'Noche del Lobo' - 'Night of the Wolf'. Betaed by the lovely Bit_Not_Good on AO3.
Shout out to my commissioner, Kisariiem on AO3, for not only being super chill when my time tables got fucked, but for being my first commissioner, and for helping me with my Spanish since I know like 20 words tops and I used 1 of those.
Cross-posted from AO3 technically one day late because I posted to AO3 on the way to work, but FFN refuses to work with me via mobile... so I had to wait till I got home. ANd Here I am. And here we are.
You'll see '[PICTURE]' like... halfway through, and that's because there's an accompanying image for this fic, which I've made the fic image, but you can also see a bigger version at themadkatter13fanfiction , post/142557372233.
The hotel's bar was far over capacity, full of those trying to escape the heat and excitement of the Día de Muertos festival moving steadily through Mexico City's streets. The people dancing to the beat of drums in the smoky air were decked out in their best formal and wedding wear, faces painted in skeletal and sugar skull designs. The city was alive in a way most metropolises, like London or New York, could never be, alive in a way it rarely was as its citizens honored their dead.
Outwardly, James fit right in: his suit was pitch black and the long overcoat and tie were painted with bones; a top hat and a black cane topped with a metal skull handle added a flair of elegance; and a ghoulish skeleton mask that covered the whole of his face gave him complete anonymity. However well his outfit integrated him with the strangers milling around him, though, he held himself apart from the crowd - aloof, distant, lingering on the edges of the room. He held himself like one who was merely deigning to watch the festivities and the people dancing in and out of the hotel. Inwardly, James was on high alert.
As a double-oh, he'd been well-trained to manage the werewolf side of himself in such massive crowds, but it was that same training that set off his internal alarms, both human and animal. In this kind of environment, someone could get stabbed, and the crowd could carry them for miles, unaware of the person bleeding out in their midst. To have so many people so close to him, where anyone could approach him when he couldn't hear or see or smell them coming, was unnerving. It was the kind of environment that wreaked havoc on his senses, and it was that persistent sensation of danger that kept him on his toes.
It made him feel vulnerable.
It made him feel alive.
It made him want to fuck.
Not that there wasn't anything nowadays that didn't make him want to fuck. Fucking came as naturally to him as breathing or flirting or killing.
He fingered his untouched glass of whiskey absently as he considered his options - for once, he was at-location the day before his assignment was to start, and his choice in bed partner tonight was purely his own. His eyes traveled over faces and breasts and arses and, on occasion, bulges, trying to filter out exactly what he wanted.
It wasn't often that he got into bed with men; typically, he only did so for England, bottoming for someone dangerous and morally corrupt, coaxing them into spilling their dirty secrets. So, when he pulled for himself, he liked to top. However, more often than not, he would get someone into bed, find out they wanted to top him, and would not be swayed in bottoming instead. Which was why he tended towards women; in the circle's he ran in, both on and off the job, there was no question of whom was topping who, and there was a certain safety in that.
James' posture kept other people from approaching and left him free to take his time to consider all options, spotting wedding rings (or tan lines where wedding rings had been pulled from sight), couples who seemed to be looking to make a threesome for the evening, and singles scattered throughout the room looking as eager to pull as he was. No matter who he looked at though, his eyes kept returning to one particular individual, lounging against the bar and surveying the room as if all the festival-goers were fools before the throne, and he was the king waiting to pass judgement.
Despite his relaxed posture, there was a vulnerability to young man. It manifested in the delicateness of the slim wrist holding a tumbler of brown liquid just off the counter, as if he were debating the merits of putting his drink down or taking a sip. It was in the curve of a neck angled just so, like he was exposing his jugular to James' line of sight; a temptation, an offer. It was the shape of the clothes just too large and hinting at the slim body underneath, something clearly lacking the same kind of muscle mass James possessed. Beneath his skin, the wolf rumbled at the offering, urging him to accept.
Slowly, carefully, a predator stalking prey, James moved across the room, making his way to his target. The young man didn't move as he closed in, didn't shift so much as his head from where it was gazing at the others dancing around them, except to flick grey eyes his way, taking in James' undeterred approach. A smirk tilted the corner of the stranger's lips, beckoning James to continue. James obliged, not slowing or stopping until he'd slunk right into the boy's space, inserting himself between the spread thighs, forcing the stranger to shift to make room for him.
Distance and posture had apparently aged his target because, up close, he was nothing more than a pup, the tantalizing scent of youth and human wafting from his pale skin. The light, teasing press of a thin-boned, fine-fingered hand against James' ribs made him purr deep in his chest, and the young man smirked as he pressed his palm flat and slid it up James' chest to curl over his shoulder. The glimpse of a fragile wrist made the werewolf ache to get it in his grip, to feel the rush of holding such trusting vulnerability at the mercy of his supernatural strength; the smirk he returned was more a baring of teeth, hidden behind his mask.
Fingers pressed firmly against his shoulder blade, drawing him in, and he leaned closer obligingly, pressing the solidly-muscled heft of his body against the slimmer one beneath him. He dipped his head towards the curve of the other man's neck, pleased when the stranger tilted his head to the side to give James room, and took a slow deep breath to pull more subtle scents in behind the mask that he wouldn't take off until he was back in his room again. It wasn't as if there was danger present that he needed to hide his face from, but maintaining his anonymity would add a delicious tension to their little dance.
The scent of soap was almost stronger than that of human, but clinging to that was the tang of metal and electricity: computers. It complemented his hacker's appearance, the hang of shaggy black hair over black-rimmed lenses, the hint of shadows below too-large eyes, the paleness of his skin despite the persistent Mexican sun.
James wanted to shag him until he was flushed across every inch. He wanted to mark him up until his skin was littered with the signs of his wolf's attention.
He finally curved a hand around the boy's natural waist and settled the bulk of his weight into him, growling deep in his throat, shifting to make clear his arousal. There was a quick inhale against his neck, a shift of the body under him, pressing harder against him, the slick slide of a tongue over lips, and the whisper of breath against the shell of his ear.
"Adelante," the boy whispered in flawless Spanish. Go on then. There was a soft clunk as he put his drink down on the bar, and then he finally pulled his other hand from James' shoulder to dip inside his jacket. He extracted it a second later, a small brass key dangling from a red tassel hanging like an offer in the small space between them. James had a near identical one from his room hidden inside the corresponding pocket of his own suit. "Tómame." Take me.
James wrapped his arm tightly around the young man's waist before stepping back, pulling the slim body from leaning against the bar to standing upright, held tight against his body. They lingered there for a moment, the boy's head angled just so to meet James' eyes behind his mask, the crowd pulsing in a bubble around them. The mask hid how his fangs were sharpening, but his lengthening claws would be in full view against the black of the young man's suit. James tightened his grip, pressing the sharp points against fabric until it punctured, a challenge, but the human just smiled at him, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.
James pulled away slowly, sliding a hand down the other's arm to wrap his fingers around long, slender digits that seemed like they would crumble if he just... squeezed. And yet, there was no fear in those stark grey eyes, only the black of lust, as the human squeezed his hand. Grinning behind his mask, James walked away from the bar towards the elevador, weaving easily through the crowd and pulling his catch with him.
He spent the short ride between floors with a warm body pressed against his side, and a pelvis rocking a half-hard erection into his hip in slow movements shallow enough to be unnoticeable. As subtle as their movements were though, their scent of their lust was anything but, filling the enclosed space and spilling out between the ornate metal bars, and the two werewolves riding the lift with them were eyeing them both hungrily. James growled at them, the sound too low to be heard by the human lift operator, and tugged his stranger closer, reinforcing the declaration of his claim with a neon flash of his eyes.
The two wolves bowed their heads and shifted just so, away from James and his human, deferring to the stronger wolf. In the old days, they would have ceded the establishment to him as well, but with so many people in the world nowadays, such allowances were impossible. From birth, each wolf had to adjust to the grating sensation of overlapping and shared territories. As someone who traveled the world as regularly as James did, he was more adjusted than most werewolves, but that didn't make the victory of their voluntary submission any less sweet.
"You've had me in your claws for such a short time, and yet you're already so possessive." The smooth, rolling Spanish breathed against his neck was just quiet enough to be nearly inaudible, and warm enough to send heat through his core. "I'm curious to see how that will manifest in bed."
James licked his lips, his fangs, and slowly began to loosen the tight leash he kept on his animal side. Whereas some people caged their wolves because they were afraid of the animal inside, he had always embraced his beast wholeheartedly. He'd found that his acceptance allowed greater control over both sides of himself and seemed to increase his success rate in both training sessions and missions. Say nothing of the benefits he could reap in his love life.
The other wolves, sensing what he'd done, went rigid and then forced the lift operator to stop so they could hastily disembark, well before their floor. Oblivious, the remaining human continued, and James' fuck of the night eventually lead him off on the last floor, unlocking the closest door. The young man turned to lean against the door, opening it slowly with his weight as he slid fingers into the hair at the base of James' neck, pulling him close enough to kiss his mask. Following the other's silent request, James stepped in close to pull slim hips firmly against his own, then walked the human backwards, not releasing him until the door closed with a soft click.
The cane went first, tossed into the corner where it clattered against the walls and the chair sitting there. The hat followed, whizzing through the air until it landed with a hollow fwop on the seat. The mask went next, his vision disrupted for only long enough to pull the cloth-backed plastic from his face and toss it the way of his other accessories, though the light material meant it landed several feet short of its goal. His renewed vision showed his catch blinking at him, eyes trailing over the details of his face, and then his lips curling into a satisfied smile, as if he was pleasantly surprised by the face behind the mask, as if it was better than he'd been expecting.
Slim fingers went to the buttons on James' coat, opening it bit by miniscule bit, and the werewolf purred to show his appreciation for the boy's initiative. He set his claws back on those hips, holding the young man close so he could dip his nose into the crook of a soft, pale neck, and swipe his tongue across slightly salty, slightly soapy, skin.
"Now then," he murmured, matching the boy's flawless Spanish with his own, scraping a fang across the tender skin. "What shall I call you?"
"Qit," the human huffed shakily out against his neck.
"Kit?" James echoed, part of him thrown off by the odd name while the rest couldn't be bothered to pull his attentions to the pale neck reddening from his attentions.
"Qit, con una 'Q'," Qit clarified. "Mi madre tenía un extraño sentido del humor." My mother had an odd sense of humour.
James chuckled and pushed Qit back until he toppled onto the bed. He landed splayed over the duvet, his grey eyes wide and so large behind his glasses. He looked unreal, like a painting. Like a feast to devour. And James didn't plan on stopping until he'd had his fill.
He stripped his coat from his shoulder and let it drop to the ground before climbing onto the bed and over Qit, rolling his hips into the younger man's with a slow, sinuous undulation of his spine. He grinned as the boy's breath hitched and snapped his sharpened teeth teasingly at his nose. Qit's eyes dilated until there was almost nothing but black, and a soft sound that was more exhale than moan left his mouth.
"Are you a knot-whore, Qit?" James asked softly as he rocked his erection slowly against the younger man's.
"Sssssssssííííííííí" the boy hissed, the tail of the word rising in pitch as he rolled his body up into the wolf's and tossed his head back, the move elongating that exquisite neck.
James struck like a snake, clamping sharp teeth over tender skin, exerting enough pressure to mark but not pierce. Qit didn't try to get away, nor did he still like petrified prey; instead, he writhed, moaning obscenely, fingers clutching at James' ribs as he tried desperately to frot up against the man above him. Amused, James released him, pleased at the desperate sounds the boy made, and then struck again. At the same time, he slid one hand under the loose black long-sleeved shirt, decorated with a half-hearted skeleton pattern, dragging his claws up smooth skin until he reached a peaked nipple. He paused for a brief moment, body growing completely still in stark contrast to Qit's writhing, and then he carefully scraped over it.
Qit shuddered and bucked, and James smiled, pleased with the reaction. He placed his other hand on the quivering, pale belly, running the rough pad of his thumb against the soft skin, before sliding it up to join and repeat the action of the first. Eager to move the process along, the werewolf finally released the human's neck and sat back on his haunches, admiring the thin welts already rising on the pale skin. In one slightly ungraceful movement, he divested the boy of his shirt, and then shifted backwards to pull off trousers, pants, socks, and shoes. Qit just laid there, pliant, silent except for soft pants, chest flushed a lovely pink and heaving, and erection standing tall from a thicket of soft-looking, curly black hair.
He was as pale under his clothes as his exposed skin had indicated, if not more so. He was thin, too thin, but every inch of unblemished skin was screaming out to James for his markings. Somehow, his nakedness de-aged him even further, to the point that James was beginning to worry if he was even old enough to participate in the fun James had had planned for his evening. But before he could ask, Qit spoke.
"So, what name would you like me to be screaming tonight?" Spanish had never sounded so filthy, and James went still, reigning in his wolf to prevent his animal side from shredding the clothes from his own body. Not that he couldn't afford replacements, but it would be best if hy didn't leave something of his behind in the room when he left.
"James," he said with enough growl in his voice to nearly obliterate the French accent he'd spoken his name with. It was risky, using his own name instead of an alias when he had no plans to kill this person later, but if the boy was going to be screaming any name tonight, it was going to be his.
"James," Qit echoed, drawing the syllables out like he was tasting the name on his tongue. He blinked and his eyes slid to half-mast as he moved his hands to his chest before sweeping them down his belly to the insides of his thighs, which he parted almost demurely. "Come fuck me, James," he commanded imperiously. In French. And just like, the confidence he'd displayed in the bar downstairs was back.
"As you wish," James replied in matching French and with a wolfish grin.
It was the work of a moment to strip, though he had to be careful not to shear off his buttons or right through his shoelaces. Qit's eyes traced each strip of skin revealed with eyes so hungry that James didn't immediately climb back onto the bed once he was naked, but instead stood at the foot of the bed to let the young man look his fill. After grey-ringed black eyes had travelled all the way down his body then back up, and a pink tongue darted out to wet soft-looking lips, James took that as a sign to continue and crawled back onto the bed.
Even with the outside's humid heat seeping in through the open windows, Qit seemed to welcome the naturally high body temperature all werewolves had because he melted under James when he settled over the human. The wolf was restless under his skin, eager for the shift that James could already feel his body preparing for: his center of gravity migrating to his torso, his bones creaking as they fused and grew, his fingers shortening and thickening, his jaw narrowing and lengthening. Soon, he would be able to speak at all.
For some reason, despite centuries of evidence to the contrary, humans still believed that the shift from human to wolf was nothing short of excruciating. Perhaps it was, when one was a child just learning to shed the cage of their human skin, but time and repetition made it a comfort. For a werewolf, the shift was no different than swapping work clothes for lounge ones at the end of a long day. Despite those popular misconceptions, however, Qit didn't look worried or even concerned . In fact, he almost looked… hungrier. Knot-whore indeed.
"On your belly," James rumbled, reverting to their initial Spanish, though it was mangled by the slow changes in his throat.
Qit arched up to steal a kiss, so quick that it was almost chaste, before he tried to turn, but James wouldn't have it. He pressed a thick hand to the boy's shoulder, pinning him to the bed, and ducked down for a proper kiss that pleased the remaining dregs of his human self immensely.
By the time he was satisfied, the boy was panting for breath and James' hands were nearly paws.
"Now," he demanded.
His human smiled but didn't try to distract him again, just rolled in place with a curve of his spine and a twist of his hips. So used to the flawless expanse of pale skin, the revelation of a massive tattoo spread across the whole of Qit's back made James blink in surprise.
Hundreds of small, black spades were laid out in even lines from shoulders to waist. Some of them had been replaced by equal-sized red diamonds, and the replacements shaped a massive Q with a perfectly-centred diamond in the middle.
[PICTURE]
His bemusement pulled him just enough out of his wolf headspace that he was able to form a coherent question.
"¿La Reina de Diamantes? ¿No de Corazones?" he asked, carefully tracing the red markings with a sharp claw, thinking about the character from the Alice in Wonderland books and movies. He'd never read or seen either, but he wasn't completely devoid of pop culture, despite what his co-workers seemed to think.
Qit laughed, and James puzzled at the embarrassed undertone to it. "Ah, it's a reference to the Red Queen from Resident Evil, and the Marilyn Monroe quote, "Diamonds are a girl's best friend."
His human surprised him again by saying the English words and quote in unaccented American English as perfect as his Spanish and French had been, and James began to wonder at his origins. Someone as young as he was, who happened to be, at the very least, trilingual, in an undeveloped country? Usually when something like this happened, he would find them on the arm of the super-villain he was stopping the next day. Honestly, it happened far too much for his liking, and he sincerely hoped that wasn't going to be the case with Qit. At this point, he was more inclined to smuggle the boy back to England than to put a bullet in his skull. Though his history hadn't exactly been kind to his lovers, he hoped it wouldn't repeat itself with this one.
"And you like diamonds?" he pressed, his Spanish mangled by the wolf's return. He lowered his head to lick a long, slow line up his lover's spine, and Qit made a broken noise as he writhed under James' tongue.
"Ah, no. C-codes," he stuttered, once again in Spanish, and jerked when James repeated the move with his pointed lower teeth. "I'm a programmer." 'Hacker,' James thought again. "The Red Queen is ah- a computer program. AI."
"I see," James replied, though his capability for speech was so dissolved that he decided it was best if he stopped speaking. His mouth had better things to do anyway.
He sat back on his heels and then tugged the prone boy up onto his hands and knees. James didn't give him any time to prepare himself, he simply spread the soft, pale arse cheeks, and licked a line from taint to spine. Qit shuddered, but he didn't fall until James licked right over his hole. He collapsed to his elbows, which then slid outwards, until he was balanced on his shoulders, fingers curling and uncurling relentlessly against the duvet.
Gently, patiently, James lapped at Qit's hole until the rim was loose and Qit was a sobbing trembling mess, and when he finally pushed in, the boy shuddered so hard that James thought for a second that he'd come. But when he pulled his muzzle away from that perfect arse and peered between shaking thighs, ignoring the desperate cry the loss pulled from his human, he found long fingers wrapped around a red erection and stomach muscles contracting and releasing in harsh bursts. James purred in approval and rewarded the orgasm denial by working the whole of his tongue into the boy's loosened passage.
Ignoring Qit's sobs, James went to work, using the length and dexterity of his wolf tongue to loosen reach. To lick over walls until muscles clenched around his tongue hard enough to tell him he'd found what he was looking for. Had his mouth not been occupied, he might have howled in success; instead, he pulled away.
The human waited for only a handful of seconds before he awkwardly craned his head to look behind him. "Dios mío," Qit whispered, his eyes falling wide and his mouth slack.
It was rare that a human encountered a regular wolf, but when they did, James knew that it was nothing short of intimidating. There was a wildness to them that simply didn't exist in dogs that made them unpredictable and worthy of a great deal of caution. An adult, fully-shifted werewolf was more than twice the size of any wolf and could make even the largest man feel like prey. In his experience, a human's reaction at seeing his, or any werewolf's, beast form could be anything from terror to envy to apathy - he'd seen it all - but now he was curious to discover Qit's response to his change.
He didn't have to wait long.
That wide, dazed, grey gaze scanned up his forelegs to take in his short, ash-blond coat before moving to blue eyes that took on a supernaturally-electric quality when he shed his human skin, and then they fluttered shut with a breathy moan and a hearty shudder. Qit's knees slid out another inch and he gripped his cock tighter even as he bowed his back towards the bed and tilted his hips as far up as he could. He couldn't have made his approval, or his invitation, any more apparent if he'd screamed it.
The wolf licked his chops and prowled forward until he was standing directly over the much smaller body, and if the boy had been smaller than his human form, James positively dwarfed him now. He could crush Qit without effort, and just the thought of what all the power in this form could do gave him a high like no other. One look at the way Qit was tilting his head forward to expose the back of his neck told him that his human was just as aroused by their size difference as he was..
Slowly, carefully, James rutted forward, feeling his cock slide across the boy's lower back - he was too far forward. He took a step back, planted his paws on the bed beside Qit's ribs, and tried again. He found the boy's hole immediately, and James purred as he bent his head down to gently grip the back of the human's neck in his jaws, discouraging movement as he pushed forward in one long, slow thrust.
Despite James' own body heat, Qit's passage was scorching, and he slid so smoothly into him that it was like cutting butter with a hot knife. A muffled, high-pitched cry met his entry, heightening in pitch as he slid deeper. Despite the usual associations of pain with that kind of sound, there wasn't any in his human's scent, and he ignored it as he settled his bulk into place over and against Qit.
The human made another high-pitched, muffled sound, and James released the boy's neck to tilt his head for a look at Qit's face. He found the young man biting a pillow with a grimace, eyes clenched shut. Wondering if he'd somehow missed the scent of pain, or if there somehow just wasn't one, he gently nudged the side of Qit's head until he released the fabric.
Once Qit's mouth was clear, James realised the little sounds he'd been hearing were muffled moaning mewls, as if the boy couldn't breathe without begging for more. Knot-whore indeed.
Steadying his weight on his back paws, James pulled out, and then slid back in. Qit's eyes shot open, wide and unseeing, and he let out an obscene moan, his hips jerking like he was trying to rock back into the thrust. Well, James couldn't have that.
Planting one paw on the bed above a slender shoulder, he curled the other under the young man's body, starting at one shoulder and pulling his claws down to the quivering belly. He was careful not to exert enough pressure to split the skin, but it was enough to leave scratches that would last for days. Qit moaned again and jerked in James' embrace, heedless of the dangerous paw pressed to his belly.
James growled in warning and Qit stopped squirming, but he couldn't seem to stop trembling, which was fine. It was almost preferred, because it told James he was doing his job.
Qit let out a small, questioning sound, and the wolf rumbled his approval back, rewarding obedience with another deep thrust of his hips. The young man below him let out a moan, then took a deep breath, and on the subsequent exhale, released a tension from his muscles that James hadn't even realized was there.
Taking the relaxation as a go ahead, the wolf began to fuck forward slowly, every thrust deep and solid, and slowly picked up his speed. The bed began to shift, even on its sturdy supports, and Qit's moans, though low and breathy, started to reverberate off the headboard every time the frame thunked against the wall.
In this form, the girth of James' cock was equal to that of his human one, with a slight differential in length in favour of the wolf, but his knot was unquestionably larger. He could feel it swelling with each ripple of muscles around him, with each gasp, with each flutter of motion out of the corner of his eye from slender fingers clawing at the sheets hard enough that the fabric threatened to tear. James removed his paw from the boy's belly and placed it next to the spasming hand. He dipped his head to lick at the sweaty digits, to nudge it with his nose, until his human got the idea and released the sheets in order to curl careful fingers around his fore-ankle. James rumbled his approval and twisted his head to lick once across bite-swollen lips, amused when they opened and chased after his muzzle when he pulled away.
Shifting his weight to the paw held in Qit's grasp, the wolf lifted his other paw from beneath that tender belly and planted it solidly against the young man's lower back. He pressed down firmly, careful not to shove, not to break, not to disrupt the carefully-plotted dots of ink with the deadly tips of his claws.
"James!" Qit shouted, hips jerking back and body going taut against James' pinning weight.
The wolf snarled and fucked harder, faster, deeper, slamming in as deep as he could, eager for the moment when his knot would finally penetrate and tie them together. It was already too large for any kind of full, satisfying thrust, and Qit grunted each time the swollen flesh tried to force its way into his body.
Slowly, James became aware of an increased pressure around his fore-ankle, one that would be crushing in his other form, but was nothing more than a firm grasp in this one. He realized his human had been panting his name, and that tears were running down the boy's cheeks.
It was time.
Qit's other arm was still curled awkwardly under his chest to keep that firm grip on his erection, something James would have praised with a murmured 'Good boy' had he been able. Since he wasn't, and he couldn't demand the boy release himself, James opened his maw to gently take hold of the too-slender bicep and tug it carefully.
It was slow work, trying to coax the boy to release his self-imposed cock ring while maintaining his brutal pace, but soon enough, he had Qit's wrist in his mouth. It was then that he slammed his knot into the young man, his orgasm overcoming him immediately as his flesh expanded to lock them together.
He wasn't so far out of it that he didn't notice Qit ripping his arm from the wolf's grip, streaks of red blooming from wrist to elbow from the wolf's fangs, and slam his hand against the backboard. Blunt nails clawed at the wood as the human's body undulated beneath his, breaths emerging as heaving sobs.
As James' orgasm subsided, he shifted his heft to settle in for the duration of his knot, rocking his erection into the tight heat already flooded with his come. The muscles around him spasmed and Qit trembled, harder and harder, as he fell into a slow, shallow rhythm. He couldn't bring himself to stop, not when heat was still fizzing through his body, and it wasn't long until a second orgasm chased after the heels of the first and that sweet heat was clenching around him painfully, desperately, in an indication that Qit had come again as well.
The fingers around his paw and the body below him were twitching spastically and completely unconsciously, if the boy's harsh breathing pattern was anything to go by. The wolf was nowhere near tired and he huffed in faux-annoyance, but he decided he could let his catch rest for a short while before he continued.
He shifted slowly, rocking the boy's body until Qit weakly lowered himself to his belly so that James could lay over him. He refused to put more pressure than that of a light blanket over the fragile body, but he could still make himself comfortable in the interim.
As he waited, James contented himself with laving his tongue over the cuts and scrapes that had manifested over the milky white skin, courtesy of his fangs and claws. Even enraged, large and puffy, they were beautiful, marks of his ownership, however temporary. He looked forward to leaving more.
The bright, six am sun woke James the instant it pierced the slightly dusty glass. He was human again, a form he'd returned to at some point during the sex-filled night, but his knot was still tying him to the sweet, reddened hole of the young man who had accepted his other form so readily. More than once. Come was positively leaking out around his cock and his smaller knot, smeared all over the young man's arse and thighs.
The natural golden light managed to make Qit's pale skin glow, and it drew attention to the raised red marks littering his arms, legs, chest, arms, and neck. A quick but thorough survey ensured that, while his fangs and claws had left lasting impressions, none of them were deep enough to infect the human with lycanthropy. Each round of fucking somewhat blended into the one before it and the one after it, but James could still remember making each mark, could still remember how deliberate he'd been in placement to ensure his possessiveness was read loud and clear by whomever the human would encounter after they parted. It would be there even if the boy put his long sleeves back on or even if he swapped out worn cotton for a stiff button-up. The thought made him grin.
It also made his cock harden even as his knot finally released them from their temporary bond. Qit groaned sleepily and rolled onto his belly, putting the unmarred tattoo on display. The sight of the fucked-out human laid out before him made James palm his erection and stroke it slowly, remembering how he'd come all over the boy's face and chest after a spectacular blow job, but he hadn't been able to complete his claim by laying his mark over that tattoo.
Rather than feeling sore and overused after an all-night workout, James' heightened stamina and accelerated healing left his muscle feeling warm and pliant. Moving languidly, but carefully, to keep from waking the likely-exhausted boy, he straddled Qit's slim hips and slowly brought himself off.
As his come dripped slowly onto the tattooed skin, James kept stroking his cock until it had been wrung dry, and then proceeded to smear the liquid over spades and diamonds. When he was done, instead of pulling away, he found himself mindlessly tracing imaginary patterns over Qit's skin, and it wasn't until he was sinking his fingers into the puffy hole that he realized what he was doing. James froze, startled and annoyed at how easy it had been to fall into that mindset again, at how eager he was to fuck someone he'd just spent a whole night with. Qit had already proven addictive, and if James kept playing around with his toy, he would find himself ensnared once more.
He pulled back reluctantly, but firmly, and forced himself into the ensuite to shower, regretfully scrubbing all hints of the human's scent from his skin. It wouldn't do to go into today's mission smelling like a fuck, no matter how good that fuck was or how much James wanted to stay to fuck some more. Or worse, get to know him when they'd never see each other again.
For all that he was famous, even amongst the double-ohs, for the number of flings he'd had during his tenure with MI6, James was a romantic at heart, and when he fell, he fell hard. One only had to look back at his time with Vesper to remember that. It's what made honeypot missions that much more dangerous, but thankfully, most of his targets were frightfully shallow people he could barely stand to be around for long. Qit was not among them.
During the night, between rounds while they waited for the wolf's knot to deflate, his human had proven himself to be a rather fantastic conversationalist, sometimes carrying on alone when James was in his less talkative form and unable to contribute anything more than wordless sounds and movements of his head. It left the spy feeling more attached than he could afford to be as a tourist to a country he wasn't likely to visit again for months. Even if M decided to station him here for a length of time, it wasn't as if his work would allow him the time to pursue a proper relationship, no matter how terribly he craved just that.
Qit was still face down and dead to the world when James padded silently back out of the bathroom. He dressed without a sound, gathered his hat, mask, and cane, let his eyes linger until the image of his one-night-stand was seared into his mind, then slipped silently from the room.
If James hadn't needed confirmation from command regarding his target's identity, he would have taken out the contact lenses that were broadcasting real-time video to Q-Branch shortly after arriving to the private party of cartel leaders he was infiltrating. The handler murmuring into his earpiece was in full lecture mode as he scanned the well-dressed gathering, unhelpfully naming everyone he saw and detailing their extensive list of crimes.
He turned his eyes from a female werewolf painted like a doll to the man supporting her, giving command a clear view of his face.
"Ana Marie Hernandez and her human husband, Daniel Ledezma," the techie said, her voice clear over the quiet hum of keys clacking and background chatter. "They smuggle drugs into America through El Paso, and they're big names, but the Americans can handle their own mess. We're just after El Cazador."
Arturo Loya Solís, the Hunter, was a werewolf who'd risen to power in Mexico's ever-thriving drug market and established himself at the head of a drug cartel. While he'd been smuggling drugs into the UK for most of his reign, MI6 had mostly left the local police to handle it due to the frankly insignificant amount being imported. However, those amounts had been steadily increasing over the last several months to the point where the local force could no longer manage it and the government could no longer ignore it.
The stream of information in his ear continued as he moved through the crowd of luxuriously-dressed, and armed, cartel leaders from all over Mexico gathered in the foyer of their absent host's mansion. James navigated smoothly through their numbers, slowly enough to give the impression of 'mingling' while maintaining a confident air of unapproachability to prevent anyone from inquiring where he was from or what he did. Every tiny sip from his tumbler of whiskey was carefully crafted to take note of the guards posted at each doorway and their weapons. Assassination was the name of the game, and he would need to do it quietly and out of the way if he didn't want to also deal with killing whatever guard and/or party-goer who decided to investigate.
James became aware of a slow shift of the crowd around him, and he turned with them to the wide staircase in the center of the room. When his eyes rose to the pair at the top of the staircase, he was both surprised, and not, to find that he didn't need his handler's "Ah, there he is," to recognize his target.
The werewolf was well-dressed and over-accessorized, practically posing in the limelight of his audience's attention. However, it wasn't by the grainy, black-and-white photo he'd been shown before he left London that he identified Solís, but the figure standing just behind the werewolf's left shoulder: Qit.
His human was standing just a little back from El Cazador, a choke collar wrapped around his bruised neck, the end of the leash resting in Solís' hand. Qit was dressed in all black again, a pressed button-up and tailored trousers, his hands clasped together in front of him and head bowed demurely.
It was impossible to miss the bruise painting Qit's cheek and temple, or the cut on his eyebrow and on his lip. James' eyes fell to the werewolf's hands, and the rings on them. If he'd damaged his knuckles when he'd backhanded Qit, then they'd already healed.
It was only James' efforts to control his snarling beast from lashing out and taking control that kept his human form from doing the same thing.
"Now, on the leash there is… Oh." James twitched at the note of surprise in her tone - while he couldn't remember who was on the other end of his earpiece, he knew she'd been around long enough to keep emotions out of her broadcasts. "Qit Rey. Sixteen year old human and British national. No known friends or family. One of his teachers notified authorities when he disappeared nine months ago. According to his former instructors, he's a computer genius who specialises in engineering, hacking, and programming. His freelance work put him on our radar some time ago as a potential applicant once he graduates, but it's his post-disappearance work that we've been keeping an eye on.
"The hacks on London's Port system coincide with his disappearance, though his signature didn't appear on them until two months later. When asked, none of his teachers believed him capable of working against the crown, so whether it's through coercion or voluntary is still unknown. Up until now, we've been up to track him, much less locate him."
Thankfully, the sudden influx of information ceased and the line went silent, which suited James fine; he felt like the air had been knocked out of him, and he could only watch numbly as Solís and Qit slowly descended the stairs.
So, Qit was actually his name, he was as human as he appeared, though he was far younger than James had thought. For a moment, he almost felt guilty about it before the logical part of his mind, and the memory of the intelligence displayed in last night's conversations, reminded him that Qit was of age to consent and perfectly capable of making an informed decision. The problem lay in the fact that he was with the man James was here to kill, which meant that he'd have to kill Qit as well.
While James' track record with one-night stands had gotten so bad that he'd started expecting that he'd need to kill any lovers that he took during a mission, not once had he thought he'd have to kill Qit, or that he'd ever encounter him again after leaving him this morning. Something about the situation, about his human's presence here, wasn't sitting well with him, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.
"007, your mission parameters have changed. Eliminate Arturo Loya Solís and bring Qit Rey to MI6. Blink three times to acknowledge." James complied slowly, ignoring the relief that swept through him.
He shifted through the people drifting towards Solís, careful to keep to the edge without leaving the crowd entirely. Luckily, the adjustment to his goal wouldn't require him to change the next few steps in his plan. He still needed to get El Cazador, and now Qit, alone, with no chance of interruption. That meant that he would need to let all of the other guests take their turn with their host first, and save his business with the other werewolf for last.
As he milled, James found himself paying as close attention to Qit as he did to the private security guards. The guards, while alert, weren't tense, and didn't so much as twitch every time their boss was approached. Either they were too trusting, or Solís was wholly confident in his ability to protect himself. Whether that confidence was well-founded or not, James had no way of knowing. All the while people were pulling El Cazador off to the side, Qit remained completely ignored, relegated to nothing more than an accessory himself, never once raising his head.
A majority of the party-goers ended up leaving after they'd had their turn with Solís, and by the time the last attendee drifted away from the werewolf, the crowd had thinned drastically. Those who remained parted naturally before his assertive gait as he finally approached his target. The other werewolf's eyes slid his way, and though he smirked as if amused by James' self-confidence, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away either.
That was always his opponent's first mistake: thinking James already had everything out on display.
"Señor Solís," James greeted smoothly, holding out his hand in a human's greeting. Solís narrowed his eyes at the slight; behind him, Qit stiffened almost imperceptibly. At this angle, James couldn't see the human's eyes, but he had no doubt that they'd widened at the sound of his voice. "James Bond," he introduced himself before continuing in English. "We've been speaking about expanding your business in the UK.." Or rather, he'd been speaking to someone in Q-Branch who had been emailing the cartel under James' name to facilitate this mission.
Solís' eyes widened minutely and his smile noticeably before he nodded and took James' hand. His grip was painfully tight, like he was inviting the double-oh into a contest of strength, but James didn't bother reacting. After a moment, the other werewolf finally let go, a small frown forming between his eyes. "Yes, Señor Bond, I'm glad you could make it. Let us speak in private."
The other male didn't bother waiting to see James' nod of assent before he was already turning away and striding through a door, waving off the guard who moved to follow. Because of the leash, Qit ended up walking between the two werewolves in the narrow hall, providing James with a rather spectacular view of an appetizing arse that he could so clearly remember being in just a few hours prior. His wolf scratched below his skin, the possessiveness he'd developed the night before rising once more, howling to mark and claim for the only scent clinging to Qit was of El Cazador..
He contemplated grazing his hand against the small of the human's back, just a small mark, but it would not bode well to intrude on another wolf's 'property' without permission. It was quite clear that Qit was nothing more than a slut for his employer, a toy to be used, though that raised several questions. Why had he sought out someone else? Why had he allowed James to take him to bed? Was he lashing out at his boss? Was he an unwilling participant in this charade, in this job, and doing what he could to rebel?
The guard standing at the end of the passage opened the only door in the hallway before standing aside. When James followed Solís through, he found himself in a lavish office full of stuffed hunting trophies, expensive art, and gem-studded jewellery pieces crafted in the likeness of collars and slave bracelets. The only space free of such blatant displays of power and wealth was the far wall where a monstrous wood construct of a desk sat. The mess of papers spread around an open laptop on the worktop indicated that this was the room the drug cartel leader conducted a majority of his business in, while the fact that the far wall was all glass simultaneously screamed 'security risk' to the double-oh and that El Cazador had grown entirely too confident in the abilities of his security team.
Solís strolled to the chair behind the desk and sprawled to it, posture loose and unguarded, as much an invitation to attack as it was a provocation. Qit moved to stand behind him, head still down, though when James looked closely, he could see the human trembling. His master didn't seem to notice. James ignored them both and took his time surveying the room, noticing the quality of the door and the windows, and remembering the thickness of the wall as they'd passed through the door, indicating the room was fairly soundproof. There might be a video camera hidden somewhere, but these types rarely kept video footage when it could so easily be used to incriminate them.
He waited until the other werewolf began to shift in irritation before he ambled back over to the desk and gestured at Qit. "Quite the pretty pet you have there."
El Cazador smirked smugly at the reminder of how powerful having a human for a pet made him appear and ran his thumb along the length of chain in his hand. The movement drew James' attention, and he realized that the hand holding Qit's leash was gloved while the other one remained bare, but he didn't have the time to puzzle out the 'why' of the oddity.
"May I?"
The two werewolves stared one another down, neither breaking eye contact for a long moment in a silent battle of wills. Then, Solís blinked, and James had to be careful not to smirk in triumph.
"Let the nice man have a look at you, human," Solís commanded without even bothering to look over his shoulder. He did, however, tug harshly at the boy's leash, sending Qit stumbling forward.
The boy caught himself just short of hitting the desk before moving around it with a carefully constructed grace that reeked of artifice. His every step was economic in its efficiency and designed to not draw attention to his movements. The difference between what he was displaying now and what he'd displayed last night was so stark that it was almost as if he were a completely different person. So, which was the act? The show put on for James, or the one for Solís? In just a few slow, cautious steps, he was standing directly in front of James, his collar turned around and his leash stretched over the desk, the end never leaving his master's hand.
With barely a glance at his host for permission, James cupped Qit's chin, his grip solid but gentle as he raised the boy's head to meet those familiar grey eyes, wide with unfamiliar panic, surprise, and fear. As much as he didn't want to break eye contact, he also didn't dare linger and he had to force his gaze away. James traced his eyes over the high cheekbones around around the edges of the bruise, over the cut on Qit's eyebrow and lip, over the pale mouth silently shaping his name. The mouth he wanted to press his own against at least one more time.
Suddenly, he tilted the human's head away and bent to sniff casually at his neck as he made eye contact with El Cazador, daring him to react, but the male only smiled tightly and gripped the arms of his chair so hard that his bare knuckles turned white. Instantly, James was inundated with the scent of the other werewolf, which he'd already been able to smell all over his human, but it was significantly more potent, and rage-inciting, at this range. It was especially thick over Qit's neck, where James' mouth had left no shortage of bruises. Some of them smelled even more intensely of Solís, and James knew the werewolf had taken the time to remark his property since it had returned to him.
He wanted to fit his mouth over the bruises and widen them, suck so hard that his own scent was permanently ingrained on the human's skin.
"And what did such a pretty pet do to gain your ire?" James finally asked, forcefully shoving Qit's chin away harshly, the dismissal especially cruel when compared to the rough but careful way he'd handled him the night before. He didn't dare let his fingers linger, even when wide grey eyes grew wider with hurt in a way that tore at James' heart before Qit's expression shuttered.
Inside, the double-oh was cursing himself for getting attached to another person so quickly. He could technically survive another Vesper, but he didn't know if he'd want to. It was a relief that he didn't have to kill Qit, but that didn't mean he was going to leave MI-6 unscathed.
"Let's just say that he strayed a little far from home and decided to entertain another master for the night," Solís said, tugging the leash harshly a second time, making Qit stumble back into the desk again. This time, he ran into it with a hard thump and a wince that told James his hip bones had made painful contact with the unforgiving wood. The original plan for a quick death was steamrolled by a new resolution to kill the other wolf as slowly and painfully as he could.
"Such a shame," James agreed, tone mild as he took a seat in one of two chairs placed opposite the cartel leader, watching Qit move back to his position from the corner of his eye.
"So, James, tell me what you can do for me that I cannot already do myself?" Solís asked haughtily, waving an imperious hand. "My pet is quite the hand at computers and we seem to be doing quite well on our own."
"Ah, well, that's easy. I can kill you."
Solís blinked at him, surprise colouring his features. For the first time, Qit lifted his head of his own volition, expression equally startled. Then Solís laughed.
"You really think you can kill me? And not only do you think you can kill me, but you think you can get past my guards?" El Cazador's eyes were starting to glow, and his claws and fangs were becoming noticeable.
"Yes I do. And I won't be going through your guards." James paused, as if in thought, his own claws and fangs lengthening in response to the other wolf's, and then continued. "Oh, and I'll be taking my pet with me when I go."
El Cazador stared at him for a long moment, and then turned slowly to Qit, as if all the pieces of Qit's disappearance last night were falling into place.
"You-" he started to say, but he didn't get much further than that before the human moved, quicksilver-fast, to loop his chain around his master's neck and pull it taut.
Immediately, the werewolf's skin began to sizzle, and it suddenly clicked that the reason why Solís had been wearing a single glove was because he'd given his pet a leash made of silver, one no doubt meant to dissuade other wolves from taking what was his. His claws scrabbled at the improvised garrote, trying and failing to loosen the tension, succeeding only in cutting up his own neck. Surprised, but pleased, at the human's initiative, James kept his seat and watched with no small amount of personal satisfaction as Solís was strangled by his own pompous symbol of power.
Less than a minute passed before the other werewolf's struggles ceased and he fell still. Qit dropped the chain as if it had burned him as well, and then trembling fingers were scrabbling at his collar as he backed quickly away from the fresh corpse. However, stillness did not guarantee death, so the double-oh walked quickly around the other side of the desk from Qit to remove Solís' head with his claws. It was a messy affair that left him splattered with blood, and he had no compunction in ripping fabric from the dead wolf's jacket to wipe his skin, leaving it stained pink. His clothes were a lost cause.
When he looked up, Qit's collar was gone and he had his back pressed to the corner of the room. He was watching James with wide, scared eyes, and his hands were trembling where they were pressed against the walls. "Are you here to kill me too?" His voice was soft, and despite the fact that James' entire conversation with Solís had been in English, he still spoke in Spanish. It wasn't often on a kill mission that there were people left alive when he was done, but the double-oh had still seen shock on enough survivors to recognize it now.
"No," James replied, shaking his head and holding a hand out, beckoning even as he wondered if Qit would feel safe enough to approach him.
To his surprise, the young stepped cautiously forward and, after a moment's hesitation, placed his hand in James'. The werewolf tugged him forward gently, careful to not treat him as Solís had, and wondered how Qit had tolerated the rough sex the night before when he had spent so long with someone who had no doubt treated him even worse in bed than he did in public.
It was almost painful to move slow enough to broadcast each move before making it, but it was worth it to keep from spooking Qit. He raised his hand to trace the edges of the bruise across a sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers, and then dropped it to press his palm to Qit's throat over the red ring the collar had left. He caressed the skin with his thumb before doing exactly what he shouldn't, now that the boy was a mission: he dipped his head to gently lave his tongue over first the cut on a dark eyebrow, and then over a bruised cheek. It was a silent apology - for being cause for punishment, for his display of violence, for not coming for the young man sooner - and Qit sagged into his arms, fingers clenching the lapels of his jacket.
"I'm here to take you home."
In less than three hours, James had broken the bulletproof glass behind Solís' desk, gotten them back to the hotel so he could shower, change, and check out, and had, with the help of his handler back at Q-Branch, gotten them on the first plane back to England. He didn't relax until they were in the air.
Along the way, Qit's shock had worn off enough for him to describe, in a posh, public school accent, how bored he'd been at school, how he'd programmed for commissions and hacked for fun, until he'd been offered an on-site, live-in job in Mexico. He'd accepted, but he hadn't cared enough to look into his employer before he'd left school and moved, and it wasn't until he'd discovered that he wasn't allowed to leave that he realized the mistake he'd made.
He told of his escape attempts, how he'd always been caught before a full day passed, the beatings that followed. He told of how he'd started to break out just so he could be with someone else, even for only a night. Even though he was punished even more severely for allowing another to touch him, especially another wolf, he did it because he knew how much of an insult it was. Typically, such punishments required bed-rest and a visit from the on-call doctor, and the only reason he hadn't been in that condition today was because Solís' goons had found and carted him back home as the guests had started to arrive, and he hadn't had time.
And last, he told of how he'd started putting his signature on his London port hacks, hoping someone would notice, hoping someone would realize he wasn't stupid enough to sign his work unless he wanted to be found, hoping that someone would come for him. He had waited and waited, but no one had come.
James had almost been ashamed to tell him no one had been able to find him, that they'd noticed and searched, but without success. That James was only there because of El Cazador and that they hadn't even connected the two. Qit had nodded sadly, unsurprised, and James had to force himself not to look away. To do so would be dismiss his own failure to help someone in need.
By the time he was done with his tale, they'd already been in the air for an hour, and Qit stopped talking. He curled up in his seat and pressed his head to the hull, eyes distant as they stared out the window.
MI-6 had gotten them a non-stop flight from Mexico City back to London, and Qit didn't speak again until night had fallen and home was still a couple hours away. When he did, he stirred slowly, as if he'd been sleeping, and glanced at James before lowering his eyes again. It struck him as almost… shy.
"I must admit," Qit said in a soft whisper, mindful of the sleeping cabin around them, "I do not regret our time together. You treated me better than he ever did, and better than anyone I've ever snuck away to use. My only regret is that we did not have more time."
James froze even as his wolf snapped to attention, even as he began to harden and his fangs and claws began to lengthen. He didn't respond for a moment, taking the time to compose himself, before he leaned close to Qit, savouring the intake of breath when his lips brushed the boy's ear and the hint of lust seeping into his scent.
"Do you know Morse code?" he whispered. Qit nodded almost frantically. "Go to the loo and wait."
The human barely waited for the last word to leave James' mouth before he was up and out of his seat, walking quickly down the aisle to the toilet. The wolf waited only as long as it took for the people who had shifted in their sleep in Qit's wake to settle down again before he followed his human silently.
Even if there hadn't been only one loo with its switch flipped to OCCUPIED, James could smell Qit on the other side of the door, could hear the pounding of his heart.
He lifted a single claw and scratch-scratch-tap-scratched on the door. Pause. Tap tap. Pause. Scratch. Q-I-T.
On the other side of the barrier, Qit's heart skipped a beat, and there was a moment where James thought he wouldn't answer. But then there was a rush of sound and the door clicked open. He pushed in and closed, then locked, the door behind him.
Despite their slim builds, the space wasn't large to begin with, and James found himself pressed tightly against Qit. The boy's eyes were already large and black from arousal behind his glasses, his cheeks flushed, and his breath emerging in little pants. James ducked his head down as if to press a kiss to those soft, pink lips, but he stopped just short, delighting in the little whimper that left the boy's mouth when he failed to make contact. With a smirk, he turned his human away from him and urged with gentle hands for the young man to brace himself against the sink.
"I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to transform fully in such accommodations," James murmured against the back of Qit's neck, voice soft in the small space as he worked at the fastenings of the boy's trousers, "but I can still knot you."
Qit breathed out a quiet "Yesss" that clouded the mirror in front of his face as James shoved his pants and trousers to his thighs in one smooth move. When the werewolf trailed the sharpened points of his claws up the insides of soft thighs, the body in his arms trembled.
As a secret agent whose first task on a job was typically intel-gathering by way of seduction, the double-oh had pockets in his jacket that he used solely for lube and condoms, and it was from one these that pulled a small packet of lube. As with the night before, he left the condoms alone, their purpose to prevent disease superfluous when they couldn't pass between races. That was to say nothing of the satisfaction he felt at marking Qit from the inside out. When he reached down with slick fingers, he found the boy was already loose and a bit wet, and he paused.
"That's- hah- That's you," Qit panted. His arms were already trembling where they were propping him up, but his head was dropped down, tempting James with the still-marked back of his neck. "I didn't want to clean you from me entirely. I wanted to remember the way you fucked me."
James bent his head to gently hold the skin of Qit's neck in his sharpened teeth and groaned lowly as he pressed two fingers into him. Qit shuddered so hard that, for a moment, James worried that he'd collapse, but he remained upright as James stroked his insides and his rim, loosening him again.
"J-James," Qit stuttered, his breath steaming the mirror in front of his face. "Now. I'm- I'm good."
James raised an eyebrow, but dutifully pulled his cock from his trousers and slicked himself. Instead of pushing in, he wrapped an arm around Qit's shoulders, trapping his arms to his sides, and pulled him upright. "Hold tight," he murmured in the boy's ear. Instantly, both of Qit's hands wrapped tightly around James' forearm, and the werewolf fitted his mouth over the hickey Solís had tainted as he carefully pushed in.
It took him a moment to comprehend the high, keening sound echoing in the small space, and the second he did, he clamped his free hand over Qit's mouth.
"Shhh. We don't want anyone else to know what fun we're getting up to, do we?" he whispered, and Qit shook his head. "Good boy."
Qit shuddered and clenched around him in a quick spasm. James carefully returned his mouth to the ruined hickey and sucked as he began to thrust. His human - his human - was steel-tense in his arms, eyes shut, lips soft against James' palm. Despite the improvised muzzle, the wolf could still hear the little grunts and moans that never made it past Qit's lips, and it only made him fuck into the tight heat faster.
He hadn't remained in full-shift through their entire night together, and Qit was responding as beautifully as he had been in his hotel room. He still twitched and spasmed with every scratch of teeth over his neck, with every hard thrust, with every partial knot-penetration as it slowly swelled. His back remained bowed forward to keep his arse out, his hands stayed bone-crushingly tight on James' forearm, and his head never rose, leaving his vulnerable throat to James' mercy. His noises remained muffled, but James could feel the shape of words against his palm, silent please and whispers.
There was so much inherent trust in every line of Qit's body, the same trust that had been there a day ago, and it lit a fire under James' skin like no other. Because there was no reason for Qit to trust him. He was a virtual stranger who had fucked him all night, left marks all over his skin, and, in a way, treated him no better than El Cazador and all of the other nameless people he'd fucked. But for some reason, Qit trusted him, and that trust made James want to do everything in his power not to betray it.
He locked his jaw over Qit's throat, pushed his knot into the boy, and came.
Qit jerked in his arms and clamped down on James' knot, squeezing him so tightly that it prolonged the werewolf's orgasm until his vision went white and he'd nearly been robbed of his breath. The sensation of spasms running through the body in his arms coupled with the thick scent of Qit's come in the air made him rumble in pleasure at having made the human come on his knot.
Slowly, he released his human's mouth, but didn't dare release his hold around his shoulders. There was already a hefty weight and a bonelessness to the boy that told him Qit would collapse should he let go, which would be painful for both of them as long as his knot was engaged. Which could be from fifteen to thirty minutes.
James carefully shuffled his feet forward to brace against the base of the sink, and then leaned back against the wall, keeping Qit tight to his chest. The reclined posture in such a small space and without an actual seat was hardly conducive to relaxation, but it would have to do.
Eventually, his knot would go down and they'd to return to their seats, and every other werewolf on board would smell what they'd done. Eventually, they'd land and he'd have to take Qit to MI-6 where he'd face an unknown destiny. Eventually…
Eventually James would have to let Qit go. But it didn't have to be right now.
FIN
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