Sipping Poison
Chapter 1: Cedar Memories
Ethan lifted his suitcase onto the curb and set it down on its hard plastic wheels. It was light, even by human standards. This was the fifth time Ethan had moved in the last month, and each time he found himself taking fewer and fewer things with him to his new destination. If London didn't work out, he would probably trade his clunky, half-empty suitcase for a duffel bag.
He rolled the suitcase to a stop in front of a towering stone building with The Lancaster emblazoned in gold over the huge revolving glass doors. Ooh, how posh. That's what the taxi driver had muttered in a snide tone under his breath, when Ethan had given him the address Danny had texted him.
Ethan drew a weary breath as he gripped the cold metal bar and pushed his way into the building. He had never met Jackson, but his reputation proceeded him, and Ethan was beginning to regret agreeing to look up Danny's posh friend. Whittemore – hell, just his name sounded pretentious.
The doorman, a balding middle-aged man with a shaggy mustache, raised his head as Ethan entered the lobby. Residual boredom hung in the air around his shoulders, but a tinge of apprehension partially displaced it as he looked Ethan up and down. Did he sense that Ethan was dangerous? Had decades in the hustling, bustling doorman industry cultivated a keen set of instincts and an eye for unlawful predators? Or did Ethan simply look like someone who was going to disrupt his morning crossword puzzle?
"I'm here to see Jackson Whittemore. I believe he's in flat 903." Ethan was pretty sure that was the correct use of the term flat, but he'd listen for whatever Jackson or the doorman called it to see if there was a preferred term. Perhaps people as posh as Jackson didn't live in common flats.
The man grunted and set his newspaper and pen on the desk in front of him, a deep frown creasing his already wrinkled face.
"I'll find it myself." Ethan turned and walked toward the elevator.
"Ya can't use the lift without a card." The man waved the gray plastic rectangle out in front of him as he trudged from around his station and shuffled toward Ethan. He got halfway before he clicked his tongue and snapped his gaze back toward his desk. "Damn. I forgot to ring him. I can't let ya up without authorization."
Ethan sighed and returned to the desk, leaning on it and glancing at the crossword while he waited for the man to amble back to his post and place the call.
"Romulus," Ethan said once the man had hung up.
The doorman's balding pate furrowed as he arched bushy eyebrows at Ethan. "What?"
"Number twenty-nine down, 'Remus and.'" Ethan tapped his finger on the newspaper and shrugged one shoulder. "It's Romulus. They were twins. According to mythology they founded Rome."
The doorman's eyes lit up and he snatched his paper off the desk with unexpected speed. "How do ya spell that?" he asked, pen at the ready.
Once the clue had been filled in, he accompanied Ethan to the elevators and swiped his card over the wall-mounted sensor.
"903 is on the ninth floor," he said as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.
"I had a feeling," Ethan answered, stepping inside.
"That'd be the tenth for you Yanks." He winked as the doors slid shut.
"Huh?" Ethan looked at the panel of buttons. Sure enough the lobby was labeled G with 1 above that where 2 would normally have been. Ethan noted the curiosity and pressed 9. A little while later the doors opened onto a hallway with plush blue carpeting and cherry wood doors set in ornate frames and accented by gold sconces.
Ethan cautiously inhaled, trying to acclimate to the cocktail of new scents. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered making a conscious effort, but if he was going to be living here, he needed to get used to the baseline smell quickly so he would recognize if anything was off in the future. He found 903 and rapped on the thick door, listening as the heartbeat and footsteps on the other side drew closer. A metal bolt clinked in its chassis and the door opened with a muted creak.
"So you're Danny's ex?" the guy asked with a smirk on his very handsome face as he leaned in the doorway.
Ethan had seen pictures of Jackson, but as hot as he had been in some of them – especially the numerous shirtless ones of him and Danny at the beach over the years on vacations – the photos hadn't done him justice. He had vivid green eyes, a dusting of light freckles across his nose and cheeks, and a strong, chiseled jawline. His expensive, stylish clothes were just snug enough to hint at a muscular physique.
"Ethan." Ethan held out his hand and gave Jackson his most disarming smile, the one he seldom bothered to trot out these days.
"Jackson." Jackson took Ethan's hand and gave it a firm squeeze, his bright eyes twinkling as he returned Ethan's smile with a megawatt grin of his own that made Ethan twitch in places that had been all but dormant for the last month.
"We, uh, I came to London once a couple years ago." Ethan pulled his hand away from Jackson's and wrapped it around the handle of his suitcase. "Didn't have much time for sightseeing."
Jackson frowned and stepped back, opening the door and motioning Ethan in. "Well I'm not doing that shit with you."
"Wasn't asking you to." Ethan rolled his suitcase over Jackson's threshold with a light thump and looked around. "Nice place."
"Uh yeah." Jackson's handsome features contorted into a mask of sarcastic condescension.
Ethan cocked his head and returned the look. "I can just go to a hotel until I find a place of my own."
Jackson smirked and folded his arms. "Could you afford that?"
Ethan laughed without humor. "Yeah, I can afford pretty much whatever I want. I'm only here as a favor to Danny. He's worried about you."
"Me?" Jackson's nostrils flared. "He practically begged me to take you in. He said you just lost your..." Jackson trailed off as Ethan glowered at him, daring him to finish that sentence.
"Then I guess we're both fine, and Danny was wrong. I'll go." Ethan tightened his grip on his suitcase and moved to leave, but Jackson stepped into his path.
"He'll be pissed if I let you leave."
"Not my problem," Ethan answered. Jackson might see Danny again, but Ethan doubted he ever would.
"Stay." Jackson's hand landed on Ethan's arm, and a jolt of cool energy buzzed across Ethan's skin. "We're both omegas. We'll be safer together."
Ethan growled under his breath and pulled his arm away. "I can take care of myself."
"Really? From what I hear you've never had to."
Ethan's claws burst from his fingertips and it took all his willpower not to slash Jackson's arrogant, albeit pretty, face. If Jackson weren't Danny's best friend he'd already have been lying on the ground bleeding.
"Calm down, man. Let's try this for a couple nights and see how it goes."
"Lonely?" Ethan laced as much derision into his voice as he could.
"No." A muscle in Jackson's jaw twitched, and Ethan didn't need to be a werewolf to know he was lying.
Danny had said Jackson moved to London because his father had gotten a job here, and yet Jackson's was the only fresh scent in the room; it didn't smell like he'd even had any visitors recently, much less like someone else was living here with him. "Where are you parents?" Ethan asked, this time keeping his tone neutral.
"None of your business." Jackson took a breath and unfolded his arms. "Look do you wanna stay or not?"
"Sure." Ethan gave Jackson a flirtatious smirk and watched for his reaction. "Why don't you show me the bedroom."
Jackson huffed a small laugh and rolled his eyes. It was dismissive yet adorable. "I'll take you to your room."
Ethan's room was nice. It was dominated by a large four poster bed with a plush white duvet draped across it. At the foot of the bed sat a heavy cedar chest for storage. Ethan unclasped the lid and lifted it, inhaling the sweet, woody aroma and being transported back to his parents' cedar closet as he and Aiden giggled and hid among the winter coats while their older sister, Christy, looked for them and tried to tempt them out with shouts of olly olly oxen free.
Ethan snapped the lid shut with a thunk, silencing the carefree, childish laughter of his dead siblings. He wouldn't need to use the chest anyway. The room's spacious closet, wide dresser, and fancy bureau were more than ample for Ethan's few belongings. He set his laptop on the dresser and made a mental note to ask Jackson for the wifi password.
The room was painted a soft, neutral blue that was in striking contrast to the bold, bright colors of the contemporary art that adorned the walls. The exuberance of the style had appealed to Ethan in his youth. He used to mess around with watercolors on the weekend with his dad, an amateur painter himself. Ethan shuddered as images of their paintings being burned on an open fire flashed through his mind. It had happened right after his 'Uncle' Keith, a traitorous beta, had killed Ethan and Aiden's mom to become alpha. Their dad and sister, along with every loyal member of the pack, had also died in the struggle. Burning the art and the other cherished possessions of the twins' family was just another way for Keith to drive home his cruel point: Ethan and Aiden were no longer heirs to their pack; they had become the pack slaves, kept alive only so Keith could access the trust funds they had inherited from their parents.
Ethan took the paintings off the walls and lay them gently in the bottom of the cedar chest. He didn't like art anymore.
Natural light shone in from the large bay window next to the bed, and Ethan spent a few minutes sitting on the inset bench within the window staring down at the bustling London street below. Picturesque, wrought iron lampposts lined the sidewalk, and pigeons flapped to and fro, pecking at tiny bits of nourishment on the pavement that even Ethan's enhanced vision couldn't detect from this high up.
Ethan freshened up in the room's en suite bathroom. It featured an elegant walk-in shower with multiple showerheads, and a detached clawfoot tub with hot water jets. He looked forward to trying both out over the coming days.
When he was done putting away his things, Ethan resisted the urge to lie on his bed and sulk. He needed to setup a UK bank account and transfer funds, as well as get a new phone and change service plans. Then he would go shopping for an outfit to wear that night when he went to check out London's club scene.
He didn't want to do any of those things; he didn't want to do anything. Those activities simply seemed like things he should do if he wasn't giving up on life, which he wasn't. He was a survivor. Just because he didn't have anyone in the world who gave a shit about him didn't mean he was going to stop living. His life wasn't going to end just because it literally had no purpose. Aiden may have been dead, but Ethan...let out a slow breath and collapsed onto the bed.
Maybe he'd just have a nap before he ran his errands. He crawled down the bed and lifted the lid of the cedar chest before burrowing under the covers and closing his eyes. The rich, woodsy scent reminded him of his mom's winter coat as he and Aiden had nuzzled against her sides while the old pack sang Christmas carols. Maybe Ethan would get a tree this year.
hr /
Ethan's eyes throbbed with glowing icy heat as they snapped open, and a deeper coldness was wrapped tight around his pounding heart. The spectre of Aiden coughing black blood clung to Ethan's mind the same way Aiden's fingers had clung to his back as he drew his final breathes. Aiden faded away, weaker and weaker until he was gone and Ethan was left alone with his pain. He didn't cry out. He didn't move a muscle.
And yet the sound of someone thrashing in bed and whimpering clawed at Ethan's ears and chilled his blood another few degrees. There were two pounding heartbeats in the flat, and Ethan's was already slowing.
Jackson awoke with a gasping sob. It was a relief. Ethan was hardly a stranger to listening to people suffer, but he didn't think that was a good routine to establish with Jackson. He listened as Jackson jumped out of bed, still breathing hard. Then he tried not to listen as Jackson relieved himself in his bathroom and splashed water on his face.
Ethan wasn't going back to sleep. It was dark in his room, not completely dark – he hadn't drawn the curtains before falling asleep, and city lights streamed in from the window beside the bed – but dark enough that it was obviously night, and that meant that Ethan had slept all day.
He tilted his head against the pillow and held his breath as Jackson's door opened and he strolled through the living room and into the kitchen. The refrigerator opened with a tight whoosh, a drawer squeaked softly on its track, utensils clattered together, metal clanked on metal, and then a crisp phsst signaled that a bottle had been opened. Ethan waited a few seconds and inhaled to determine what Jackson was drinking – beer.
After weighing his options, Ethan slid out of bed. He liked beer, even though he couldn't get drunk from it like humans, and he had barely spoken to his host before falling asleep for the day. He'd might as well take this opportunity to get to know Jackson better and to perhaps mitigate what had probably been a rude first impression on his part.
Jackson flinched and snapped his head to the doorway as Ethan entered the kitchen. His foreclaw was poised over the lip of a beer bottle.
"You seriously didn't hear me coming?" Ethan asked, hands raised in a calming gesture.
Jackson grunted and retracted his claw. What had he been doing?
"I'm not used to company."
"What time is it?"
Jackson pursed his lips and glared before responding. "Did you come in here to ask me that?"
Ethan crossed his arms and glanced over Jackson's shoulder at the clock on the oven. 1:33am. Ethan had been asleep for almost fifteen hours. He had been jet-lagged but...
"So, you're depressed I take it?" Jackson swigged his beer and leaned against the counter.
"Yeah, I guess." Ethan sniffed the air, noting the emotional signature of Jackson's scent. "And so are you?"
Jackson tipped his drink back and drained half the bottle before answering. "I guess."
Ethan turned to leave. There wasn't anything else to say.
"Wanna make it stop for a bit?"
Ethan paused in the doorway and glanced back at Jackson over his shoulder. "I don't think I can."
Jackson must have been hitting on him, suggesting they distract themselves with sex. Objectively it was an appealing offer, but physically...well Ethan's answer still stood. He hadn't had much of a sex drive the past month.
"I have a way." Jackson chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle in a trashcan under the sink.
"Sure, why not?" Getting Jackson naked and messing around with him wouldn't be the worst way to spend the night even if Ethan didn't get off from it, although given how absurdly hot Jackson was, maybe he would after all.
Jackson crossed the kitchen, and Ethan peeled off his shirt. He expected to find Jackson in front of him when he was done, but instead Jackson had stopped at the refrigerator. He quirked an eyebrow at Ethan before opening the chrome door and pulling out two more bottles of beer.
"I was tired of that shirt," Ethan said as he realized he might have misunderstood Jackson's suggestion. As a born wolf, Ethan had spent his life honing the ability to deceive other werewolves, and the true but misleading statement had slipped out of his mouth with a comfortable ease. The shirt smelled like the airplane and the taxi, and it was time for it to go regardless of anything else. He tucked the shirt into his hip pocket and discreetly tasted the air around Jackson. No change, no arousal. Jackson wasn't interested, even now that Ethan had taken his shirt off. Oh well, Ethan really didn't care.
"You might find this gross," Jackson muttered as he set the bottles on the counter, opened them, and then extended his foreclaw again.
Ethan walked further into the kitchen and studied Jackson's claw as it hovered in the air over their drinks. It was different from a regular werewolf claw, pointer, more translucent...wetter. As Jackson flexed it, a cloudy secretion rolled off the tip and plopped into one of the beer bottles. Jackson held it up to the light as the venom diffused in a murky cloud through the beer.
"So you're still part kanima. I didn't know that." Ethan didn't like it either. As an inexperienced bitten wolf, Jackson was no threat whatsoever if he turned on Ethan, but as a kanima hybrid he might be legitimately dangerous.
"Here." Jackson held the bottle out to Ethan.
Ethan took it warily, half-expecting the gesture to be a ploy, for Jackson to swipe at him with his other hand. He didn't, and Ethan openly sniffed the drink. His nostrils tingled. "What do you want me to do with this?"
Jackson rolled his eyes as he added a drop of venom to the other bottle. "Help it find a job in the financial sector."
"I do know a guy."
Jackson barked out a sharp laugh and clinked the neck of his bottle against Ethan's before taking a sip. "Go on, try it."
Ethan set the bottle on the counter and took a step back. "I'm depressed, not suicidal."
"I'm drinking it."
"You...made it. You're immune."
"Common misconception." Jackson took another swallow. "It'll get you drunk." He shrugged and waved a hand. "Well drunk-like."
"How?"
"If I clawed you–"
"You'd regret it." Ethan flashed his eyes.
Jackson rolled his. "It would enter your bloodstream directly and paralyze you for awhile."
Ethan's fingers and gums itched, and his muscles tensed, but he resisted the urge to attack.
"But if you swallow a few drops orally it takes longer to enter your bloodstream and you get a weaker dose. Then it acts more like a central nervous system depressor, like alcohol. It'll slow your reflexes, you'll get less coordinated, and if you keep drinking you'll start to get numb in places."
"Gee, sign me up."
Jackson smirked at him and took another sip. "But you'll also get more relaxed and less inhibited, and your head will get foggy. It really does feel like getting drunk. If you take it slow and only have a little, you can even nurse a buzz without getting wasted."
"I've never been drunk."
"Now's your chance." Jackson looked from the bottle on the counter back to Ethan with an expectant expression on his face.
Ethan hesitated. The fact that Jackson was Danny's best friend carried a fair amount of weight. Just as Ethan would much rather not hurt Jackson for Danny's sake, it was reasonable to assume Jackson would feel the same way. On the other hand, plenty of people wanted revenge on Ethan and one of them might have gotten to Jackson.
"Are you trying to poison me?"
"What? No!" Jackson looked like he'd been slapped. "I'm actually being nice, asshole."
"Are you trying to trick me in any way?"
"Fuck you."
"Just answer."
Realization flickered across Jackson's face. He frowned but turned more fully toward Ethan and spoke slowly, making himself an easier read. "I'm not trying to trick you or poison you."
"Do you know anyone who wants to hurt me?"
Jackson laughed. "Yeah, Isaac Lahey, but fuck him."
Ethan chuckled and grabbed the drink off the counter. He clinked his bottle against Jackson's. "To fucking Isaac Lahey!"
Jackson's face scrunched. "I'm not gonna drink to that."
"Aww c'mon, he's hot, even if he is a dickbag." Ethan snickered and took a tentative first sip of his drink. He still didn't completely trust Jackson's motives, but it also didn't feel like it mattered all that much.
Jackson shrugged and took a draught from his bottle. Did that mean he was implicitly agreeing with Ethan's assessment of Lahey?
They went to the living room and Ethan dumped his shirt from his pocket onto the ground before taking a seat sat at the end of couch while Jackson turned on a lamp and tapped through his phone. Music began to play from the device, and after a second it switched to streaming through a network of discreetly placed speakers throughout the room. Jackson kept the volume low, as if inviting conversation, and Ethan remembered that he'd seemed lonely that morning when he'd asked Ethan to stay.
Ethan sighed. His chest was tight and cold, the place behind his eyes stung, and the pit of stomach was twisted in knots. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to sip his beer and torture himself with memories of Aiden.
"So, what makes London special?" Ethan asked in a light, pleasant tone.
Jackson made an irritated clicking sound in the front of his mouth and shot Ethan an imperious look. "What do I look like a travel brochure?"
Great. Ethan was making small talk he didn't want to make for the benefit of a complete asshole – but he'd be damned if he was going to let Jackson get the last sassy word in.
"Maybe one of those gay holiday brochures with sexy, shirtless guys on it."
Jackson's face cracked into a smile and the effort Ethan was making suddenly felt half worth it.
"I'm not shirtless," Jackson said.
Ethan smirked at him and gave an innocent shrug. "You could be."
The corners of Jackson's mouth twitched, and he tried to hide it behind his beer. After setting the bottle down he shucked his shirt over his head and held his arms out from his body so Ethan could get a good look. "Better?"
"Much," Ethan answered, playing his part with a smile. He ran his eyes up and down Jackson's muscular, rippling torso, more out of idle curiosity than actual lust. Jackson was undeniably hot, and if Ethan kept looking maybe something would happen, but for now he didn't feel anything.
Jackson sniffed the air and his face fell. Ethan had been found out.
"I'm depressed," Ethan said by way of explanation.
"Oh." Jackson's eyes widened. "That's never happened to me."
"Congratulations." Ethan took an irritated swig of his beer. It's not like he couldn't get it up. He just didn't care to.
"No, I mean I've never met someone who wasn't attracted to me."
"I'm sure you have."
"Nope, I'm everyone's type," Jackson answered with a smug grin.
"Must be nice."
Jackson nodded and sipped his beer.
Ethan huffed and flexed his own shirtless torso. The least Jackson could do was pay back the compliment a little.
"Oh, I'm not into guys at all."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Then why do you keep encouraging it when I hit on you?"
Jackson gave him a confused look. "I'm not encouraging it." He rubbed the back of his neck, flexing his bicep in the process and tightening his stomach.
"Seriously?"
"What? I have a crick in my neck."
"You're unbelievable."
"I know." Jackson shrugged and winked. "If you want to take a picture for later when you're more in the mood..."
That wasn't an entirely unappealing proposition, but Ethan gave Jackson an indignant scowl and raised his palm. "I'm good."
They finished their beers and Jackson got up to get more from the kitchen. Ethan felt the effects beginning to kick in. The back of his throat was numb, and the fuzzy blankness seemed to travel all the way down to the pit of his stomach. It had loosened the knot there and dulled the sharp edges of the ache in Ethan's chest.
When Jackson came back he was carrying an open bottle and a closed one. He set the closed bottle in front of Ethan and slid the bottle opener across the coffee table to him. "I don't want you to think I'm up to something."
Ethan nodded. He had caught the irritation in Jackson's tone and knew he was trying to be petty to prove a point. It failed. Ethan was glad Jackson hadn't served him an open drink. "Thank you," he answered in a neutral tone as he popped the top off. He rolled the bottle cap around in his fingers and pushed the drink toward Jackson with his other hand. "I'll have another drop of venom too."
Jackson scowled at him but flicked his claw out and dribbled a bead of viscous toxin into Ethan's bottle.
"That still safe? It looked like more."
"You'll get drunk faster, but it won't hurt you." Jackson turned in his seat and glared at Ethan. "You know just because I have blue eyes doesn't mean I'm trying to kill you. You should understand that. I'm not watching my back all the time around you."
"You probably should." Ethan took a large gulp, barely tasting the beverage as he sought to numb more of the pain. "And this has nothing to do with your eyes or you personally. I just have a lot of enemies and we barely know each other. I'd treat you the same way with gold eyes."
"Did you just imply you were going to attack me?" Jackson's tone was challenging. His claws extended around his beer bottle, and his scent became more reptilian and more lupine.
"I guess that was the implication." Ethan turned his bare chest toward Jackson and held eye contact. "But I'm not going to. I'm just saying in general you shouldn't trust werewolves you hardly know, and yeah I specifically can be...monsterous sometimes. I'm not going to attack you, but I could."
Jackson's lips pressed together in a mocking line, and his claws retracted. "You're so full of shit. Danny said I could trust you, and you don't seem like a psychotic monster to me."
Ethan smirked at him and flashed his eyes. "That's because I'm a rational monster."
Jackson opened his mouth and Ethan was ready for his retort, but instead the sarcasm fell away from his features and he licked his lips. "Do you ever dream about the things you did?"
Oh. This was about Jackson's nightmares. Ethan softened the look on his face and kept his tone neutral. "Sometimes, but mostly I dream about" –he took a gulp of beer– "my brother. Sometimes my other family, but it's been awhile since I lost them."
"How long?"
Ethan frowned but answered. "Five years. Me and Aiden were thirteen. Then last month..."
"Yeah, I know what happened last month," Jackson said quietly, and for the first time since he and Ethan had met, there was kindness in his voice.
Ethan nodded in appreciation and they sipped their beers in silence for a few minutes. Ethan was getting lightheaded and relaxed. He felt better and it made him want to help Jackson too. "Sometimes I relive the moments that I killed people, or dream that I...you know, didn't."
"Does it get easier" Jackson asked, anguish clouding his green eyes.
Ethan shook his head. "Not easier, but familiar. It's like how I have to get used to Aiden being gone. It's not gonna hurt any less, but I'll get used to it eventually."
"So you're saying I just have to accept I'm a murderer." Jackson let out a ragged breath and finished his beer. Ethan stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could get up.
"No, our situations are different. You have to accept that you're not. You don't have anything to feel guilty about."
"What I did–"
"You weren't in control." Ethan squeezed Jackson's arm.
"I begged for the Bite. If I hadn't, none of it would have happened. And I only became a kanima because of who I was, because of what I was. I was the monster. The Bite just brought it out."
"Everyone has a dark side."
"I don't know if I have a good side," Jackson answered.
"Seems like you do."
"Like you said, we barely know each other."
"Let's have another drink and change that." Ethan hauled Jackson to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist.
They trudged to the kitchen with their bare sides pressed together, warm skin clinging to warm skin. Ethan zoned out and blinked as he found himself standing in front of the refrigerator with his fingers tracing over Jackson's abs.
Jackson laughed and leaned into Ethan. His breath was warm on Ethan's ear as he spoke. "I toldja I was your type."
Ethan's cock pulsed with interest and they both stared down at the bulge in Ethan's pants. Ethan let go of Jackson's stomach and adjusted himself, pressing the heel of his palm against his slightly swollen equipment. "It's only a semi."
"Yeah, right." Jackson rolled his eyes and brushed his hip against Ethan's as he got two more beers out of the refrigerator.
Ethan chuckled and shrugged. "You can feel it if you want."
"Gosh, what a generous offer."
"What can I say? I'm a giver." Ethan winked at Jackson. "Are you a receiver?"
Jackson scoffed and walked out of the room carrying their drinks, and it might have been Ethan's imagination, but there seemed to be an extra sway in his step. Regardless, Ethan was pushing the limits of 'semi' as he followed Jackson back to the couch.
-000-
End Notes: I hope you guys enjoyed this little little prequel Jethan in anticipation of them returning to the show. I might leave it at this with everything else just implied to have led up to the relationship they're in as of season 6B, or I might do two more chapters with them getting closer in the second chapter and then getting together in the third chapter - likely also with smut.
I'd really appreciate some feedback on what you thought of the story in general and I'd be very interested to hear if you like the current stopping place or if you'd prefer to see things more explicitly explored between them in an additional two chapters.
Readers of my Ethisaac series a href=" /works/8091622/chapters/18542080"Iron Claws and Fragile Hearts/a may have noticed that Ethan's backstory with regard to his childhood is the same, and that's correct. You can assume all the details discussed in Iron Claws chapter 35 about what happened to his and Aiden's family happened to the Ethan in this story too. Likewise, you can assume that the extra little details in this story – Ethan and Aiden playing hide-in-seek with Christy in their parents' cedar closet, Ethan painting with his dad and singing Christmas carols with his mom, etc. – are also all things Ethan in Iron Claws did in his childhood.