Author's Introduction:

I am in an extremely bad mood today. I wanted to give myself the illusion of doing something productive.

A dear friend was happy to give me permission to post the tool that would save my day.

Wolves

A G.I. Joe one-shot by Firestar9mm, taking place before the events of "Breathless"

She thinks she runs with the wolves
She says that she'll rescue you
From me and my kind
Led by the hand to a mythical land
A no-man's-land where we can't hurt you
She thinks she runs with the wolves

(Shawn Clement, Wolves)

The sun, in Timber's opinion, was a late sleeper.

Even in a place like the Pit, where there was always something going on, it was that strange between-time when most of the underground den was silent, the time the Pack Leader referred to as "zero dark thirty" with a wry smile whenever he had to be up and around in it. The sky was that inky midnight blue color that promised the sun would rise—just not any time soon.

The Pack Leader could complain all he liked, but Timber knew that if he stepped outside he'd see the treaded pawprints in the soft earth that meant Duke had left the makeshift, temporary Den the Joes had constructed in this chilly place. There was little snow, simply a dusting that left a sugar coating on the rocks and limbs of trees, but the air had a sharp bite to it. Timber himself didn't mind the cold, but he knew some of his Joes were unhappy that they'd had to make camp here. Scarlett, whose red fur was hardly enough to keep her warm, had already been heard complaining that she couldn't feel her paws. Duke had informed her tiredly that they were waiting for their target to make a move, and until that happened, they were roughing it.

Timber didn't understand "roughing it"—the Joes had put up the soft little caves that kept the snow off their heads while they slept, wrapped in plenty of warm skins. It was hardly sleeping in a hole clawed out in the earth or on a stone floor, the way Timber had when he was younger. Still, he had had, if for a short while, siblings and a mother to cuddle close to. He was sure Scarlett would have much preferred to sleep beside the Pack Leader, tuck herself against his side and share the warmth of his body, and Timber did not understand why, in front of the Pack, Scarlett deferred to the Pack Leader as any Beta Female would. Scarlett was not just any Alpha Female-Timber had seen enough nuzzling and playing away from the Pack to know that her rightful place was at the Pack Leader's side, as his Mate. She would fight at his flank, rule at his side, carry his puppies, and Timber did not know why she did not wear that honor proudly for all the Pack to see.

Still, it was hardly for him to wonder—Duke and Scarlett were Alpha; their word was law, their actions not to be questioned. This was Pack Law; this he understood, and he had never regretted leaving his youth behind and following his Master in their battle against the evil Cobras that were always threatening to overrun the lands belonging to his Joes. But this place—the frosty ground, the trees, the crisp cold air—it was the first time in a long time that he was clearly reminded of Before. Of a Home that wasn't the big den his Joes called the Pit.

Furthermore, despite Duke's frosty chastisement in response to Scarlett's complaint, the previous evening Timber had seen the Pack Leader slink out of the soft cave the Joes called "tent" and towards Scarlett's, where she was keeping watch, wrapped in as many skins as she had brought along, holding her paws close to the small fire she'd lit. Settling beside her, in the dark while the other Joes slumbered, Duke had taken her paws, warming them first by rubbing them and then with the heat of his mouth while Scarlett smiled, her eyes heavy-lidded half-moons of contentment.

It made Timber lonely for the company of an Alpha Female of his own.

He had heard them calling, certainly—when they had arrived in the chilly wood, he had seen them moving like water, changing course as if they shared a mind to examine these newcomers. The Joes had tensed, ready for a fight, but the wolves were not prepared to confront a fully-armed pack of two-legs to defend a place they had just been passing through on a hunt. Calmly, they scattered, leaving the Joes unmolested—all except for one she-wolf, a female who lagged behind, catching Timber's gaze with her own and seeming to beckon to him with a flick of her head and a whip of her tail.

For a moment, the Wild called to Timber—cool nights and the fur of other wolves and the thrill of the chase, hot blood flowing into his mouth as he caught his prey—but Pack loyalty won out. He turned abruptly, putting his back on the she-wolf and loping to catch up with the Master, who had freed him from the jaws of the silver serpent so long ago. His place was with the ragtag, friendly pack called G.I. Joe, and he would not abandon them.

Even so, he slept fitfully, and that was why he was awake now, pacing exhaustedly around the camp, waiting for the sun to bring his Joes to keep him company.

Loyalty and instinct had been dueling in the wolf all night; now he lay down with a whine, exhausted from the battle within. He hadn't felt so helpless and alone since that first day in the snow, with the evil steel teeth clamped around his paw. Back then, the Master had appeared like a towering god, shining through the swirling snow, but now he was truly alone.

Until an angel crept towards him on near-silent paws, big blue eyes widening in surprise as she saw him.

"Timber," Scarlett exclaimed in a whisper. "What are you doing out here?"

Had he a human voice, Timber might have asked her the same thing. It was early, and she wasn't anywhere near the soft tent-cave that had been designated as hers. She was in the form-fitting sleeveless shirt and fatigue pants all the Joes wore for the activity the green-faced one named Beach Head called "P.T.", arms bare in the stingy light. Had it not been for her pale skin and bright red fur, bound over her shoulder in its usual long tail, she could have stepped back and blended in with the shadows. She looked ready for what the Pack Leader called "covert operations".

Timber couldn't answer her question—even if he had had a human voice, there was no way to express to her how torn he felt. He loved the Master and loved the Pack. His loyalty was with them, and to his duty to help them fight the evil snakes that plagued the Pack's lands, but there was a small part of him that longed to run in the forest, hunt things that were smaller than him and taste the hot blood and warm meat, to chase and play with other wolves. Moreover, he was lonely for the company of a female, and that was something Scarlett could never understand, she who never wanted for attention from the males of the pack. There were plenty of alphas always sniffing curiously at her, ready to fight for her favor. She could not walk through the stable of metal horses called the "motor pool" without the beta males howling for her attention; when she was wounded in battle or during the play-fighting they called "sparring" the Master was always ready to wrap her wounds, and even the Pack Leader's wintry gaze melted to springtime when he looked at her.

And yet, as he lay his head on his paws, a delicate look of comprehension crossed Scarlett's lovely face, as though a moment of thought had answered her question for her. Nodding as though to herself rather than him, she beckoned to the wolf. "Come on, Timber. Come. Quiet now."

Curiously, the wolf got up, shaking himself, and followed the red-furred Joe as she crept towards the edge of the wood, a finger at her lips in the universal sign for "quiet", a sign Timber knew well from missions with the Master. With deft paws, she motioned for him to go, away, quickly, her tail of fur flicking in a breeze of predawn air that had Timber anxious to get outside the camp where he could run, really run. But he sat obediently, waiting for Scarlett, who knelt to be on his level. She reached for him, cradling his head in her hands, and he enjoyed the feel of her hands without the funny leather paws she usually wore. She ruffled his fur affectionately for a moment, then looked very seriously at him, her blue eyes locking onto his amber ones. "Just promise me you'll come back."

Craning his neck, he licked at her face, his best way of showing her his affection. Her face crinkled up cutely, and she turned her head, and his tongue flickered at her cheek, her ear, her neck. She smelled clean and fresh, as though she were ready for the day, not settling down to sleep. Briefly, he wondered again what she was doing up right now, waiting in the silent camp as she was, but the woods called to him and he left her embrace to slip away under the cover she'd provided for him.

Oh, the way the dirt felt under his paws was so familiar, and the world was a map of scents. One of the Joes had slipped out to burn one of those white sticks in his mouth; it was long dead but Timber could smell where it had been snuffed and ground out in the dirt.

Once he was a small distance away, he stopped and glanced back at the Joe camp once more. Scarlett wasn't the only one awake; another Joe was slipping out of his makeshift den into the predawn world. Timber watched the Pack Leader glance around, the usual expression of severity on his face until his gaze stopped to rest on Scarlett. In the early morning dark, he seemed to feel safe enough to let the smile warm his face; Scarlett wasted no time in gliding silently to his side. As Timber watched, she tilted her head up in supplication, and Duke nuzzled her eagerly, his eyes closing in his contentment at having her so near. Together, they turned and loped off into the woods, side by side.

Timber needed no other prompting; he lifted his muzzle to scent the air and sure enough, his own Alpha Female was close by. He would keep his promise to Scarlett, but for now, like her, he wanted to run.

For whatever reason, the cold's bite was never as harsh when Duke was with her. Like running with the sun, she thought amusedly, glancing to where he ran at her side, a riot of warmth—golden hair, bronzed skin, cooled only by the blue of his eyes. His breath came in white puffs as he regulated his respiration to keep up with her longer stride. Realizing she was watching him, he returned her smile. She knew that, like her, he valued these early morning P.T. sessions as a time for them to simply be together. While it wasn't a date, no one would question the field commander running P.T. with one of his most trusted sergeants. They would be left alone. And this morning, they were completely alone—far from the Pit, far from prying eyes, and getting further and further from their camp with each footfall.

So when Duke put on a burst of speed, overtaking her just long enough to pounce, she let him roll her to the ground. For a brief moment, she worried about telltale smudges of dirt on their clothes, grit in her hair, things they might have to explain later, but then his mouth was on hers and he was rolling them over and over and later evaporated; she wanted now. She ended on her side, one of her legs entwined with his, his arm around her protectively.

He kissed her hard, one hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head towards him. Scarlett couldn't control a shudder as his tongue forced her lips to open, caressing hers; she set her nails into his shoulder to ride out her passion, enjoying his growl of pleasure.

When she tore her mouth from his to gasp in air, he pressed hungry kisses to whatever skin he could reach—her cheek, her ear, the tender spot where her ear met her jawline. She mewed softly, encouraging him to slide his mouth further down her throat, sucking gently on her neck.

Dimly realizing he'd mark her in his passion, and that she'd be too careless to make sure her hair covered the love bite till it healed, she pushed him carefully away. Duke made a sound of protest, dodging her hands cutely, lips seeking hers once more. Scarlett accepted his demanding kiss, laughing as he released her with a brush of his nose against hers.

His eyes were hazy with desire, his caress slow, fingers trailing through her tangled tail of hair, palm smoothing down her back. Smiling, she rolled reluctantly away from him, intending to get up. He moved back slightly, allowing her room to get on hands and knees, but circled an arm around her, gently stopping her from rising any further.

"Stay there for me?"

The Pit's close quarters made lovemaking difficult. It was rare they were able to coordinate weekend passes or overlap their leave, and there had been times when they'd been unable to resist trysting clandestinely, which had challenged their creativity. She'd been grateful for his strength the day he'd capped off their pre-sunrise run by surprising her in the showers; he'd held her up the entire time, her legs wrapped around his hips, his hot, demanding mouth stifling her cries lest the echoes of the tiled room betray them. The time she'd pounced on him in his office after hours, she'd ended a heated makeout session by making some quick adjustments to their clothing, shoving him into his chair and straddling his lap, her arms tight around him, breasts pressed against his chest. Duke's initial surprise at her aggression had quickly advanced to eager participation, strong hands cupping her rear greedily, encouraging her to ride him harder. The sharp angle combined with the acknowledgement of their inability to control their desire for each other made their frenzied coupling that much more passionate; no sooner had the first shudders of her orgasm begun to shake her senses then she'd felt him pulse inside her, his eyes clamping shut and his arms constricting around her as he came with her.

But they'd never lain like this before. Duke's hand stroked down her back once more, but despite the soothing touch, Scarlett tensed reflexively at the submissive position she was in, years of training telling her that she must not leave herself so vulnerable, the deeply ingrained instinct dueling with the heart that knew beyond all shadow of doubt that she was safe, that the man whose hands caressed her so lovingly would never harm her.

"D-Duke," she faltered, even as his hands wandered lower, smoothing over her rear, cupping her, kneading through the fatigue pants she wore. Her stomach turned to water and she couldn't seem to make herself get to her feet; rather, when he straddled her legs and slid a hand between them, stroking her intimately through the fabric that was less damp with sweat and more with her desire for him, she arched her back and shivered in anticipation.

Still, she tried halfheartedly to deter him, if for no other reason that someone had to be the grown-up here. "We—we can't," she breathed, hating the treacherous catch in her voice that betrayed her true desire to let him have his way and mount her here under the quickly lightening sky. She knew that she was dangerously close to giving in. That she might even beg. "Someone could come along…someone could see…ah—"

He'd stroked her again, harder this time, an insistent press of fingers, the fabric of her pants producing a torturous friction against the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs. "We're alone, and I want you. Now," he said, the voice of the Top Kick, and she felt her resolve weaken further. Oh, she wanted him too, wanted him inside her, hot and hard and hers.

"We—we don't have anything—" Safety was another thing that was difficult to work into their erratic trysts. Scarlett had always been careful with her birth-control pills, knowing that it was foolish to discount the possibility of an accident as well as allowing for the possibility of her own potential imprudence. But now she was religious about it, learning quickly that Duke was not always going to have a condom on hand. Despite the fact that he'd have a lot of questions to answer should he be caught with one, he managed to stash enough that they weren't usually a problem, but some times—like that morning in the shower stall, the tile cool against her bare back, his skin fever-hot against hers—it wasn't an option. Still, she didn't want to make a habit of forgoing a rubber—no matter how amazing it felt to have him inside her with no barriers between them.

"Got your six, Red," he laughed softly, and there was a tickling sensation straight down the line of her spine; he was dragging the edge of a foil packet teasingly down her back.

Despite her near-painful state of arousal, she felt an answering amusement. "You ain't just whistlin' Dixie," she teased, shifting her hips to draw attention to the hand that still cupped her left buttock. Curiously, she added, "We run almost every morning, and we usually don't end up en flagrante. How long were you planning this?"

But Duke didn't laugh with her. His voice was ragged with desire as he repositioned himself, mild bewilderment coloring his voice as he asked, "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" And he grasped her hips, pulling her back against him so that she could feel his hard length straining beneath his own fatigues. "Feel how much I want you, Scarlett. I'm always ready for you," he rasped, and she knew he didn't just mean he was carrying condoms around.

She sucked in a breath at the feel of his erection pressed against her, and then his fingers were deftly undoing her pants, sliding in to stroke her. "And you're ready, Scarlett," he purred, his voice warm with satisfaction as his fingers slid wetly against her, tracing ever-tightening circles on that tangle of nerves. "So hot and wet…so ready for me."

He was right. She wanted him, too, now, submissive position be damned—this incredible man was hers. She was the reason that impressive masculinity was rock-hard and straining, aching to be sheathed inside her. She felt herself nodding in agreement, dreamlike, a hurried, almost silly gesture, then heard a zipper, the rustle of fabric as he freed himself from his pants. She heard the foil packet tear beneath his teeth, and then his hands were on her hips, steadying her. Quickly, he adjusted her clothes, and she had hardly registered that he'd bared her, didn't even have time to feel shy about it because his hands were between her legs again, stroking her, spreading her. The Southern lady in her felt shy at being so exposed beneath his hungry gaze; the trained soldier felt tense at being so vulnerable in his talented hands. But neither was as strong as the she-wolf who wanted her mate atop her, inside her, wanted him to claim her with his body until they were both gasping and growling with the ecstasy of it.

And her alpha male was obviously thinking along the same lines. "Scarlett," Duke groaned lustfully, his tip teasing her entrance, and then he was easing inside her, the previously untried angle tearing her breath from her in a sharp, ragged exhalation. She could feel the heat of him even through the condom, and whimpered softly as Duke pushed carefully further, stroking her with a tenderness that bordered on reverence, strong hands smoothing down her back and tracing the flare of her hips. "You're so goddamned beautiful."

"I…" Breathing was suddenly a near-impossible nuisance. "I need you…"

"So tight," he continued appreciatively. "Let me…" And he began to move, causing Scarlett to reflexively scratch furrows in the dirt as he gripped her hips, the strength of his thrusts increasing as he gauged her reaction.

Unable to help herself, Scarlett pushed back against him, rotating her hips in rhythm with his next thrust. She heard Duke's hitching inhalation as he moved over her, caging her in his arms as he braced his weight on his hands, breathing hotly against her ear. "So good, Scarlett...feels so good..."

Emboldened by his praise, she rolled her hips again and was rewarded with a nip to her neck, a sharp little sting of teeth before his tongue soothed the tiny pain away.

Like the wolves, Scarlett thought almost dreamily as Duke shifted his weight to one side, freeing a hand to stroke her. Their love-play was primal and ferocious, too, their passion fierce—it was natural that she should want her own mate like this, want to feel his teeth and know his strength as they reclaimed each other.

"Shana," he rasped as he thrust again, and she knew he was close—it was more force than he'd allowed himself yet, and when her God-given name slipped from his lips she knew he was losing his legendary cool. His fingers slipped wetly across her clitoris, the friction of his touch against that precious inch of her coupled with his strong thrusts demanding no less than her total surrender to their shared passion. He leaned over her as if he couldn't get close enough, his broad chest fever-warm against her arching back. He braced all his weight on one hand, and Scarlett reached for him, fingers caressing the valleys between the thick knuckles that were white with strain. Duke growled his approval, kissing her neck.

"Shana," he said longingly. "My Shana…"

Hearing her name in that loving, pleading tone, helpless in the hands that drove her mad with desire, Scarlett heard her own voice rise in a sharp yip for every sense-sweeping wave of pleasure, ending in a high, keening cry of delight as uncontrollable shudders racked her body and her muscles convulsed around him And Duke was with her, holding her tight as he came with one last powerful thrust and the growl of a man well satisfied.

Scarlett rolled onto her side as he released her, sated and exhausted. Tenderly, Duke gathered her to him, stroking and soothing her as she tried to regain her senses, slow her breathing. Carefully, he redressed first her and then himself, those strong hands deceptively gentle as he straightened, buttoned, zipped. Scarlett attempted briefly to help him, but her hands were clumsy with fatigue. Duke simply pressed a soft kiss to her dusty palm before continuing his ministrations. She lifted her other hand to stroke his face and he nuzzled into the caress before turning his head to press a second kiss to that hand. Warmed by the slow, loving smile that lit his face, she relaxed and simply basked in his attention. Her golden alpha male—her mate.

When all was smoothed and straightened as much as possible, Duke gathered Scarlett into his arms, pulled her almost into his lap. His affectionate kiss threatened to reawaken the passion that had just been banked. "Thank you," he whispered tenderly. "Thank you for trusting me."

"With my life." She nuzzled him, nose brushing his, voice dropping to a whisper as she added, "With my heart."

Glancing idly down, she brushed futilely at the dirt on the knees of his pants, laughing softly. Cradling Duke's face in her hands, she smiled. "Clumsy Scarlett tripped and fell," she instructed him. "That's how I got so dirty. You took a knee, helped me up, and we walked back…that's why we were gone so long."

The temperature dropped in Duke's blue eyes, blond brows dipping over them. Pressing his face against her neck, he tightened his embrace. "All right," he murmured. "But I'm going to pretend that it was because we were making love."

She was surprised; he'd never before used the oddly romantic phrase. "Duke…?"

He interrupted brusquely, as though he were trying to steel himself. "I'm listening. You fell, I helped, we walked. Just…" He squeezed her in his arms, and his voice dropped, almost shyly, as though he were speaking to himself more than to her. "Just a little longer."

Scarlett kissed his brow, his closed eyes, stroked the short velvet roughness of his hair as she brought his head to her breast. "Oh, Conrad."

"I'm crazy about you," he whispered roughly. "Can't help myself."

"Yours," she assured him, sensing the source of his restlessness, cradling his face in her hands once more and kissing him soundly. He rose up on his knees, strong arms locked under her thighs, lifting her as his tongue dueled with hers. When they broke apart, he chased his breath, forehead pressed to hers.

"If you don't want to get even dirtier, honey, we need to go back," he panted, helping her to her feet and pulling her close. "I'm about ready for round two."

About ready was an understatement—she could feel that he was more than ready. "You are insatiable," she laughed.

"I told you what you do to me," his voice a warm, hungry growl that he punctuated with a demanding kiss. "Always, Scarlett."

In order to keep up the pretense, she looped her arm around his neck as they walked back to camp, his arm around her waist. She limped a little—but not too much; she didn't want to waste one second of the line of his body against hers.

"You ought to take a rest," Duke said loudly as they got back in the circle of tents where the rest of Joes were just beginning to come awake. "Don't put too much weight on it. We need you at a hundred percent on this op."

"You got it, Top," Scarlett said, just as cheerfully. "You know me, I get carried away."

They shared a smile before Duke asked pointedly, "Want to go to the medical tent?"

"I probably should, but I can get there on my own, thanks," she said, her hand gentle on his arm. "I want to check something out on the way."

"Everything O.K.?" Duke asked, brow arching in curiosity.

She dared to give his arm a squeeze, not wanting to stroke his shoulder lest someone might have eyes on them. "All systems go."

Finally, he smiled again. "Roger that. See you later."

Scarlett allowed herself a minute to watch him jog away from her, the poetry of his movement already evoking pleasant memories of their tryst, eliciting a shudder at the sensory memory of that strong body entwined with hers, her golden alpha male—her mate.

Shaking her head and smiling, she decided to ask Lifeline for an ice pack.

Timber had woken up in a manner he hadn't been accustomed to in quite some time—in darkness, cuddled against warm fur not unlike his own. It had been a special, rare pleasure to feel the lap of the she-wolf's tongue on his muzzle, her cold wet nose pressing against his ear, his jaw. Alas, he knew their time together could not last, but he felt the restlessness in him draw back, like the tide of the ocean the Master had taken him to see once. He had passed a very pleasant evening in the she-wolf's company, running to catch the moonlight, hunting the smaller creatures that scampered in the woods. She had welcomed him as her mate as the moon had begun to set, and Timber had fallen asleep against her warmth, no longer lonely for the life he'd left behind.

But it was morning now, and he had a promise to keep. Flicking his own tongue against the she-wolf's muzzle in the way the Pack Leader called "kiss", he nuzzled her and pressed his nose against her ear. He felt her eyes on him as he left their cozy makeshift den; he would remember her fondly, but his place was with the big pack called G.I. Joe, and he had promised Scarlett he would return to them. He had the scent of the she-wolf and the memory of her nips and caresses to cheer him on his way, and in no time at all he had found his way back to the cluster of soft tent-caves. Perhaps he could lie down near—

"There you are!"

It was Scarlett. Her face was relieved as she exited the injury-tent to watch his approach; Timber allowed his jaws to loll open in a welcoming smile for her, shaking himself contentedly as he sat down.

"So you've been and gone and done it," the red-furred Joe accused, a wry smile crooking her lips.

Timber padded closer to Scarlett, who looked as though she'd already had quite the morning—the knees of her pants were dark with dirt, her hands almost black with it. Her long red fur was tied over one shoulder, and there was dust and grit in it. When she knelt to ruffle Timber's fur, he nosed at her, and over the scent of leather and blossoms that was uniquely hers and a healthy glaze of sweat from her exertions, he could smell other things—soap, musk, gunpowder. A familiar scent; Scarlett had been far closer to the Pack Leader than simply running beside him, and he knew the signs of mating when he saw them—she was relaxed and playful, her blue eyes sparkling, her movements languid.

All at once, Timber realized Scarlett had let him run free because she had understood his frustration in being caught between the Pit and the Wild-there was a Pack Law higher than her Will or the Will of the Pack Leader, and for whatever reason it forbade their Mating. Their choosing to Mate in secret was not a choice but a necessity.

He patted her clumsily with his paw, trying to tell him he knew how she felt, and that the Pack Leader was surely just as lonely for her touch as she was for his. Timber had seen the raw animalistic wanting in Duke just that morning as he had nuzzled his treasured Scarlett, and truly they had followed their instincts, unable to deny themselves—or each other—any longer.

"Here's the deal, stud," Scarlett teased softly, stroking his ear between her thumb and fingers, just the way he liked it. "You don't tell on me, and I won't tell on you."

Timber thrust his head into her embrace, tongue flickering out to lap at her ear and cheek, letting her know her secrets were safe with him.

Author's Notes:

Thank you, dear friend—I feel emptier, if not necessarily better, and empty means at least the poison's bled out a little.

And Timber, of course, never disappoints me.