#zag wouldn’t have too much time to react. in his last few moments he’s just Glad the person he cares about is okay

[its-haughty]

since hades presumably sent mel away during the time of the family’s imprisonment. I like to imagine that zagreus saw his sister before being imprisoned by chronos, knowing that she’d be safe but would probably grow up without him.

[19mrs-barnes17]

A Real Puzzle

Summary: You’re a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent on a walk home, your night is rudely interrupted

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Warnings: violence? none?

Word count: 1,592

A/N: Hello! I’m back in the groove of writing, so please send in requests!

~

The wind rippled through your hair and nipped at any exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine as you walked the streets. An edge to the air had you pulling your shoulder bag close to your frame and your eyes darting about the empty area. Dimly lit lights marked the pathway, stars hardly visible within the depths of the sky. The only comfort provided was a young woman jogging with her german shepherd ahead, a witness at the very least. But soon enough that comfort faded into the shadows. A clang from behind had you instinctively turning your head, your feet quickening their pace as you took in the dark empty. A shudder tickled your spine but you pressed onward. A heavy thud sounded to your left and you began to quicken your pace once again, too tired to deal with any bullshit tonight.

It was so quick you barely caught yourself in the fall, hands grappling for a hold but coming up with nothing but gravel. Flipping yourself on your back you stretched toward your wrapped ankles, fingers struggling to remove the blade from within your boot. Once it was cut you were quick to your feet, searching for your attacker in the velvet of the night. A dark, hooded figure emerged from the trees and was reeling back their chain to whip once again. You bolted between the trees, zig zagging as you ran across the muddy pathway. The ground was trying to swallow your shoes, in fact it almost did several times. 

“You’ve. Gotta. Be. Fucking. Kidding. Me.” It was simply your sort of luck to be attacked by some psycho with a chain whip, in the park, alone, at nine at night. Your endurance was holding but you had been out of work for months, your shoulder barely finished in its healing, and soon enough you knew it would run out. Shelter. You were in desperate need of a sanctuary and fast. An idea pinged inside your mind and you began to test your luck in the open, sprinting down alleyways and cutting corners. Sparks fly when the chain strikes the pavement in front of you, your feet halting momentarily but enough for the culprit to strike you across your right calf. A cry slipped from your lips as you turned to face your opponent, blade in hand.

They maintained a distance, which meant they were smart in keeping themselves in their element but could suggest they were weak in hand to hand. Maybe you were insane but you thought the risk was your only option, so you sprinted at them. Their shape suggested male, but underneath the cloak it was a tad difficult to confirm. Either way they were no novice in a fight, even in hand to hand they were quite formidable. However, you were more so. He was strong and relentless but you were quick and patient. You played your hand, one trick at a time, just as you were trained to. He was a talent, but he was no Natasha Romanoff. She made him seem less terrifying, for he was too reliant on his brutish strength whereas she believed in tactics. 

“Need a hand?” You were nearly thrown by the new voice, gruff but gentle, emanating from around the corner. After dealing a stun-like blow to the strangers head, your eyes glanced at the newcomer with intrigue. Shaking your head, you smirked softly at the man who had ‘come to your rescue’. He was exactly who you were hoping to find, but your pride was a bit wounded by his inquiry. 

“Not yet, just stand there and look pretty. Unless you’d like to speed this up by being his punching bag.” You sent a wink, ducking as the aggressor swung a left hook. A chuckle from your left and suddenly it was two on one, you allowed your partner to take the blunt of the blows while you strategize strikes. Two separate and simultaneous kicks to the chest and the assailant disappears into the alley. You half expect him to reappear with an attempted sneak attack, and yet the continued silence negates that theory. You venture cautiously, scanning the vacant alleyway before trailing up the walls and peering up at the rooftops. 

“You hear him?” Your eyes didn’t flicker down to the Devil of Hell’s kitchen, remaining above instead. He mutters a ‘no’ as he approaches, stalling for a moment before smirking slyly.

“What gave me away?” If you were being honest, it was the way he fought and how smooth his motions were. But, you weren’t being honest.

“Your voice for starters. And I’d recognize that sly smirk anywhere, Red.” He seemed off put by the sudden nickname but only for a moment before leading you up the fire escape to his apartment. “You were just the blind crusader I was hoping to ‘bump’ into.”

“Aw shucks.” He removed his mask, walking to his kitchen and holding up a bottle of whiskey. You shook your head and he nodded in recollection. “Right, how’s the shoulder.”

“Super Doc!” He shook his head slightly, a soft smile stretching across his lips as he lifted your legs and sat underneath them. “Almost cleared, going through phys.”

There was a blanket of silence over the room, both of you likely thinking through the night’s event with great scrutiny. Who? Motive? Solo or Hired? Dozens of questions and theories compiled within your mind like an ever growing leaf pile in the fall. Something was eating at you, and you couldn’t fight it off. Swinging your feet off Matt’s lap you made your way to the windows, searching the skyline and eyeing the streets.

“He’s not here, I don’t hear him.” You turn to look at Matt, who now stood beside you, your eyes studying his features in the neon lighting. “How did you know I could hear like that?”

“I’ve seen the way you tilt your head when listening to people, and how you react to their words. At first I thought, ‘huh, he must hear their tone and judge from that’, but then I got to thinking about what would be a bigger tell.” You smirked softly and shrugged, knowing he could hear it well enough to decipher. “A heartbeat. Not a totally crazy theory considering the inhumans I’ve come across. Plus, it would account for your ability to be a human lie detector.” 

“I should’ve known you of all people would be able to put the puzzle together.” The smile he had plastered on his face had your chest tightening. 

“I’m fucking amazing at puzzles.” You rested your cheek on Matt’s shoulder and felt the vibrations of his laugh. “You laugh, but I’m serious. I’ve got mad puzzle skills.”

“That so?” You smirk, walking over to his kitchen and grabbing water from his fridge.

“Yes it is, mister I wear devil's horns in public and it's not a kink.” You pause and your smirk grows bigger. “Or is it?”

He throws a pillow at you but you catch it with ease and launch it back at his head. This was something you had missed over the past few months, you had been so preoccupied with your injury and regaining your footing that you had sort of ghosted your best friend. You sat back on the couch and wrapped your arms around Matt when he joined you.

“I’ve missed your kinky ass.” Matt smacked your head with a pillow but chuckled softly.

“I’ve missed you too, you gremlin.” You gasped, taking the pillow from his hand and holding it above his head. “You wouldn’t hit a mostly blind man, would you?”

“Oh absolutely, if that blind man is your dumbass.” 

***

Your neck cracked as you tilted your head from side to side, scanning the skyline once again out of habit. Mostly. You still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. But perhaps that was just Matt sneaking up on you. 

“Alright ninja, calm it with the sneaking.” You smacked his chest, smiling up at his bedhead. “I do not need to have a heart attack today.”

“You’re the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Shouldn’t you be prepared for something like that?” He sighed softly as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Still not here you creature of habit.”

“Gee, you sweet talker. Take me now.” There was a slight blush on his cheeks and you became increasingly more curious.

“We need to talk about what happened last night. I’m assuming you don’t know our friend in black.” His change in topic would not detour your subconscious as it rattled off suggestions of how to proceed with your newfound knowledge. 

“I’m afraid we skipped the small talk and I will definitely be swiping left.” Your stomach growled like an animal and the conversation halted while Matt offered to take you to breakfast. “Gasp. So soon?”

“I could just shove you out on the fire escape.” He smirked as you smacked him once again, but dropping it the moment you inched close.

“You love me too much Murdock.” His cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat before walking to his bedroom to change. “Oh, and Matt?”

“Yeah?” He called from his room, a shirt slipping over his scar littered torso. 

“You’re not the only one who can tell if a person’s heart rate spikes. I just winked in case you were wondering.” You giggled at the crimson overtaking the pale complexion of his cheeks. “It seems we have two conversations to have, Matty.”

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​

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[bran-writes]

AK Character Flashback: Devon

Devon could tell Zig-Zag was starting to get anxious, which the eleven year-old could understand- he really didn’t want to be caught dead in an abandoned insane asylum on the outskirts of The Barrens after dark either. But, Devon was spurred on by the burning question in the forefront of his mind.

“You can just stay out here, if you want,” Devon shrugged, glancing behind him. Zig was climbing the vine-shrouded stone steps, sweat glistening on his forehead. The boy pushed his glasses up and scoffed.

“I’m not scared. I’m careful.”

“I know.”

“Plus, I probably would be more scared out here by myself than in there with you… So… There’s that.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you care so much, anyways? You didn’t even know the kid.”

Devon stopped, grabbing the straps of his backpack and pulling them tight. He knew why he was here, he just wasn’t sure if he could explain it. Zig came to a stop next to him and patiently waited for an answer. “You ever felt really alone?”

“Sure, that was like, all I did before I met you guys.”

“Imagine how he felt,” Devon nodded towards the looming, decrepit building. “Nobody should be that alone.”

Zig wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Okay.”

The two continued ahead, stepping around debris from wreckage they had no context for. As they walked closer, Devin kept an eye on the cracked, dirty, blackened windows above, half-expecting to see the ghost of a young boy staring back at him.

If the rumors about this place were true, Devon would probably feel like crying after he left, but he pushed on anyways. He just wanted to know.

Zig-Zag pulled the door open for Devon and held it while the boy walked through, pulling the cheap drone out of his backpack and clicking the activation button. With a whir, the tear-shaped device sputtered, faltered in the air in front of him as if it was dangling on a string and then straightened out.

“We need a new one,” Zig sighed. “Flashlight.”

A beam of light shot from the front and two sides of the drone. The lobby of the deserted building sat uncomfortably still- the broken down furniture and abandoned desk cast strange shadows on the dirty surfaces. Devon connected the drone to his watch and set it to record video and audio.

“We good?”

“Yeah, let’s get this done so we can go.”

“Speaking my language, Han Brolo,” Zig smiled.

The two kids picked their way around the rubble, while the drone’s secondary set of lights scanned the scorch-marked walls and shattered doors. They kept an eye out in all directions, wary of anyone lurking around the halls. In  any other old abandoned building around town, they’d have to worry about squatters and addicts approaching them from the dark(so they’d been told). But here in Sam Morner Hospital, they probably wouldn’t have to worry so much. Nobody hid out here, not this close to the Barrens.

Following the old floor plans on his phone, Devon lead Zig-Zag through connecting hallways and down a flight of stairs, their outdated drone humming behind between them. The place was stiflingly dark and smelled like old, wet moss and rusted metal.

“He must have been so scared,” Zig sighed.

“We’re close.”

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and paused, the drone shining it’s three lights down down each hallway of the T-Junction. Down the paths to the left and right, Devon saw nothing but a stretch of darkness past the light beams- other than motes of dust drifting restlessly. He was really starting to wish they were back at Zig’s house, where they were supposed to be.

I’m sure he wanted to be home, too, Devon thought.

Ahead of them was a short dead-end hallway- a group of rooms that once served as storage used by the staff of the facility. At the end of that hallway was a single door, the faded and chipped word “MAINTENANCE” stenciled on its rusted bronze surface.

“There it is…” Devon whispered. He felt his stomach turn and that familiar lump in his throat when he was trying not to cry. They stepped forward and got halfway to the door when they heard shuffling.

“Flashlight,” a voice whispered sharply from behind them.

The drone went dark.

The boys were enveloped in the blackness.

Zig screamed.

Devon joined him in screaming when he heard someone scramble towards them too fast for them to react and Zig hit the floor. “Flashlight- High Beam!”

Kwin Bergeron sat on Zig’s chest, cackling in the harsh light of their drone.

“You fucking psycho!” Zig hurled punches up at their friend, who just blocked them, laughing before rolling off the boy.

“Kwin, what the hell?” Devon panted.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!”

Zig sat up, on the verge of tears, “Yo, that’s not cool, you almost gave me-”

“Boo!”

Both boys screamed again, Kwin laughing even harder after Holly Groene leaped from the shadows. “Jesus! What are you two doing here?!”

“Uh, we showed up at Zig’s house and you guys were gone-zo,” Kwin chuckled, “and so was the dang drone. We checked the app and saw it out in Old Pine. We took a few guesses.”

Devon took a moment to catch his breath and let his nerves settle, while Kwin helped Zig up. “Great, that’s great.”

“Wait, how’d you beat us down here then?” Zig brushed himself off.

“Your brother,” Holly shrugged. “Him and his girlfriend drove us around to Hartley and parked in the back. All we had to do was wait.”

“No fucking way,” Zig scoffed, “Miles would never let you come down here alone.”

Holly pulled at a strap on her shoulder and revealed the hunting rifle she had slung. “I got this baby with me.”

“Anyways,” Kwin sighed. “Let’s do it to it. Nobody wants to be near the Barrens after dark.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, asshole.”

“Wait, what do you think we’re doing?” Devon tilted his head.

Kwin looked confused. “We’re here to pay our respects, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Cool.” Kwin walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door, Holly joining him. Devon and Zig followed. “You do the honors,” Kwin stepped back.

Devon gently pulled the door and it opened with a sad, lonely whine. The room was small, cramped, musty. The drone cast it’s dim light inside onto a dry, filthy blanket, a couple of empty tool boxes an a message sloppily written on the wall:

ILY Mom

A year ago, police in town followed a tip and found the body of 12 year old Charlie Nemitz down here. Charlie was a quiet, reserved hemophiliac and the constant target of bullying at their school. He was small, skinny, frail and had an awful stutter, even when he talked to himself in the halls. Even Devon knew that all Charlie wanted was to be left alone to draw and color his art. That didn’t stop kids from picking on him- and since Charlie never told on his bullies, and he never fought back, it got worse over time.

This was where Charlie Nemitz died. This was where- after a group of bullies spotted him walking alone, jumped him, dragged him into Sam Morner, down the stairs and threw him into the room- his last moments played out. Bleeding out from his internal wounds, Charlie kicked and screamed at boys who were just upstairs. The bullies clowned around thinking they’d let him out in a few hours after they’d downed all their stolen beers. This is where Charlie used one of his markers to scribble a barely legible message to his mother in the dark. Charlie succumbed to the internal bleeding in his brain, stomach and limbs before the three bullies thought to check on him.

Devon unslung his backpack and set it on the ground as he crouched next to it, tears streaming down his face. Zig did the same and pulled out his own belongings he’d brought.

He wasn’t surprised the rumor about the message on the wall was true, he just needed to know. The three boys had all just been convicted, and the message(for whatever reason) wasn’t mentioned in the trial. But the kids around school swore it was real- some claimed to have come down there themselves to see it.

Devon just wanted to know.

“I brought some old comics I don’t read anymore,” Zig whispered. He laid them out neatly against the wall. “He passed by me one day in the cafeteria and saw me reading ‘em. I could tell he was trying to get a good look at the, uh… at  the pages, but when I asked if he wanted to read em… he just shook his head and walked off.”

“These are some of his drawings I tried to replicate one day cause I thought they were pretty cool. Mr. Connors had them hanging outside the art room, so I went and tried to sketch it myself? Like one day before school. He was really good, but he was an older kid so I was scared to ask him about it. I wish I had.”

Kwin stepped forward and reached into his own bag, pulling out a smooth orb that reflected off the drone’s light. “I didn’t really know him… I only saw him a couple times. But I kept thinking about how dark and scary it was in here so I brought a Glo-Ball… I don’t know, it won’t last forever, but-”

“It’s cool, I’m glad you brought it,” Devon interrupted. Kwin had a tendency to doubt himself, so the boy often found himself stopping his friend from getting there.

Kwin shook the glass ball, coaxing it to glow brighter and brighter the more he did so. He cranked a switch in the flat side on the bottom to increase the time and hit the alarm feature. “There, it’ll last for 6 hours every day at noon. At least til the dang battery dies.”

The kids- Devon, Zig, Kwin and Holly- stood there for a few long and silent moments before Devon stood up and brushed his pants off. “He deserved to still be here. That’s what all this means.”

The others remained silent in solemn agreement, before Kwin stood up as well, swiping his hands together and nodding in approval of their memorial. “The dark’s the worst way to go.”

“What’s that from?”

“I forgot, but I have nightmares about this stuff all the time,” Kwin shrugged and turned for the door. Followed by Holly. Zig and Devon followed, back up the stairs, out of the side entrance to the abandoned facility where Miles Sutter’s car was waiting with the teenager and his girlfriend inside.

Before they got any closer, Devon stopped them all. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for coming out here with me. It’s cool I didn’t have to do this by myself.”

“No problem,” Holly brushed her blonde locks back, “And it’s cool you did this. You have the best ideas.”

“Yeah,” Kwin lightly punched his shoulder, “It feels good. Like, having an ending to it. I don’t have to pay attention to any of the bullshit rumors and news stuff. We said goodbye.”

“I think he’d appreciate that,” Zig sucked his teeth. He wrapped a skinny arm around Devon’s shoulders. “Good work, Inspector Cooley. Another case taken care of.”

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[heartbeatan]

Partition (Chapter 1)

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Chapter 1

"Oh god, don't do that!"

"Why not? I know you like it," he replied.

"Because I'm going to scream."

"I want you to scream."

"I don't want your driver to know what we're doing back here."

"I'm pretty sure he knows what is going on by now," he snickered before he buried his face back between your legs before you could protest. You did your best to stifle your moans, but your muffled whimpers weren’t much better against the crackle of your bare ass squirming over the leather of the back seat.

He tormented you once again with the move you had just been talking about. Your breath caught in your throat and your fingers immediately reached to latch onto his hair – or perhaps your sanity.

You looked up at the partition separating your debauchery from the innocent hire on the other side of it. The thought of the stranger hearing you come had you caught somewhere between being aroused and embarrassed…

"Oh shit! Stop!” Despite Yoongi’s tight grip on your thighs, you must’ve startled him enough that you were able to push him off of you with little force before you scrambled to dig your phone out of your purse. “I forgot to call my driver."

"I don't see why that means I need to stop," He didn’t stop. Instead, he went right for one of your sweet spots. You turned your head as your mouth fell open and you released another moan.

“Your driver already knows I'm being eaten out in the back seat of a car by a guy I've just met, I really don't need my driver to know that too.”

He looked up at you, his lips curved upwards in rogue delight. “I’ll behave,” he said, but his tone was unconvincing. Regardless, you made the call.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hi! Where are you?"

"We're just all sitting at a coffee shop nearby. I'll be there in 5 minutes."

"Oh! No, no, no, no. I'm actually..." your body clenched backwards and you silently screamed into the roof of the car. He did it again. Bastard. It took you a moment to re-assume control of your body, but once you did, you reached down and grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked his head away from you. He looked up at you with a smug and triumphant expression.

Stop it, you mouthed to him.

"Are you there?" your driver asked through the phone.

"Um, yeah. Sorry. I'm actually... uh... you don't need to pick me up, you can call it a night. I'm going out with some people." Thinking you were home safe you let go of the man still kneeling in front of you. He went right back to work. You bit hard on your tongue.

"That's fine, I'm on duty all night. I can pick you up afterwards."

"I... um... that's not..." You were rubbing your forehead, trying hard to focus on what to say to end this conversation before you accidentally sounded off into the phone and gave yourself up.

"Miss, are you okay?"

"Yeah, no, I'm completely fine." Another snicker came from under your dress. He was enjoying this circus. "Sorry. I just, I gotta run. I won't need a car later. Please go home… see your family. You'll be paid for the whole shift."

"OK. Thank-you. But, if you need me later, just call and I'll leave the ringer on."

"Yup. Yup. OK, thank-you!" you rushed your goodbye and hung up. He chose then to take a break, surfacing to give you an arrogant smile.

“I told you I’d behave.” He winked.

"You're a menace."

“I try.” He disappeared between you again and resumed ravishing your core with his mouth. You too resumed your activity: trying to shield as much as you could from the driver on the other side of the partition. It was difficult. You hissed to suppress your moans and moaned to suppress your screams. His tongue and lips were so talented, and you hadn’t had a man touch you like that in so long. You knew you were embarrassingly wet - yet, he didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he seemed to revel in it - delighted that he was the cause.

“Oh, God!” you felt another tremor building, but you were sure you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet this time if you didn’t do something. The stress from the challenge of keeping sound to a minimum nearly caused your body to reject the mounting pleasure. Without conscious thought, your hands stretched through his hair to push him off of you.

“Put your arms behind your head,” he directed you without looking away from his task. You complied, bending your elbows over your shoulders and clinging to the headrest behind you. He tightened his hold on your thighs and backside, restricting your mobility and pulling himself into you further. Then he went to town.

“Fuck!” you whimpered as your toes curled and your nails dug into the leather.

“We’re gonna do that later,” he replied. You laughed at his wisecrack. His tongue was not only talented, but smart - a combination that made it dangerous. It was able to reach and stimulate every spot you needed it to and some you didn’t know needed it. While the tip of his nose is forged a path up your seam to rest over your clitoris, his dangerous tongue followed, licking you firmly in a zig-zag trail from bottom to top - parting you as it did so it could access more of you. You felt it swirl around your pleasure point, lapping it up firmly from once angle, then another, and the another, before it dragged itself slowly back down your folds to rest over your entrance. His lips closed in on you when it got there. His hands left your bottom and made their way under your knees - lifting them to open you up to him even further.

“Ngh!” you called out as he had now breached into new territory. That tongue whirled around inside you while his lips, teeth and nose roved across the surface - you could feel his chin pressed upon you as he tried to stretch further inside you and with greater acrobatics. He had perfect timing and precision with every action he made - before this maneuver became tiresome, he pulled out and made his way back up while sucking hungrily on each of your lips.

He blew a breath of air over your wetness and you quivered as the breeze ignited a new tantalizing sensation. He coiled his mouth around your clit and sucked it once, hard - making you think he was about to work it again. Instead he brushed his lips and tongue across your pelvic bone and down your inner thigh leaving your organ pulsing and begging for his attention. As he made his way back up your other thigh, your body impulsively tried to shimmy across the seat, but you were still anchored in place by his strong hold.

“Fuck!” you said, when he finally returned his mouth to where it belonged - licking you again, parting you again in one broad stroke - exposing your clitoris again, but this time, he clamped his mouth over it then pulled it between his lips and began to massage it with his tongue. “Shit!” Your moans became more frequent and higher pitched as you could feel your climax building and the warm wetness flowing out of you and onto the leather beneath. “Oh, God! Shit!”

“We’re almost there,” he said, as he pulled back and replaced his mouth with his fingers - maintaining your high by rubbing, circling and stroking you.

“Oh god, I know,” you replied instinctively, barely able to form the words. It wasn’t the smoothest or sexiest of answers you could give, but you didn’t really have the capacity to control what you were saying.

He chuckled lightly. “I mean, we’re in my neighbourhood. We’re almost there at my apartment.”

“Oh,” you said realizing “there” wasn’t actually your orgasm. Finally, you would be somewhere private where no one but him could hear you - however, you were so closed to seeing God that the news wasn’t exactly welcome.

“That means I’ll have to make you come in the next few minutes.” His fingers traced down to your entrance and he eased them into you. They slid up your chamber, then curled and straighten over your ridge. You clamped your thighs over his wrist as his foreign digits brushed your g-spot and took your breath away.

His pace at first was steady. His thumb pressed and rotated against your clit, while his fingers straightened, then curled, then straightened, then twisted as they slid back down your chamber, only to return and start over again. But, every now and then he would kick it into high gear, returning in one swift motion - slamming back into you, clamping onto your ridge again, then fluttering rapidly against your walls. Each time you felt as if he lifted you right out of your seat. Each time his fingers flapped violently inside of you; your body would convulse forward. Each time it took your breath away.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he whispered, his breath swept across your face. Your hands were dug into his shoulders and your noses were only inches apart. You couldn’t tell if the vehicle was stopped or if you were still on the road. All you knew is that what was happening to you unbearably gratifying.

He could tell from your expression that you were going to come soon. Knowing this he decided that his mouth was ready for the homestretch. You felt the rhythm of his hand combat slow again, allowing you to relax. You released his shoulders and leaned back into the seat. His lips and tongue once again scaled over every surface they could find. The dual sensation of his hand and mouth in and on you kicked your ecstasy into high gear. He continued his assault, revisiting every move he made that you reacted well too. When he found just the right spots, he quickened his pace and increased the pressure - determined to meet the deadline. You felt your muscles begin to contract as your climax begun.

“Ah! I’m going to come,” you breathed as the sensation began. His fingers fluttered inside you for the last time - their job was to ensure you got there. His warm tongue pressed firmly over your clit - it’s job was to receive your orgasm.

“Oh! Ahhh! Ah!” Your teeth clenched and your body tightened. Your pelvis lifted against him, and he gripped his hands underneath your behind to support you and hold you close. “Ahh!” The euphoria ripped through your veins and you finally screamed out the sound of pleasure which you had been subduing the whole ride - the driver unquestionably heard this one.

Once you crossed over the peak your muscles released and you threw your head backwards, stretching your arms to the roof of the car as you let out a gasp of relief.

“Oh, God,” you gushed.

He rose and wiped his lips. With that same smug, satisfied smile on his face, he stretched out his hand towards you and presented you with your thong.

“We’re here.”

[thedazedyouth]

It’s You Who Hung The Moon chapter 2

Let’s kill tonight

Los Santos is home to numerous odd events, there were even rumors of high ranking people using magic to get their way. Alfredo never believed any of that bullshit, it was idiotic to listen to children stories but he was starting to think there was some truth to them.

Within the small fraction of time it took for Alfredo’s gun to spit out a bullet, something shifted in the wind, the city’s energy changed.

And then those dark brown eyes below gleamed up at him.

No amount of training could’ve prepared Alfredo for that moment, when his target merely stepped to the side; just out of reach of the bullet’s path. His target looked to where the bullet hit, a mark in the concrete showcasing Alfredo’s failure. Despite the chaos that erupted on the street after the gunshot, the target remained perfectly calm in the middle of the screaming public. He looked to Alfredo again, raised his coffee cup in a toast and then a string of trucks obscured him from view.

Traffic cleared and Trevor Collins had disappeared.

Dumbstruck, Alfredo couldn’t move for a moment. He could only stare at the very place his target was standing a few seconds ago.

How the fuck did he miss?

Reality slapped him in the face, his fate suddenly loomed over him. Sparks wasn’t bluffing, and Alfredo had run out of time. Dismantling his rifle and placing the pieces inside a duffel bag, Alfredo was already planning his escape. His home would be compromised by now, he wouldn’t risk it for a few supplies. He had his sniper rifle, a pistol and maybe a twenty in his jacket; banks were robbed far too often to trust them in this city. His motorbike was parked a block away, if he could get there in time, he could be out of the city in thirty minutes.

Alfredo should’ve chosen a more subtle approach, weaving between cars and running red lights on a barely street legal bike made him stick out within the old family cars and law abiding citizens. But Alfredo wasn’t in the right mindset to make good decisions, he was a bit preoccupied with the fact that Trevor Collins just dodged a bullet and Alfredo was going to die because of it.

He had reached the outskirts of LS, he was driving through a clearly poor neighbourhood and the edge of city was nearing. He was almost out and from there, he could start a new life; one where he didn’t try to assassinate crew leaders that are apparently magical.

Alfredo almost relaxed. Key word being almost.

He was nearly out of the neighbourhood and the evening sun was starting to blind him, when a black Ford Ranger pulled out of a side street too fast for Alfredo to react. It caught his back tire, sending him skidding out of control and crashing onto the hard pavement. His left leg was trapped under the weight of his bike.

He squirmed to reach his bag that landed underneath him, frantically trying to pull out his pistol; but before he could there was a loud bang and a rush of pain shot through his side.

Caden Sparks stood over him, flanked by his men who all had guns pointed at him.

“You had one job,” Sparks said. “And to think, you’re supposed to be the best.” He tsked mockingly. “Well, guess I gotta find someone new but first, I have some loose ends to take care off.”

Sparks moved so he was looking straight down at Alfredo, he smiled as the younger man still struggled under the motorbike despite the burning wound that was bleeding. Alfredo had looked down a muzzle dozens of times, but only then did he feel any fear. He always had an escape, a plan b, but there was nothing he could do.

Alfredo refused to close his eyes, he’d face his death with confidence.

He heard a shot. And then two more, and then a gun fight broke out. Sparks swore, ditching Alfredo without hesitating and running for his car. Alfredo strained to lift his head up enough to see what was happening, and what he saw, he first blamed on the blood lose.

His former target, Trevor Collins, had arrived and had half his body stuck out his car window, firing at Sparks and his men. The lackey’s didn’t last long against Trevor, falling one after another; but one was lucky enough to pop Trevor’s car tire. They brought Sparks enough time to run though.

Trevor didn’t seem to care much, he was out of his car and by Alfredo’s side in a few seconds. He freed Alfredo’s leg with only a grunt, getting the bike upright before kneeling down to Alfredo.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Trevor joked. His hands hovered around Alfredo as he sat himself up, grimacing at the stinging wound. “Okay, look, we need to get out of here.”

Trevor stood, offering his hand down to Alfredo. He ignored it, breathing heavily by the time he stood up.

“My car’s busted, we should take your bike.” Trevor didn’t leave room for argument, he hopped onto Alfredo’s motorbike and waited for him to lower himself behind Trevor.

Alfredo pressed onto his side, his hand was already soaked in blood while the other instinctively gripped onto Trevor’s side as the bike kicked to life. Alfredo didn’t have the energy to question the situation, this was his best option at the moment. Trevor drove with more mastery than Alfredo had, they zipped back through the streets heading for the main city center.

Wherever Trevor was taking them, he had to make a quick deviation as a congregation of cars across the set of traffic lights was being unquestionably lead by Sparks. The cars sped up when the pair came into view, it seemed that Sparks had gotten some more backup.

Trevor made a right. He pulled at the throttle, the bike roaring down the Los Santos streets. The cars were closing in, out the side windows guns were fired. Trevor started zig zagging, keeping perfect control as they leant from side to side.

Alfredo leant forward, whispering in Trevor’s ear, “Go faster.”

His voice was weak, blood leaked between his fingers. At this rate, Alfredo would die before Sparks had another opportunity. Trevor nodded, taking one look behind him before pulling down a narrow street. He barely dodged a truck coming for them.

Trevor swerved around a tight corner, Alfredo could feel the loose part of his jacket lightly skim across the tar road and paid no attention to the urge telling him to hold on tighter. He looked back from where they came from and couldn’t see Sparks, they had managed to get some distance between them.

Trevor never straightened up the bike, instead he kept turning into the entrance for an underground parking lot for an apartment building. He whipped down the ramp, passing a car that had opened the gate originally and pulled into a park that was on the other side.

After putting down the kickstand, Trevor hopped off the bike. “You’re still bleeding. We won’t make it any further until we fix that.”

“Okay.” Alfredo moved from the bike to sitting on the concrete ground, only groaning a bit at the strain. He breathed for a second, beginning to take off his jacket but was interrupted by Trevor almost ripping it off.

“What are you doing,” Alfredo moaned, trying to squirm away from Trevor’s touch. “Why are you doing this?”

Trevor ignored Alfredo’s attempts to move away and simply moved closer, pulling up his wet shirt and blinking at the wound before taking Alfredo’s own jacket to hold over the injury. Without looking at Alfredo, Trevor said, “You were in trouble and you needed help.”

Alfredo flinched as Trevor pressed harder to stop the bleeding, but he didn’t try fight. He was still hesitant but something told him that Trevor wasn’t going to hurt him, despite the reasons he should. They sat there in silence for a minute, Alfredo’s heartbeat pounding in his ears and Trevor making no effort to show what he was thinking.

“So,” Trevor finally said, “who hired you to kill me.”

“Caden Sparks.”

Trevor froze, his grip on Alfredo’s side loosened before he let out a deep sigh. “So that’s what he looks like. You fucking idiot. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Alfredo just shook his head, but Trevor didn’t give another response. He lifts up the jacket to check the wound, deeming it good enough and stood up; offering Alfredo a hand, who this time took it, and lifted him up from the ground. Alfredo stayed quiet, waiting rather than asking for an answer; unsure whether it was his place to demand information. After all, the man he just tried to kill is now helping him.

“We shouldn’t stay here anymore,” Trevor said.

Trevor sat up front while Alfredo hesitantly and slowly climbed on behind him; his fingers gripping Trevor’s shirt rather than his sides.

Alfredo noticed Trevor’s ease as he drove, the latter taking each corner without thought. The clear muscle memory was reminiscent of Alfredo and his weapons. He could take them apart over and over without ever needing to think, he’s had a full length conversation without his fingers ever stalling.

Trevor took them to a street up town that Alfredo had never been, the streets were clean and there wasn’t a reek of death and misery. The shops and buildings faded into grand houses, larger than any one person needs but rather plays into their wants.

The sun had almost finished setting when Trevor pulled into a driveway, the garage door opening on demand of a remote he kept on his person. He stopped the bike next to a black car, got off and waited for Alfredo to follow before entering a door on the side of the garage.

They entered into a kitchen, past it was the lounge. It was barren for such a grand house, only a couch and small armchair were seated around a long table. A TV hung on the wall and under it was a bookcase laid on its side, it was more full than the whole room.

“Sit down,” Trevor said before disappearing down a hallway.

Trevor came back with a rusty tool box in hand but after he placed it on the coffee table and opened it, Alfredo realised it was a low-budget first aid kit.

“I don’t have much in here,” Trevor said, referring to the kit. “I haven’t used this shit for a while.”

Alfredo sat wordlessly as Trevor searched through the box, pulling out medical tongs.

“Bullet’s still in ya.” Trevor shrugged. “I can get a rag if you’re gonna scream.”

Alfredo ripped the tongs from his hand, shaking his head furiously. “No. I’ll do it. I need to clean these, got any vodka?”

Trevor disappeared for another minute, returning with a half empty bottle in hand and a towel. “This is the most I got,” he said.

Alfredo took the two items from Trevor, opening the bottle and taking a swing then pouring it over the towel and cleaning the tongs; then tenderly cleaning the wound.

Trevor sat at the edge of the table as he watched Alfredo breath slowly when the tongs entered his body. It was only in him for a moment before he located the bullet and pulled it out, dropping it next to Trevor.

“Impressive,” Trevor commented.

Alfredo smirked, having another drink of the vodka and pretending that his hands didn’t tremble still. He pulled forward the tool box again and rummaged around for a needle and thread.

All the equipment was old, and needed a good clean. He calmed himself down, biting back the pain roaring from his side in order to begin stitching himself up. Trevor leant forward to take the needle from him but Alfredo drew back, shaking his head.

“Let me do it.”

Something akin to recognition flared in Trevor’s eyes but it was quickly dulled. Trevor muttered an apology, drawing back completely.

Alfredo stitched himself up, biting his lip in pain but never letting Trevor take over like the he so wanted to. They sat there in silence, Alfredo cleaning the wound again and covering it. His shirt was stained in blood but he refused to take one of Trevor’s.

“Get some sleep,” Trevor said, standing up from the table once he was sure Alfredo was okay. “You’re gonna need it.”

Trevor found some blankets and a pillow from a cupboard, pushed it to Alfredo and left him to sleep on the couch.

Alfredo sat on the armrest for what felt like hours, he was sure at any point Trevor or Sparks would come running in and kill him right there. He couldn’t fathom why Trevor would be doing this, and therefore the only reason is to kill him at a later time. Make it more fun.

But when Alfredo could hear Trevor’s snores from down the hallway and through an open doorway, a voice told him relax. A voice he hadn’t heard for years, the one that used to tell him to hang onto whatever small happiness and good that came into his life.

So Alfredo listened to it and settled into the couch, covering himself in the warm blanket. He let himself fall into a semi- peaceful sleep; at least for a few hours.

Until someone was shaking him awake.

Alfredo jumped up. Before his vision could fully focused on the figure in front of him, he fists went flying. The figure seamlessly dodged his sloppy punches and rather than fighting back, he grabbed onto Alfredo’s shoulders.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. It’s Trevor.”

Alfredo blinked. He only nodded when he realised it was in fact just Trevor, and offered up no explanation before asking, “What’s going on?”

Trevor let him go, stepping back with his hands in clear view; a silent gesture Alfredo couldn’t express how much he appreciated. “We should keep moving. I doubt that Sparks has given up on finding us, we gotta get some distance between us.”

Alfredo nodded again, Trevor returned the motion before leaving Alfredo in the lounge.

“Really got to get better at explaining shit man,” Alfredo muttered to himself.

Alfredo walked into the kitchen, rummaged through the cabinets before finding the only glass and filled it from the tap. He rested against the counter, enjoying each sip as he watched Trevor race back and forth.

Trevor walked between the garage and somewhere down the hallway. Each trip, he carried a bag or gun of different sorts. Eventually, Alfredo trailed after him during one walk to the garage to see what he was doing.

The trunk of the car was being filled with food, water and weapons; Trevor had very clearly prepared for hiding out for days.

Trevor made one last trip, slammed the trunk shut and gestured for Alfredo to enter the car. They left the house and surprising drove under the speed limit, obeying every road rule as not to draw attention to themselves. Although they both impatiently tapped their feet when they had to stop at a red light.

They had left the main suburbs of Los Santos, entering the outskirts.

“Where can we go?” Alfredo could disappear in Los Santos from most people but anything outside the city was unfamiliar. It would take too long to be comfortable enough with another layout to hide.

“We’ll figure it out.” Trevor wasn't trying to convince Alfredo.

“Seriously, why are you doing this? Why not just leave me behind, buy yourself some time?”

“Because Caden Sparks wants us both dead, and I’d rather not die alone.”

The radio became the only noise in the car, Trevor kept a firm grip on the steering wheel while he clearly checked the rear-view mirror every thirty seconds despite the lack of any sign of life. Alfredo hadn’t been this far out of town, having arrived by plane and never being able to find a way out. They passed a house that laid in the back of a field, it was worn down and broken but still, someone sat on its front steps; the smoke from a cigarette plumed and streaked towards the sky.

A sign was nearing them. It was large and like everything, falling apart. It wished safe travels, and gave a goodbye from the city. Almost as if the city ever cared about its inhabitants and would miss their presence staining her.

It certainly never cared about Alfredo.

And as he watched Trevor next to him, maybe it never cared about him either. He was still tense but about Sparks, not the messy city.

Trevor reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out his cellphone and without looking dialed a number. It rang for a while, going to voicemail. He sighed but left a message. “I’m going dark. Stay out of it. If I die, you’ll know. Carry on with the plan.” He hung up, muttering something about those idiots ruining everything.

Alfredo let the radio’s music block out his thoughts, nodding his head to the beat sometimes and ignoring Trevor’s smile when he hummed to a classic. Other than small instances like that, they didn’t communicate.

After a few hours, every Los Santos station faded out to static, they had truly escaped the city; but it left Alfredo to find new ones. He finally settled on one that was in English, and catered to his music taste; which strangely was pop music from the 2000’s and not the kind that was good even for that decade. Alfredo glared at Trevor when the latter laughed. Though, Trevor would admit that the songs got better.

The sun was heading for the horizon as Mr Brightside was blasted through the car, and after a day of no trouble, Trevor decided they could rest for a few hours. The universe and its powers gave him the perfect coincidence. As his eyes searched for a side street or any kind of building, his spotted the unmistakable rise of a roller coaster track.

The entrance to the theme park appeared from between a series of bushes and Trevor whipped the car into it, only slightly throwing Alfredo around. The road was slowly becoming more and more overgrown with plants and it slimmed into one way. Just before it widened again and the parking lot started, Trevor was forced to stop. A thick tree log laid across the entire road, it was rotting but still too large to move.

He pulled the car over to the side, slightly hiding in the forest. He looked over at Alfredo, who had his eyebrows raised.

“Why not have some fun with our last days.” Trevor left the car, Alfredo hesitated for a moment, cursed the other man but followed him to the back of the car.

Trevor popped open the trunk. Alfredo copied his moment to grab a small pistol, Trevor then taking a bag and shrugging it over his shoulder.

The theme park was in clear disarray; the concession stand had been crushed by a fallen tree, the railings leading towards the chair swing ride were rusted and devoid of their natural colour. As Alfredo and Trevor wandered deeper inside the park, more and more destroyed and broken the place became.

The spark of a window in the sunlight caught Trevor’s eye. Following it instantly, he realized a theatre had once been apart of the park. He didn’t check if Alfredo was following him as he jumped the velvet ropes blocking the entrance. Trevor walked past the broken food stalls, resisting the urge to try the packet of discontinued candy resting on the floor.

The walls were a light cream colour, but were covered in years worth of vulgar and creepy graffiti. Trevor kicked open a door below a large number ‘one’, if there was still power he assumed it would have been lit up. Inside the cinema the roof had fallen in, sunlight streaming in through the gaping hole.

Trevor was standing in the doorway, admiring the ruins when Alfredo shoved past him. Alfredo strolled down the stairs, one hand rising and falling on top the chairs. He reached the front of the cinema, the screen was gone but there was still a small stage just below where it should’ve have been.

The sun was beaming on Alfredo, who was curiously taking in every aspect of the place. In the moment, he seemed less like a homicidal assassin and more like Trevor before the misery of life took over him. It was that look that proved to Trevor he made the right choice, the look that reminded him so much of himself.

“The fuck you looking at?” Alfredo called.

Trevor blinked, being brought out of his thoughts. “Nothing,” he replied. “C’mon let’s check the rest of the place out.”

With no clear direction, Trevor and Alfredo explored the rest of the abandoned theme park. They passed a moss covered ferris wheel, the broken remains of a mini train forever stuck on it’s rails and one cart tipped over.

From the distance a sign appeared, as they neared it clearly stated ‘Haunted House’ and a childish excitement overtook them both; although Alfredo hid it better. He wasn’t far behind Trevor who was jogging towards it.

They left behind a setting sun, entering the large building. A wall to the right had been broken down, leading to a thin hallway clearly meant for the employees. Trevor entered first, and after a quick sweep he decided to settle down there for the night.

Using the wood of the building’s foundation, Trevor started working on a fire. For a reason Alfredo didn’t bother questioning, Trevor only had flint and steel rather than a lighter. Alfredo watched Trevor while he struck the flint repeatedly, the entire events of the day fully processing in his mind. Nothing that happened made sense to Alfredo, and he had to know.

“Why are you doing this?” Alfredo asked, breaking the silence.

“I already told you. You needed my help and I was in a generous mood.”

Alfredo sighed. “Whatever. Just tell me this, who is Caden Sparks? Why are you afraid of him?”

Trevor’s hands froze for a moment, a repeating pattern, before he shook his head and continued. Alfredo noticed the recurring instance of Trevor refusing to give more information, despite the latter being the one to involve Alfredo.

Finally Trevor answered. “Sparks is. . . a ghost. There’s nothing about him except for mutilated corpses. His enemies don’t make it far enough to spread any details about him. But I do know, he’s someone you don’t want to fuck with; and you fucked with him.”

“You do have a crew, remember, the fucking Fake AH Crew. Why are we doing this alone and not getting them to kill Sparks first?”

This time, Trevor’s silence was pained. It was something he’d clearly never spoke about, but somehow Alfredo had loosened his tongue.

“If I die, there will still be a crew left, someone to lead it left. Like Kingpin or even Ruby. But if I involve them, and one of them die, there’ll be nothing. They’ll fall apart. I’m not as important as the Golden Boy or Pattillo.” Trevor watched the fire that struggled to start, his eyes going somewhere further. “Either we handle this ourselves or we die.”

Another awkward silence overtook them. Alfredo didn’t bother voicing the questions that were swarming in his head, knowing that he would receive nothing, so instead he offered up his own piece of information. He justified it as building trust.

“Alfredo.”

“What?” Trevor looked at him.

“My name. It’s Alfredo Diaz. You never asked for it before.”

Trevor shrugged, and turned his attention back to the pile in front of him.“Figured you’d share when you’re ready,” he said.

The fire burst to life, it’s flames growing in heat and height. Trevor shuffled around so that his back leant against the same wall as Alfredo. As the night drew on the pair traded select and shallow stories about their pasts, nothing more than basic tales. They were just for conversation and a few laughs.

They fell asleep there together, a gun within reach but an odd atmosphere of relaxation let them sleep a little more soundly than they would have expected.

[a7xlizardqueen]

Title: Your Knight in a Sweater Vest

Overall Rating: NC-17

Overall Warnings: Parental bullying, mentions of bulimia, nudity(?), drinking, partying, cursing, very slight mention of war and trauma, smut

Pairing: Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: When you need help dealing with your rude and overbearing family, your best friend Steve Rogers comes to the rescue. Modern!AU - For @barnesrogersvstheworld  Writing Challenge Shot Through the Heart #shotthroughtheheart3k

Chapter: 4/10

Word Count: 1,917 words

Chapter Warnings: Nudity, does it count as nudity if it’s written? Drinking and partying, cursing

-X-X-X-

The sun shone bright and the day was hot. Perfect for one final pool party before fall officially took over. Sam picked everyone up in his Range Rover. The party was being thrown by your friends Natasha and Clint, who had a beautiful house out in the Hamptons. You couldn't meet Steve's eyes, though. You'd fallen asleep the night before thinking about the kiss, how his lips felt against yours and how it made your body feel as if it were on fire. That night you dreamt of Steve. You dreamt that you were in bed, tangled together, kissing and pressed against one another. In the light of day, you had a hard time remembering the details, but you could still feel the way his skin rubbed against yours and you wondered if it would feel like that in real life.

It was unsettling, because this was Steve. Your best friend.

You tried to forget the dream and the kiss when you arrived. It wasn't hard to push it to the back of your mind. It was a beautiful day, and there was nothing to worry about. Only good food, good drinks, and good friends. Natasha grabbed you right away and took you aside for girl time with her and Wanda. Wanda was kind of like Nat and Clint's adopted daughter. She'd had a rough childhood, and after the death of her parents and her twin brother, she'd been completely lost. Nat and Clint took her in, gave her a family and a home.

"I think you've got some explaining to do, Y/N," Natasha smirks, handing you a mojito.

"Like what?"

"Well, how about explaining what you were doing kissing Steve Rogers on the Kiss Cam at the game yesterday?"

Of course someone had to bring that up as soon as you'd forgotten about it. You groan.

"You saw that?"

"Of course I did! It was the most adorable kiss I've ever seen. When did this start?"

"Last weekend," Nat and Wanda's faces light up, "It's not real."

"What do you mean, it's not real?" Wanda asks.

"I had a family barbecue to go to," they nod in understanding, "And Steve thought it would be a great idea to show up unannounced and pretend to be my boyfriend just so that I wouldn't be alone."

"Aww," Wanda smiles, "That's so romantic!"

"Wanda, I just told you it’s fake."

"Oh, come on," Nat rolls her eyes, "It's a classic story trope. Two best friends pretend to be dating for some reason and then end up either falling madly in love, or realizing they've loved each other all along. You and Steve are an item."

"No, we are not."

"Y/N, you're telling me you're not the least bit interested in that?" Nat asks, spinning you around so that you have a clear view of Steve, now dripping wet, wearing only a pair of swimming trunks as he gets out of the pool.

The sun shines off Steve's muscles and for a moment he looks like a statue of a Greek god sculpted out of pure gold. Water drips down his muscles, the trunks now plastered to his body, showing off the sizable bulge underneath. Clint tosses a beer his way and Steve catches it without hesitation or fumble, causing his muscles to flex and glisten in the light. Your mouth feels suddenly dry. You tip the mojito back and chug.

-X-X-X-

You probably shouldn't have drank so many mojitos. They're making your brain fuzzy and making it harder for you to ignore Steve. In fact, the mojitos are making it much easier for you to fantasize about him. Not difficult when he's running around half naked and dripping wet.

"Y/N, come play Chicken with us!" Bucky whines from the pool.

You roll your eyes and smile, "I think I'll pass."

"Come on, please! You've been ignoring us for Nat and Wanda all day."

"Aw, do you miss me, Barnes?"

"Absolutely not," Bucky scoffs, "I just need your nonstop attention. You know how fragile my ego is."

"Not happening."

"You sure about that, doll?" Bucky asks with a smirk.

Before you can question his change in demeanor a pair of warm, wet arms grab you by the waist and lift you over a gigantic shoulder. You stare at a perfectly taut, round buttocks beneath red, white, and blue trunks. A large hand lands on your ass with a sharp sting.

"Ow! Rogers, put me down, right now!" You pummel his back with your fists.

Steve laughs and jogs over to the side of the pool, his shoulder digging into your stomach. He lifts you from his shoulder and cradles you in his arms. You try to ignore the way his golden chest looks up close, or how his hot body feels pressed up against you, or how comfortable you feel nestled in his arms.

"Put me down, Steven."

"You've been ignoring your boys, Y/N," Steve smirks, "There must be reparations."

"I will fucking kill you, Rogers."

"Looking forward to it."

Steve throws you out and into the pool. When you come back up, soaking wet and hair in your face, Bucky and Sam are dying from laughter. Steve is standing at the edge of the pool, arms crossed and a stupid smirk on his face. With a scowl you swim to the ladder and haul yourself out to chase after him. Steve laughs and runs off into the grass, zig-zagging to make it harder for you to catch him. You don't ever catch him. Steve stops and spins around suddenly, fast enough that you don't have time to react as his arms encircle you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You scream and laugh as you both go tumbling to the ground.

You wrestle for a few seconds before Steve stops amusing you. He barely needs to try in order to throw you onto your back. He's holding your hands down on either side of your head, hovering above you. The sun shines from behind him, creating an otherworldly glow. Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Say uncle," Steve smirks.

"Uncle," You say lightly before clearing your throat to repeat it louder.

He pulls you to your feet and throws his arm over your shoulders as you head back towards the pool. Steve places a kiss on the top of your head and then promptly throws you into the pool again.

-X-X-X-

You wave your arms above the red solo cup, sitting at the end of the table in front of you with a couple ounces of beer in the bottom. Steve stands at the opposite end, a matching red cup in front of him. He's smirking, trying to hide his disbelief. You and Bucky had started out a bit shaky, Steve and Sam had taken out half of your cups before you hit your stride.

"Hey, come on, baby," Sam complains, "No trying to distract the man. It's the last cup."

"All right, fine. I can play fair. Besides, Steve needs all the help he can get."

Steve narrows his eyes and laughs exaggeratedly. Without a word he throws the small white ball. Your eyes follow its arc, watching as it falls towards the cup, hits the very edge of the rim and bounces away. You quickly grab the ball before Steve can get it back and cheer. Bucky claps his hands behind you.

"All right, you got this doll," he encourages.

You hold the ball out to him, "Blow on it for good luck."

"Y/N, that's for dice."

"Just blow on it, Barnes."

Bucky rolls his eyes but blows on the ball anyway. You turn back to the table and roll the ball between your hands, taking your time, staring back at Steve staring at you. He has an easy smile on his face, he thinks you'll miss. You blow him a kiss before you aim and throw the ball. It arcs beautifully, landing directly in the cup, barely a splash. Steve tries to blow the ball out but it's too late.

"Yes!" You and Bucky cheer and he lifts you with his arm and plants a noisy, wet kiss on your lips. You throw your head back and laugh.

"Dude, you got beat by a chick!" Clint smacks Steve on the back.

“And a one-armed asshole!” Sam laughs.

"Hey, that is sexist and ablest," you scold half-heartedly.

"Hey, I get beat by a chick almost nightly," he smirks.

Nat laughs, “Yeah, and sometimes I do that with one arm, too.”

"Who's up for some hot tubbing?" Sam exclaims.

You and Nat shake your heads, instead grabbing a bottle of Honey Jack and cranking up the music. Sam, Steve, Clint, and Wanda all pile into the hot tub. You, Nat, and Bucky pass the bottle around and dance. Notorious B.I.G.'s Hypnotize plays and you and Bucky press against each other and grind to the music. People don't often expect Bucky to be much of a dancer but he's actually very good, and loves to dance. You and he usually partner up if there's no one around that you're interested in.

"So when's it gonna turn serious?" Bucky whispers in a low voice next to your ear.

"What?"

"You and Steve, obviously."

You spin around, utterly bemused, "What are you talking about? There's nothing there."

Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you back towards him, "Oh, good, so you're both completely oblivious."

"We're just friends, Buck."

"Yeah, right, and I'm straight."

"You're gay?" You feign surprise.

"Seriously, Y/N. Something's changed."

You sigh and look over at Steve. His upper body is sticking out of the water, arms braced on the edge of the tub. Steam rises around him in a steady stream, making your vision blur more than it already is. He tips a beer bottle back and you watch his lips press against it, watch his throat as he swallows.

"Y/N?"

"We kissed, Buck," you blurt, "And now I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling."

Bucky's smile is so big it's almost blinding. He looks like a little kid on Christmas morning.

"My little Y/N is in love," he coos, pulling you into a tight hug.

You struggle in his arms, "Buck, stop. I am not in love with Steve."

"Maybe not yet," he smirks.

"Guys!" Sam yells from the hot tub, "We gotta go clubbing soon!"

"Yes!" Natasha cheers, running over to climb into the hot tub to snuggle up against Clint.

You shrug your shoulders, "I dunno."

"Come on, Y/N, we haven't been clubbing in so long!" Sam pleads, jutting his lower lip out.

"Fine! Okay, I'm in too."

"Success! Now get that fine ass over in this tub, girl."

-X-X-X-

The night continues on, with far too much drinking happening in the hot tub. You don't realize how drunk you are until you try to get out of the hot tub and nearly trip over your own feet. Steve quickly jumps out and reaches for you. You don't even think about it, just latch on eagerly as Steve easily lifts you. He sits himself down on a lounge chair and you curl up against him, soaking in the heat radiating off of him. Your arm lays across his stomach, your leg hooks over his and you press your face against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

"Thanks for everything Stevie," You sigh, quickly drifting towards sleep.

"You're welcome," Steve whispers, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

[cristalknife]

Kadam Week 2021 Day 6 ~ Don’t Bring Me Flowers

This is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net  you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, today's prompt is You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

so the summary on ao3 is the following Kurt has a long standing notion about flowers not being the best of ways to convey messages, and a rather morbid way of looking at them.

Adam prefers surrounding himself with living beautiful plant than destroy life for the sake of admiring an ephemeral beauty.

Watching their flower together is something they both find breathtaking. so let me present to you Don’t Bring Me Flowers

(or read on ao3) TW: canon implied suicide attempt (Dave), morbid thoughts (flowers as corpses)

As far as Kurt was concerned flowers were not a romantic gift, they could look pretty in gardens, and while his mom was still alive flowers were often present in his life and in his house.

Flowers were also the perfect elements in fashion accessories or wedding decorations.

They started to lose positive meaning when his mom died, the house was too full of flowers.

Their scent oppressive, too many people that never bothered coming before, suddenly were all over the place.

Demanding attention so they could share their opinions and lighten their consciences, for not being there while his mom was still alive, and could have appreciated the company more than she could now.

When he finally got his first boyfriend, the experience didn't actually help him feeling any different.

The fact was that every single time Blaine wanted Kurt to forgive a transgression, there would be flowers...

The bigger the transgression, the more expensive the bouquet and the more publicly it was delivered.

So that Kurt would be surrounded by so many of ‘their’ friends, all commenting on the romantic gesture that he would have done anything to make them gush had they be the lucky ones in Kurt’s shoes…

All of their friends agreed on a point though, Blaine Anderson was the most romantic guy in the universe, always bringing Kurt's such beautiful flowers...

‘If only they knew’ was all the unimpressed little voice in his mind, kept playing in repeat for Kurt's benefit...

But he kept quiet. He didn't want to stir more trouble than necessary, and after all it was a small price to pay to have a boyfriend…

Even if it was a bitter pill to swallow, that teenage dreams turned out to be not so Mr dreamy after all...

His dad had always told him love was full of compromising, that they were supposed to work together. Like a beautiful car made of different parts, all of which needed to work properly and keep the harmony.

And when Blaine went out of his way to ruin what was already a terrible senior year.

Stealing one of the last opportunity Kurt had to shine, or at least to have a pertinent line in his cv to attend his dream school. Well in that moment he didn't feel at all bad for the pettiness of giving Blaine a bouquet expressing exactly how disappointed, betrayed and pissed off he was at him...

He delivered his concealed message with a smile. And when Blaine didn't react at all, as one should have expected from someone who boosted to love romantic gestures and knowing the language of flowers…

And had done so for ages…

At that moment Kurt started to wonder exactly just how many things he had been lied to...

After the rather touching, and feeling increasingly fake speech, from Blaine, Kurt fluttered his eyelashes and commented softly "You really like them? I got some help from the florist to express my feelings for you, did she get them right?"

Blaine had looked at him nodding and smiling brightly as he said "Of course she did, I can see all the pride love and support they express, you always surprise me, you always zig when I think you're about to zag.”

And as soon as the words left Blaine's mouth the seed of doubt that was planted at Dalton.

And nurtured by the arrival of Sebastian Smythe and their night at Scandal.

What had started as a small seed had finally grown into a mature plant almost ready to bloom.

It wouldn't be until Valentine day, after being romanced, by the last person Kurt had ever expected, for a whole week.

A collection of cards and small thoughtful tokens that led to a surprising love declaration, by no other than Dave Karofsky.

The one reformed bully, who had been one of the main reasons why Kurt's path ever met Blaine's.

The single red rose and box of candies was exactly the kind of valentine surprise Kurt dreamed of… When he was still in first grade, his mom was still around, and flowers were still something to cherish.

On that day, after having to reject a guy who had tried harder than his own boyfriend, and managed the feat, to make Kurt feel loved and appreciated, despite their shared history…

Dave had said honestly "I've wanted to call you since that night at Scandals, and, look, it's taken me a while, but for the first time in my life, I'm trying to be honest about what I feel."

And that little bud of doubt growing inside Kurt's mind was starting to open its petal and bloom.

Because Kurt knew, he knew that Dave, who still wasn't out at his own school.

Dave, who was taking baby steps hanging out at a gay club and feeling comfortable there, in a way Kurt himself hadn't been able to do.

Dave was here, on valentine day, with the gorilla suit in which he personally delivered every bit of romance Kurt had been dreaming about.

Dave was sitting with him, in the middle of the renamed Sugar Shack, still the one central hot spot for date nights in Lima, confessing openly his feelings for Kurt.

Despite starting to believe that love was capable of making people do crazy things, Kurt knew it was unlikely that Dave had risked so much, put himself so openly out there without a good reason...

And the only good reason that Kurt's mind kept whispering like a gentle breeze caressing the still closed petals of that blooming flower called doubt, was that Dave must have thought he had an honest to God shot.

A short to either be accepted or rejected on his own merits.

Suspicion that added nourishment for that flowering sensation.

Suspicion that had a non verbal confirmation, when the only answer Kurt could offer to Dave was a flat and almost sounding unconvinced, even to his own ears "I'm with Blaine, the only thing I can offer you is friendship if that's enough, but I'd understand if it's not."

Dave was devastated, but once more he acted in a way that Kurt knew deep down Blaine never did and never would.

Dave stood there, crushed, doubt crossing his face for a moment before he nodded with a strained smile "I'll take what I can, I hope you'll like the candies, the butterscotch ones are my favourite."

And with that, as consequences of one of the most truly romantic gestures Kurt received, Dave's life crumbled around him...

And Kurt found himself once more in a hospital room looking like all the tristate area florists had barfed in it all the flowers they had.

Flowers that were supposedly symbols of love and care, that came as way too little and way too late for it to be but anything else paltry pleasantries and social niceties.

Dying flowers, that tried to mask with their sweet perfume, the bitter antiseptic scent typical of a hospital.

Despite Kurt's beliefs that flowers were never bringers of good news, his complete loathing for the practice truly solidified when he finally managed to move to New York, got a job in which he was starting to settle.

Only for Blaine to throw him the last curveball Kurt would ever accept for the sole sake of having a boyfriend.

A surprise visit, with the largest bouquet of red roses and baby breath.

It had taken Kurt a whole evening of prodding, to finally have Blaine confess he had cheated on him.

After that night, it took Kurt months to stop feeling sick as soon as the scent of roses reached him.

Feat rendered even more difficult by the fact that even after Kurt rightfully reached his breaking point and ended things with Blaine permanently, that cheating bastard started spending a fortune sending him flowers at the office...

If he had that much laying there, and he really missed Kurt so much that h felt the need to fell onto a stranger’s dick, couldn't have Blaine spent all those bucks into, oh Kurt didn’t know, something like a train or a plane ticket to New York and visit before cheating?

The amount and constant flow of flowery offers were making Kurt's desk looking like a florist's promotional window.

Other than giving him a seriously annoying stress headache, and yet another reason to hate receiving flowers...

Which on some days, when he was laying in bed thinking about Nyada and his future as an actor, made him very glad that it was mostly female actresses to whom flowers were sent.

And he was pretty sure that by the time he'd made enough of a name for himself, for it to even be something to think about, he probably would have already gained the reputation of someone preferring other kinds of well wishing tokens.

On the brighter side of things, Vogue had been Kurt's safe heaven.

Chase seeing the overboard floral composition had commented easily "Someone out there is either seriously crushing on you or seriously trying to make up for something. I wonder which is it, and I'm here if you want to talk about it..."

Kurt's smile had been tight as he answered honestly "The latter… And there's not much to talk about unless you know a way to stop this madness, all those flowers are giving me a terrible headache."

And like a knight in shimmery grey Prada suit Chase said "You can leave a message down to security with the list of people you won't accept things from, that way anything that arrives sent from them will be returned to the sender."

Finally with a blocked number, few blocked social media connections, and a couple of words left downstairs, Kurt's life in New York was free of suffocating flowers’ corpses.

The way Kurt made his way into Nyada and through his first week of class was surprising, but not as astonishing as finding out how different things were, when he wasn't the only one doing the chasing.

Meeting Adam had been, surprising but also refreshing, There Brit was the first ray of sunshine after the darkness of the winter months, wrapped in the fresh ocean breeze of a summer day. A pleasantly warm and welcoming presence.

Adam had made it rather clear from the very beginning that he was interested.

But he also allowed Kurt to decide whether taking any step, at all or leading in choosing the pace, simply happy to be in Kurt's life even just as a friend...

Desperate Blaine had moved on recruiting those who used to be mutual friends, who turned out to be just Blainers, to pass on messages, apologies and reminders of all the romantic gestures Blaine did for Kurt, hoping for their reunion.

Which instigated the Second Great Purge in Kurt's life.

After sending a public message on all his socials, that he had a new boyfriend and anyone bothering him mentioning his ex, offering information when they were not requested, would find themselves promptly just as blocked as Blaine was.

Finn's reaction to that message had been a single sunflower emoji followed by a smiley face and a thumb up.

And for the first time in over a decade, the corner of Kurt's mouth twitched upwards at its sight…

Adam had always loved plants, especially in the springs, when the flowers changed the countryside into a buzzing blurry of colours.

It had always fascinated him seeing how tiny green buds would open up, to reveal so many bright brilliant colours and wonderfully different scents.

Maybe it was because he grew up on the outskirts of Essex's suburb, where the distance from the beautiful view allowed him to be exposed to the constant changing, happening in the natural world during the spring and summer months.

Maybe it was the fact that his grandparents had a delightful cottage in the countryside, that allowed Adam the chance to appreciate how flowers in the ground, or even on a pot, lasted way longer than cut flowers.

Maybe it was also because both his father and grandfather were beekeepers, and they had taught him how much bees were indispensable for everyone's life.

How even removing a single flower, could mean more fatigue for the small insects, and consequentially endangering their colony.

So Adam had never thought about cutting short the life of a flower, not for the mere sake of just admiring it for a couple of days.

Especially not when he could instead take home a small plant, care for it and enjoy the flowers for longer.

And when his first boyfriend called him weird, and cruelly mocked him for preferring such practice.

Adam's first reaction, after dumping the unfeeling jerk, had been crying.

Only to be consoled by his nana's wisdom

"Adam darling, I know you're hurt now, but think of the bright side.

Now you know that the man right for you is going to be someone who could appreciate the beauty of the world, without feeling the need to temporary own it only to end up destroying it.

He's going to be a young man able to walk with you through a botanical park, and see that amongst all that beauty surrounding you, the happiness shining in your eyes is the most precious.

And that he will know that he is the luckiest of men for already holding your hand in his."

That speech etched indelibly into a fourteen year's old Adam mind, who took it heart and for years afterwards, he searched for someone who could live up to the dreamy picture those words painted for him.

The American's way of life was different, neither especially good nor especially bad, just not what Adam grew up with.

New York was big, and on certain days it felt too stuffy, with so much concrete around, but there were beautiful green oasis, and precious gems that could be found and be treasured.

It took him quite a while, and few failed attempts, to find out someone who had the potential to be all the things his nana had said he could find all those years ago.

Kurt was fascinating from afar, and simply breathtaking upon closer look.

He had the resilience and beauty of a willow tree. Looking deceptively frail while being at his strongest, bending but not breaking.

And given enough care and time he would become even stronger, beautiful, and with the kind of plentiful beautiful flowers that could be appreciated in all their beauty, solely by admiring them on the living plant.

There hadn't been yet an occasion that would have traditionally warranted the exchange of flowers, so that was a subject they had yet to touch.

Which it was why Adam found himself pretty confused when he got set aside first by Rachel "Look I get you and Kurt are still new, and you are a good guy and I like you, Especially because I'm grateful you defended Brody when Santana was being so unreasonable. So I'm going to tell you this.

You might not know it but Klaine set up pretty high standard of romance, and I don't want to see you fail, Kurt used to get so many bouquets that some of us girls were pretty envious of it. So yeah think about that, maybe a flower or two wouldn't be amiss next time you come around..."

Funny thing that he discovered about Kurt's friends, was that basically all the ones he had met this far, didn't even have the need of him making more than a couple of sounds, sometimes not even a whole word, to have a whole conversation with him...

On certain days, Adam wondered if the fact that instead, while he was alone with Kurt, they had long alternating conversations, with intermissions of comfortable silences, was a good or a bad sign.

Everything he had been told about Kurt, by those who claimed to love him and be his friends, was in stark contrast to all he was when they were together and around their common friends...

During his darkest days, Adam wondered instead which one was the real Kurt, and which one was a distorted reflection created to please others.

The mere notion that both existed was a chilling nail stuck in his heart.

When Santana came to him to tell him "Look Doctor Who, I don't like people, but I can see he is different with you, a good different.

Do yourself and Lady Hummel a favour. Stop listening to the garbage getting out of the midget's mouth and do you.

If there is one thing I know is that you just need to watch him closely to tell whether he's guarded or not.

As friendly as he can appear to be, he keeps his cards close to the vest that one.

Blargh, this talk is making me disgustingly soft, so bottom line is you should totally tap that fine ass and make Auntie Snixx proud.

Now off you go. Go do what disgustingly sweet gay men do to each other… Pick up flowers, smooch, whatever… Just keep him in your bed instead of sending him back all sparkling and having rainbows and flower fall from his mouth every other word...

I want to have a night or tree in a real bed instead of the pullover, so he needs to be away for few days, capisce?"

Adam wasn't totally sure whether it was solely a self serving suggestion, or if it was an indication that Kurt did need a break from how things were in the loft.

But he guessed this was a time as good as any to take Kurt into one of his favourite places in New York.

And see whether or not he might be the one Adam had been looking for.

He wasn't fourteen anymore, of course it would be a disappointment, but it wouldn't be such a deal breaker if they could talk it out and respect each other’s standing on the matter.

Then again Kurt this far had been strangely silent on the subject of exchanging flowers, so Adam held a little bit of hope that it was a good sign...

Another thing he picked up from the bizarre stories he heard about Kurt's high school glee club, was the cutesy detail of insisting on creating a single 'ship' name for the couples. Mixing together parts of their names, and creating a new one representing two.

Adam had found out recently something that Kurt could appreciate, or at least smile about it.

As they walked through the path amongst the flowers, he could see a slight tension in Kurt’s body that wasn't passing as they kept on walking.

Knowing how Kurt had a lot more difficulties expressing what he wanted, at least at the beginning of their relationship, Adam asked a little worried

"If this is not of your liking or you have allergies will you please let me know? I want our time together to be enjoyable for the both of us…"

Kurt's soft smile and gentle kiss, was making him understand perfectly the sentiment behind his nana's words.

For he was feeling extremely lucky in having Kurt's hand in his right now.

And what Kurt said next, felt like the gentle breeze carrying cherries’ blossoms’ petals, a beautiful sign of changes to come.

"I like this very much. And even if I had not enjoyed the garden, which mind you is not the case.

Seeing you coming alive as you tell me more of all we see around us, seeing your enthusiasm and obvious love for the subject.

That would be more than enough to make this an enjoyable experience. Luckily, as far as I know I don't have any allergies, so if we find one, it'll be an unwelcome surprise for the both of us"

Adam chuckled softly at the last quip of humour Kurt offered, and in a spur of the moment decision Adam took Kurt to the tropical part of the gardens, until they were standing in front of a tree grinning mischievously

"This tree is called bur flower tree, but locally in the South and Southeastern Asia, its name is Kadam.

Right now it’s too early to see its flowers, they won’t bloom till late Summer, and they will continue to bloom till early Winter.

But when their times arrive, their scent is sweet and their globular heads are golden in colour and about two inches in diameter… I’ve seen them and I believe they are a sight to behold”

Kurt had stopped looking at the tree to look at Adam in the eyes as soon as the word Kadam had left his lips.

While Klaine Kurt, had been nothing more than an afterthought, the first in line to be thrown under the bus to allow space in the spotlight for Blaine.

The reverence with which Adam spoke of Kadam, made Kurt feel like he would be put first above all others, above Adam himself…

And for the first time, Kurt was wishing to see and smell this flower that promised to be as precious as the man holding his hand.

Longing was tinting Kurt’s voice as he asked tentatively “When the time is right, will you take me back to see those flowers?”

Adam’s smile softened as he nodded “I will take you to see our golden globes when the time is right.”

As it happened life had a way of getting in the way. It had kept them busy, on a late fall afternoon, after a week that had them both in frustrated tears, due to their schedules continuously shifting always out of sync, allowing them little to no time to spend together.

Adam sent Kurt a text that said 'I think it's time for us to see our personal golden globes, what say you?'

Kurt's answer was almost instantaneous 'Let's go'

Even before they reached their tree, the sweet scent of its blooms could be perceived in the air.

Contrary to Kurt's fears it was neither oppressive nor overwhelming…

Once they stood in front of their tree Kurt looked appreciatively at their aesthetic.

The flowers were as beautiful as Adam had promised, squeezing Adam’s hand in his he leaned on the side, letting their arms touch as he rested his head on Adam’s shoulder.

With the first smile, a flower brought to his face in what felt like forever, stretching his lips he said “I think I love those flowers”

Adam placed a gentle kiss on Kurt’s head and said softly “You know right that in here they are protected and cannot be picked?”

Kurt chuckled softly and continued serene “That’s part of their charm, no one is allowed to go and break them apart, and force them to have no other thing to do but die”

Despite Kurt’s morbid way of looking at it the message reaching Adam’s ears was more hopeful than it might have seemed.

So he continued his questioning with a grin “So you simply don’t like flowers or there’s something more to it?”

Kurt hummed softly trying to count how many flowers he saw before getting lost in Adam’s words again…

“I like flowers just fine, I simply don’t like to surround myself with dying things that I will have to dispose of within a couple of days.”

Adam smiled and kissed Kurt properly, enjoying how his boyfriend was finally relaxed in his arms.

And then he said reassuringly “It’s ok darling, I prefer plants as whole myself. When we’ll end up going back to the UK to visit my folks, I’m going to take you to my grandpa's cottage. I bet the flowers I can show you there, while not as exotic as this one, will still be just as breathtaking as you are.”

Kurt nuzzled his cheek against Adam’s and then turned back to look at their flower

“I’m sure they are going to be just as breathtaking as this moment, because you’ll be there sharing them with me.”

~The End~

[osirisapollo]

Black Sheep

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel

Wolf Dean, Sheep Castiel Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Sassy Castiel, Gentle Dean, Fluff, Smut

Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Self-Lubrication, Topping from the Bottom, Mating, Biting, Marking, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Knotting, Porn with Feelings, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending

Summary:  In a world full of shifters, there is a natural hierarchy. The predators have always stood firmly on the top. But the world is evolving, and new laws are in place to unify the different species. In populated areas integration comes easily, but in rural areas the groups are more isolated. Castiel, a sheep-shifter, grew up in the pasture. Considered prey, he gets to reap most of the benefits of this new world. The only problem: it seems as though the local wolves are having a hard time fighting their animal instincts.

Read it on AO3

Castiel was grazing quietly on the hillside, his wool a little thicker than it should be for the time of year. It was a little warmer than he would like, but the gentle breeze that occasionally swept through the pasture was enough to keep him at a pleasant temperature.

The pasture was Castiel’s favorite place. He loved the sunshine on his back, no matter how warm it happened to be with his heavier coat. He loved how green the grass was here, giving it a much more refreshing taste. And he loved how free he felt.

He was relaxed and happy when he was this far back in the pasture, which is why he didn’t instantly connect the dots when the soft breeze carried in a familiar smell. Castiel discreetly scented the air, freezing when he recognized the aroma. Wolf. He was being hunted.

He’d wandered too far from the flock, and now he was going to pay the price. Castiel stood fixed in place, weighing his options. He had two: head toward his family, in the hope of saving himself, or lead the wolf astray, in the hope of saving his family. So, really, only one option. Before he even realized he’d come to a decision, his body was reacting, and his legs were carrying him farther away from the area he knew his flock was located.

Castiel was well aware that fleeing was the worst possible way to react to a wolf. It couldn’t help but pursue; the wolf’s instincts mandated it. It was something that had been drilled into his head since he was a lamb, well before he’d developed his wool. But it had also been drilled into him that you never left the flock; which just goes to show how well he’d listened.

The wolf, he knew was still watching him, didn’t immediately give chase. He knew that didn’t mean the beast was letting him get away. It could afford to wait. It was much faster than he could ever hope to be.

Regardless of his shorter legs and slower nature, Castiel was over the hill in seconds. He could no longer smell the wolf, but he knew that didn’t mean he was safe. Even as the thought occurred to him, he saw the canine bound over the hill, grinning in that way wolves had. It’s tongue waved from it’s mouth as it followed, clearly enjoying the chase.

Castiel ran as hard as his legs could allow. His heart was pounding so hard he felt his wool must be pulsing with it. His breathing was fast and irregular, but he didn’t have the time or concentration to steady it. Castiel needed to get farther from his family before the wolf could catch up.

He took a brief moment to wonder if he could go faster if he transformed but immediately pushed the thought from his mind. Four legs were better than two.

There was a forest ahead, and Castiel headed toward it, even knowing the beast would have the advantage there. The wolf was gaining swiftly, anyway. He knew there was no chance of escape.

As soon as he reached the treeline, he zigged and he zagged, but the wolf only plowed onwards, completely unhindered by the trees. If only Castiel hadn’t skipped his last shearing, he might have made it through faster. As it was, his wool caught on branches and brambles, and it slowed him even more than the unfamiliar terrain under his hooves.

Although he knew all his efforts were for naught, he was still disappointed as he felt the tension in the air right before the wolf leapt upon him. The beast’s strong jaws came down around his neck, and even the fluffiness of his unshorn wool could not have stopped those teeth from reaching their target.

As a last ditch effort, he decided to transform. His legs lengthened and his torso shrunk until the wolf’s jaws were wrapped around his very human neck.

The wolf pulled back instantly.

Then, just as suddenly, the wolf was gone. His wheat field colored fur faded into tan skin, and dirty blonde hair. He was only slightly out of breath as he stared down at Castiel from his kneeling position.

“Jesus, Cas! Don’t do that while I’ve got you captured! I could have broken your neck without even tying!” The man’s voice was rich, and caused an unwarranted shiver to run down the sheep-shifter’s spine.

Castiel found himself smiling up at the man, meeting the gaze of his gorgeous green eyes. “But you wouldn’t have.” He countered.

“It would have been an accident, but it could have happened!” The man insisted, glaring at the smile on his face.

“But it didn’t.” He stated, carelessly, with a shrug.

The man glared harder at Castiel. “Do you really want to take that risk?”

Castiel sighed. “Dean, every second I spend with you is a risk.” He didn’t mean to sound unkind, but it was the truth. Instead of letting the mood turn with those thoughts, he grinned. “Besides, if you kill me, who will you chase around the countryside?”

Dean rolled his eyes, sitting back on his heels and helping the sheep sit up. “There are other sheep in the field, you know.”

Castiel held back his comments about the likelihood of Dean finding another sheep willing to play these games with him. Most sheep were wise enough to avoid the wolves, altogether. “None as fluffy as me.” He said instead, raising his chin as if he was proud of that fact.

Dean’s grin turned wolfish immediately, and he gave Castiel a once over, even though he was no longer wearing his wool. “Why are you so fluffy? I thought you had a shearing scheduled the last time I saw you.”

Castiel glared in response. “Do you remember the rest of that conversation? The one about how scars make it so my wool doesn’t grow? ”

Dean had the good grace to look a little ashamed at that, and ran his hand gently along the scar that was visible just inside Castiel’s right thigh. “Is it my fault that your thighs look delicious?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, trying desperately to fight his body’s reaction to that touch. “I know it’s some sort of wolf thing, all the biting, but my brother was doing the shearings last time. He might have got the wrong impression when these were revealed. You have to be more careful.”

Dean’s wolfish expression was back. His hand continued it’s exploration of Castiel’s thigh, clearly pleased at the reaction it was causing. “It’s weird, but I never hear you complaining until after.”

When Castiel had presented as a ewe, he’d been mortified. He had learned about male ewes, of course, but they were exceedingly rare. The idea of suffering through a heat, and producing his own slick had been embarrassing enough. It wasn’t until he’d realized he would be expected to breed that he became truly horrified.

Luckily, the new laws had already been in place by the time he’d had his first heat. The flock didn’t like it, but they were forced to obey. The ewes were kept securely away from the rams during a heat until they were of age for breeding. By the time he was of age, Castiel had been able to convince the flock to allow him to make the choice. Male ewes were thought to be only able to breed once, and he’d convinced them to allow him to choose which ram he would give that chance to. He’d been able to put off breeding for years.

It was the only time he’d been grateful for being different.

That is, until he’d met Dean.

“You’re so wet. Always so wet for me.” The wolf praised, as he ran his fingers along the the cleft of his ass, and Castiel was thankful for the slick he produced.

Dean bent his head to nuzzle the sheep’s neck, breathing deeply of his scent and moaning obscenely. Castiel had been delighted when his submissive scent had appealed to the wolf, even if he was the wrong species. Dean always smelled as if he’d dropped out of Castiel’s own personal heaven.

He couldn’t help but feel fortunate when Dean’s finger was able to slide so easily into him, all because he’d presented with the wrong secondary gender, or so he’d thought at the time.

Castiel was grateful, but the only one that knew was Dean. He was the only one that needed to know.

“Please, Dean.” He begged, groaning as another finger entered him. He begged because it was the quickest way to get Dean to respond to a request.

“You know we have to do this right, Cas. Why are you always trying to get me to rush?” Dean asked, gently. He pumped his fingers in and out a few times before curling them forward and making Castiel gasp.

“I want you inside me.” He answered, even though he knew Dean was right.

“Not yet, little lamb. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Castiel glared at the wolfish grin he was graced with. Dean knew he hated being called a lamb. That was possibly why he always waited until he thought the sheep was distracted before he ever did it.

“It’s not that big.” He retaliated, just to be an asshole.

The only response was a snort. Dean knew that wasn’t true. Before he could come up with another smart ass remark, the wolf attempted to add another finger.

“Ah!” Castiel’s hand instinctively shot out to grab the arm in an effort to make the motion stop. It already had. Dean was very good at reading his body.

“Not ready, yet?” The wolf asked, clearly trying not to sound smug about it. Even though he had every right.

“Just... go slow.” Castiel conceded, begrudgingly.

Being with a wolf wasn’t like being with a ram, something Castiel had learned the hard way. Not that Castiel had ever been with a ram before, but he knew what to expect when it happened.

Castiel’s body was equipped with everything he needed to breed with a ram. His hole, his slick, they were all designed for being mounted and bred by his own kind. It was something he’d never really thought about until the first time he’d been with Dean.

When he’d seen the monster the wolf was hiding, he’d been intimidated and fascinated in equal measure. It was possibly twice the size of anything he’d seen within his own flock. He’d even thought it would never work, but he’d been surprised to find himself willing to try, anyway.

Of course, Castiel hadn’t seen fit to inform Dean of his virgin status until after the deed was done.

The memory of the wolf’s overreaction made him smile, and he felt his muscles relax around Dean’s fingers, allowing the third one to finally enter him.

The funny part about it was that he’d thought his virgin status was the reason it had been so hard that first time. Now he knew the truth of it. He just wasn’t built to take a wolf. But he had. And he’d continued to for several months, now. It seemed like anytime he could sneak away from the flock, he’d found his hand, or his mouth, or his hole clenched around the wolf’s dick.

Dean was staring at him in the way that said he knew Castiel’s mind was wandering. He felt those fingers curl, dragging a low moan from his lips and a fresh wave of arousal through his body.

“I was thinking about when you took my virginity.” He admitted, pleased when Dean’s pupils dilated at the reminder.

Dean smiled, leaning forward to give him a lazy kiss. He nuzzled into his neck again, and Castiel felt his teeth nip on his collarbone.

“No biting!” The sheep reminded him, but his body’s reaction betrayed him, and he felt the fingers within him slip easier through the fresh slick he produced.

Dean’s grin turned wolfish again, and Castiel knew the wolf was well aware of what he really thought of the biting.

Taking advantage of the situation was Dean’s strong suit, so he gently added a fourth finger while the sheep’s body was acting so willing.

“God you’re so hot. So fucking tight.”

If anyone had ever asked Castiel, before, if he was interested in dirty talk, he would have answered with a resounding no.

“It doesn’t even matter how many times I fuck you does it? You’re gunna be this tight forever.”

But that would have been before he’d met Dean, because those dirty words, whispered directly into his ear, made him slick up faster than anything else. He made a pathetic whining noise, as his body opened farther and allowed the wolf’s fingers to move again. The wet suction noise that emitted from his body at the motion made him blush. His embarrassment deepened when Dean leaned back to get a look at his handiwork.

“Fuck, look at you.” The wolf said, staring down between Castiel’s legs where his fingers gently rocked inside him. “Stretched to your limit.”

The sheep did the only thing he could do to shut the man up, and he thrust back against those fingers. “Please, Dean!”

Dean grinned at him, moving to kiss him again, and pumped his fingers a couple of times. When the wolf finally removed them, Castiel knew he was beyond ready. Dean was always so careful to prepare him properly, and it sent a thrill down his spine to know the wolf cared so much about his comfort.

Dean brought those fingers to his face, and proceeded to lick them clean. Watching the wolf wrap his tongue around them, a shiver of arousal shot down the sheep’s spine, and fresh wave of slick warmed him.

“You taste so good.” He was teased, and the wolf shot him a predatory look. “No wonder my ancestors were so adamant about eating your kind.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, trying to hide his reaction to that image in his mind. He could almost feel the wolf’s face buried between his legs, licking up all the fluids his body had to offer. It was always amazing, but that wasn’t what he wanted right then.

“Are you going to talk, or are you going to fuck me?” He demanded, bending one of his legs to throw over Dean’s shoulder.

“Can I do both?” The wolf’s hands reached for his hips, pulling him into a better position. He gripped Castiel’s other leg and lifted it as well.

“It depends on what you say.” He quipped. His breath left him in a rush as Dean wrapped his hand around his dick, stroking it firmly.

Castiel let loose an explosive moan at the attention, but quickly slapped the man’s hand away. He was already too aroused, and he would never be able to last that way.

Dean released him without argument. He leaned forward a little to plant a kiss on his lips instead, bending the sheep nearly in half. The slow drag of his erection across Castiel’s sensitive hole had him moaning his approval.

“I will probably tell you how beautiful you are.” Dean answered him. He made a pleased hum when Castiel threw his arms around his neck. The sheep pulled him down into another kiss.

“I’ll probably make sure you know how good you feel.” The wolf continued, followed by a low sound as he lined himself up. The touch was just enough to feel the pressure of the blunt head, and Castiel groaned, trying to push back against it.

Dean held back, teasing. The sheep broke first and made a sound of frustration. Dean grinned, finally relenting and driving into him slowly.

Castiel’s head fell back and his eyes squeezed closed as he felt himself impaled. No matter how many times they did this, it always felt like too much, but exactly what he needed.

“Dean.” He said breathlessly, and the slow glide stopped, immediately.

“You ok?” The trepidation in the wolf’s voice was like a balm to his soul, and he inhaled deeply.

“Kiss me.” He said, pulling the other man down to him, and meeting his lips in a hungry kiss. The angle of his hips changed a bit, and the kiss helped him to relax. When his body adjusted, he felt Dean’s hips pull back a little, before driving forward the rest of the way.

“Oh, fuck!” The wolf groaned. “You feel so amazing. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

Dean had always been a vocal lover, never holding back the words that poured out of his mouth while they were intwined. It was one of the things Castiel loved the most, and he felt his body relax even further at the sounds of the wolf’s enjoyment. Dean was so good to him, and Castiel loved knowing he was able to please his lover.

The wolf’s sigh of pleasure turned quickly to a whine of discontent.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Cas. Cas, I can’t...” He couldn’t hold back forever, and was about to reach his breaking point. The sheep knew it.

This was Castiel’s favorite part, really. He knew if the time ever came that he would have to be bred, a ram would never take care of him the way Dean did. A ram would never try to hold back, and make sure that Castiel enjoyed himself. Although, rams weren’t equipped the way Dean was either. And Castiel liked that too.

He forced his eyes open, knowing the sight that would greet him, and drinking his fill. Dean’s entire body was involved in the strain of holding back. All of his muscles were tensed, showing off the fine physique that Castiel spent his nights dreaming about. There was a fine sheen of sweat gathering along his hairline, and that ripe, puffy lip was pulled between his teeth. Castiel waited until those startling green eyes began to creep open.

“It’s okay, Dean.” He allowed one of his hands to caress the wolf’s jaw line, and felt the man lean slightly into it.

The feeling of Dean’s withdraw was almost as intense as it was when he pushed his way back in. Castiel couldn’t help the fervent moan the action pulled from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” Dean’s tone was always awed when he said things like that, and it never failed to bring a blush to Castiel’s cheeks. There was another slow thrust.

“The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He added, before changing his angle a little and drilling back into Castiel.

“Dean!” He gasped out the name, his fingers digging into the flesh of Dean’s shoulders, as a pleasure spiked through him.

“Oh, is that it? Should I do that again?” The wolf cajoled, pressing forward and rolling his hips a little in the way he did when he was making sure Castiel’s body was prepared to take more.

“ Deeean ” He tried to whine, but was cut off by another well aimed thrust of Dean’s hips. It turned into an awful noise he wished he could take back, and the wolf released a breathless little chuckle.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” Dean gave him a triumphant grin and made another slow movement of his hips. But Castiel was done playing games, and instead of responding in the way he was expected to, he tried something different.

He growled at Dean.

Growling didn’t come easy to his kind, it felt odd and a bit uncomfortable. He had to force the strange noise out of his throat, baring his teeth for good measure.

The effect on the other man was startling. His body didn’t change, but the wolf was clearly visible in the sudden sharpness of his teeth, and the way the green of his eyes spread to fill over the white.

“Did you just growl at me?” Dean’s voice was an ironic growl of it’s own.

“Yes. Don’t make me do it again.” The sheep answered, forcing his voice calm even while his insides twisted. Had he really just growled at a wolf?

Castiel couldn’t deny the fear that spiked through him at the sight of the wolf coming through, but neither could he deny the arousal it caused. If he’d ever doubted his attraction to the wolf, as well as the man, those doubts were thoroughly dashed.

Before he had time to question his decision, or even think of an apology, Dean was dropping his legs from his shoulders and leaning back away from him. Then before Castiel could even process the change, the wolf had him by the hips, lifting and twisting and manhandling him.

When it was all said and done, he found himself straddling the other man, one leg on either side of his hips, and his cock still firmly inside him.

“You want to be in charge? Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The movement, and the words were so unexpected that it took a while for the situation to sink in. When it did, Castiel couldn’t help the relieved and ecstatic smile that crossed his face.

“Really?” He rolled his hips a little just to feel the way the wolf filled him so completely.

Dean himself growled in response. His was much more convincing, and the deep rumble of it caused another wave of arousal and slick. He could feel it helping to ease his passage, and he used that to his advantage. He placed his hands on Dean’s chest and used the leverage to push himself up, and allowed gravity to drop him back down.

The noise that fell from his lips at the action was nothing compared to the actual howl that tore from Dean’s throat.

Castiel reacted quickly, slapping a hand down to cover the wolf’s mouth. A giggle escaped his lips that was part joy and part fear.

“Dean.” He hissed, leaning forward as if whispering now would help in any way. “Your pack will hear you!”

But Dean wasn’t listening. His hands gripped so tightly to Castiel’s hips he knew there would be bruises tomorrow, and his face seemed to be at war with itself as he fought to keep the beast inside. It took a few moments, but Dean’s eye’s eventually cleared, and Castiel removed his hand.

“Are you okay?” The sheep asked, his fear and arousal once again fighting for dominance.

“Yeah, beautiful. I’m great.” Dean said, his confident grin returning.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do it this way.” Because Castiel was fairly sure the wolf inside was not happy that the position of dominance had been reversed.

“Are you kidding? That felt amazing. You should definitely do it again.”

Castiel was much less sure than Dean seemed to be, but he trusted the man. So, he did it again.

This time, Dean was able to control his wolf’s reaction, and Castiel took that as permission to do as he pleased.

He established a decent rhythm fairly easily, sometimes pulling himself up and others just grinding down to get Dean as deep as he could get him. It felt incredible, and he reached down to give his own cock a few quick pulls, as he watched his lover’s reactions.

An animalistic whine issued almost continuously from Dean’s mouth. His hands were clenched around Castiel’s hips and his gaze was directed downward. Castiel didn’t know if the wolf was looking at his dick or if he could see where they were joined below that. Whatever was holding his attention only worked for a moment.

Dean moved to meet the next drop, his head falling back with a loud groan. After that little taste of pleasure, it was as if the floodgates had opened. The wolf could no longer lay still and let Castiel have his own way. He was thrusting with abandon, pressing up into Castiel, meeting him when he dropped his hips down.

The wolf had always been in charge during their liaisons in the past. He’d always been so attentive and meticulous, never losing that carefully held control. He always had to make sure that Castiel didn’t get hurt, and it wasn’t until this moment that the sheep finally realized how much was lost when Dean was holding back.

The wolf couldn’t talk while he was like this. He couldn’t tease, and he couldn’t restrain those animal noises that he usually kept in check. He was beautiful.

Castiel found his body responding to the pace the other man had set, even if he was supposed to be the one in control this time. His hips shifted and lifted and dropped in time with the ones below. When he dropped down particularly hard, the whine below him turned pathetic and begging, and a fresh wave of arousal ran through him at the knowledge that he had done that. He had turned Dean into the needy animal below him.

He continued to meet the man’s thrusts, pressing down a little harder each time. The rewards for his actions were too many to count. The man below him was falling apart, the noises he made ratcheting Castiel’s own desire higher.

He could feel his slick gathering in the areas where they were joined. Gravity seemed to be making it worse, and even as he felt his face flush with the knowledge, he knew Dean would be pleased. He was always pleased when he made a mess out of Castiel.

When the grip on his hips became hard enough to bruise again, the sheep knew what was coming.

Before he could change his mind, he forced Dean to remove the hands on his hips, pushing them into the leaves and dirt below them. The frustrated sound that issued from the wolf made Castiel smile, and he watched those hands turn to dig into the forest floor instead.

On his next thrust, he could feel the swelling at the base of Dean’s cock that stretched him a little wider than before, and he groaned. He could probably only get a few more thrusts before that swelling became too much, and he wanted them. He dropped down hard and fast, feeling the pressure and the drag across his puckered flesh. The first was only a little more of stretch than his body was used to, the second only slightly more so. By the third, he felt his body struggle to allow it, and he knew the forth wasn’t going to happen at all.

Dean’s fingers were pressed into the dirt, digging holes for themselves as his fists opened and closed. His mouth was firmly closed, the effort to keep it that way clearly visible in the tension in his jaw. If the swelling of his knot hadn’t been enough to tell, the tension in the man’s body said clearly how close he was.

Castiel knew this was his chance. He knew it was maybe the only chance he had to get what he wanted without having to talk Dean into it. It was a nearly perfect opportunity, with him in complete control, and the sheer amount of slick gathered between them. He wrapped a hand around his dick and pumped furiously, hoping to come at the same time.

His fourth thrust came down hard, the knot stopping the motion and causing them both to gasp loudly.

Dean stared up at him, eyes widening when Castiel slapped a hand across his mouth again. If the wolf’s reaction to their change in position was any indication, this was going to be loud.

And then Castiel came down for the last time, pressing his body back, forcing it to accept all of Dean.

The howl that came out of the wolf was loud, even behind his hand, but it was nothing in comparison to the sound that came out of Castiel, completely unhindered.

His orgasm hit him hard as the swollen flesh pressed into his body, locking him to his lover in a way he could not escape.

He held back another sound as he felt Dean’s teeth dig into his palm, and the cock inside him pulse with release. Castiel groaned at the feeling, with his hole still fluttering from his own orgasm.

The sheep fought to catch his breath. “Shit. Shit!”

There was no way that hadn’t been too loud. He found himself peering into the forest around them, and even sparing a glance toward the hill from which he’d come. He’d screamed so loud they’d probably heard it the next county over.

He continued looking for signs of either of their families coming to investigate until Dean’s hands came up to surround his cheeks, and he was forced to face the other man. When he finally looked back down at his lover, he allowed the hand over his mouth to fall.

“Cas.” Dean was staring at him wide-eyed, still trying to catch his own breath. His gaze was so filled with concern that Castiel leaned forward to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. The action caused the knot inside him to tug at his opening, and they both moaned in combination of pleasure and pain. When the sheep moved back into a more comfortable position, Dean continued.

“Cas, what the hell were you thinking?”

He would have liked to avoid looking at Dean while they had this conversation, but he was stuck in his current position for the foreseeable future.

“How long does this last?” He asked, instead of answering Dean’s question.

Dean sighed, running his hands up Castiel’s sides. “I don’t know, Cas, it’s not an exact science. Sometimes it lasts longer than other times. Maybe my body will figure out it can’t knock you up, and it’ll go down.”

Castiel’s eyes widened at that. “That’s what your knot is for?”

Dean looked a bit confused by the question, but his comforting, wandering hands never stopped. “What did you think it was for?”

“I don’t know.” He probably should have found more information, before he’d done this.

Dean’s expression was filled with concern, and he forced Castiel to face him again when the sheep turned to hide his shame. “Cas, why did you do it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I wanted to try.” He said, hoping it would be enough.

“But why? You know you’re not built to take a knot.” Dean said softly, refusing to allow Castiel to break their eye contact.

“I wanted all of you.” He whispered meekly, and that was mostly true. Although, at some point he’d also convinced himself that what he was able to give Dean wasn’t enough. He’d watched the wolf work his own knot down, and he wanted to be able to do that for him.

Dean’s eyes softened at that. He didn’t know if the man truly understood what he meant, but he hoped he was at least getting an idea.

“Did you like it?”

Castiel moved his hips a bit, feeling the swollen flesh pull at this hole again. It was a little uncomfortable, and bigger than he’d ever given it credit for, but it was pleasant in its own way.

“I may have to collect more data.” He grinned flirtatiously, rolling his hips again. He felt the flesh inside him pulse again, and Dean groaned, his head falling back and his eyes closing.

“Nope, still trying to knock you up.”

Castiel felt a little thrill at the idea, but did his best to hide it. Interspecies breeding wasn’t possible, as far as he knew, but the idea of carrying Dean’s pups appealed to him in a way that carrying for the rams never had.

When Dean’s knot finally went down, and they were able to part, Castiel found himself feeling empty. Before he could get too upset about it, though, Dean pulled him back down to lay in his arms.

“Do you know why wolves mark?” Dean asked, rubbing a cool finger soothingly over the new mark he’d made on the sheep’s palm.

Castiel snorted at the question as his eyes followed the movement of the wolf’s finger. “I assume it’s some sort of dominance thing.”

Instead of the expected sarcasm, Dean’s voice held an altogether different tone. “Well, yeah, kinda. Dominant wolves are the ones that mark.”

He nodded. He knew enough about wolves to know that.

“Alphas.” He said, and felt a shiver pass through the wolf at the word. He filed that bit of information away for later.

“Yeah, but do you know why?”

Castiel assumed that the conversation was leading up to something, but he didn’t really know where. As much as he complained about Dean marking him, he’d never really minded it. Even knowing that someday it was going to get them caught. It was a part of being with Dean, and he was more than willing to let it happen. If his options were to be covered in bite marks, or not have Dean in his life, he knew which one he would pick. Not that he hadn’t made that decision already. He’d been yelling at Dean for months about the marks, but he just kept coming back for more.

“No, I guess I don’t know.”

“Alphas are compelled to mark, to denote their mates.”

Castiel turned to look Dean in the eyes, then. The man was blushing faintly, but met his gaze evenly. “What are you saying? You bite me so that the other wolves will know I belong to you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Dean raised his free hand to rub the back of his neck in a nervous gesture Castiel had rarely seen before. The wolf was usually so sure of himself. “Listen, Cas, it’s not just a mark of ownership, or whatever. It’s…”

Dean seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, but his eyes sharpened as he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Wolves mate for life.”

Castiel sucked in a shocked breath of air. Did that mean what he thought it did? “Dean, are you saying that we’re… wolf married?”

“No, I’ve never given you a real mating mark.” Dean dragged a hand along the side of Castiel’s neck, giving the impression of where this mating mark would be. The wolf’s eyes followed the movement, as if afraid to meet his gaze. “But I would like to.”

Castiel quickly dug through all his knowledge on wolves. He remembered learning that wolves mated for life. He even remembered the mating marks, but he knew there was something he was missing. Something about bonding… As the information clicked in his brain, he placed his hand under Dean’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

“I’m not a wolf. It probably won’t be the same. Sheep don’t have mates.” His tone was soft, almost apologetic.

Dean shook his head slightly, not even enough to dislodge the sheep’s hand. “I don’t care. I don’t want a wolf mate. I want you.”

Castiel closed his eyes against the honesty and love coming from the wolf’s gaze. This was a terrible idea. He was expected to eventually be bred like the other ewes in his flock, and he was sure that Dean was expected to mate a wolf. It just wasn’t done to find love outside of your own species. There were always rumors of such things happening, now that they were all trying to live together in peace. But they were only rumors. Weren’t they?

Castiel opened his eyes, and took in the view of those green eyes he’d come to love. Wolf’s eyes. He’d never felt anything even remotely like this with one of his own kind. “Okay.”

It was Dean’s turn to be surprised, and the quick intake of air rushed past Castiel’s face, satisfyingly. “Really?”

“Dean, I have already allowed you to mark me everywhere else. What makes you think I would deny you now?” He smiled, unrepentantly.

The wolf looked ashamed. “I really am sorry about that, Cas. I can’t stop the urge to mark you. It was all I could do to just find another place for it. I didn’t want to mate you without your permission.”

Castiel gave an understanding nod to that. “Well, you have my permission now. So mark away, Alpha.”

As predicted, the word had a profound effect on Dean. His eyes narrowed, fading closer to wolf form again, and a low growl was permitted through bared teeth.

Castiel hmed, grinning up at the man as he clearly tried to tame the beast inside. “You like it when I call you that.”

Dean shook his head, dispelling the wolf, and fading back to the man. “The wolf likes it.”

The sheep laughed. “You are the wolf.”

“I’m not only the wolf.” Dean told him, seriously.

Castiel had to concede that. When they were together, they weren’t only a wolf and a sheep. They were also men. And, somewhere along the way, Castiel had fallen in love. He supposed Dean must have fallen in love at some point, too, if he was willing to chance a bond with no guarantee that the sheep would feel it too.

Castiel smiled lovingly at the man, baring his neck where Dean had indicated the mating mark should go. “Mark away, Dean.”

The man sighed, baring his soul in his gaze. “This is forever, Cas. I can’t take it back.”

Castiel hoped Dean could see the love he held for the man within his own stare. “That’s good, because I’m never going to want you to.”

Dean’s smile was radiant as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Castiel’s lips. “Are you sure?”

“Dean, if you don’t shut up and bite me, I’m going to bite you.”