Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Useless dog. That’s what you are,” Jean snaps, hurtling the ball straight at Jeremy.

Jeremy grits his teeth, ignoring the way his wolf bristles as he lets the ball bounce off of his chest. Their one sided arguments are getting old. At least they’re the only two occupying the court at this time of night. “Then tell me how I can be of use to you, Jean.”

Jean stomps right up to him, hooking his fingers into the face mask of his helmet and tugging. Jeremy doesn’t budge. “There is nothing you can do for me.”

“That isn’t true. You know that,” Jeremy says, keeping his voice gentle. Only the blind could overlook the state Jean is in. He’s starving. Not that he’d ever deign to admit it. Jean’s snapping and snarling can’t hide his exhaustion. All his aggression succeeds in is telling Jeremy that he needs help he refuses to ask for. “Tell me what you need.”

Jean’s lips press into a thin line, but he releases Jeremy’s helmet, letting his hand drop down to the front of his jersey instead.

“I can get you more blood.” He dares to place his hand over Jean’s, pleased when he doesn’t pull away. He knows that being Jean’s indirect and only supply of blood upsets the vampire for reasons he can only speculate on.

Jean won’t hunt in the way most vampires tend to do—going out and finding someone to fuck through the pleasure of being fed from—leaving the blood bags Jeremy acquires for him as his sole option.

Jeremy is no stranger to the needs of supernaturals, having specific ones of his own, but his dealer limits him to only three bags of blood a week. Jean is too active for that to be enough to sustain him, and Jeremy won’t risk being blacklisted by the one dealer he can count on by being caught searching around for others to supplement Jean.

There’s always another option, but the last time Jeremy suggested it, Jean didn’t speak to him for two days. Or look at him. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and he decides to make his offer once more.

“Feed from me, Jean,” Jeremy says, releasing Jean’s hand when he jerks back. He doesn’t immediately storm away, which is already an improvement from the previous time. “If the idea makes you that uncomfortable, tell me now, and I’ll never ask you again.”

Jean looks away, his hands clenching tightly around his racquet. “Just one time?” He asks, his voice surprisingly timid.

“To start, yes. We can see how it goes,” Jeremy tells him, taking off his helmet and running a hand through his hair.

“Feeding only. I’m not going to give you anything else,” Jean says firmly, his expression harsh.

Jeremy nods in agreement, his own pleasure the last thing on his mind. He is undeniably attracted to Jean, but the vampire’s comfort comes first. “I’m not asking for anything else.”

Jean eyes him warily, eventually bobbing his head in a stiff nod. He seems more shocked than Jeremy is by the fact he’s agreed to this.

“Let’s shower first,” Jeremy suggests, knowing he’ll have an easier time with his self control if Jean’s scent is dulled by washing. Vampires don’t sweat, but Jean’s scent is always stronger after he’s spent time on the court.

“Yes.” Jean nods again, abruptly turning on his heel and marching towards the locker room.

Jeremy follows, choosing a shower stall far from Jean’s chosen one. They normally end up side by side after team practices, but that feels too intimate when it’s just the two of them. Feeding will be an intensely intimate experience, and Jeremy doesn’t want to set Jean on edge more than he already is.

He debates on whether he should put a shirt on as he dresses after the shower. He’s not entirely sure how messy of a process this will be, and he doesn’t want to ruin the fabric or obstruct Jean’s access to his neck. He decides to ask, looking at Jean quizzically as he holds up his shirt in one hand.

“Put it on. I know how to control myself,” Jean grumbles, very pointedly not looking at Jeremy’s bare torso.

He does as he’s told, waiting for Jean to direct him into the most convenient position.

They end up facing each other, straddling one of the low benches by the lockers. Their knees knock together when Jean leans forward, and he immediately sits bolt upright.

“Sorry,” Jean mumbles, pressing his hands over his face. Jeremy doesn’t miss the slight trembling of his body.

“It’s all right, Jean. There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jeremy says, willing to sit on the bench with him all night if that’s what it takes. “Touch me.” He cringes slightly, the words coming out more bold than he was aiming for. “I mean, it’s okay if you do. You can move me where you need me to be.”

It feels like an eternity ticks by before Jean looks at him again, hesitantly sliding his hands beneath Jeremy’s thighs to hook them over his own.

The answering hitch of Jeremy’s breath is almost inaudible, but he mentally chastises himself for reacting at all. He holds himself statue still as Jean wraps a strong arm around him, his palm splayed between his shoulder blades to hold him up. He braces his other hand on the bench behind Jeremy, their faces close enough to where Jeremy can count the number of darker flecks in Jean’s gray eyes. His pupils have a thin ring of red around them, betraying his urgent need for blood.

Jeremy tilts his head to the side, baring his neck in offering. He’s already preparing himself for the inevitable reaction of his body to Jean’s venom, the arousal that will course through him as he’s fed from. He figures that’s why Jean didn’t simply tug him onto his lap when he lifted his thighs, leaving a slightly awkward gap between their bodies. His eyes flutter closed as Jean’s lips brush against his neck, the touch feeling deceptively like a kiss.

“Thank you,” Jean whispers, and Jeremy isn’t given the opportunity to respond as his fangs sink into his skin.

He stifles a groan, using all of his self restraint to keep from clutching at Jean’s broad shoulders, to keep from burying his fingers in his dark hair. His claws come out, leaving small wounds as he grips his own thighs. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to be a werewolf. If he was a human, he couldn’t give Jean as much blood as he so desperately needs. His body will swiftly take care of the loss, but he’ll be ravenous afterwards.

Jean draws him closer, and Jeremy realizes that the soft, pleased sounds he’s hearing are coming from the vampire. He’s never heard anything close to that come from Jean before. A low rumble of satisfaction leaves Jeremy in return, unable to keep himself from scenting Jean. It’s a natural response to pleasure. Werewolves want their mates to smell like them, after all. Not that Jean is his mate. Stupid. He’s aware of what a dangerous path of thinking that would be.

Even with his superior healing, Jeremy’s body still has its limits. He brings a hand up to the back of Jean’s neck the instant he feels a flicker of lightheadedness, squeezing lightly in warning. “Enough, Jean.”

Jean growls, clutching him tighter as he continues to feed, and Jeremy snarls right back. The sound is low and vicious, startling both of them enough that Jeremy lets go of him and Jean withdraws his fangs. He licks over the twin punctures, lapping up the last beads of blood before the wound heals.

Jeremy is panting softly as they stare at each other, neither of them ever having reverted to their most base instincts in front of the other before. The only other time Jean has seen his claws before is when he used them to open up a package once. Jean had stared then too, and he assumes that’s the moment it truly sunk in for him. Jeremy is someone who can match his strength. Someone who won’t crumble when faced with the more monstrous aspects of himself.

Jeremy can’t help but wonder how Jean would react to the sight of him fully shifted.

“Feeling better?” Jeremy asks, taken aback by how gently Jean lifts his thighs and sets his feet back down on the floor. He’d half expected to be shoved away as swiftly as possible.

“Yes. Thank you,” Jean says, his appearance already visibly improved. His features are less sunken in, faint color blooming beneath his cheeks. He’s beautiful. An observation that Jeremy has made a thousand times. A hundred thousand times. He adjusts himself in his shorts, and Jean very pointedly does not look at the effects his venom has had on his partner.

“I’m glad.” Jeremy closes his eyes, able to feel how hard his heart is working to pump the blood his body is frantically trying to replenish throughout his body. “I just need to sit here for a second, and then we can go, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, and Jeremy’s brows furrow as he hears him stand up, his eyes opening as his footsteps retreat. His expression softens as he watches Jean dig through the basket of various extra snacks that are left over whenever the coaches bring in a box of something for the team.

Jean returns with a few items, and Jeremy is oddly touched by the fact that they’re all snacks Jean has seen him pick up before. Not that Jeremy is particularly picky. Especially when his body is practically begging him for nourishment.

“Thank you, Jean. This is perfect,” Jeremy murmurs, unwrapping a protein bar.

Jean remains silent, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jeremy isn’t bothered by his scrutiny as he eats, methodically making his way through everything. He asked once if Jean missed food, and was promptly ignored. He had assumed the answer was yes, then.

“Would you like me to drive?” Jean asks, nearly startling him as the two approach his car. Jean’s never volunteered to drive before.

He smiles, twirling his keys around one finger. “I feel fine, but if you want to, I’d be willing to hand these over.”

Jean watches the keys spin a couple of times before he shakes his head, approaching the passenger side. “I do not want to.”

“All right.” Jeremy shrugs, climbing into his own seat. He offers Jean the pick of the music, pleased when he actually makes a selection. Most of the time he grumbles that he doesn’t care and doesn’t like the options anyway. He tries to give Jean a choice in nearly everything they do, a habit he’s certainly picked up on. But Jean doesn’t fight him on it, and so Jeremy will continue to create choices for him.

—————————

Jean is a menace on the court.

Jeremy didn’t quite realize how drastically his physical capabilities were limited by the amount of blood he was getting, but the difference is clear as day now. He stands beside Rhemann, both of them silent as Jean checks one of his teammates hard enough to send him sliding across the floor as he lands. Jean doesn’t falter, only somewhat slowing when Jimenez hollers at him from across the room to take it easy.

“Jeremy…” Rhemann sighs, rubbing a hand over his brow.

“I’ve got him,” Jeremy reassures his coach, tugging his helmet back on and jogging out to relieve Jean’s current mock opponent from getting concussed. Their coaches have been alternating who Jean is paired with during practice in an effort to get them used to his strength, but it’s become increasingly obvious that Jeremy is the one best suited to give him an actual challenge.

There aren’t many supernaturals in general, and even fewer that play Exy, but most college and pro teams have at least one among their numbers. The Foxes currently have the most—that Jeremy knows of, at least—vampires Kevin and Neil, and the werewolf Minyard twins. Jeremy would like to talk with them at some point, he thinks.

“Hiya,” he greets, stopping in front of Jean while they reset their lines. He chuckles as Jean rolls his eyes, able to feel his exasperation. He can’t easily send Jeremy sprawling like he does with the others, but he certainly tries his darndest. Jeremy is glad his bruises heal nearly as fast as they form as he collides with Jean’s solid frame again and again, aware of how closely they’re being watched. Most of their teammates may not know exactly what they are, but their coaches do.

He muses on the fact that his blood is currently fueling his partner, running for his life each time he successfully trips Jean up. He grins gleefully as they reset once more, accepting the snarl Jean directs at him. He hopes he can wear him out now, because even though he doesn’t mind their nightly trips to the court, he’d also appreciate a bit more sleep tonight. He’s still feeling a little sluggish after the feeding. He doesn’t know how much Jean ended up taking, but it was definitely more than he originally thought.

Jean drives him back relentlessly as they repeat the drill, a particularly rough check shoving him backwards before he can regain his footing. He must be more put off than Jeremy assumed, because Jean swipes his feet out from under him in a move that would earn him a red card. He lands hard, his head snapping back against the floor. All of his breath whooshes out of his lungs for a few seconds, his eyes wide as he stares up at the lights on the ceiling. His own blood is being used against him.

He laughs at the absurdity of the situation, much to the concern of his teammates and coaches as they look at him on the floor. Jean peers down at his face, wordlessly reaching out for him. He grasps Jean’s elbow and gets to his feet, bouncing in place a couple of times to check if anything hurts more than it should.

“Don’t do that again,” Coach Jimenez chastises, shaking his head.

Jean nods, still eyeing Jeremy warily. He stays close to him as he leads the team through a cooldown at the end of practice, and as they head to the locker room.

“Is your head okay?” Jean asks after they’ve showered and dressed, Jeremy taking a seat on the same bench he and Jean occupied last night.

“Haven’t had any complaints,” Jeremy responds without thinking, tying his shoes. Jean’s face scrunches in confusion as some of their nearest teammates snicker, and he smiles. “I’m okay, Jean. Really.”

Jean looks skeptical, but doesn’t respond. They join Cat and Laila at the door, the four heading towards Jeremy’s car. “I should not have done that to you,” Jean says quietly, catching Jeremy’s sleeve to stop him as the girls climb into the backseats.

“It’s all right. I promise. But I would appreciate it if it didn’t happen again,” Jeremy says, his tone light. Jean has been adjusting well, but his violent conditioning isn’t something easily erased. Jeremy could never hold that against him. “Let’s go home.”

“I won’t do it again,” Jean agrees, releasing Jeremy’s sleeve.

Jeremy swings by a drive-thru after practice—much to Jean’s chagrin—ordering for the three of them who can actually eat food. He’s starving. Nothing new.

“Don’t act so haughty,” Cat chastises, lightly smacking Jean on the shoulder as he looks down his nose at their meals. “You literally consume human blood. Blood from people who definitely eat like us.”

Jean scowls, giving Jeremy a sidelong glance as he shoves a couple of fries in his mouth. “I did not say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” Laila chimes in, handing Cat her order from the bag.

“I was not,” Jean mutters, and Jeremy suppresses a grin at the obvious lie.

“What does blood taste like to you anyway?” Cat asks, stabbing a straw into the lid of her cup. “Like, if you drank from me, would it taste like what I just ate?”

Jean rolls his eyes. “Food does not go into your blood. I cannot begin to understand why you would ask me that.”

“Rude. And don’t avoid the question. Is blood to you like a five-star meal to us?”

“Blood is blood. But certain people taste better than others,” Jean adds, keeping his gaze on his lap. Away from Jeremy.

Cat and Laila exchange a look, Cat’s nose scrunching slightly. “No more questions.”

Jeremy sips his drink to conceal the smug expression his face threatens him with, his wolf stirring with pride. He probably shouldn’t be so proud, but he likes the feeling. He likes knowing he’s providing for Jean.

“Jeremy. Seriously?” Laila says dramatically, leaning against the counter as Jeremy raids the fridge within seconds of stepping inside.

He laughs, gathering ingredients to make a sandwich. Or two. “I can’t help it. You’d be starving too if you had to keep up with Jean on the court.”

“You’re eating us out of house and home,” Cat snorts, her shoulder pressed against Laila’s.

“Hey, I paid for this stuff,” Jeremy protests, chuckling. “And Jean doesn’t eat, so I’m just making sure his portion doesn’t go to waste.”

“If you say so.” Laila shrugs, linking her arm with Cat’s as they head for the couch.

“I thought you didn’t need permission to enter places,” Jeremy teases, glancing over at Jean standing in the entryway of the kitchen.

He doesn’t respond, silently crossing the floor to sit down on a barstool across the counter from Jeremy.

Jeremy has no doubt that if he were human, his instincts would tell him to run and hide from the intense way Jean is looking at him. But he is not human, and that hungry gaze only excites his wolf. He does his best to ignore the challenge his instincts instead view Jean’s stare to be. He knows he’s just as strong, probably stronger than the vampire is, and he has no desire to prove it by hurting him.

“Are you always hungry?” Jean asks eventually, his voice quiet.

Jeremy swallows the bite of sandwich he just took, nodding. “Most of the time. Are you?”

Jean shrugs. “Sometimes the craving is too strong to ignore.”

He feels incredibly guilty that Jean was having to make do with the few blood bags Jeremy could provide for him for so long, wishing Jean accepted his offer to drink from him sooner. He also can’t help but be grateful that he’ll be able to start saving money again. Blood is expensive.

Jeremy leans closer to him, speaking for Jean’s ears only. “You can feed from me again tonight.”

“I will not need as much as I did yesterday,” Jean murmurs, and Jeremy is slightly surprised by his immediate agreement. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Jean. I mean it.”

Jean inclines his head. “I will never take enough to harm you.” He stands, turning to disappear down the hall into their bedroom.

Jeremy sighs, finishing his second dinner and going to join Cat and Laila in the living room. Jean tends to take time for himself after practices, and Jeremy won’t interfere with the little rituals he creates for himself.

Jean emerges from his room eventually, his arms settling across his broad chest and his brows furrowing at the TV as the cast of The Breakfast Club dance around the library.

“That’s Jeremy,” Cat says when the jock appears on the screen, and Jeremy barks out a laugh as she and Laila dissolve into giggles.

Jean looks mildly horrified by the declaration, his expression only furthering the three’s amusement. “No. Why are they dancing?”

“Why not?” Jeremy says as Cat huffs.

“Too much to explain. We’ll watch the movie again sometime.”

Jean doesn’t seem particularly interested in the rest of the movie, but he takes a seat beside Jeremy to watch the ending.

Jeremy’s arm is draped over the back of the couch, and he tentatively rests his hand on Jean’s shoulder. Jean tenses for the briefest of seconds before he relaxes further, letting the length of his thigh press against Jeremy’s.

Jeremy just barely manages to smother the pleased rumble building in his chest.

He can feel the anticipation thrumming through Jean as the credits begin to roll, the eagerness for him to fulfill his promise. “Soon,” Jeremy exhales, and Jean turns his head faster than he’s prepared for. Their noses bump, Jean’s eyes wide as he rears back. “Sorry.”

“It is fine.” Jean gets to his feet, slinking back into their shared room without a second glance.

Jeremy wishes Cat and Laila goodnight, stopping in the kitchen to grab a water bottle and a couple of protein bars before going to join Jean.

“You’ll wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,” Jeremy says, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

Jean halts his back and forth pacing in front of their beds, his irises glowing red.

That’s new, Jeremy thinks, setting his sustenance down on his nightstand. He’s seen Jean’s eyes go red before, but never quite like…that. “Are you all right?”

Jean’s mouth opens and closes once, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he reconsiders his words. “I am not sure.”

Jeremy takes a step forward, concern lancing through him. “Your eyes are kind of…” He gestures in front of his face. “Glowing.”

“I do not feel hungry,” Jean says. “But I need to feed.”

“Where do you want me?”

Jean sits down on the edge of his bed, looking away as Jeremy climbs onto his lap. This is far more intimate than sitting on the bench was last night.

“Are you sure this is okay? I could turn around,” Jeremy suggests, his fingers digging into the tops of his thighs to keep from holding onto Jean.

“And fall on your face? I do not think so,” Jean says, his gaze fixed on the wall behind Jeremy.

“Wouldn’t your fangs in my neck kind of prevent that?” Jeremy asks.

Jean scowls. “Keep your voice down.”

“I promise you, no one heard that.” Jeremy chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not funny. I’m going to bite you now,” Jean says, making no move to bite him.

Jeremy smiles, baring his neck for the taking. “Go ahead.”

Jean leans in, very carefully placing his hands on Jeremy’s back. His lips hover just above his skin.

Jeremy waits patiently, the corners of his eyes tightening at the quick, sharp sting of Jean’s fangs. Finally. The pain is a fleeting sensation, replaced by almost overwhelming pleasure. It’s somehow more intense than it was last night, and his cock stiffens in record time.

He grunts, his claws drawing blood as they tear into the tops of his thighs, his body beginning to tremble. He promised Jean it would be nothing more than feeding, and he’s not going to break that promise. No matter how difficult it’s becoming not to roll his hips forward in search of release.

His eyes fly open as his knot begins to swell, something that’s not supposed to happen without proper stimulation, a strangled sound escaping him. He refuses to think about what exactly Jean might be to him to cause that reaction. His canine teeth feel too large for his mouth.

“Enough,” he snarls. He fears he may do something he can’t undo if Jean continues any longer. Like sinking his own claiming bite into Jean’s neck. He won’t, but better to be safe than sorry.

Jean withdraws his fangs, lapping at the punctures a few times before lifting his head. His lips part in surprise. “You have ears.”

Jeremy stares at him, the statement so obvious and unexpected that it snaps him out of his need to claim the vampire. “I…Yes?”

“You have ears,” Jean repeats, and Jeremy tracks his gaze to the top of his head.

“Oh. That happens sometimes,” he says, aware of the wolf ears he’s now sporting. He feels his tail twitch behind him.

Jean jerks beneath him, and Jeremy realizes that he’s also felt his tail.

“Sorry.” He tries to will his tail to remain still, knowing it tickles as it brushes Jean’s bare legs.

Jean begins to reach a hand up to touch Jeremy’s ears, pulling it back down as he registers what he’s doing.

Jeremy reaches for his wrist. “You can pet them, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Jean takes the invitation, albeit tentatively, stroking his fingers along the edge of his ear. Jeremy suppresses a shiver, the gentle caress doing nothing to ease his arousal.

“They’re soft,” Jean whispers as he lowers his hand.

Jeremy wishes he could better appreciate Jean’s sweet reaction, but he’s still struggling to dismiss his arousal. “I’m usually better at controlling it, but whenever I feel something too strongly, this… partial-shift, I guess, tends to happen,” Jeremy admits, his clawed fingers gesturing at his ears.

“Is it hard to control?” Jean asks, quietly.

“Sometimes. I have to be extra careful during games, because sprouting a tail in the middle of the court isn’t exactly a great look.”

That gets a small smile out of Jean. “I do not think that is the kind of publicity you want, no.”

“Definitely not,” Jeremy says, nearly tumbling to the floor when Jean’s hand finds the base of his tail and strokes the fur. It was an innocent touch, but his body interpreted it far differently. He stands, taking a step back. There’s no hiding the way his cock strains against his shorts.

“I.” Jean swallows. “I can help—”

“No.” Jeremy winces at the sharpness of his tone. “I mean, I’m not asking you to. I know it’s just feeding. I’ll take care of it.” He turns and sprints to the bathroom, unable to decipher the look on Jean’s face.

His hand rapidly moves over the length of his cock, squeezing his knot as he reaches an utterly unsatisfying release. He stifles a groan, panting softly.

He stares at himself in the mirror as his appearance shifts back to fully human, Jean’s expression burned into his mind. No matter how hard he wills it to vanish. He looked almost hurt by Jeremy’s swift departure, his lips pursing and his gray eyes vulnerable.

Jeremy shakes his head, washing his hands. Washing away the experience that went further than it probably should have. Jean set his boundaries. He’s not going to be the one to trample them.

Chapter Text

Jean

Jean is on the fringes of his sanity. And Jeremy is the one who put him there.

Coach Jimenez’s hollering might as well be whispering for the lack of impact it has on Jean from across the court, his body on autopilot as he helps the freshman he just bowled over to their feet, pulling them up with more strength than necessary. He spares another second to ensure they don’t end up on their face before dashing over to snap the ball back into play.

He’s going a bit too far in highlighting his superior speed and strength, but he’s counting on Jeremy to be sent out and bring him to heel. His partner has been avoiding him since their second feeding session, and if a few of their teammates get knocked around a bit to remedy the situation, that’s something Jean can live with.

He debates on whether to go after Derek or Derrick next, but the two are spared from his wrath when Jeremy beckons him to the side. Finally.

“You’re hurting people,” Jeremy says, and Jean grimaces as he spots the small freshman he ran over now on the bench.

“I did not intend to run into that one,” Jean admits. “It is not my fault they cannot keep up.”

Jeremy sighs, and Jean knows he’s said the wrong thing. “It’s not their fault either. Running into you is like smacking into a brick wall. But we,” he gestures between them, voice lowered, “have a responsibility to keep ourselves in check. Especially during practice. Your teammates are not your opponents. Don’t hurt them.”

Jean frowns when Jeremy turns to walk away without waiting for a response, reaching out and spinning him back around before he can think better of it. “Why are you avoiding me?” Jean regrets the question the instant the words leave him. On the side of the court is not the place for this discussion.

“If I were avoiding you, I wouldn’t be over here talking to you,” Jeremy says. It’s a bullshit answer. Even Jeremy doesn’t sound convinced.

Jean’s eyes narrow. “Do not waste your lies on me. I have done something wrong, and now you won’t look at me.” He tugs at one of his gloves, hating the hurt that managed to creep into his voice. Coach Rhemann is watching them. He is pretending not to, but Jean isn’t fooled.

Jeremy takes a step closer, lifting his hand and then dropping it before he can touch him. “No, Jean. I’m sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then tell me why you do not look at me,” Jean pleads, hating that too. He should not let Jeremy’s attention matter to him so much. But Jeremy’s affection is like standing in sunlight, and Jean has been cold for so long. He cannot bear to lose that warmth now that he has basked in it.

When Jeremy raises his hand this time, it comes to rest on Jean’s arm. “After practice. I promise.”

Jean wants to protest, to hold Jeremy hostage and demand he explain, but he has not yet lost all of his dignity. He nods reluctantly, trudging back out onto the court. He is not paired with Jeremy even once.

He showers and dresses quickly, urging Jeremy to do the same. He decides that Jeremy is taking his time on purpose, and that only makes him mad. It may not be true, but anger is easier to feel than rejection. He lets it simmer.

Jeremy pauses to talk to Cody instead of putting on his shoes, and Jean snatches his keys resting on the top of his bag before stomping out of the locker room.

Jean doesn’t look back as he leaves the building, unlocking Jeremy’s car and situating himself in the driver’s seat. He will not let Jeremy use driving as an excuse to avoid his questions. Jean is glad today was an evening practice. He could not wait in the car otherwise. The less sun he gets, the better.

It doesn’t take long for his partner to come running. Jeremy knocks on the window, standing there for several moments as Jean refuses to look at him. He gives up, rounding the front of the vehicle and sliding into the passenger seat.

“I thought you didn’t like driving out here,” Jeremy says, turning in his seat to face him.

“I do not,” Jean says, mirroring his position. “But I know your tricks.”

Jeremy’s expression shifts to one of mild offense. “What tricks?”

“You are good at avoiding questions you do not want to answer. Focusing on the road is an escape route you often take,” Jean says, studying him.

His lips thin, his gaze moving to the windshield before returning to Jean. “All right. You caught me,” he says, flatly. “I didn’t realize I was quite so obvious.”

Jean shakes his head. “It is only because I pay attention.”

Jeremy’s face softens at the confession—despite the fact he’s been caught out—and Jean fights the urge to duck his head.

He does pay attention to Jeremy. Almost all of his attention. Unfortunately. When Jeremy enters a room, all of his senses become attuned to his presence.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jean mutters, raking his fingers through his damp hair. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Okay,” Jeremy says, placidly. He folds his hands in his lap.

Jean scowls. He was hoping Jeremy would come clean on his own. He does not. “You asked me to feed from you,” he starts, the statement awkward on his tongue. Admittedly, he is not entirely prepared in his confrontation.

“I did.”

“And now you act as though you regret it,” Jean says, doing his best not to get upset. “I thought…I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did, Jean. I did,” Jeremy says quickly. He tentatively lays his hand atop Jean’s. “But that’s the problem.”

Jean’s brows furrow, wanting him to say whatever is needling at him outright. Jeremy is supposed to enjoy the feeding. It is how his bite is meant to work.

“I promised to let you feed from me. Nothing else. I let things go too far, and I’m sorry,” Jeremy apologizes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Jean stares at him, his jaw working as he mulls over his next words. Jeremy continues on before he has a chance to speak.

“I don’t see it as a transaction, Jean. How could I? Not when you need it to live,” Jeremy murmurs. He picks at a loose thread on the hem of his shorts. “I’m not going to take what you’re unwilling to give.”

“Who said I am unwilling?” The words are too straightforward, but it is too late to take them back. His fangs sink into his lower lip.

“Jean…”

His nails dig crescents into his palms as he clenches his fists. Jeremy’s soft tone feels like an insult in this moment. “Do not,” he warns. “I offered. I offered because I wanted to. I could not make myself do it otherwise.” The confession almost chokes him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jeremy says eventually, quietly.

Jean is unprepared for the crushing sensation the statement brings about. He is not enough for Jeremy. He was a fool to believe he might be. The car feels too small. “I do not want to drive.”

“Wait, Jean. Please—”

He cuts Jeremy off by slamming the car door behind him, taking off towards home on foot. He fears he might be ill, if it was physically possible for him to be. His body remembers how to retch, though. He pushes through the discomfort.

He isn’t sure what possessed him to be so bold. It was careless. Although he’s mortified he spoke the words to Jeremy, he knows Jeremy is the person such a confession is safest with.

That knowledge isn’t enough to quell the urge to flip Jeremy’s car as he drives beside him, though.

Jean isn’t strong enough to do it anyway.

Probably.

Jeremy’s window is rolled down, but he doesn’t attempt to resume their conversation, simply keeping pace alongside him.

Cat and Laila detoured for dinner after practice, and Jean isn’t sure if he wishes they were home to provide a buffer, or glad their prying gazes won’t be darting between him and Jeremy.

Jeremy does not follow him as he retreats to hide in their room, and for that Jean is both grateful and annoyed. He almost wants to shout, to demand Jeremy reveal his true feelings. He can give his partner what he needs. He wants to. And it is infuriating that Jeremy refuses to accept that.

The scent of Jeremy’s arousal still lingers from their last feeding, and while faint, Jean’s does too. He is tempted to use it as evidence. Jeremy would turn it around on him though, he knows. “A natural response” and all that bullshit. Infuriating.

He’s worked himself into a storm ready to strike, marching out into the living room where Jeremy is curled up in the corner of the couch. He snatches up the remote and switches off the television, startling his partner as he looms over him. It is not nice of him. He wouldn’t like Jeremy doing it to him. But Jean is not feeling particularly nice, and Jeremy would never do that to him.

“Jean? What—”

“No.” He takes Jeremy’s chin in one hand, the other braced on the back of the couch. “My mind is not addled, my body is not failing, so why do you insist on coddling me?”

Jeremy looks up at him, and Jean catches a glimpse of claws shifting back into fingertips. There is no fear in his scent, though. Far from it.

Jeremy is aroused.

Jean feels a pang of something akin to victory. “Answer my question.”

Jeremy could very easily shove Jean away, but he doesn’t. “You said it was just feeding. Nothing more. I’m respecting your wishes,” he says. Jean’s lips thin into a straight line. He did tell Jeremy that, but he was afraid. He’s not going to admit that, though.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” Jean asks, releasing Jeremy’s chin and taking a seat beside him.

“Of course you are,” Jeremy says. “But that isn’t something you should feel obligated to do. I meant what I told you earlier. This isn’t a transaction to me.”

Jean lets Jeremy’s statement settle between them, tilting his head. “Am I unappealing to you?”

Jeremy’s eyes go comically wide before he manages to school his expression, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Jean can’t help the way eyes track the enticing movement. “You know what my answer is.”

“I would like you to say it,” Jean says, unwilling to back down. He’s already come this far. If he is not what Jeremy wants, better to accept it now, he decides.

His partner looks almost pained, and Jean doesn’t like how exhausted he seems. It’s as if this conversation is taking more than he can give right now. A twinge of guilt plucks behind Jean’s ribs. He squashes it.

“I’m more than attracted to you, Jean,” Jeremy murmurs, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jean blinks. That wasn’t quite what he was expecting. “You can’t hurt me,” he says, although he’s aware that Jeremy isn’t implying physical pain. It is easier to pretend that is the only way he could be hurt.

Jeremy breathes out a dry sort of laugh, a wry tilt to his lips. But he doesn’t attempt to correct him. He wishes to pretend too, Jean thinks.

“We are on the same page, then,” Jean mutters, straightening up in his seat.

“Are we?” Jeremy asks.

Jean frowns. “Yes,” he declares, not wanting to examine his feelings too closely anymore. “I feed from you, and you take pleasure from me.”

“I’m not going to take anything from you. I need you to understand that,” Jeremy says, sounding far less pleased than Jean was hoping for.

“Don’t talk down to me,” Jean snipes, unfairly. He’s unbalanced, and he doesn’t appreciate it.

Jeremy inhales, holding it for several seconds and exhaling slowly enough to grate on Jean’s fraying patience. He sounds tired, and Jean snuffs out the flicker of guilt again. “I wasn’t intending to. But I’m serious, Jean. I’m not interested in anything one-sided.”

“It is not one-sided. I’m feeding, taking, from you, Jeremy.”

“We both know it’s not the same,” Jeremy says, quietly.

Jean presses his lips together. Jeremy is right, but he is still trying to pretend. He gets to his feet, feeling as though they’ve somehow made negative progress. “I don’t want your pity.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jeremy’s jaw grinds, and he follows Jean to standing. “Pity? This doesn’t have anything to do with pity. Do you expect me to just be comfortable with…with using you? Because I’m not.”

A key turns in the front door, but Jean ignores it. Jeremy turns his head towards the sound, and Jean reaches up to grab his jaw and steal his focus back. “I am the one using you,” he hisses, shoving Jeremy away. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, forcing him back into a seated position.

Jean stalks back into his room, passing the dumbfounded pair of Cat and Laila. He should not have lashed out at Jeremy. Maybe he is using him, but does that matter when he knows how willing his partner is? When he’s felt his response to him?

He curls up on his bed, the hurt, exhausted acceptance on Jeremy’s face as he pushed him away refusing to leave his mind’s eye.

Jeremy makes him want something he’s never been allowed to have.

Jeremy

“Do I want to know what that was about?” Laila asks, sitting down beside Jeremy.

Jeremy sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I…I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“So it was your fault, then?” Cat chimes in, perching on the armrest.

“Isn’t it always?” Jeremy says, clamping his mouth shut again. Bad choice of words. He stands, avoiding the look Laila is giving him. “I’ll fix it,” he repeats, walking down the hallway to their room.

Jean’s back is turned to the door, seeming so very small for someone so large. Jeremy sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that Jean can surely feel the heat of his body.

He doesn’t acknowledge Jeremy’s presence, but he doesn’t tell him to beat it either, and Jeremy will take whatever form of victory he can get right now.

An apology rests on the tip of his tongue, and he swallows it. He lifts his hand, letting it hover for a second before resting it on Jean’s arm.

Jean doesn’t flinch—much to Jeremy’s relief—his eyes closed. He looks peaceful, but Jeremy knows his thoughts are probably as far from peaceful as one could get.

He moves his hand up to Jean’s hair, his fingers light as he strokes the dark strands away from his face.

“You deserve more than I can give you,” Jeremy murmurs, pathetically. Untruthfully. He would give Jean everything. He would give Jean too much. He’s already given him his secrets. His blood. He’s already hopelessly intertwined with the man, and his words are nothing but a thin attempt at denying it.

Jean scoffs, and Jeremy’s enhanced hearing is the only reason he picks up on his muttered, “Coward.”

Jeremy scrubs his hand over his face, sighing. “You’re right,” he acquiesces. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“I already told you, you cannot hurt me,” Jean says, a muscle in his jaw fluttering beneath his skin. Jeremy’s fingertips drift down to the spot of movement without thinking.

“You know that isn’t true—”

Jean grabs his wrist, turning his head to look up at Jeremy. His tone is sharp. “I will decide what can hurt me. Not you.”

Jeremy wants to tell him that’s not how things tend to work. He lets it slide. His wrist remains firmly in Jean’s grasp, but he manages to set his palm against the base of his jaw, his thumb resting on the apple of his cheek.

Jean turns his head as if to lean into the touch, and Jeremy’s expression shifts from strained to soft to startled when Jean sinks his fangs into the flesh at the base of his thumb.

He watches silently as Jean licks over the already healing punctures. Perhaps he should’ve anticipated that.

“That was a nasty trick,” he says, slightly breathless just from the little bit of Jean’s venom now coursing through him. Jean looks up at him through his lashes, a red glow ringing his pupils, and Jeremy ignores the way his wolf perks up, wanting to claim him in return. “A nasty, nasty trick.”

“We are not on the court,” Jean says, simply.

“And?”

“I may conduct myself as I please.”

Jeremy lets Jean manhandle him, reversing their positions. Jean leans over him, one hand splayed atop his chest. Where his heart beats beneath his ribs. The red around his pupils is somehow brighter like this, and Jeremy tilts his head to the side.

“Mon cœur bat à cause du tien, Jeremy,” Jean whispers, burying his fangs in his neck before Jeremy can even make an attempt at translating his words.

He groans softly as Jean feeds, his claws emerging and digging into the bedding instead of his partner. His body responds to Jean’s venom with no qualms, his hips rocking as his cock stiffens. Fighting the shift is too difficult, and the tail now trapped beneath him attempts to wag.

Jean’s expression is near wild when he finally lifts his head, his mouth stained red. If Jean was the first to lean in, or if he was, Jeremy doesn’t know. He supposes it doesn’t matter, not when Jean’s lips are pressed to his, kissing him as desperately as he is.

Jeremy eventually has to pull away with a gasp for air, and Jean’s mouth returns to his throat, fangs scraping against his Adam’s apple. A strangled sound escapes him when Jean bites down on the opposite side, his claw tipped fingers moving gently, so gently, through his hair, keeping him close.

It’s messy and unrestrained, Jean tugging at the neckline of his shirt to lap up the blood slipping down his collarbone. He writhes in helpless, painful pleasure as Jean bites him again, his body shuddering as an orgasm tears through him.

The overwhelming onslaught of sensation has him blissed out beneath Jean, his thoughts vanishing entirely as his body works fiercely to recover. He doesn’t feel Jean getting up, his consciousness abruptly snapping back into place as a shriek echoes from down the hallway.

He moves instinctively, lurching to his feet and knocking into the walls a couple of times as his instincts demand he protect his pack—despite the fact he can barely stand and is seeing double. Jean really did a number on him.

“Jeremy,” Laila gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. Cat looks pale, and he understands why when Jean marches over to him. Blood is smeared across his lips and chin, a couple of rusty splotches staining the light gray fabric of his shirt. Coupled with the state Jeremy is in, there’s no mistaking what happened between them.

Jean scoops him up without fanfare, returning him to bed and laying him down with a tenderness that belies his demeanor. “Stay down. Imbecile,” he mutters, planting a firm hand on his chest and holding it there for a moment. Satisfied that Jeremy won’t follow him, he leaves the room again.

Jeremy closes his eyes, opening one when the floorboards creak and the door shuts. Jean guides him to sit up, bracing Jeremy against his broad chest as he holds a glass of water to his lips.

He drinks it down gratefully, and Jean reaches for a second glass on the desk. Jean pulls a protein bar out of his pants pocket once Jeremy has finished the water, unwrapping it and handing it over to his partner.

Jeremy eats in silence, afraid to ruin the atmosphere around them. Jean’s hands are roaming over him aimlessly in a gesture of comfort, and he dares to rest his hand atop one of Jean’s.

Jean allows their fingers to intertwine, and as his eyes close, Jeremy isn’t quite sure if he imagined the faint press of Jean’s lips against his temple.

He’s alone when he wakes up, feeling perfectly fine other than the demanding pangs of hunger in his stomach.

A grimace crosses his face as he stands, made very aware of the remnants of his orgasm painting the inside of his shorts. An unpleasant sensation, to say the least.

There’s no sounds coming from the rest of the house as he heads out of the bedroom, which strikes him as odd. He can’t go out to investigate in his current state, though, so a shower first it is.

He enters the living room, freshly scrubbed and dressed in a spare t-shirt of his and a pair of Jean’s sweatpants. Tension he didn’t realize he was holding onto seeps from him at the sight of Laila curled up in her papasan chair, phone in hand and half finished crossword puzzle on her lap.

She offers him a wary little smile, and he detours to grab an apple—two apples—from the bowl on the kitchen counter before joining her in the living room.

“Cat took Jean on a grocery run,” Laila says as he sinks down onto the couch, answering his unspoken question. “Because someone keeps raiding the fridge.”

He grins halfheartedly, ripping one of the apples in half and taking a bite. “Guilty.”

She sighs, but her expression is more concerned than anything else. Her tone is hesitant. “Are you okay, Jeremy?”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Jeremy responds instantly. “He’d never.”

“I know he wouldn’t intentionally hurt you,” she says, quietly. “But there was a lot of blood when he came out of your room last night. And you stumbling around after him, half dead, didn’t help.”

He snorts. “I’m made of sturdy stuff. It would take a lot more than that to kill me.”

Laila doesn’t share in his humor, her face remaining the same. He straightens, swallowing the bite of apple he just took.

“I’m sure it was unsettling, seeing Jean like that,” Jeremy says, moving onto the second apple. “I promise everything was fine. And it’s…it’s usually not quite so messy,” he adds, sheepishly. They were being reckless last night. He probably did lose too much blood to be considered safe. But he’d be lying if he said he’d deny Jean from doing it again. He’d let Jean drain him dry.

She frowns, skeptical. “I know you’re super special compared to us measly humans,” she starts. Jeremy hides his amusement with the apple. “And I’m sure you know your limits, but what happens if things go too far?”

Jeremy puts off answering for as long as possible, only opening his mouth again when Laila looks like she’s about to smack the last of the apple out of his hand. “If he took too much, then I’d die. Just like anyone else,” he says, softly. “But Jean wouldn’t let that happen. I need you to believe that.”

He takes a breath, attempting to lighten the tension between them as Laila mulls over his words. “He’s got freaky blood senses. He knows what I can take. Or what he can take, I guess.”

Jeremy is unprepared for the way Laila pivots.

“There was blood on your mouth, too.”

He blinks, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch his mouth, to chase the phantom crush of Jean’s lips to his. “Was there?”

Laila nods, one of her brows quirked upwards. She doesn’t press him for more when he remains silent, though. Thankfully. He doubts that Jean will want to discuss the kiss either.

“I’m fine, Laila. I promise,” he repeats, tugging the collar of his shirt aside to reveal his perfectly healed neck. Part of him wishes Jean’s marks would linger, leaving a scar branding Jeremy as his. He banishes the thought. “See? Right as rain.”

“You’re a medical mystery, Jeremy,” Laila mutters, her book of crosswords slipping off her thigh and onto the floor as she stretches.

“Doctors hate me,” he teases, leaning forward to set her book on the coffee table. “And so will Cat, after she witnesses the unholy amount of food I’m about to consume.”

A grin tugs at Laila’s lips. “Not her problem. Jean left the house with your wallet.”

Jeremy groans in mock distress, his hands sliding into his hair. He laughs, dropping back down onto the couch. He’s not worried. Food is a safe purchase.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway has both of them getting to their feet, going to open the door.

Cat breezes inside, Jean a few steps behind her and carrying enough grocery bags to feed a small army. Unfortunately, Jeremy can also eat as much as a small army.

He reaches out to take some of the bags from Jean, pleasantly surprised when he hands them over without protest. Their fingers brush, and a lick of heat unfurls in Jeremy’s lower belly at the brief contact. A flash of red rings Jean’s pupils, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

Jeremy busies himself with putting the food away, occasionally having to spin around and give Cat whatever he’s holding when she demands it to use for breakfast.

He keeps himself out of the way after the third time, rounding the counter and leaning against the edge furthest from Cat and her sharp chef’s knife.

Jean is quiet as he helps Cat cook, and Jeremy does his best to hide his smile at the not so subtle glances being sent his way. What used to be a thread tethering them together has now thickened into a rope, tugging insistently within Jeremy’s chest. He bets Jean feels it too. He hopes he hopes he hopes.

—————————

“Are you going to be difficult again?” Jean asks without looking up from his laptop.

“Difficult?” Jeremy echoes, the contents of the open textbook in his lap immediately forgotten.

Jean sighs. “Yes. I feed from you, and then you ignore me. Is that how things are going to go?”

“Hey, communication is a two way street,” Jeremy says. Maybe he did avoid the vampire after that second feeding. But it wasn’t Jean he wanted to ignore. It was the resulting feelings that he couldn’t quite keep at bay. He almost popped a knot in his pants. Seriously, who does that? Jeremy thinks. He does, apparently. He shakes the memory off.

“You are the one driving the car,” Jean says, lifting his gaze to meet Jeremy’s.

He swallows, his surprise killing the possibility of a smarter response. “I am?”

“I am stealing from you, Jeremy—”

“Stop. You’re not stealing my blood from me. Not when I’m willingly giving it to you,” Jeremy says firmly. “If you were sucking on my neck like a Capri Sun in my sleep, that would be a different story.”

Jean blinks. “I do not know what that is,” he says, straight faced. “But I would not do that to you.”

“I know, Jean. Which is why this is the last time we’re having this conversation. I’m happy to let you feed from me, and you’re not doing anything wrong by taking me up on the offer,” Jeremy says, hastily continuing when Jean remains unconvinced. “If I ever don’t feel up to it, I’ll tell you. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you. Trust me on this.”

Jean is silent for several agonizing moments, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

His scent shifts ever so slightly, and Jeremy’s senses immediately zero in on the change. He knows this scent. He could never forget it. Not when it’s the same scent that wrapped around him so enticingly as he tasted himself on Jean’s lips. Every last detail of that moment has been engraved into his mind.

Jean’s stare is unrelenting. “Then you must trust me when I tell you I want you.”

Chapter Text

The words are bold and frightening and too much and not enough, but Jean doesn’t care.

He closes his laptop and sets it aside, moving to do the same to Jeremy’s textbook. Jeremy is unmoving, his quiet breaths leaving him raggedly. It is not until Jean’s hands brush his thighs to pick up the book that he realizes his partner is shaking.

“Did you hear me, Jeremy?” Jean asks, unnecessarily. Of course Jeremy heard him. There would be no reason for the tremors beneath his skin otherwise.

Jeremy nods, his claws appearing sporadically. “I can’t—”

Jean slams his hand down on the closed textbook, a helpless sort of fury bubbling within him. “Why? Why can’t you?” His lip curls into a sneer as he reaches out and fists the front of Jeremy’s shirt, the hurt in him striking out like a whip. Jeremy clutches at his arms wrapped around his middle. “I did not realize your pathetic standards had changed so drastically. How is it that I am too used up for someone like you?”

“That’s enough, Jean,” Laila says, her voice cutting from the doorway. Cat’s head pokes over her shoulder. He did not hear them come back from their outing. A sloppy mistake. Laila is holding a cup of bubble tea.

He releases Jeremy’s shirt from his grasp, the fabric now wrinkled. Nausea roils in his gut as he’s made to sit with his words, at the pained look on Jeremy’s face.

“There would never be anyone else for me, Jean. That’s why. I won’t subject you to that,” Jeremy says, his gentle tone pitched for Jean’s ears only. He stands, rubbing at his chest. There is blood smeared on his forearms from where his claws dug in. Jean’s own chest aches as he wordlessly slips past Laila and Cat. A door opens and closes, and Laila leaves Cat to hurry after Jeremy.

“I should not have—” Jean chokes, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. The mattress dips slightly as Cat comes to sit by him. “I did not want to say those things to him.”

“I know,” Cat says quietly. She does not try to touch him. Not yet. Silence stretches between them. He cannot hear Jeremy and Laila, no matter how hard he strains his abilities.

“I am feeding from him,” Jean murmurs eventually, keeping his face covered. It is easier that way.

Cat snorts. “Was that meant to be a secret? Because that was made pretty damn clear when you came out of this room covered in his blood.”

Jean scowls. “I do not know what it was meant to be.” He sounds sadder than he was anticipating, and he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“Oh, Jean,” Cat says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “He won’t hold this against you, you know.”

“Maybe he should,” Jean mutters.

Cat rolls her eyes. “He really shouldn’t. I love you, Jean, but I’m not letting you stick your fangs in me. No offense.”

He stifles a growl, remembering how she had screamed at the sight of him, his face streaked with Jeremy’s blood. He knows it was more from surprise than fear, though. He does not blame her for the reaction. He had always taken care to hide his feeding habits from them, even when the blood was coming from bags and not their best friend. “I would not drink from you anyway.”

“Okay, now I’m a little offended,” she says, pretending to pout.

“Do not be. I am certain you do not want me in that way,” he says, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as her eyes widen.

“Oh. Oh. So when you and Jeremy—”

“Catalina.” He can’t hold back the growl this time.

A grin splits across her face. Jean doesn’t like it. “My lips are sealed. Even though it’s really not a secret,” she says, dropping a kiss against the top of his head as she gets to her feet. “I’ll leave you to wallow for a bit. And maybe think of an apology.”

Jean nods, keeping his gaze on the bedspread as Cat leaves. He is not sure if there is an apology large enough to encompass what he’s been putting Jeremy through. He is already taking so much from his partner—although he insists that it is all freely given—and yet he still asks for more.

He doesn’t know what to make of Jeremy’s words either. “There would never be anyone else for me, Jean.” He doesn’t hate the idea. Jeremy would be his. And he would be Jeremy’s. It is not too far off from what they are now.

He shivers. But it’s not a bad sort of shiver. It’s more exciting than anything else. Perhaps that should scare him. It does not.

The TV is on in the living room by the time he decides to face Jeremy again, and the sight of a singing man surrounded by other singing men on a set of bleachers distracts him for a moment.

Cat is curled up in a chair, Laila is on the couch, and Jeremy…Jeremy is a wolf. Jean stares. He stares and stares and stares. Jeremy just manages to fit on the couch, his head on Laila’s lap. His eyes are closed as Laila’s fingers stroke through his dark brown fur.

Jean can feel both of the women’s gazes on him, searching for his reaction, but he only has eyes for Jeremy. He moves cautiously, fearing rejection as he sits down on the floor in front of the couch. He lets his head rest back against the wolf’s side. Jeremy doesn’t open his eyes.

Something in his chest twinges painfully at the lack of response.

He listens to the steady thump thump thump of Jeremy’s heart, turning his head to press his cheek against his soft fur. He wonders why Jeremy never showed him before. He wonders what it would be like to be a wolf. He wonders how it would feel to run as a wolf. If it would feel as freeing as he imagines it to be. He wonders if Jeremy would want to run together.

Jeremy is warm, always warm, and the constant thump thump thump against his ear is comforting.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

The house is dark, a different movie is playing on the TV, Cat and Laila have gone to bed, and Jeremy’s nose is touching his cheek. He might be dreaming. He might not be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Jeremy’s nose presses against his neck. His broad tongue swipes over his skin, and Jean can’t find it within himself to be disgusted. He reaches up to stroke the side of Jeremy’s face.

Jeremy rumbles quietly, nudging at Jean’s shoulder. Jean does not feel like moving, but he knows his back will thank him if he doesn’t spend a night on the floor. Even vampires can get stiff joints. Not that the discomfort would last long. But it is uncomfortable enough that he would rather avoid it.

The wolf stands with him, and Jean is struck by how large he is. Jeremy’s head is level with his chest. His ears would brush beneath his chin if he got any closer. He sets his hand on Jeremy’s back, walking side by side into their room.

Jeremy curls up on his bed, his head on his paws. His ears perk up as Jean pushes his own bed against Jeremy’s, and Jean levels a glare at him.

“I…No,” Jean mutters, embarrassed by his own actions. He wants to be close. It seems easier to try this with wolf Jeremy than with human Jeremy. Wolf Jeremy cannot speak. But he is still Jeremy nonetheless. And Jean is safe with him.

He lays down, stiffening when Jeremy rests his big head on his chest. The pressure is more soothing than suffocating, and he lets one hand slide into the thick fur of Jeremy’s ruff.

Jean closes his eyes. Sleeping through the night isn’t the best thing for him, but he has no choice but to adhere to the schedules of everyone else. He needs the rest, no matter if it’s day or night.

Jeremy breathes out a sigh, and sleep comes swiftly, mercifully, for both of them.

Jean wakes up with fur in his mouth. He grimaces, swiping it off of his tongue. He has discovered the downside of sleeping with wolf Jeremy. But he is so very warm, and a little fur never killed anyone. It certainly wouldn’t kill him.

Jeremy’s jaws open wide in a yawn as he lifts his head, putting all of his long, sharp teeth on display. Jean is more fascinated by the sight than he’d care to admit.

They look at each other, and Jean’s eyes narrow as Jeremy’s gleam mischievously. “Jeremy,” Jean threatens weakly, gritting his teeth as Jeremy licks the side of his face. “Disgusting dog,” he mutters, scrubbing at his cheek with his wrist.

Jeremy chuffs in wolfish laughter, touching his nose to Jean’s forehead.

Jean buries his fingers in Jeremy’s thick fur, his chest tight. The gesture feels like forgiveness, and he pulls Jeremy closer. A breathy sound of relief escapes him at the sound of Jeremy’s tail thumping against the bed. He’s forgiven.

“You two are adorable,” Cat says, clasping her hands together beneath her chin. Laila’s head pokes around the doorframe next, her eyes widening dramatically.

Jean scowls halfheartedly as they climb into the bed, Laila telling Jeremy to ”Scooch.” His tail wags faster as he rolls most of his body weight atop Jean.

“Not that much,” Jean grunts, shoving at his bulk. Jeremy just chuffs again in response.

“Imagine if Barkbark was this big,” Cat says, patting Jeremy’s side. He lets out a pleased rumble at the idea. “We’d have to give him his own room.”

“The cardboard would go outside,” Jean grumbles, and Laila smothers a laugh as Jeremy’s ears go flat against his head.

Laila strokes her thumb between his eyes. “Sounds like it’s either you or Barkbark, Jeremy,” she says. His ears remain flat. “We’ll build a doghouse.”

“A wolfhouse,” Cat says at the same time Jean declares, “We will not.”

He frowns. “Jeremy is not going to be the one living in the yard.” Jeremy noses at his cheek in approval.

“That would be pretty difficult to explain,” Laila says. “Good thing Barkbark isn’t going to grow anytime soon, then.”

“You never know,” Cat says.

Jean sighs a sigh of a thousand agonies.

—————————

“Are you going to stay like this forever?” Jean asks, growing increasingly concerned the longer Jeremy remains a wolf. They have today, but classes and practice won’t wait forever.

Jeremy blinks, and then he sneezes, and that’s that.

Jean tries not to glower. He fails. “Cat and Laila want to go out. We cannot join them if you remain covered in fur.”

Jeremy goes to lay in a patch of sunlight streaming through one of the living room windows. Jean’s hands clench into fists at his side. He sits down beside the wolf, careful to remain on the shadowed part of the floor.

“I am not sure what to think, Jeremy,” Jean says quietly, covering his hand with his sleeve to pet Jeremy’s back. “Are you upset with me or not?”

Jeremy doesn’t so much as twitch.

Jean snatches his hand away, his inability to ascertain what Jeremy needs from him making him angry. His words always seem to make things worse, and yet they spill out of him anyway.

“Fine. Go ahead and mope, you overgrown puppy. We will talk once you stop being a coward.” He gets to his feet, ignoring the way Jeremy finally looks at him as he walks away.

He decides to join Cat and Laila without Jeremy, catching them right before they pull out of the driveway. He hates how big his stupid sunglasses are, but he cannot go without them.

Cat hands him one of the small tubes of sunscreen they’ve started keeping everywhere, twisting in her seat to watch him apply it to his face, neck, and hands. His clothing covers the rest of him sufficiently enough.

“I thought you hated the mall,” Laila says, glancing at him through the rear view mirror. His legs are scrunched in the backseat, but he would never make Cat swap seats.

“I do not,” he lies. All of them know it. They don’t ask him any more questions.

The mall is the mall, loud and bright and overwhelming. But overwhelming is almost welcome, because it distracts him from dedicating all of his thoughts to Jeremy. He follows Cat and Laila around like he’s a dog himself, carrying their bags as they try on clothes and browse through books.

They stop to rent a movie on the way home, and Jean works up the courage to ask about Jeremy as he and Laila stand in an aisle lined with rom-coms.

“He just…needs it sometimes, I guess,” Laila murmurs, deciding between two movies with covers that might as well be identical. “I think he’d be a wolf most of the time, if he could.”

Jean blinks. “Why?”

“He told me once that it was easier,” she admits, making her decision and putting one of the movies back.

Easier. Jean is quiet, thinking that he understands what Jeremy meant. He had similar thoughts himself about wolf Jeremy. It is not his place to butt in, but he must know. “Did he say anything to you before he sprouted fur?”

One corner of Laila’s mouth tugs upward in amusement. “No. He had already shifted by the time I caught him.”

Jean presses his lips together in disappointment. What he was hoping to hear, he isn’t quite sure.

Cat rejoins them then, running across the store with a DVD case held against her chest. “I’ve found the perfect movie.” She whips the case around, gleefully revealing the title.

An American Werewolf in Paris.

Jean grimaces, and Laila’s expression isn’t too far off from his. “Maybe not tonight,” Laila says gently.

“Or ever,” Jean scoffs, eyeing the cover with distaste.

“You two are no fun. Zero fun,” she huffs dramatically, turning on her heel to return the movie to wherever she found it.

“We can get it another time,” Laila calls out after her, looking back at Jean and lowering her voice. “I don’t think Jeremy would appreciate it right now.”

“I do not appreciate it,” Jean says, and she smiles.

“Let’s go, then.”

After ensuring that Cat’s second choice has nothing to do with werewolves or vampires, they rent the two movies and head home.

A low groan and an awful crunching, snapping sound greets Jean the instant he steps foot inside, ignoring Cat’s startled yelp as he pushes past her and races down the hallway.

He throws open his bedroom door, steeling himself for the sight of something horrible, his mind flooded with terrible possibilities.

There is no such sight.

Jeremy, human Jeremy, is sitting on the edge of their combined beds, his eyes round with alarm as Jean searches for the source of the noise frantically.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Jean asks, closing the space between him and Jeremy in two strides.

Jeremy shakes his head, his hands closing around Jean’s elbows as he’s grabbed by his upper arms.

“Tell me what that was,” Jean demands, still unconvinced that Jeremy is fine. Jean has heard noises like that before. When his own bones were broken.

“What what was?”

“That sound,” Jean says, examining Jeremy closely.

Jeremy’s mouth opens and closes once, realization flickering across his face. “I’m okay, Jean. I promise,” he says, taking one of Jean’s hands and pressing it flat against his heart. Jean relaxes slightly at the steady thump thump thump beneath his palm. “I was shifting back.”

“Your bones were breaking,” Jean whispers, refusing to take his eyes off of Jeremy for a single second.

“It doesn’t hurt me. It doesn’t,” Jeremy promises him. “I didn’t think you’d be able to hear it. They can’t,” he adds, and Jean picks up on Cat and Laila’s more rapid heartbeats from the doorway. He feels bad for scaring them, but he doesn’t look away from his partner.

Jean nods slowly, easing up his tight hold on Jeremy’s arm. He leaves his hand over his heart, though.

“Would it make you feel better to see it?” Jeremy asks. “The transformation is fast. And it isn’t painful.”

Jean swallows, hesitating. “No. I don’t want to hear it again right now,” he says quietly.

“That’s fine. When you’re ready, I’ll show you,” Jeremy murmurs, allowing Jean to focus on his heartbeat for as long as he needs to.

He nods again, reluctantly letting his hand drop down to his side. He makes sure Cat and Laila have moved out of earshot before speaking. “I am glad to see you again,” he confesses, whispering.

Jeremy’s expression falters, his gaze drifting towards the wall before returning to Jean’s face. He sits on the bed, tugging Jean down beside him. “I’m sorry. I just…You were right. I was being a coward.”

“I should not have said that to you,” Jean says, the bitter tang of regret coating the back of his throat. “Any of it.”

“I’d be mad at me too, if I were you,” Jeremy says, huffing a humorless laugh.

“No, you would not. You would not say anything close to that.”

“I might’ve,” Jeremy says. It’s a fib. Jean doesn’t point it out. He knows that Jeremy would hold the words in, and then use them against himself. “Jean…you know I don’t think of you that way, right? Used up.” He stammers over the words Jean had thrown at him, blinking rapidly. “And it’s okay if you think that way about me. It’s true.”

“It is not,” Jean says fiercely, taking a moment to calm himself. “It is not true, and it was disgusting of me. I was trying to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy says, and Jean looks at him in disbelief. He is not the one in need of an apology.

Jean sighs.

Jeremy rolls his shoulders a couple of times. “Sometimes I use my wolf to hide,” he says, sounding slightly ashamed. “I still feel everything, but the emotions are simpler. Easier to process. When I’m a wolf, I don’t beat myself up for the millions of reasons I could think of otherwise. I just know I hurt you, and only being able to focus on that base fact keeps me from spiraling, I guess.”

“I understand,” Jean mumbles. He decides he can share something too. “When I feed, everything is reduced to you, Jeremy. Your blood, your pleasure, only you. It…It is nice to be unburdened in those moments.”

Jeremy half-smiles. “I taste that good, huh?”

“Do not ruin this,” Jean says, his lips twitching. “And yes. You do.”

Jeremy’s expression brightens, his smile widening into one of genuine delight. “I knew it,” he says dramatically, launching into a monologue. “There is no one more satisfying than I. I am exactly what every vampire dreams of. An incredible feat of biological perfection.”

Jean stifles a snort. “You bleed. That is all.”

“Jean. Let me have this,” he pleads, his tone teasing.

“Only if you admit what I am to you,” Jean says. He hates the way Jeremy’s expression shutters near imperceptibly, but it is a necessary evil. His soft words have been haunting him. And wolf Jeremy was unable to provide him with any clarity.

“You’re my friend. My partner,” Jeremy murmurs, careful.

Jean shakes his head. Not good enough. “You told me—”

“I know, Jean. I remember,” he mumbles, pushing his hair away from his face. His dark roots are growing back in, the same color as his wolf.

“What am I to you, Jeremy?” Jean repeats, refusing to let himself lash out again, regardless of the answer. Enough beating around the bush. They are capable of having a conversation about feelings without regressing into their basest instincts. Hopefully.

Jeremy tenses. “I don’t want to be wrong,” he whispers.

“Is it bad if you were to be wrong?” Jean asks, his head tilting in consternation.

“Kind of?” Jeremy doesn’t sound too confident.

“Then be wrong. If it is not going to kill us, it does not matter,” Jean says.

“It could hurt.”

Jean shrugs. “We are not strangers to pain.”

“You shouldn’t be able to say something like that so casually,” Jeremy mutters.

“It is the truth,” Jean says, letting their shoulders press together. “Tell me, Jeremy.”

Jeremy is silent for a long moment, even the faint sound of his breathing ceasing. Jean is on the verge of forcing an explanation out of his partner when something pulses in his chest, a soft tugging within his ribcage.

His hand moves instinctively, palm splayed over his still heart, fingers digging into his skin beneath his shirt as if he could capture the sensation.

“You felt it? You felt it,” Jeremy breathes out. He grins, his hands twitching in his lap as he holds himself still. “You felt it,” he repeats incredulously. “I feel it too.”

“What is ‘it,’ Jeremy?” Jean asks sharply, having an urge to shake him when the tugging in his chest starts back up.

Jeremy takes Jean’s hand and flattens it over his heart again, doing the same to him. Jean has never seen him look so overwhelmed. He cannot tell if it is a good sort of overwhelmed.

“Our bond,” Jeremy whispers, laying his head against Jean’s shoulder. “You’re my mate, Jean.”

Chapter Text

Jeremy is afraid to lift his head, afraid that Jean’s expression will wordlessly reject their bond. But he hasn’t yet pushed Jeremy away, and that’s enough to keep his hope alive.

He keeps his hand held against where the vampire’s heart would be beating, refraining from pulling on the bond again. He’s unsure if Jean was truly unsettled by the sensation, or just unsuspecting.

Jean is slow to speak, his hand sliding into Jeremy’s hair and gently tugging. “Why?” he asks, and Jeremy’s brows draw together as he looks at him.

“What do you mean, ‘why?’” Jeremy echoes, somewhat hurt. He takes a deep breath. Relax. It’s unrealistic to expect Jean to simply accept the news without question.

Jean’s gaze drifts to the side, his voice more timid than it was a moment before. “It does not make sense. We…We cannot mate, Jeremy.”

Jeremy tries very hard not to smile. “It’s not like that, Jean. I mean, mating bonds probably started off for that purpose, but they’ve…evolved,” he says, his hand moving up to cradle Jean’s jaw. “We’re compatible in other ways.”

“Are we?” Jean says dryly, deflecting. He’s anxious. Jeremy can smell it.

He uses his thumb to lift Jean’s upper lip, just enough to expose one of his fangs. “We are. Why do you think I taste so good to you?”

Jean snaps his teeth, but the threat is nonexistent. He sighs when Jeremy doesn’t flinch, resting his forehead against his. Their noses brush.

“Do you not want it?” Jeremy whispers, although he has doubts that they’d be unable to reverse it at this point. He hasn’t bitten Jean, but Jean’s been doing more than enough biting for both of them. Jeremy’s wolf has accepted the claim.

Jean’s silence is torturous, his fingers still threaded through Jeremy’s hair to keep him close and his nose poking against his cheek. It feels more intimate than a kiss. “I want it,” he murmurs eventually. “Very much.”

Jeremy beams, throwing his arms around his mate with a bit too much strength. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, their bodies ending up in a tangle of limbs on the mattress.

Jean looks up at him, a thin ring of red beginning to circle his pupils. He’s pleased. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I just bodyslammed you into our bed,” Jeremy laughs, a sense of giddiness he’s never experienced before flooding through him. He wants to shift. He lets the half-shift happen, rubbing his cheek against Jean’s to scent him.

“I am very durable,” Jean says, matter-of-factly, his fingertips tracing the pointed tip of one of Jeremy’s ears. His tail wags faster.

“I told you we’re well matched,” Jeremy hums, resisting the urge to rub himself all over Jean.

Jean catches his tail, hand closing around it to hold it in place. One corner of his lips tugs upward when Jeremy growls in mock offense. It drops quickly. “Are you going to continue denying me?” he asks, his tone hesitant.

Jeremy’s mood shifts, a sigh coming from him as he moves into his side. Jean turns with him, unwilling to let him escape answering. “Our bond would become permanent,” he says, mostly avoiding the question.

“And is that not what you want?” Jean asks, arching a brow.

“I want it. I want you,” Jeremy says immediately. He weaves their fingers together. “But there’s…I’m…” he trails off, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Spit it out, Jeremy,” Jean says, not entirely unkindly.

He huffs, letting the words spill out in a rush. Now or never, he supposes. “I’m probably most likely going to get really weird and growly and possessive after we complete our bond, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But I’ll try my best,” he adds, earnestly.

Jean eyes him dubiously. “Growly and possessive?” he repeats, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Pretty much,” Jeremy confirms, shrugging one shoulder. “You’re my mate. I want to protect you.” His tail thumps twice against the bed. He’ll never grow tired of calling Jean his mate.

“I do not need protection,” Jean says, scoffing.

Jeremy shrugs again. “I know you don’t. But my wolf doesn’t particularly care. It’s just instinct.”

“So I am your pack? Are you my alpha?” Jean asks, a mocking twist to his words. He squeezes Jeremy’s hand to soften his tone.

Jeremy loves the sound of that. “Yes.”

Jean blinks. “I was not being serious.”

“Too bad,” Jeremy says, squeezing his hand back. “It’s true. You and Laila and Cat, and the team, to a certain extent. You are all my pack. And I take care of what’s mine.”

Jean’s eyes flash a bright red, and his scent grows stronger. Yes, Jeremy thinks. He liked that. Jean’s Adam’s apple bobs. “I am not going to call you alpha.”

“I wouldn’t make you,” Jeremy murmurs, allowing Jean to push him onto his back. His body begins to react to the position, recalling what happened the last time he was beneath Jean like this. But this time, he won’t let Jean drain him half dead. He’ll remain conscious, and give his mate exactly what he’s been asking for.

“You could not make me,” Jean corrects him, fingers slipping underneath the hem of his shirt riding up his abdomen.

“Probably not,” Jeremy says, bringing his hand to Jean’s cheek.

“Definitely not,” Jean whispers, and Jeremy closes his eyes the instant right before their lips meet. Their first kiss was a near punishing crush of mouths and teeth, and nothing at all like this one. Their lips brush in exploratory, teasingly light touches that just barely hide the desperation thrumming within their veins.

Jean’s weight is heavy atop him, his knee hooking under one of Jeremy’s and dragging it upward in a move that has him questioning what exactly Jean has been studying lately. The vampire shudders as their hips roll together, a low sound tearing from him as he presses his face into the crook of Jeremy’s neck.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, Jeremy—”

“Go ahead, Jean. It’s okay,” Jeremy says, turning his head to bare his throat. His wolf would never allow anyone else to sink their teeth into such a vulnerable place.

Jean accepts the offering with reverence, lips moving against Jeremy’s skin as he murmurs his thanks. The bite is quick and the pleasure is quicker, warming Jeremy from the inside out.

His hips rock as his cock stiffens, groaning with satisfaction as Jean grinds against him in return. He wants Jean to come, wants his mate to find the pleasure he’s been missing for so long.

He finds where Jean is straining against his sweatpants, earning a soft moan as he caresses him through the fabric. He gets all of five seconds to bask in pleasing his mate before Jean startles him, knocking his wrist aside and snaking his own hand down to Jeremy’s erection.

Jeremy pushes Jean’s hand away when it slips beneath his waistband—he tries to push it away—his brows furrowing when Jean puts what feels like all of his strength into keeping his hand down Jeremy’s pants.

Jean lifts his head, his gaze serious. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, Jean,” Jeremy says, watching Jean’s features pinch with confusion. He supposes he is being rather contradictory.

“Then why do you insist on refusing me?” he asks, his hand pressed to Jeremy’s boxer briefs. It takes most of his self restraint not to react to the touch.

“I’m not, I just…I just…” Jeremy fumbles for an explanation, clutching at the sheets to ground himself. He’s careful to keep his claws from poking holes. “I just want to please you.”

“Touching you pleases me,” Jean says. “This,” he continues, giving Jeremy’s cock a gentle squeeze, “is not something you need to earn.”

Jeremy squirms. Partly because he’s embarrassingly close to coming, and partly because Jean kind of accurately stabbed him with that. He doesn’t particularly want to unpack it right now, though. “I know, Jean. I know.”

“Do you?” Jean asks, utterly unconvinced. He’s got Jeremy by the balls, figuratively and literally.

Jeremy makes a punched out sort of sound, his claws accidentally maybe kind of ripping into the sheets a little bit. Sorry, Laila. “Yes. Yes, I promise. Please just let me—” He takes a ragged breath, forcing his claws to vanish. “Together? We can do this together.”

Jean gives him a look, but he relents, his hand moving to rest on Jeremy’s hip. “Show me.”

Jeremy does. Gladly. His fist is slick with spit—something that Jean was not impressed by—as he strokes their cocks together, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. He’ll buy lube for them soon.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, unable to resist as he looks up at his mate’s flushed cheeks and parted lips, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he thrusts into Jeremy’s hand.

Jean ducks his head as if embarrassed, but then he bites the other side of Jeremy’s neck, exposing the ruse. Jeremy laughs, his fingers sinking into Jean’s hair. He swears he can feel Jean’s lips stretch into a grin.

Their amusement is short lived, their bodies pulled taut and left trembling as the next pull of Jeremy’s blood forces both of them into an orgasm.

Jean slumps heavily against Jeremy, the faintest whimper leaving him as their release streaks their clothing. Jeremy growls softly, fighting hard to resist the urge to sink his teeth into the exposed expanse of Jean’s neck as he squeezes his hand around the base of his knot.

He jerks as Jean’s fingers tentatively join his, the movement making him retreat. “Hurts?” Jean whispers.

Jeremy shakes his head, coaxing Jean to wrap his hand back around him and showing him the perfect amount of pressure. “Sensitive.”

“It…It is rather large,” Jean murmurs, and Jeremy’s wolf preens.

He chuckles, rubbing his cheek against the side of Jean’s head. He already smells like his, but there’s no harm in smelling even more like his. It doesn’t matter if no one else is able to pick up on it. Jeremy knows, Jean knows, and that is all that matters.

“Will it hurt,” Jean asks, the question barely audible, “when I take it?”

Jeremy nearly comes again at the image of Jean stretched wide around his knot, flushed and overwhelmed with pleasure beneath him. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t let it. I’ll take such good care of you, Jean. I’ll make it so good,” he promises, groaning when Jean tightens his grip around his knot, the pressure achingly good.

“I know,” Jean says. “I want it. Even if you will become a possessive beast afterwards.”

He looks so smug that Jeremy has to laugh, pulling him down for another kiss. “I’m not going to let you out of my sight,” he says, only half joking.

“Good luck with that,” Jean snorts, looking down at where his hand is wrapped around Jeremy. His lips purse, thinning before he decides to ask, “How…How do you hide this?”

Jeremy glances up at the ceiling, not wanting to think about his past escapades while he’s in bed with his mate. “It’s more obvious with you. My body knows what you are to me,” he says, his hand absentmindedly roaming over the curve of Jean’s bicep. “I mean, you’ve seen me in the showers. It’s not noticeable. Especially when most people don’t know werewolves exist.”

Jean drops his head at the shower comment, his embarrassment genuine this time. Jeremy kisses the top of his head.

“Even when I’m aroused,” he continues, his own face heating up. “If I’m not with you, it doesn’t…grow.”

“I see,” Jean mumbles, letting go of his finally softening knot and draping himself over Jeremy bonelessly. Jeremy wraps his arms around him, his solid weight comforting.

“Any other werewolf wisdom I can impart on you?” Jeremy asks teasingly, his fingers mapping out every contour of Jean’s back.

Jean hums softly, his face resting in the crook of Jeremy’s neck. “No.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, enjoying himself thoroughly. He loves Jean like this, heavy and relaxed in his arms. He loves Jean always. They would look a mess to anyone looking in, shirts disheveled and sticky with cum, their pants shoved down just enough to free their cocks, blood potentially staining Jeremy’s neck and Jean’s mouth, but he’s never felt more put together.

He has Jean, and he is whole.

—————————

Werewolf instincts suck.

Jeremy loves his other half, kind of prefers it, even, but not anymore. Not during practice.

He’s close to vibrating with the urge to shove away anyone who gets close to Jean, let alone touches him. He’d rather not throw Derek across the court, and with a quick plea, he’s swapped in.

Rhemann also caught him growling a couple of times, but he’ll keep that to himself.

“You are terrible,” Jean says by way of greeting, his racquet leaning against his chest as he adjusts one of his gloves. “I thought this was supposed to happen after.”

“I did too. Sorry,” Jeremy says, not really all that sorry.

“Liar,” Jean scoffs, snatching up his racquet.

Jeremy smiles.

Jean plays dirty with him, and his wolf revels in the challenge as their bodies clash and legs fight to keep from tangling together. They’re being a bit too reckless, Jeremy knows, but no one calls them out for it.

Jeremy stumbles as Jean crowds him against the wall, his body too close and his scent too enticing. He can’t find it in himself to care when Jean snaps their racquets together in a move that allows him to steal the ball and send it flying down the court.

“You are getting sloppy, alpha,” Jean taunts, his voice pitched low.

Jeremy’s brain short circuits. He freezes, instincts bubbling up and begging him to lay claim to his mate. It’s painful to fight back his shift, claws nearly tearing through his gloves and teeth feeling too large for his mouth. His traitorous cock stiffens, uncaring about the others around him. Every inch of him pleads for JeanJeanJean.

He races for the locker room, running fast, too fast, but he’ll face the repercussions for the action later. He locks himself into the largest bathroom stall, frantically taking off his gear before he tears through it.

His wolf isn’t what he becomes. He stifles the distressed sounds that threaten to escape him as his body contorts, growing taller and broader and frightening. His claws are wicked and his teeth are vicious. He could not be described as anything other than monstrous.

No one has ever seen him in this form, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. But he will need to give this last part of himself to Jean one day, and he fears that one day might actually be today.

All he needs is to calm down. He will relax, and he will shift, and he will be Jeremy again. He just needs to—

“Jeremy?” Rhemann’s voice startles a snarl out of him, the sound echoing off of the tiles. It stops his coach in his tracks. “It’s only me.”

“And me,” Jean adds as he throws open the door, briefly letting in the voices of whoever was attempting to stop him.

No yes stay away I need you please go away, Jeremy’s mind throws at him, instinct fighting with rational thought. He whines, hunched over. His head would stand above the stall door otherwise.

“Jeremy,” Jean murmurs, coming to a stop right in front of his stall. His cleats are perfectly in the center of the gap beneath the door. “I did not think…I would not have called you a— that,” he hastily corrects himself, “if I had known.”

I know, Jeremy wants to say. It’s not your fault.

“What’d you call him?” Rhemann asks.

Jean huffs. “Nothing bad. I would never—”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt him, Jean.” Rhemann pauses. “Is it a full moon or something?”

Jeremy chuffs out a laugh, his presence of mind gathered enough to shift into his wolf. He doesn’t think he can quite manage human yet. Jean steps back as he shifts, and Jeremy mentally apologizes for the sound. At least Rhemann can’t hear it. He uses his snout to slide the lock on the door open.

Jean crouches the second the door swings open, burying his hands in Jeremy’s fur. Jeremy lowers his head and sticks his nose into the crook of Jean’s neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Rhemann sort of chokes, clearing his throat. Jeremy can’t blame him. Knowing someone is a werewolf is different than seeing it. “That’s really you in there, huh?”

Jeremy looks up at him, rubbing the side of his face against Jean’s head in a nod. Jean grunts, but he clings to Jeremy tighter before standing.

“I will wait with him until he feels better, Coach,” Jean says, his hand resting protectively atop Jeremy’s back.

“That’s…fine,” Rhemann agrees, his expression landing somewhere between awe and confusion. “Xavier can close practice. Will you still be,” he gestures at Jeremy’s entire being, “when they come back here?”

Jeremy shakes his head once. He will manage to shift. He has to.

“Okay,” Rhemann says, leaving the two of them alone. Jeremy trusts him to come up with something convincing that doesn’t involve pointy ears and a fluffy tail.

Jeremy lifts his head, licking the side of Jean’s face apologetically. He doesn’t like when Jean’s scent sours with anxiety.

“You have no manners,” Jean chastises, holding Jeremy’s head in his hands. He licks Jean’s chin. “None at all.”

Jean wrinkles his nose, but he can’t hide his smile fast enough. He flattens Jeremy’s ears with his palms, and Jeremy grumbles, quieting when Jean begins to pet him.

“Maybe it will be better after,” Jean wonders aloud, looking down at him. His tail wags subtly. “Then you will know that I am yours, and you are mine.”

I have always been yours, he thinks, a growl rumbling in his chest as he licks at Jean’s neck relentlessly. He gives up only when Jean pushes at his snout.

“I am going to have to train you,” Jean sighs in exasperation, but he smells of contentment, and Jeremy is pleased.

His ears perk up as the sounds of running and thwacking of equipment cease, looking over at the door and back up at Jean wearily. He’s not ready to shift back.

“I cannot hide you like this, Jeremy,” Jean murmurs, hesitating for a moment before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

His growl is one of pleasure this time, rubbing his face against Jean’s chest. His scent is strong, and the desire to lick every inch of him only increases.

“Stop that,” Jean says, lips pressing together in a failed attempt at concealing his amusement.

Jeremy does as he commands, reluctantly, going back into the stall to shift. Jean’s hand rests on the door, keeping it held open just wide enough for him to watch. Jeremy is surprised, but he doesn’t mind. He hopes seeing how swift the shift is will make hearing it better.

Jean doesn’t look away as Jeremy is left standing naked in front of him, his gear and clothing discarded haphazardly around his feet. He didn’t succeed in getting everything off of his lower body before the first shift, except for his shoes, and he doubts the rest is salvageable.

“Not too bad, right?” Jeremy asks quietly, beginning to gather up his stuff. They don’t have much time left.

“I am glad it does not hurt you,” Jean says, moving to help him. They move quickly, aware of how absurd the situation would look to everyone else—Jeremy running around undressed and shoving his shredded clothes and damaged gear into the trash, and Jean calmly sorting through the rest.

Jeremy sprints into the shower as the chattering of their teammates signals that they’re right outside of the door, gritting his teeth as he fumbles with the knob and gets drenched with icy water.

Jean turns on the shower beside his a moment later, his voice carrying over the spray of the water. “I grabbed your towel.”

Jeremy’s shoulders slump in relief. He didn’t even think about it. “Thank you.”

He fields the concerned looks and questions from his teammates as they pour in, making up an excuse about nausea. The threat of puking would explain how fast he ran off the court. Jean refusing to leave him? Maybe a little less explainable. He prays that Rhemann came up with a similar excuse.

“Were you wolfing out in there?” Cat asks once they’ve piled into Jeremy’s car, clicking her seatbelt into place.

“Cat,” Laila murmurs.

“It’s fine,” Jeremy sighs. “Yes.”

Jean is watching him warily, his fingers flexing against his thighs. He immediately whirls around in his seat to glare at Cat when she says, “Jean’s eyes were, like, glowing red after you ran off.”

“Were they?” Jeremy asks, glancing over at him.

“Forgive me for being concerned,” he mutters, folding his arms across his chest. “No one saw.”

“I did,” Cat points out.

“No one else saw,” Jean amends, unenthused. “Happy?”

“Sure.”

“Jean,” Laila starts, her tone uncertain. “Doesn’t that only happen when you’re…thirsty?”

Jean is quiet for several beats, pulling his sleeves down over his hands. “It happens because of Jeremy.”

“Oh,” Laila whispers.

The rest of the drive is filled only by the low volume of the radio.

“You should not have to go,” Jean says, making no move to get out of his seat after Cat and Laila have exited the car.

The bond plucks between them. Jeremy rubs a hand over his chest. “I don’t want to.”

Jean nods, turning in his seat to better face Jeremy. “After we win this weekend, we should…I want—” Jean swallows, and Jeremy doesn’t need to hear the words to know what he’s asking for. He would give it to him right now, if he could. He would give him anything.

“And if we don’t win?” he teases softly, leaning over the center console.

“We are going to win,” Jean says, now sounding far more confident.

Jeremy grins. “Then yes. We should.”

Jean moves with impressive speed, taking Jeremy’s chin in his hand and pulling him in for a kiss. It is tempting. Promising.

If Jeremy drove back to his house that night one handed, that’s between him and the moon.

Chapter Text

Jean was right.

The Trojans win their next game, seven to three.

How Jean avoided a yellow card for sending a player sprawling after they went after Jeremy a little bit too aggressively, Jeremy isn’t sure. But he’d be a liar if he denied that the action didn’t get him hot under the collar.

He likes protective Jean. He likes that Jean is unafraid to stake his claim on him. That he isn’t afraid to choose him.

It makes him more than eager to show his appreciation.

Keeping his distance from Jean after the game is torturous, but he knows that the second they get their hands on each other, there’s no chance of prying them apart. Even sharing a glance is dangerous at this point, the weight of what they’ve promised each other heavy behind their gazes.

He’s starving for the taste of his mate, and Jean isn’t faring much better. Jeremy half expects him to press him up against the lockers and sink his fangs into him right then and there, the rest of the world pushed to the wayside.

They duck out of the celebration early, earning only a few questioning looks. It’s not uncommon for Jean to request to leave early, or for Jeremy to be the one to take him home. An aspect of their lives he’s never been so grateful for.

Jeremy clicks his seatbelt in place, a near purr starting in his chest as Jean grabs his face to kiss him fiercely.

“Drive fast, Jeremy,” Jean commands, the glow of red ringing his pupils bright in the dark of the car.

Jeremy nods, peeling out of the parking lot. He’s never going to deny Jean anything ever again.

Obeying traffic laws has never been quite so agonizing. They’re hitting every red light possible, and the way Jean’s hand is steadily inching higher and higher on his thigh has Jeremy tempted to pull off onto the side of the road and indulge him immediately.

He laughs when Jean shoves him up against the front door, fumbling with his keys in the dark.

The lock clicks and the door swings open, Jean kicking it shut behind him as they stumble inside.

He lets Jean bodily steer him towards their room and onto their pushed together beds, relinquishing the pace of their night to him. For now, at least.

Their hands roam without consequence when Jean pulls him into a kiss, threading through hair and sliding beneath shirts and dipping under waistbands.

Jean’s skin is cool against his as their shirts come off, his hand settling heavily on the nape of Jeremy’s neck to keep him close.

He kisses the three high on Jean’s cheekbone before tipping his head to the side, offering himself up.

Jean’s hand tightens on the back of his neck as he drops his forehead to Jeremy’s shoulder, and Jeremy understands. He hugs Jean close, pressing his nose against the side of his head. They have each other. And they’re not letting go.

“Yes,” Jeremy murmurs, sighing when Jean’s fangs pierce his skin.

His fingers dig into the firm muscles of Jean’s upper back as he feeds, the act done out of desire rather than necessity. He had already let Jean drink from him this morning to prepare for the game. Jean grumbles every time that it will affect Jeremy’s performance, but can’t deny that his own playing would be negatively impacted if he was hungry. Feeding Jean gives Jeremy an excuse to eat as much as he wants afterwards anyway.

Jean gives him a few lingering licks once he’s satisfied, their hips rolling together in search of relief.

“Off?” Jeremy asks, hooking two fingers into the waistband of Jean’s shorts and tugging.

He nods, the fresh blood coursing through him allowing a blush to spread across his cheeks.

The earlier bravado Jean possessed while he was shoving Jeremy down the hallway has vanished as he lays back, his bare body a perfectly sculpted masterpiece atop the sheets. Beautiful.

Jeremy stares. He can’t help it.

“You’re in charge, Jean,” Jeremy says, determined to take this slow. No matter how much his wolf whines about it. “Say the word, and we stop.”

“I do not want you to stop,” Jean mutters, his gaze darting around and landing on everything except for Jeremy.

He reaches out and guides Jean’s face towards his, careful not to cage him in as he leans over him. “It’s not a crime to change your mind, you know.”

Jean’s jaw clenches, finally meeting Jeremy’s eyes. “Do you not want this? Is that it?”

Jeremy smiles. “I’m just giving you your options, fangs,” he says, the endearment ridiculous enough that Jean huffs in amusement. He’s relaxing. Good.

“Do not ever call me that again,” Jean says, not sounding particularly threatening in the slightest.

“No promises,” he teases, dropping his head to kiss him.

Jean pricks his lower lip with his fangs in retaliation, the kiss quickly becoming messy as he licks at and into his mouth. Jeremy groans, letting Jean tug at his hair to angle his head in the way he wants.

He runs his nose along Jean’s jaw as he catches his breath, his lips trailing down his neck. He wants to bite him, to seal their bond in the way his wolf craves, but he won’t. It doesn’t have to be tonight. Or ever. He’ll wait until Jean is ready.

His mouth drifts to Jean’s collarbones, pressing three kisses along each of them. He moves to Jean’s shoulder, sliding his cheek down to the bend of his elbow. There’s not a single inch of his mate he won’t know intimately after this.

Jeremy kisses Jean’s wrist, his palm, each of his fingers, his eyes closed as he repeats the process all over again on his other arm.

Jean squirms impatiently when Jeremy kisses a straight line down his sternum, grabbing at his head when he tries rubbing his cheek along his ribs. “Enough,” he says. “This is unnecessary.”

“Please, Jean. I need…I need this,” he begs, his voice cracking unexpectedly. He leans his head heavily into Jean’s hand, unable to express why this is in fact necessary. Jean is here and he is his and Jeremy fears he doesn’t deserve him. It’s too much. Showing how much he wants him is all he can do. “Please.”

Jean studies him with mild concern, stroking his thumb over his cheek. He understands without words. “Okay, Jeremy.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, returning to scenting him. He presses his face into Jean’s pecs, his mouth seeking out his nipples.

Jean shudders at the touch of his lips and teeth and tongue, the hand on Jeremy’s head holding him in place this time. He moves only when the grip on his hair eases, using his tongue to trace the lines of definition displayed on Jean’s abdomen. The muscles flex beneath his ministrations, and Jeremy doesn’t hold back the moan that slips from him as he thinks of all the strength coiled in his mate underneath him.

He sticks his nose into the crease where Jean’s thigh meets his thigh, inhaling greedily despite Jean’s embarrassed noises. “Your scent is strongest here,” he tells him, doing it again.

“You are not supposed to be smelling me,” Jean grumbles, making no move to stop him.

“Kind of impossible for me not to,” Jeremy says, licking him there. Jean’s cock stands straight up in front of Jeremy’s face, flushed and leaking precum for him. It’s a gorgeous sight, and he’ll get there shortly. He’s not done with the rest of him yet.

Jean watches with rapt attention as Jeremy’s mouth roams along his inner thigh to his knee, continuing down his calf. He nips at his ankle bone, tongue flicking out to soothe the minuscule hurt. He comes back up the other leg, nuzzling his thigh. This is everything he’s ever wanted.

“Can I taste you?” Jeremy asks, Jean starting to tremble with need.

“Is that not what you’ve been doing?” Jean mutters. “Yes, Jeremy.”

Jeremy groans, and the shout Jean lets out as he swallows him down to the base is music to his ears. He lifts his head, thoroughly enjoying the darker blush spreading across Jean’s face and down his torso as he sucks at his tip. The knowledge that he’s entirely responsible for such a perfect view pleases him beyond belief.

Jean whimpers and whines and lets out the occasional ”Jeremy” as he nears his release, the sound almost pushing Jeremy over the edge too. He reaches up to hold Jean’s hand, squeezing once in reassurance. He wants him to come. Besides, it’s not as though he was planning to stop at only one.

He doesn’t let a single drop go to waste when Jean spills down his throat, eyes fluttering closed in contentment. He can just about feel Jean’s pleasure as if it was his own. He gently runs his tongue over him afterwards, the vampire’s grip on his hand close to crushing. He uses his free hand to caress along his side and the flat expanse of his belly as he lays his head against his quivering thigh.

“So good,” Jeremy murmurs, immensely gratified. “So, so good.”

“Jeremy,” Jean sighs. “Jeremy.”

Jeremy smiles against his solid thigh. “Can I give you more?” he asks, looking up at him.

Jean nods, his body pliant as he allows Jeremy to guide his knees up towards his chest. He’s perfect here too, Jeremy decides, needing a minute to admire him.

His mate shivers when Jeremy mouths at his balls, devoted to tasting every last part of him. His mouth journeys lower, licking over the stretch of skin behind his balls. When he finally, finally reaches his hole, eyes shut in pleasure as he settles in to lap at him, Jean kicks him.

His foot strikes out hard against Jeremy’s shoulder, pushing him away. If he wasn’t what he is, he’d probably have ended up on his ass on the floor. His eyes fly right back open, wide as Jean’s as they stare at each other.

Jean is mortified. His mouth opens and closes, no words leaving him.

“Reflex?” Jeremy hedges, really hoping it was. He wasn’t so far gone that a simple word wouldn’t have sufficed. He’d rather not be kicked in the collarbone again.

Jean nods frantically. “I did not mean to. I knew, I knew you were going to do…that. But I still—” he chokes, making a shuddering sort of sound. “I’m sorry, Jeremy.”

“It’s okay, Jean. I’m okay. You’re okay,” Jeremy murmurs, pressing his cheek against Jean’s inner thigh. “Need a minute?”

Jean shakes his head before Jeremy can finish the question.

“Are you sure? I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

“Yes,” Jean whispers, still embarrassed.

Jeremy hums in acknowledgment, internally celebrating. He thinks he was born to do this. Not that he’d ever say it aloud. Although, it might be worth it just to experience Jean’s reaction.

He starts over, kissing his inner thighs and up to his hips. He presses his lips beneath Jean’s navel, swiping his tongue along the trail of dark hair that begins there. The tension in Jean’s muscles eases as Jeremy slowly works his way back down between his thighs, his cock stiffening again.

Jeremy’s hands go to Jean’s ankles—just in case—as he drags the flat of his tongue over his hole. Jean’s hips jerk before he settles back down, a whispered little “Oh, oh” slipping from him. Jeremy moans, moving his hands to Jean’s hips and lapping at him earnestly.

Yes, he thinks. This is exactly what he’s meant to do.

He licks at his mate until his hole is wet and pliant under his tongue, relishing in Jean’s soft sounds and the eager rocking of his hips. He stops only when Jean tugs at his hair, his name a ragged sound on his lips.

“I can take more, Jeremy,” he says, shifting restlessly. “I will not break.”

“Forgive me for enjoying myself,” Jeremy teases, lowering his head and placing another sucking kiss against his entrance.

Jean makes a strangled noise, fists tangling in the covers. “Jeremy.”

“All right, all right,” he murmurs, reluctantly sitting up. He rubs small circles against Jean’s hips as he stretches to retrieve the lube Jeremy purchased for him. Jean passes it to him, refusing to make eye contact.

Jeremy opens the bottle, expecting to break the seal, his brows raising when he notices it’s already been used. “Jean?”

“I have been…practicing,” he mutters, glancing up at Jeremy through his lashes.

“Practicing,” Jeremy echoes, the bond sparking between them. He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to compose himself, the image of Jean preparing himself to take Jeremy’s knot nearly too much to bear. He swallows, his grip on the bottle tightening. “Was it okay?”

Jean’s lips purse to the side, his body relaxing back against the mattress. “I think you will know how to do it better,” he admits quietly.

“You know I’ll try,” Jeremy says, desperate to help Jean experience every form of pleasure he can imagine.

Jean pulls his knees up to his chest, trusting, and Jeremy just about drops the lube as he slicks up his fingers. He can’t help but wonder if he deserves such a gift.

“Jeremy,” Jean says. “Stop staring.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, encouraging Jean to rest one leg against his shoulder. He lays his head against Jean’s calf, needing to hold onto him as he eases his first finger inside.

His touch becomes seeking as he works in another finger, stroking until he finds the spot to make Jean writhe.

He murmurs every praise he can think of as he coaxes him open, the sight of Jean stretched wide around his fingers and the sound of his pleading whimpers making his cock leak as much as Jean’s.

Jean is panting—something Jeremy has never heard him do before—as the widest part of his hand sinks into him, clenching down hard. A guttural growl sneaks out of Jeremy as he realizes Jean will feel the same around his knot. Perhaps preparing him to this extreme is a bit overkill, but he’s terrified of hurting him.

“Jeremy,” Jean groans, his hips jerking as if he’s struggling to decide whether he wants more or less.

“You’re going to take my knot so well, Jean,” Jeremy murmurs. “My perfect mate.”

Jean nods eagerly, precum glistening on the tip of his cock and where it’s dripped onto his stomach. “Please, Jeremy. Alpha.”

It’s a miracle that Jeremy doesn’t come the instant the word leaves Jean’s mouth. He withdraws his hand, quickly slicking up his cock. He won’t last long, but Jean is in the same boat.

“Tell me to stop,” Jeremy checks in, his tone rough with restraint as he aligns himself.

“Do not stop,” Jean snaps, his need destroying his patience.

Jeremy huffs a laugh, kissing Jean’s ankle as he presses forward.

His head tips back as Jean envelops him, lips parted and eyes closed. Perfection. Complete bliss.

Jean grabs at Jeremy’s hands on his hips and tugs, wanting him closer. Jeremy is quick to comply, lowering Jean’s leg and bracing himself above him. He kisses him while he lets him adjust, pouring every ounce of emotion into the action as he works to keep his hips still.

“Move, Jeremy,” Jean demands, so Jeremy does.

Jean’s cock is trapped between their bodies, a sound of pure delight escaping him as Jeremy reaches a hand down to stroke him in time with his thrusts.

His knot is already starting to swell, pushing at Jean’s entrance each time their hips meet. “I have you I have you I have you,” he whispers, a near sob tearing from him when Jean offers his neck in the way Jeremy always does for him. He sinks his teeth into him as he comes, his knot locking them together.

Jean’s entire body pulls taut beneath him, his grip tight in Jeremy’s hair and his nails digging into his shoulder as he releases.

Jeremy’s breaths come in short gasps as he presses his face against Jean’s neck, his bite already scarring over. Their bond thrums within him, never to be broken.

He gathers himself as soon as he can, searching Jean’s features for any hint of discomfort. His eyes are shut, a small line between his brows as he squirms subtly. Jeremy smooths away the line with his thumb, chest tight with affection when Jean turns to press his face into his hand.

“Doing okay?” Jeremy manages to ask, having to clear his throat when his first attempt cracks.

“Yes.” Jean looks up at him, and Jeremy knows he means it.

“I’ve heard it’s more comfortable if you’re on your hands and knees, but—”

“I want to see you,” Jean says, finishing Jeremy’s thought exactly. “It does not feel bad like this,” he adds a moment later. “Just…full.”

Jeremy smiles. “As long as it’s not bad, I’ll take it.” He rolls his hips experimentally, and Jean bites out a curse, nails scraping against Jeremy’s back.

“Jeremy.”

“Sorry.” He kisses Jean’s forehead, holding back on repeating the movement. He’ll absolutely be keeping Jean’s reaction in mind for later, though.

“Not right now,” Jean sighs, sliding his hands down Jeremy’s arms. “I could not if I tried.”

Jeremy is extremely tempted to prove him wrong, betting he could wring another orgasm or two out of him while on his knot. “Next time,” is all he says instead.

Jean nods, closing his eyes again. “There will be plenty of ‘next times.’”

Said so assuredly, the words bring the threat of tears to Jeremy’s eyes again. He tucks his face back into the crook of Jean’s neck, breathing him in. Jean smells entirely like his now, and that’s enough to soothe him.

They very quickly discover that Jean is not a fan of the aftermath of being knotted, squeezing his thighs together and demanding that Jeremy hurry.

Jeremy refrains from offering to clean him up with his mouth, heeding Jean’s request for urgency as he runs to the bathroom to bring back a washcloth. He’ll save the offer for one of their next times, when Jean is more prepared for what to expect.

“The feeling won’t last long,” Jeremy promises, easing his thighs apart.

Jean grunts skeptically, one arm thrown across his face in embarrassment as Jeremy gently cleans him up.

He throws the washcloth into Jean’s laundry hamper once he’s finished, settling down and nestling himself against him.

Jean gives up on being embarrassed, shifting to get his arms around Jeremy. They’re somehow successful in getting a blanket over themselves without loosening their hold on each other too much, warm and secure.

A sense of fulfillment drapes over Jeremy, sinking into the deepest, innermost parts of himself. The realization comes as easy as breathing—there can be no greater feeling than this.

Chapter Text

Sneaking out of bed is made an impossible feat when your partner is a werewolf.

“Where’re you going?” Jeremy mumbles, sliding his hand over the spot Jean was just occupying. His eyes remain closed, but his ears are perked up, the dark fur stark against his tousled blond hair.

Jean likes Jeremy’s soft wolf ears very much. Even though their capabilities ruin his plans. “Go back to sleep,” he demands quietly.

Jeremy does not go back to sleep. He blinks wearily, his expression so sad and confused that Jean climbs right back into bed. He does not enjoy that look. Not at all.

He has no choice but to spoil his surprise. There’s no other feasible excuse for him trying to creep out of the room without an explanation. It’s not like he has a human’s…functions to take care of.

“I wanted to bring you breakfast,” he whispers, hoping his face isn’t flushed. Jeremy did not eat anything after Jean fed from him, which wouldn’t be the end of the world if they didn’t then do everything that followed. “You must be starving.”

Jeremy blinks again, something unreadable flickering across his face. The second Jean fears he has crossed some unknown line, strong arms are winding around him and pulling him close. Jeremy kisses his ear, his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere he can reach.

A grin appears on Jean’s lips so swiftly it nearly frightens him, returning Jeremy’s embrace with a strength that would crack a rib on anyone else. He did not even halfway succeed in his plan, did not even make it halfway to the door, and yet Jeremy is acting as if he presented him with a feast befitting a king.

His mate pulls back with a sigh, cupping his face in his hands. “You didn’t think I would lose it if I woke up and you were gone?” he asks, but he’s smiling.

“You would be able to hear me in the kitchen, Jeremy.”

“I’m honored that you believe I would be so reasonable the moment after waking up,” he says, pressing their foreheads together. “I probably wouldn’t even think to put on my clothes before running to find you.”

Jean huffs in amusement, despite knowing he would be more than okay if Jeremy never got around to putting on clothes. Well, only for him. No one else gets to see Jeremy like this, relaxed and bathed in the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains.

“Thank you, Jean,” Jeremy murmurs, threading his fingers through the soft curls at the nape of Jean’s neck.

“I did not do anything,” Jean says, his voice huskier than it was a moment ago. Having beautiful Jeremy all to himself is stirring a hunger within him.

Jeremy gives him the smile he’s learned is only reserved for him, filled with adoration. What Jean now recognizes as their bond plucks in his chest. “But you were going to.”

“You are far too easy to please,” Jean says, extremely pleased himself.

Jeremy laughs, the sound edged with an emotion heavier than pure mirth. “Everything about you pleases me, Jean.”

He kisses Jeremy then, desperate to erase any thoughts of those who have made Jeremy believe he deserves so little.

Jeremy looks down between their bodies as he catches his breath, making Jean shiver as his hand moves to encircle the base of his cock. “I think breakfast can wait for a few more minutes.”

Jean grunts his agreement, and breakfast is made to wait for far more than a few minutes.

“You two look happy,” Laila comments, looking between the two of them knowingly. She holds up her hand when Jeremy opens his mouth. “I don’t need details.”

Jeremy makes a wounded sound. “We are, is all I was going to say, thank you very much. Right, Jean?”

“I suppose,” Jean says, only to provoke dramatics from Jeremy. He’s not disappointed.

“Ouch,” Cat yawns, shuffling into the kitchen behind Laila.

Jeremy clutches his chest, head thrown back in feigned agony. “Has it all been a lie?”

“No,” Jean says quickly, sharply. Perhaps Jeremy did pick up a couple things from his acting classes. His physicality could use some work, but he sounded sad. Like he believed Jean could lie to him.

He presses his lips together as he flips over the omelette he’s making for Jeremy. A foolish overreaction on his end. He tilts the pan towards Cat. “Is it done?”

“Looks fine to me,” she says, stifling another yawn as she opens the fridge. Jeremy has been banned from the stove after burning his eggs once. Cat had declared him a threat to society. Jean had thought that was too dramatic, until Laila accidentally burned her eggs and he was subjected to the smell. He refuses to experience that again.

“You better appreciate how lucky you are, Jeremy,” Cat says, setting down a carton of juice. “Jean can’t even eat, and he’s making breakfast for you.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m allowed to do it myself,” he says wryly, grinning as Cat crumples up a napkin and throws it directly at his head. He avoids it with ease. “And I make it up to him in other ways.”

“No details,” Laila repeats, her sternness undercut by her smile.

Jean blushes all the way up to his ears, but he feels a burst of pride nonetheless. Jeremy is his.

—————————

“We’re going to be late if you keep this up,” Jean bemoans, but he remains still as Jeremy scents him.

“Just let me do the other side,” Jeremy says, pressing his cheek against Jean’s.

Jean huffs. “You are doing ‘the other side.’ No more.”

Jeremy reluctantly steps back, knowing he’s right. He’s scented “the other side” twice already. And Jean’s clothing before he put them on this morning. “Sorry. Possessive and growly, remember?”

“You are not growling. Yet,” Jean adds under his breath.

Jeremy smiles apologetically, heading for the door with their bags slung over his shoulders.

Jean knows he’s been trying his hardest to stay on his best behavior, and for the most part, he’s succeeded. There were a couple of close calls during practice. And while they were walking to class. And while they were in class.

Maybe he could be doing a little better at keeping his instincts at bay, but he’s trying.

If he just so happens to growl a few times during their game tonight, no one will be able to hear him anyway. Jean will not let anyone close enough to.

They’re playing not quite far enough away to warrant the cost of flying out the team, but far enough that it’ll be too draining to drive back right afterwards. Meaning, they get a hotel room to themselves.

Jean has been thinking about it ever since they received their schedule at the beginning of the season. He was dreading being confined in such close quarters with Jeremy, stuck feeding from him without the chance of anything more. Now, his nervous fretting is all eager anticipation.

He finds himself wanton beneath his sheets at night, Jeremy’s gentle praises and expert touch taunting him in his dreams. After the third time he woke up rutting against the mattress, he began to very seriously contemplate the consequences of holding Jeremy hostage overnight.

Jeremy had only laughed when he confessed to his plotting, promising him “soon.”

“Soon” has finally arrived, and Jean refuses to let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

The bus trip is close to agony as he suffers through the endless song choices of his teammates in the name of his “musical education.” Why he must learn that some woman’s boots are made for walking, he is not sure.

He is more than relieved when they reach the home court of their opponents, ending his suffering. Not all of the songs were intolerable, some he even enjoyed, but he isn’t going to admit that. Especially if Derek or Derrick were the ones who chose the music. He would never know another moment of peace.

The game itself is unremarkable to him, his opponent half his size and unable to do anything other than spout a few halfhearted insults. Despite being bored, he is glad for the utter lack of challenge. He doesn’t know what Jeremy would do if things escalated to a physical level. He trusts in Jeremy’s abilities to control himself, to put the team first while on the court, but he himself feels a strong pull to keep his mate out of harm’s way.

Jeremy has taken the brunt of several heavy hits, and Jean has to wonder if anyone else notices how he always manages to slip between one of his teammates and trouble. Jeremy can take it, but it makes Jean’s heart leap into his throat regardless. It’s not as though he could convince Jeremy not to.

Jean finds himself doing the same, if he’s able to. He sometimes forgets how utterly fragile his human teammates are, the reminder like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head whenever one doesn’t immediately get back up on their feet. He’s starting to adopt Jeremy’s mentality, wanting to protect their pack. Perhaps he was meant to be a wolf instead.

The Trojans take the victory, which Jean finds entirely unsurprising.

Chatter fills the locker room, plans being made and the few restaurants open at this hour being argued over. Jean doesn’t care. He hasn’t taken his gaze off of Jeremy once, trying to gauge his interest in celebrating with the rest of their team.

Jeremy’s smiles don’t quite reach his eyes as he mingles, showering compliments on everyone’s performance. He is exhausted, Jean realizes. His concern reaches the size of a mountain as Jeremy leans heavily against him, waiting to board the bus.

“Are you fine if we stay in?” Jeremy whispers, his head tipping back to meet Jean’s eyes. Jean wants nothing more than to shield him away, the soft, trusting expression on his face something he wants to keep all to himself.

“What do you think?” Jean asks wryly, earning the most genuine smile he’s seen Jeremy give all night. He will always choose to stay in. Restaurants hold no appeal to him. They climb onto the bus, sinking into their seat. “But you need to eat, Jeremy.”

Jeremy nods, digging out a flattened protein bar from the side pocket of his bag. He frowns slightly at the sorry state of it.

“More than that,” Jean says, unimpressed.

“I know.” Jeremy sighs, unwrapping the snack. “The hotel has room service, I’m sure.”

Jean shrugs. “Coach would bring you something,” he murmurs, looking over at Rhemann. That, he is sure of.

“I won’t bother him with that,” Jeremy says, already finished and shoving the empty wrapper back into his bag.

“Do not be stupid.”

“You have such a way with words,” he chuckles, fishing out another protein bar a little less flat than the one before.

Jean rolls his eyes, stopping himself from pressing his face against Jeremy’s hair as he lays his head on his shoulder. He cannot easily explain that away.

—————————

“I haven’t shifted in a while,” Jeremy says slowly, sitting on the edge of one of the beds in their hotel room. They won’t be needing both.

Jean recognizes that he’s being asked a question. “I do not mind.”

“Are you sure? I just need—” Jeremy swallows, rubbing his hand over his face. “I won’t stay shifted for long.”

“It does not matter to me what form you take,” Jean says quietly. “It is always you.”

Jeremy is up and has his arms wrapped around his waist before he can blink. “Thank you.”

He does what he could not on the bus, holding Jeremy tightly. He kisses Jeremy’s temple. “Does this hotel allow pets?”

Jeremy’s answering bark of laughter warms Jean to his core.

He waits for Jeremy to come out of the bathroom, having gone in there to shift in the hopes of muffling the sound. It kind of worked.

Wolf Jeremy’s tail wags as he walks up to Jean, pressing his big head against his chest. He gives him one second before he’s licking at his neck like an untamed beast, unrelenting even as Jean attempts to clasp his hands around his muzzle.

“You have to stop doing this,” Jean chastises, face tipped up to the ceiling as he grins. He has no qualms about kissing Jeremy, but he’d rather not have wolf Jeremy’s tongue in his mouth.

Jeremy ceases his attack, dragging his nose along Jean’s collarbones as he begins to sniff at him.

“I will send you to obedience school,” Jean tells him, but it’s an empty threat. Jeremy chuffs his wolf laughter, moving to curl up on one of the beds.

Jean joins him, leaning back against his side and burying his fingers in the thick fur around his neck. Jeremy licks his knee.

“Obedience school,” Jean repeats, stroking Jeremy between the ears. Jeremy licks his leg again, undeterred. Jean presses his lips together to keep from smiling.

A knock at the door has both of them grumbling, and Jean forces himself out of bed. He looks through the peephole, unamused by Cat putting her own eye right up against the other side. He unlocks and opens the door with a displeased grunt.

“I didn’t realize your room was a portal back to the Stone Age. Me Cat. You Jean,” she grunts in a poor imitation of him.

Laila sighs. “I know that was incredibly flattering. Are you sure we can’t convince you to join us?”

Jean opens the door a little wider, letting them see wolf Jeremy. He thumps his tail once.

Laila hums under her breath. “Is he okay?”

Jean returns the door to a narrower opening, hiding Jeremy away again. “Yes. We are perfectly fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Laila says skeptically.

“I am sure,” Jean says, becoming irrationally irritated. He ignores the budding emotion. Cat and Laila haven’t done anything wrong. “I promise.”

“Call if you need anything,” Laila says, waiting for his nod of agreement before she and Cat head towards the elevator.

Jean locks the door and returns to the bed, tucking himself back into the space Jeremy left for him. He closes his eyes as Jeremy exhales, his fingers threading into his fur.

A small part of him was hoping that he’d be underneath Jeremy by now, overwhelmed with pleasure. But he can be patient. This form of closeness is nice too.

“Do you want to eat something?” Jean asks eventually, rubbing at the base of Jeremy’s ears.

Jeremy makes a deep sound of contentment, opening his eyes. He looks at Jean, holding his gaze before pointedly licking a stripe high on his thigh where his shorts have ridden up.

“Oh,” Jean murmurs, a heat only created by Jeremy sparking in his lower belly. “You will not faint?”

Jeremy chuffs his wolf laughter again. He jumps elegantly off of the bed, far quieter than something his size should be. He tilts his head, waiting for permission.

Jean nods, fists tightening in the sheets as Jeremy shifts. It is easier to listen to when he can see Jeremy safe and sound in front of him.

“I’ll be the first one in line for breakfast tomorrow,” Jeremy promises, obliging Jean as he tugs him back onto the bed. His wolf ears and tail have remained, but there is no hint of claws against Jean’s skin.

“I will hold you to that,” Jean says, soothed as Jeremy kisses him. Perhaps soothed isn’t the right emotion, considering the utter need flowing through him like blood.

He tips his head back as Jeremy’s lips trail down his throat, a low sound leaving him as his teeth graze the jut of his Adam’s apple.

Jeremy doesn’t stop him as his hands wander greedily over his bare form, caressing the warm skin and the toned muscles lying beneath. Jeremy pauses his exploratory kisses only to help Jean out of his clothing, the pile of fabric tossed to the side.

“Are you going to do this every time?” Jean asks, his tone sharper than he intended.

Jeremy freezes where he’s in the middle of mapping out Jean’s chest, his lips pressed against his sternum. He lifts his head, and Jean wishes he could sew his own mouth shut as his voice comes out quietly, uncertainly. “I don’t have to.”

He sits back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs. He takes a slow breath, and Jean wants to squirm. “Can you tell me why it bothers you?”

Jean focuses on the ceiling as pressure builds behind his eyes and nose. Looking at Jeremy’s face right now is proving to be too much.

How can he put into words what he can barely decipher in his own head? His body is not something to be worshipped in the way that Jeremy does. Or maybe it is. He doesn’t know. His body hardly even belongs to him. Broken and repaired and broken and repaired. Over and over again.

He did not ask to be turned. He did not choose to be stuck in his body for eternity, forever unchanged. What will he do ten years from now? Twenty, thirty, fifty years without aging a day? How many years will they have together before Jeremy’s body fails him?

“Jeremy,” he chokes out, grabbing blindly for his mate.

“I’m here, I’m here, Jean. I’m right here,” he whispers, settling back over him and letting Jean crush him against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jean is the one who should be apologizing for failing to answer a simple question, he thinks. Jeremy must believe he’s lost it completely.

He isn’t sure how long it takes him to calm down, how long he spends listening to the reassuring thump thump thump of Jeremy’s heart.

“How long?” he blurts, his voice little more than a croak. The thought is consuming him. “How long will I have you?”

Jeremy looks at him, the word forever obviously on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t speak quite yet, though. He knows what truth Jean is searching for.

“I’m not sure,” he admits softly. “Longer than if I was a human. Werewolves live long lives. I know that the bond can extend a human’s years. I don’t know if that means it’ll let me match yours.”

Jeremy smiles, but his eyes are glossy. He kisses Jean’s cheek, and then his jaw. Jean doubts he’s capable of just one kiss. He inhales shakily, continuing. “But we could also be accidentally run over by the bus tomorrow. Crushed flat. The end.”

Jean stares at him. And then he laughs. The sound is somewhat weak and slightly sad, but he still laughs. Crushed flat. The end. And Jeremy said that Jean had a way with words.

He cups Jeremy’s face in one hand, using his thumb to brush aside the single tear that escaped. “I will take all the time I can get with you, Jeremy Knox.”

“And I with you, Jean Moreau,” Jeremy murmurs, leaning heavily into the touch. His smile brightens. “May I continue?”

Jean comes to a decision. Perhaps it wasn’t at one point, but his body is firmly his own now. And he is long overdue for a bit of tenderness. “Yes, Jeremy.”

Jeremy attends him with reverence, leaving no inch of him untouched, unkissed.

He comes apart with a soft cry as Jeremy swallows him down, his back arching and thighs boxing Jeremy’s head between them. There’s no use in trying to restrain himself. Jeremy’s talented mouth leaves him with no choice but to let go.

It takes minimal prodding for him to draw his knees up towards his chest, keeping himself exposed to his partner. There is no part of him he does not trust Jeremy with.

Jeremy’s mouth is as eager against his hole as it was wrapped around his cock, his tongue lapping at him with a single minded purpose.

He watches—slightly aghast but extremely aroused—as Jeremy spits directly into him, circling the pad of his thumb around his entrance.

“Jeremy,” Jean groans, his name a plea and a curse and a prayer. He wants more. Needs more. And spit is not going to suffice for what he wishes to happen next.

Jeremy hushes him, rubbing his cheek against Jean’s inner thigh before kissing him there. “I have you, Jean. Don’t worry.”

“I was not worried,” Jean says. It is mostly the truth. Jeremy would never be so careless with him. But he did wonder if there was some trick to make things work he was unaware of.

Jeremy chuckles, kissing him once more before getting to his feet. He crouches by his bag and rummages through an inner pocket, wearing a triumphant expression as he returns. He reveals a small bottle of lube with heightened dramatics, waving his free hand around the bottle as he presents it to Jean.

Jean rolls his eyes, his lips twitching with amusement. “How would you explain that residing with your gear to our nosy teammates?”

“Helps me get my gloves on,” Jeremy says without missing a beat, miming pulling on a pair of gloves as he climbs back over Jean.

“Very smart,” Jean says, nodding in mock seriousness. As if lube squelching inside his gloves wouldn’t be an absolute nightmare to experience and then clean up. He allows a small smile to make an appearance as Jeremy brushes their noses together.

“I have my moments,” he says, kissing the tip of Jean’s nose.

The lube goes nowhere near their gloves.

Jeremy nearly sends Jean over the edge twice more before he deems him ready, earning a confused look as he lays down beside him.

“Come here, Jean,” Jeremy murmurs, reaching for him.

He sits up on his knees, having an abstract notion of what Jeremy is expecting. “You cannot mock me,” Jean tells him, unnecessarily. Jeremy would not. But he must cover his bases. He’s not entirely sure if his hips will move in the same way he imagines them to.

“Look at you. What is there to mock?” Jeremy says, appraising his body with such sincere adoration that Jean feels his face go red. “If you don’t like it, we can try something else.”

“I will do my best,” Jean says quietly, moving to straddle Jeremy. Jeremy strokes his tense thighs soothingly as he works up the nerve to sink down onto him, heeding his whispered advice to go slowly.

A pleased growl rumbles deep in Jeremy’s chest as Jean seats himself, both of them trembling. “Find what feels good, Jean,” Jeremy tells him. “Take your time.”

Jean rolls his hips, lifting and lowering himself experimentally. He doesn’t like how clumsy his attempts must seem. And he’s not sure where to put his hands. Putting them on the bed makes the angle feel awkward, but bracing them against Jeremy for leverage makes him worry he’ll hurt him, so he ends up doing neither.

He gives in. “How, Jeremy?” he asks, the question sounding more like one of the werewolf’s growls than actual words.

“You’re doing just fine,” Jeremy says. It is a kind lie, but a lie nonetheless.

“Show me,” Jean demands. Is he embarrassed by his current ineptitude? Yes. But he is also becoming increasingly desperate.

Jeremy makes a valiant effort of hiding his amusement. He may be patient enough to let Jean experiment, but Jean is not. He plants Jean’s hands against his chest, returning his hands to Jean’s hips.

He shifts beneath him, and the sweet smile he gives him leaves Jean entirely unprepared for what he experiences next.

Jean gasps as Jeremy thrusts up into him, the hold he has on his hips tilting his pelvis forward. Jeremy sets an easy pace, coaxing Jean into moving with him. Oh. Jean understands.

He follows the natural rock of their bodies, soon able to quicken his movements and keep the pleasurable angle.

“There you go,” Jeremy praises him, letting go of his hip to wrap a hand around his cock. Jean falters only slightly, the rhythmic stroke of Jeremy’s hand sending him hurtling towards release.

He feels Jeremy’s knot beginning to swell, instinctively grinding down against it. He needs it inside of him, unable to stop thinking about the mind-numbing stretch, the way Jeremy will care for him while they’re locked together.

A whine builds in the back of Jeremy’s throat as Jean works to take all of him, unwilling to let himself finish until his mate does. Jeremy doesn’t have to wait long.

Jean groans his name as he comes messily over Jeremy’s stomach, his jaw going slack and eyes closing as Jeremy’s knot finally locks them together. He can feel Jeremy pulsing inside of him, filling him completely.

He slumps forward, listening to Jeremy’s ragged breathing. Jeremy shoves a couple of pillows behind him to prop him up, allowing Jean to comfortably lay against his chest. He tucks his face into the crook of his neck, needing just one little taste.

“Mhm,” Jeremy mumbles, tangling his fingers in Jean’s hair as he sinks his fangs into him. He swears his knot somehow grows larger.

Jean feeds languidly, savoring him. But he remains careful, withdrawing his fangs after only a moment. Jeremy is made of strong stuff, but Jean does not want to overly weaken him. Especially if he isn’t planning to eat until morning.

Jeremy’s hands roam along his body aimlessly, skating up his back to his shoulders and tracing the taper of his waist down to his thighs. He squirms when Jeremy’s fingers find where he’s stretched wide, a pleased rumble sounding in Jeremy’s chest as he explores where they’re connected.

“Why must you do this,” Jean says as Jeremy rubs his cheek against his and across his shoulder, his tone unable to be anything other than fond.

“It’s crucial to my wellbeing,” Jeremy says, and Jean allows him to do his other cheek. “It tells everyone that I’m yours.”

Jean does enjoy that. Both of them are content to ignore the fact that humans cannot pick up on Jeremy’s scent marking him so thoroughly. Only other werewolves and vampires would take notice of their bond. And they had better take notice. Jean is not above fighting for what belongs to him.

He grimaces when Jeremy’s knot goes down and he’s able to lift himself up, tightening around nothing as his release leaks out of him. There is so much of it. “Jeremy.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, guiding Jean to lay down. Jean does as he’s led to, turning his head away in mortification as Jeremy spreads him apart to look.

Jeremy pauses, Jean’s response making him reconsider his next course of action. He lets Jean curl onto his side, quickly moving to clean him up.

“You should not be so…large,” Jean mutters. Jeremy doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he swipes a washcloth over his inner thighs. Being cleaned up in this way is both humiliating and kind of pleasant.

“You weren’t complaining a minute ago,” Jeremy teases, and Jean rolls onto his stomach to bury his face in a pillow. Jeremy gives his ass a couple of consolation pats.

“I am not complaining now,” Jean admits, his voice muffled by the pillow. He turns his head to look at Jeremy.

Jeremy brushes his hair away from his face. His grin remains. “That’s a relief, because I don’t think the issue is fixable.”

Jean pushes himself up to sitting, pressing a kiss to the freckles scattered across Jeremy’s shoulder. “But we can fix the issue of clean sheets.”

Jeremy laughs. “We certainly can.”

He tugs Jeremy close as they slide into the other bed, stroking his soft wolf ears. He doesn’t mind that the tips of Jeremy’s ears will tickle beneath his chin while they sleep. Or that Jeremy’s tail is swishing lazily under the covers against their legs. Jean is entirely content—a sensation that he can count the occurrences of on one hand. Perhaps one day, he will no longer be able to keep count.

He hopes.

—————————

“I told you I’d keep my promise—” Jeremy gasps as Jean’s hand flies out to slam their door shut.

“Ears, Jeremy,” Jean says, regaining his senses. He may no longer bat an eye at Jeremy’s lupine attributes, but that is absolutely not the case for everyone else. He nearly let him walk right out on full display. He would’ve been sharper if Jeremy did not wake him with a hand wrapped around his cock, scenting him until all he could focus on was his mate and the pleasure he was giving him. Especially when Jeremy let him feed from him as he came.

Jeremy reaches for the top of his head to check, his shoulders slumping. He exhales slowly. “What would I do without you? I even looked in the mirror and everything.”

“Without me, you would not have been distracted enough to overlook this,” Jean says, running a hand along Jeremy’s wagging tail.

“Maybe,” Jeremy sighs, shuddering as he shifts. His half-shift makes no sound compared to the full. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’d much rather keep you instead of a clear head.”

“And I will be your downfall if you do not eat,” Jean says, ushering him out into the hallway.

“I’m still standing, baby,” Jeremy laughs, twirling in a circle as they head for the stairs.

Baby. Jean immediately goes red. He pretends his stomach is not currently fluttering with delight. He’s more concerned about what Jeremy’s body is doing to itself. Between the game last night, his shifting, the feedings, the sex…Jean has no idea how Jeremy is still standing, let alone running down the stairs. Sheer willpower, he supposes.

Jeremy is on his third plate of complimentary hotel breakfast by the time their teammates start to filter into the lobby. Rhemann joined them while Jeremy was halfway through his first serving, he and Jean watching him pack away food with quiet fascination.

“Christ,” Rhemann mutters under his breath when Jeremy gets back up for a fourth round, walking up to Cat and Laila in line. “They’re going to regret making this free by the time I’m through,” Jeremy had said when they first sat down. He was right.

“He did not eat dinner,” Jean says, leaning back in his chair.

“Reckless,” Rhemann says, and Jean stifles a snort. He figured their coach must know about Jeremy’s specific needs.

“I tried to tell him. He insisted otherwise.”

“It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs,” Jeremy says, smiling as he sits back down. Cat and Laila take the seats beside them.

“Is it really behind your back when you can hear them whispering from across the room?” Cat asks.

Jeremy shrugs. “I think intent matters more in that situation.”

“I would gladly say the same to your face,” Jean tells him.

“And you did. I just delayed heeding your warnings,” Jeremy says, cutting into his waffle. “Besides, this way, I don’t have to pay a dime to be a glutton.”

“Incredibly smart,” Laila says wryly. “Is that your tenth plate?”

Jeremy flashes a grin with sharp teeth. “Just about.”

Jean heaves a sigh. Rhemann shakes his head, going to refill his coffee cup.

“What would happen if you ate this?” Cat asks, scooping up a dollop of whipped cream on her finger.

“I would die instantly,” Jean lies.

“Bummer.”

Jeremy presses their thighs together underneath the table, and Jean is one instance closer to losing count of his mundane moments of happiness.