fingers stretching and
tasting, and Jacky groaned his name, begging, and again,
afraid that he would come, so afraid he would come
before Teague was inside of him, possessing him,
making his mark, taking everything Jack had offered for
so damned long.
And then Teague stood up, his underwear kicked off
at his ankles, and Jack heard his own voice, hoarse with
wanting. "The shirt, too, Teague," he begged, and
Teague complied, standing behind him, scarred chest
slick with sweat, the tense lines around his eyes and his
mouth making damned sure Jack knew he wasn't playing
around.
"Am I naked enough for you, Jacky?" he asked
harshly, and Jack met his eyes in the mirror, bent over
the counter, his ass in the air.
"Am I naked enough for you?" he countered, daring
the man to take him.
Teague reached over his shoulder, a small pagan
smile quirking at his mouth. "Seven kinds of lubricant?
Any preferences, Princess?"
"Yeah -- if you call me Princess again, I'd prefer you
jerk off and die!"
Teague gave his best fuck-me grin and half emptied
the tube in his hand down Jack's backside, and then his
fingers moved inside Jack again, more stretching, a
twinge of pain, and then& and then&
"Aaaaaauggaghhhhh& " Teague thrust so deeply
inside of him that Jack was surprised he didn't taste that
thick cock in the back of his throat.
And then Teague began to move, to thrust, to pump,
to grunt in harsh puffs. Jack almost sobbed at the
feeling, the fullness, the amazing completion and joining
of the two of them, and then Teague's hand knotted in
Jack's hair, keeping his head up so they could meet eyes
in the mirror. It was then, in the midst of his toughest
grimace, that Jack saw it. Teague's eyes dropped to
Jack's, the hard lines of his face eased, and in one
moment his face was so soft, so vulnerable, so sweet,
and he was looking at Jack with everything that was
tender and everything that was love.
Jack's head dropped, and Teague's hand came around
to grasp his prick firmly and jerk on him until he
screamed with the pleasure, coming in spurts across the
wooden cabinets, clenching around the tender thing
inside him until Teague's head fell forward and he cried
Jack's name, grabbing him with both hands around the
middle and holding him tight, so tight, that Jack could
hardly get his breath, could hardly separate their bodies
in his mind, could hardly conceive of a moment when
they might ever be apart.
They stayed in that position, panting for a moment,
and then met eyes in the mirror again. Teague's harsh
expression was belied by the total nakedness in his eyes.
"Mine," he asserted, trying not to make it a question.
"Yours," Jack reassured, taking the hand at his waist
and kissing it again.
"Shower?" Teague asked playfully, and Jack nodded,
laughing a little and shaking his head.
"Please?"
Teague's expression sobered, became intense and
erotic and promising. "Say it again," he ordered, and
Jack met his eyes just as soberly.
"Please," he repeated, trusting Teague would keep
that promise.
"Please what?" Teague smiled a little, and Jack
wondered what sort of hells he would leap through, just
to see that raw, vulnerable, promising smile on his
lover's face.
"Please do anything you want to me," Jack begged,
and that smile became all triumph.
The shower lasted a while. Jack had hoped that when
it was done, he'd know Teague's taste as thoroughly as
Teague knew his, but no. Teague had given again, had
touched, had tasted, and Jack had let him, hoping the
trust would come later. But he did know some things by
the time they emerged, tired, dripping, laughing shyly
into each other's eyes.
He knew the way Teague liked to be touched, how
tightly the skin puckered around his little tan nipples, the
sensitive spot right underneath his cockhead. He was
terribly aware of the awesome power he had when he
spanned Teague's scrawny, muscle-knotted waist with
his long-fingered hands, or when he stroked those sharp
collarbones with his thumbs and pushed their mouths
together for a kiss.
They fell into bed still damp, still laughing, still
breathless, and very, very tired.
"Will this be different, you think?" Jack asked,
stroking the side of Teague's face with his knuckles,
appreciating every touch of their bare skin.
"When we're wolves?"
"Yeah."
"No. It will be us. It will be sex. And we'll still be
family."
Jack laughed a little and shook his head. "Say it,
Teague. It will make you feel better."
"Whiny bitch," Teague grumbled, turning into Jack's
arms, resting his head on Jack's upper arm.
"Just say it, asshole. I'm tired, and I want to hear it,
and you already know I love you. Just fucking say it."
Stubborn fucking Irishman.
"I love you, Jacky," Teague murmured, surprising
them both with how quickly he gave in.
"I love you, too, you dumb motherfucker."
Teague chuckled a little, and they fell gently asleep.
Epilogue
Green
Family
Green was in the kitchen in his sweats after all the
students had left for the morning. He and Arturo were
eating sweet, little kids' cereal and appreciating the late
morning quiet in the hill. Katy was supposed to be
joining him in his room in a few moments, and he was
glad Cory had left already. His beloved was so very
gracious about his appointments, but he liked to limit
how much graciousness she actually had to expend.
Teague stumbled in, wearing the same thing Green
was, and looking surprised and embarrassed to find
people there.
"I was& " Teague flushed, looking uncomfortable,
and Arturo excused himself, carrying his bowl with him
and pushing spoonfuls in his mouth as he left.
"He didn't have to do that," Teague grumbled. "I was
just looking for food."
"There's always some sandwiches in the refrigerator,"
Green supplied, "and crackers and snacks in the
cupboards. Help yourself."
Teague bowed his head and mumbled thanks and
started rooting around in the refrigerator. Roast beef for
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