The concept of mates in the lycan community was one that aroused mixed feelings. The older generations looked upon it with indifference- it was the life they had been taught to accept, to never question. The young ones had looked upon it with hope, their naivety leaving the ideal untainted, the concept of finding the one who was chosen by the moon to be with you so pure and desirable. And then there was Caitlin Snow.
Caitlin had seen what losing a mate could do to another wolf, the soul crippling pain that would overcome them the moment their souls broke, the agony that shook their body as the bond between the two was ripped apart. And the aftermath was just as destructive; the other a shell of who they once were, the essence of their soul pulled from them, an emptiness left in its place.
But worse than that she had witnessed rejections, both before and after the bonding process had occurred, had seen the toll it took on the outcast wolf, the slow decay of their mind and soul as their mate lived without them. Neither of the pair lived a life worth having, both dying alone while surrounded by loved ones, their last cry a name on their lips that they had never spoken to
Caitlin had seen what mates do to her kind.
And she shudders to think about what would happen if she was ever inflicted with such a curse.
The full moon was coming. It was so close.
There was a change occurring, she could feel it settling in her bones, could smell it in the air, and she wasn't sure if she liked its feel, its scent.
Wells, her alpha, could sense her disturbed state, but her words of warning fell on deaf ears. He dismisses her concerns, telling her to try and distract herself by working harder. She tries. She fails. She is like a caged animal, her work in treating her packmates not enough to take the energy off, not enough to distract her from her insanity settling in.
Cisco had been awfully quiet through the time, a distant look in his eyes, gaze sometimes sorrowful whenever he was staring at her without him realising she knew.
She corners him after a few days, the flash of yellow in her eyes enough to have him caving.
"Ronnie" he whispers after a while, unable to look her in the face. "Ronnie left with Stein a year ago."
(She had forgotten, she realises, her body tensing in surprise and not hurt.
He was her ex-fiance- they had been in love, desperately and wholly, both sure they wouldn't never find their mate, never love their mate like they do each other. And in Ronnie's case it was true - he didn't love Stein like that, he could barely tolerate the man on his best days. It was a rare bond, almost unheard of - but Wells had records; they were paternum nexum, a familial soulmate chosen to help guide him throughout his life. They had gone to a lycanthropic expert, determined to understand their bond and how it was formed through a mere handshake. There were answers that they needed, documentation for the next pair that may come along after a millenia, understanding for two people who knew a lot and yet nothing at all.
What they did know was that they could still love and passionately so, as Stein and his wife displayed, but the mark would never be borne on the other, the only sign of their devotion the rings on their finger, the love in their heart.
She promised to never leave him, to choose him over all else.
But he left her. Left them.)
She backs away from Cisco, stumbling as she does so.
And she runs.
Every day she just runs.
She is running through the forest, the energy in her veins not ebbing with exhaustion, a restlessness chilling her bones. She knows she is a mess, her snowy white fur dirtied with mud and leaves. But something is calling her closer, seeking her out, promising calm and answers and everything she sought.
And she follows its voice.
Caitlin slows down when she reaches the borders of her pack's territory, something thrumming inside her, a breathlessness that could never be attributed to the run overtaking her. It was so close, so very tantalisingly close.
Gosh, she could feel her heart pounding at the very thought of it.
It is then that she sees him in the centre of the clearing, a beautiful black wolf with a bolt of white lightning against his side basking in the light of the full moon. He is curled into himself, she notes with some curiosity, so vulnerable and alone. So strong.
Alpha, her wolf supplies, whining to be nearer. He is alpha.
Caitlin can feel her wolf fighting to rise to the surface to go out there and disturb him from his slumber, and it took all her strength to restrain the animal. In wolf form her will was weaker, primal instincts overtaking logic. But she manages to resist the urge. She knows it would be a terrible idea, knows that it could end up with her dead.
But then he awakes, jumping on all fours, snout up sniffing the air, his tail erect.
Her lungs stop breathing at the sight of it; she is hidden in the foliage, there is no way he could see her, but when he turns his head in her direction she feels as though he is looking directly into her soul. She knows he can in all likelihood smell her, can smell another wolf, a hidden enemy, knows that he is feeling defensive and vulnerable. And that he would most probably attack her if he was given the opportunity.
He takes a hesitant step in her direction, his head cocked to the side.
And so she runs.
Caitlin curses that decision the moment she decides to move, her wolf agitated by the decision, the other wolf- the one chasing her- was breathing down her neck, so very quickly catching up to her. She runs and runs, her in depth knowledge of her surroundings wasted as she can't go far enough ahead to implement them. He nips at her tail and her heels, a soft whine leaving her enough to almost have him stumbling, something clearly taking him by surprise. But then he chases her all the more harder, easily making up whatever ground he had lost, almost level with her now. He barks at her and she can feel the power of it reverberate through her. It takes her by surprise.
She trips.
He towers over her, and she shuffles onto her back, wanting the last thing to see before she dies to be the face of the wolf that kills her.
She bares the side of her neck to him, a sign of submission she hates displaying, a necessary evil in her situation. Her eyes close against her will, her mind unsure whether he would rip out her throat with his teeth or grant her her life. She knows it should be the latter or a war would be declared between packs- he was trespassing on their territory and if he were to attack a prominent member of the pack blood would need to be shed. The rules that bound the lycan community would demand it.
But he does none of those things, his nose nuzzling the side of her neck, tongue licking her, body rubbing closer. She doesn't move as he continues, the other wolf only pulling away to push his nose against hers, tongue licking her face as he stares with bright emerald eyes, an intensity she doesn't understand, doesn't want to.
It's then that she notices her wolf is calm, is content, panting happily at the other wolf leaning over her.
Mate, she realises, horror dawning on her as the truth of the situation hits her, her wolf satisfied. My mate. Mine.
He jumps off of her soon enough, tail wagging happily, body darting around.
He wants to play, she notices, the wolfish grin on his face, tongue hanging out as he pants, waiting for her to come over. He's recognised me.
She scurries to her feet, contemplating running away before immediately striking the idea down. No, she wouldn't make it very far, and she couldn't do that to him, a hopefulness on his face so sweet she couldn't bring herself to be the reason it was removed.
They jump around for a bit, the weight that had been hanging on her shoulders removed. She feels free with him here, playing like they were pups, the stress of the world, the reality of the situation fading away in that small moment. She nips at his heels, barking happily at his surprised reaction. She taunts him and he responds in kind.
He pins her again, leaning down and placing his teeth on the side of her neck. She shudders at the feeling of his teeth pressing against where his mark would soon be, arousal washing over her at his light touch. It was a sign of trust that defied all understanding and yet was so quintessential to mates: to put such trust in them, to put their very lives in the hands of the other. It was such a vulnerable position and for others a bite there would almost certainly lead to death, but mates - a bite would never be hard enough to kill, all it ever could do was arouse. And it does. A noise leaves her without permission, but he was so warm on top of her and so powerful and she feels her wolf excited at the prospects. And maybe she is attributing too much of her feelings to her inner wolf, maybe not. All she knows with certainty is that she was heating up, burning. And his proximity wasn't helping her in the slightest.
He growls as he hears her whimper, and she's sure that if he tried to mate with her then and there she would not put a word of protest.
He almost does.
But another wolf stumbles onto the scene - a scene where she had another wolf's teeth around her neck.
And her world changes once more.
This wolf is pure white, a black bolt stretching across his body.
The reverse of her new mate.
He was also her alpha.
She watches as Wells pauses, his eyes darting between the pair of them. With her on her back and a strange alpha over her.
He could see danger and he was ready to protect his pack, and her, especially her.
Her mate senses the newcomer, his head turned to see the larger alpha wolf bristling at the sight before him, ready to attack him, and the potential threat each alpha saw in the other is enough to raise the aggression.
Her mate jumps off and in front of her, guarding her from the new wolf. From Wells. They both are growling at each other, the trunk of their bodies now low to the floor, both ready to launch themselves at the other when the occasion arises. She whines from the back of her throat, the hackles raising on both alpha's at the sound of it.
She knows this is dangerous, that this new wolf had trespassed on her alpha's territory, that he was alone and without a pack.
He likely wouldn't see daybreak if Wells had his way.
And there was a twisting feeling inside her at the thought of it, her wolf fighting against her human side, desperate to be beside him, to protect him from whatever future Wells had in store.
She can feel Wells creeping into the edge of her consciousness, tugging at the connection he had with her. Eyes screwed shut she sends a message, praying he would understand. Please don't kill. Please.
He knows how she hates the killings of rogues and other wandering wolves, knows that she would be devastated if this wolf would suffer the same fate. He barks at her, sharp and loud. And she knows what he is telling her.
Talk to him. Please. Don't kill.
He barks his order at her again, eyes flashing yellow. And she couldn't refuse. Not when he does that.
She casts one last glance at her mate, still fiercely protecting her from the perceived threat, his body radiating an aura of strength and loyalty and she finds herself becoming more and more inclined to stay.
Caitlin shakes it off - she had been in her wolf form for too long. And she couldn't defy her alpha.
There is a shift in the atmosphere.
Her mate turns around.
She is gone.
"You," she knows he had been approaching, her body like a coiled spring, her senses on alert as the scent from the evening two nights ago had crossed her path again.
Caitlin had been lurking around the edge of camp, willing to storm the iciness of her alpha to know if he had survived. She had almost collapsed in relief when Wells had told her that the other alpha was still alive, that he had gone back to a hotel for the night unharmed. But she also knew of his intention to return, the necessity of an urgent meeting with Wells the reason she had stumbled across him, the reason why he hadn't given any warning.
But now he was here, pinpricks of awareness rolling down her spine as he nears.
"You run away from me? Your alpha?" He was brimming with rage and hurt and she doesn't need to turn around to know he is rigid with tension.
She turns around at his words, a rebuke on her tongue.
It dies as she sees him-
- he is just as beautiful in human form.
"You're not my alpha." It slips out before she could stop it, betrayal shining in his eyes as the words hit him like a strike to his face.
"I'm your mate!" Her head jerks at the sound of their relationship uttered aloud. And he bristles at the reaction. "You can't fight it, it's in our blood, in our soul. You're mine. I'm yours."
He stalks toward her, and she is rooted in her spot, unable to move, not when he is so close that each inhale had her chest pressing against his own.
"M- my mate?" she sputters, "you don't even know my name!"
"Caitlin." It rolls off his tongue effortlessly, and her mind stops as she hears her name. "Twenty four. A PhD in Biomedical Engineering, also a doctor for those of a lycanthropic nature."
She is left speechless as he recites all those facts about her, a warmth curling inside her at the thought of him researching her, of the time and effort he spent trying to find out who she really was - for wanting to know more about her than just her status as his mate.
"I don't know yours." Her voice is weak but she can't inject any strength into it, not when he was looking at her as though she had hung the moon in the sky, the intensity of his gaze the reason goosebumps were erupting across her arms.
"Barry, twenty five, alpha in training in the Central Pack." She watches him unblinking, soaking in whatever he was giving her. He opens his mouth to continue, but nothing comes out. Caitlin tilts her head to the side, gaze piercing as she tries to see what had got him to stop talking. There is a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes and she is barely given enough time to see them, cannot dream of deciphering them before he hides them away. "I love candlelit dinners and romantic walks on the beach." He throws her a crooked grin and she wants to be angry, furious even, but she can't.
She sighs, annoyed he wasn't taking it seriously - that he wants them to be close and yet refuses to share anything with him. She turns to go but his arms find her waistline, holding her against his chest. She considers tearing herself away, locking herself in her laboratory until he returns to his own pack, but he leans forward, hot breath against the slope of her neck, nuzzling her slightly, his whispers low and deep, a heat flaring inside at the sound. "I'm Barry and I'm your mate Caitlin, I'm yours and you're mine and that's all that matters."
She fights his hold, cursing her body's natural inclinations. He tightens as she struggles, her efforts futile. She was a beta and he was a natural alpha, already transitioning into taking his proper role. There was no physical contest. So she relaxes, his grasp on her loosening as she does so. She turns in his hold, her mind refusing to forget that he was still holding her waist. He growls as he meets her eyes, the iciness of her stare putting him on edge.
"Why are you fighting it?" he questions, leaning forward, nose skimming the length of her jaw as he inhales sharply. She stiffens as he does so. "I can smell your feelings on you." Still she remains silent, her hard glare frustrating him. "Talk to me Caitlin."
"I don't think there is anything left to say," she snips, her mouth pursed as she challenges him to add. He winces, already unsure how this will unfold.
"Caitlin," he starts, taking her hands into his, rubbing circles against its back. "I swear that I'll try, we will make this work." He thinks she is softening, her shoulders dropping, the tension seeping out slightly, and so he pushes forward. "And when I leave tomorrow, I want you to come with me."
"No." It is torn from her throat, a cry she couldn't hope to suppress, the fear that had haunted her now alive and striking with ferocity. She lets go of his hands to cover her mouth, a horrified look on her face as she shakes her head slowly. "Please no," and she curses the tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of it, the image of his anger flaring the last thing she saw before the world became blurry.
She stumbles backwards as he reaches forward, unsure of where she wanted to go, only knowing that it had to be away from him, that she couldn't let him touch her, couldn't let his scent affect her.
"Why?" he demands unkindly, hurt by such a firm denial.
"They're my family," her voice cracks, "I need them."
"And you have me now," there is a streak of possessiveness Barry couldn't stem, the thought of anyone meaning as much to her as he should resulting in the growl erupting from his throat.
"I can't leave them like this- Cisco and Wells, Ronnie -" and he hears the fondness in her tone, a familial one for the first names, a more amorous one in the second. And his wolf hates it.
He doesn't realise he had moved until he felt her stiffen against his body, every curve pressed against his body. But her face still leans into his touch as he wipes away the tears falling from his eyes.
"You'll have me now, and my pack will love you. And you'll love them just as much as I do. Eddie and Joe and Iris -"
"Iris?" There is a hard edge to her tone, a jealousy neither of them expected and he laughs, laughs as she bristles, his wolf howling in happiness as a response. He knows that was her wolf taking over, her eyes flashing yellow at the mention. But he doesn't care.
"A friend, only ever a friend." Her gaze is still hard, but it's the redness and glassiness that affects him the most. He takes her hand in his, squeezing it before continuing. "Her and Eddie mated the moment her wolf awakened. We always knew she was made for him." Her expression softens down, guilt swirling in her eyes as she ducks her head in embarrassment. She's back. "Hey, hey, hey" and his hand is cupping her chin, raising it to meet his gaze, "don't do that, don't hide from me." But still she averts her eyes. "It was hot," her nose crinkles at the descriptor, a look of confusion thrown his way. "It was totally hot the way you looked like you would fight her for me," his voice had dropped, its low baritone almost a growl as he pushes himself further against her. "Damn, it did things to me."
She looks at him this time, eyes owlish as she sees just how close he is from her, as she sees the golden flecks in his emerald pools, his gaze darkening as her heartbeat quickens. He can smell her faint arousal, knows she can do the same to him, and it's magnificent. He breathes deeply, inhaling it all, his senses sharp, focussing on her quickening pulse, the hitch of her breath, the way she clung to him without realising.
"Caitlin," he moans, affected by everything about her.
She bares the slope of her neck to him, a shuddering exhale leaving her as he drags his nose and lips against her exposed skin, the feeling more sensual without any fur in the way.
"You belong to me, and I belong to you," he utters against her skin, trying to brand her with the words. "I'm yours, your Barry." He tries to comfort her, but still she says nothing in return. "Say it," he growls desperately, "who am I?"
"My Barry," and her wolf preens at the sound of it coming from her mouth, so soft and delicate, a smile hidden in the words. He continues to press his face in the crook of her neck, taking in her scent, rubbing his face against her so she'll do the same. She still comes across as a little cold, but she is melting and Barry is content with what she offers.
"You're mine, my Caitlin." His teeth skim across the exposed flesh, jaw open and canines gently pressing against where their mark would be. It would happen as they consummate their mating, a bite that will never truly fade, one stop to show the world of their love. She whimpers as she feels the pressure against her, her body weakening with lust.
She leans forward as he pulls away, her own teeth scraping against the skin that would soon bear her mark. His grip on her waist tightens, body already reacting to the feeling. And it was glorious. She sucks the skin underneath her mouth hard enough to leave a bruise, lavishing attention on it with her lips and tongue and teeth. Electricity was running through his veins, every place of contact between them resulting in sparks large enough to burn the place down to the ground around them. He can hear the strangled groans leaving his mouth, knows he can't control them, not with her doing that to him, so aggressive and forward. He is weakening under her attack and he needs to stop, she needs to stop or else he would lose control.
He forces her away, a sharp gasp leaving her as he does so, her pupils blown wide. And the way her mouth drops open slightly, it is beautiful and crazy and he cannot stop himself- he is weak for her and he knows it will only get worse. He leans forward and captures her lips in his own, sucking on the bottom one until it was plump and sore, canine's nipping on it. and he drinks her in, the way her heart rate accelerates as they continue, how she relaxes into his embrace, the feel of her dainty hands nimbly finding their way underneath his shirt. And suddenly her hands are on his bare skin, nails lightly raking down his back, muscles rippling under her touch.
It aches him, physically aches him to pull away from her now, his wolf clawing to rise, to have her against his body on any surface, to sink into her, to mark her as his.
But he can't.
Even if the noises leaving her as he separates is enough to break a lesser wolf.
"Thank you." It is strained coming from her lips, and he knows that is only the human side of her, but he is her mate, he is to love her, all of her, and respecting both sides of her nature is the only way he can show that he wants to try and do so.
"It's nothing." He is running a hand through his hair, desperate to not catch her gaze lest he see something that would break his determination.
"It's not nothing, I can feel how much it is not nothing." And hearing her need saturate her words was agonising. He could smell her arousal, her pheromones calling him, begging him to take her. And he wanted to, oh how he wanted to wrap her in his arms and feel her skin on his own, to hear her screams in his ear as they completed the mating ritual. He could feel his canines growing at the thought of her milky skin underneath his mouth, the taste of her as he kissed his way down her body, the feel of her writhing underneath him, the sound of her begging and pleading for more, the breathless moans leaving her as he drove her to the brink.
"Caitlin I -" and he was backing away, out of this room with its shrinking walls, out into the outdoors where he would be able to smell nature and not the overwhelming scent of her calling to him. He could feel his mouth salivating at the thought of remaining. "I need to go. I won't be able to stop myself if I stay." And in an instant he was gone, leaving her panting and aroused and desiring more.
He returns a few hours later, some flowers in his hands as he ducks his head. He apologises for the way he may have come across, emotional and angry and too insecure. She breathes in their perfumed scent, sighing as he continues on, promising to be better, to know when not to push her further than he should.
He all but goes on his hands and knees, begging for her to give him another chance, them another chance. She feels a twinge of remorse at the cold way she blew him off earlier, at her iciness when he didn't deserve it. Her own apology comes tumbling forth, she wants to explain why it's natural for her to go on the defensive, to tell him that she's been hurt before and doesn't want to let it happen again, but the words get stuck in her throat, unable to be lodged out. He accepts her apology before she has a chance to finish it, telling her that if she would give them a fresh start there would be nothing to forgive. She hesitates for the briefest of seconds, the thought of allowing someone close to her a scary one, but she nods, swearing to give them a try. And seeing his smile as they both promise to give their budding relationship a proper shot, she knows that it was the right decision, her wolf and human sides at peace.
He hugs her, nice and tight and long, never wanting to let go. But eventually he does, and with a sad heart he tells her he needs to leave.
She nods and, led by an impulsive nature she didn't realise she possessed, she presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling as he stands there a little dazed before shaking himself out of it.
This may work, she thinks to herself, hugging the flowers close, this may actually work.
Wells calls her to him one morning a few days after.
"Caitlin-" She approaches him cautiously; he had never sounded like that over their bond before, and now she finds him polishing his glasses with the corner of his shirt, an almost disappointed sigh leaving him as he takes her in.
He knows.
Wells knew that she met her mate.
He was going to force her to leave.
Damn.
He doesn't do anything of that nature.
He sits down in his chair, indicates for her to do similarly.
And he explains the situation- Barry was her mate (she would forever sigh whenever it is mentioned) and that she would have to eventually leave and join his back.
But she wasn't going to leave just yet.
Barry had requested to visit more frequently, negotiations with the Star Pack the reason she had stumbled across him. And when the negotiations finished she would be obliged to go. But it would take some time and she was welcome to stay here for as long as the negotiations went on for.
She breathes in relief, her arms itching to go and hug her pack leader, the weights on her shoulders removed as she hears the words.
But the fear gnawing at her doesn't dissipate, the knowledge that there would be a time where he would waltz in and take her from her family. And she didn't think she would ever be ready for that.
The first time he returns to her it takes Caitlin completely by surprise, a lazy Sunday afternoon interrupted in the most wonderful of ways. She had been basking in the sunlight with Felicity, slowly drifting off to sleep when a shadow blocks the sun's rays.
She cracks open an eye, a body blurry standing over her. But her eyes adjust to the change of light and she sees his smirking face above hers, and she doesn't know how to respond. She feels happiness bubbling within her at the sight of him, but at the same time there is a worry that she would be whisked away from her family and sent to live with strangers, with only one small comfort in a sea threatening to drown her and swallow her whole.
He does nothing of the sort, only extending the crook of his elbow, a charming smile on his face as she slowly takes it, the squeals from Felicity enough to paint Caitlin's cheeks red in embarrassment.
Barry leads her away, a small picnic set in the clearing where she first found him. She knows there are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she swallows them, determined to not be overcome by emotion. They meander their way through the clearing, stopping before the red and white checkered picnic blanket. She slowly detaches herself from his arm, unsure what she should do with him just standing before her awkwardly. And so she stands with him.
"I hope this is okay." He doesn't look at her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stares off to her left.
"It's more than okay." Her voice is thick with emotions, but he doesn't meet her gaze, doesn't respond, doesn't seem to have heard her speak. It is only when she slides her hand in his own he relaxes, a small smile thrown her way before he sits down, patting beside him, an eager smile on his face, one she finds herself returning.
It is a wonderful picnic, chocolate and eclairs and ice cream and everything she would have called a weakness. They talk and laugh, he tells her of his time in the Central Pack, of the nerdy, scrawny pup who was so fascinated with science and nature. Talks about Joe and Iris and Eddie and Alpha Singh. She jokes about her childhood, the little pup who skipped years in education, who found a kindred spirit in Felicity and Cisco at university, the pair of them introducing her to a world she wasn't familiar with.
She asks about his family and she watches as the light in his eyes dim. She wants to take back the question, to reach through time and steal the words from her lips before they could hurt him. An apology is already tumbling forth but he silences her when his hands slip over her own, holding her. It is in fragmented sentences, jaw clenched and glassy eyed, but he tells her. Tells her of his mother, of how a rogue wolf had killed her. How his father was exiled, torn away from him when he was only a pup, for killing his mate. She gasps horrified, the fierce insistence of his father's innocence squeezing her heart. Caitlin shuffles closer to Barry, her arms wrapping themselves around his waist. His face leans down into the crook of her shoulder, breathing her in, a shuddering exhale escaping him as he relaxes next to her.
Her fingers run through his hair, his body slumping against her, and in a tight voice she tells him about her father, how a crippling disease had taken control of his body, no healing ability enough to combat a genetic illness such as his. She confesses the pain of watching him wither away before her, the pain of not being able to do anything still haunts her nightmares. And she tells him of her mother, of how having her mate die in her arms, a confession of love still on his lips, had hardened her to the world. She had survived longer than most mates without their partner, but she wasn't her mother. She was a cold witch, uncaring of her children, apathetic to their needs. She had raised herself after that, two parents gone in one death, her brother at university. He had sworn to leave, to come back for her but she had made him stop, made him finish his education so that he could be the alpha her pack needed him to be.
She doesn't realise that she started crying until she finds Barry's face before her own, his hands cupping her cheeks, thumb brushing away the tears, the calloused fingertip sending jolts through her system with every swipe.
He jokes about them having skipped most of the basic relationship fundamentals and jumped straight into the sob stories and she laughs. It takes her by surprise, but the smile it brought to his face made everything just perfect.
He lays on his back, patting the ground before her, smiling as she lays beside him, snuggled into his side. They continue talking while watching the clouds float by, lighter topics discussed, Caitlin tilting her head up to watch him after a while, the sunlight making his face glow, his eyes so focussed on the sky and the memory he doesn't notice how his lips curl into a fond smile or how his fingers are twirling her curls between them, tangling themselves in her hair. He seems so much lighter than before, and she finds herself captivated by him, by all of him. The light and dark, his everything. It scares her how she finds herself attracted to him, wanting to know more. But she finds herself drawn to him and she doesn't want to stop.
It continues well past twilight, the sky on fire as the sun sets, and Caitlin basks in the beauty of it while Barry does that with her own. And soon stars decorate the black of night, the moon smiling down on them as they bond with each other more.
They linger in their time together, Barry only spending the night, a trip back to his own pack necessary. He would leave the next morning.
He walks her to her door, a soft kiss on her cheek leaving her flustered and unwilling to have the magical day end. She unlocks her door, turning one last time to say goodnight, butterflies swarming inside her stomach as she sees the look in his gaze, one that was for her. With a high voice she asks where he was intending on staying for the night. He seems floored by the question, flabbergasted as he stumbles over his words.
Eventually he manages to tell her that there was a hotel an hour away and that he had intended to book a room.
She shakes her head, at him or her thoughts she doesn't know, all she can think is to take his hands in her own. She looks down, captivated by the sight of her dainty hands in his larger one.
Caitlin is silent for a while, unable to form the words she needs, choosing to distract herself by thoughts of his hands, how strong and capable they were, how powerful, how they would feel across her body, touching her, marking -
He squeezes her hands and her head jerks up meeting his gaze, guilt in hers and lust swirling around in his. She almost doesn't say the words on the tip of her tongue. But she does.
Blushing furiously she invites him to spend the night at her house.
He accepts.
Caitlin offers him the spare room, blankets in her hand as she passes them to him, apologies on her lips as she takes in the room's messy condition. He thanks her with the corners of his mouth quirked up, dragging his feet into the room and quietly shutting the door behind him to prepare for sleep.
He lasts all of five minutes before grumbling, staggering out of the room he was in and into the kitchen where she is brewing her tea. Caitlin knows that she should be concerned or at least pretend to possess some of the attentiveness a host would have but he was shirtless and in boxers and she couldn't control her gaze from drifting up and down his lean frame, tongue darting out from between her lips, moistening them as she imagines just how this night could end.
"Please don't." His voice is hoarse, his eyes squeezed shut as he walks into the room, hands fisted by his side, knuckles white as he tries to exercise control. But she wasn't helping. "Don't look at me like that, don't smell like that," and he takes a sniff automatically, a soft whine leaving him as he smells heaven, mouth watering at the thought of having her under his hands and mouth, touching and tasting and devouring.
She sniffs the air and smells her and him and their scents entwining and damn it, if it wasn't the most delicious thing she could imagine. Heat flares up inside her as her senses are assaulted, weakening her, her conscience quieting, the only thing she can hear is the sweet seductive whispers of her lust in her ear, urging her, tempting her.
"Cait-lin," he stutters through gritted teeth, nose bombarded with the smell of her arousal, wolf clawing at him, desperate for her to be in his arms, a whimpering mess under him. He wants - he needs - to be touching her, to have her lips on his own, to feel her soft tendrils between his fingers as he runs them through her hair, to have her gasping against his lips, to have her lashes brush against his cheeks as her eyelids flutter closed, faces close. "Please think of something, anything, just not that or I won't be able to control myself." They can hear his will breaking, eyes flickering yellow at his words. Any longer and his control will snap.
It's almost agonising to think of anything else; he was her mate, it was in their nature to think about it, to desire it until the mating had been completed. And then even after. Caitlin looks around, her heart stopping as her vision focusses on the one thing in her proximity that would permanently dampen her mood.
Barry doesn't mention the scent of pain and loss permeating the air, his eyes following her own, stopping as he catches sight of Caitlin and another man in a photo. It seemed as though it were only a few years ago, the man with dark hair and darker eyes, a thick, muscular frame that Barry could never compete with. They were both smiling at each other, unaware of the photo stealing their private moment away and showing it to the world. He feels his heart fall as she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, gaze focussing on the picture for far too long before looking at him, guilt and hurt swirling in her eyes.
He clears his throat, almost swept away in the intensity of her gaze, the urge to be close still haunting him. He wants to pull her close and never let go, to protect her from the pain, to take away the agonies of her past and take them on himself it would remove the look in her eyes. He wants to comfort her and care, to take care of her bundle her up in his arms and never let go. The desire roars in his mind, beats against his chest - he wants to be there, to protect.
But he barely knows the girl, a few conversations and scourging around secretly for any information on her is not enough. He fights back the urge to pull her in his arms, his hands fisted by his side as he watches on helplessly.
She seems to be fine, building herself up before his eyes, the broken girl from moments ago replaced with the one he had grown familiar to.
(but they were the same girl and he wanted all of her, her wolf side and human, her happiness and sadness. He wanted all of her and it still wounds that she feels as though she should hide any part of herself from him.)
"What brings you out of the room?" Her voice quivers but she carries on determined. "Is it too cold, do you need more blankets?" But he shakes his head, lips twitching into a firm line as he stands before her.
"I can't stay in there." She tilts her head to the side, waiting for him to continue. "It smells like other men," he says flatly, and the lack of vibrance takes her a bit by surprise. He had been so passionate every time she had spoken to him, and to hear him like that unnerved her. She didn't like it at all.
"Cisco yeah," she responds distractedly, memories of nights gone by flickering in her mind like an old film. "He sleeps over when he's too drunk to move." He grunts in acknowledgement; she had mentioned him before and he knows that there is nothing to worry about, but the thought of another werewolf near her, inside her house, ruffled him.
"Anywhere else untouched?"
"I can offer you the couch." It sounds like a question when it leaves her mouth, shoulders raising as she shrugs in apology.
"The couch is fine," he accepts gratefully, a smile on his face long after she nods happily and wanders into her own bedroom.
It is not.
Because she isn't there with him.
He remembers tossing and turning, a cold chill creeping down his spine. It's a nightmare, he realises, he's trapped in a nightmare. But then there is a light, a warmth pervading the room, filling him up, lifting him.
He wakes up slowly and reluctantly, unwilling to leave his dreams. But then he saw the messy locks of hair sprawled across his chest, the petite body of his mate curled up on top of his torso.
And he's suddenly very happy to leave his dreamworld.
He almost doesn't make a noise, the desire to go back to sleep, to enjoy this small piece of perfection while he still can.
But he can't.
(he still wants to.)
"Caitlin." He nudges her softly, a groan soft and annoyed coming from her in response. Her face buries itself deeper in his side, a content sigh leaving her as she relaxes and falls back asleep. He nudges her again, fingers gliding across her face, unable to resist. They cup the back of her neck, tilting it up. "Caitlin."
She wakes up slowly, sight blurry as she takes everything in. But her vision quickly focusses on the man before her. "Barry?" There is a question in her tone, confusion because she had been alone one second, with him the next. "What's happening?" She blinks, as though the action would have the vision before her disappearing. But it doesn't. It takes her a while to notice how cramped it is on the couch -
She's on the couch.
It's then that she remembers. Remembers the sleepless dreams, the pang inside her, the craving for something more, something so close she could almost taste it. Until she did.
She burns at the idea of sneaking into his lap, half asleep and controlled by a force she could never fight. But there she was. Wrapped all over him after inviting him to stay the night. Pleading for him to leave her with her pack while invading his space and scenting him with her.
Caitlin scurries off his lap, on her feet and ready to run. But then he is sitting up and pulling her beside him, a smile on his lips as he wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. His chest shakes with laughter and she wants to bury her head in her hands, closing her eyes until the situation goes away. But she's an adult. She can't do that.
(she still wants to.)
"What happened?"
"I think it was my wolf," he nods - she thinks he nods. she may not have buried her head in her hands but she was staunchly avoiding looking in his direction. "I think she knew you were so close, and so she went to you."
"Makes sense," he says after a while. They had been sitting there in silence. He sounds so soft when he finally does choose to speak, and she finds her head bobbing as she tries to remain awake. Her mind is telling her to move, to go back to her warm, comfortable bed. But she can't find the strength, not when he was all warm and cozy and wrapped around her. Barry senses the shift in her mood, he watches amused as her head bounces up and down. He sees her go to move, her actions sluggish and half-assed. And smiling to himself he goes to move himself. "Come on, let's take you back to bed," she squeals as he lifts her up, his arm hooked underneath her knees, the other across her back, pulling her into his chest. She feels a warmth bloom inside her, one different from all the other times. It made her feel lighter, feel safe, and she curled herself into him, breathing in deeply, smiling happily as his scent invades her nostrils. And she falls asleep instantly.
He finds her room easily, the door still swung open. He loves the sight of it, eyes darting around from the poster of Paris on her wall to the laboratory coat thrown over the back of her chair. He already feels closer to her, arms tightening as he approaches her bed, reluctant to ever let go. He lowers her gently, fingers brushing away the hair that fell forward, tucking it behind her ear, grinning as she murmurs happily at the contact, a smile bright on her face even as her eyes remain closed.
His fingers continue to skim across her cheekbones, only stopping at the corner of her mouth, her lips so tempting, her face glowing.
He has to leave.
Has to leave before he ends up staying.
He takes steps away, pausing at the door to turn and stare just one final time. His mate, his Caitlin. Laying there so peaceful, without a care in the world. He finds himself falling without realising he could so close to meeting her. Just as he convinces himself to walk away, a couch and lonesomeness calling to him her voice rings out.
"Where are you going?" It's sleepy and Barry is thankful that he was too far away and that she was too tired, because the spike of lust in his body was unnecessary and not appropriate and he didn't think he would ever not crave her body. He clears his throat, hands running through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to not look and feel sheepish.
"Back to the couch." But she shakes her head, shuffling over, lazily patting the bed beside her. She doesn't need to say anymore, Barry already moving to the other side of the bed, slipping underneath the covers.
"There is no way our wolf side will let us sleep in the same house and not be with each other," she explains before dropping her head against the pillow, leaning back, seeking his heat.
It makes sense; there was no fight causing the separation and their wolf nature called to the other, would continue to do so until they mated and forever after. They would always go to each other, always.
He slides his arms around her, pulling her back flush against his chest. His wolf purrs at the feeling of her curled around him, his body finally relaxing, shedding the tension he didn't realise he possessed.
"Good night Caitlin."
She wakes with him wrapped around her, limbs entwined, face resting on her chest.
And luna above, it was the most wonderful way to wake up.
She runs her hands up his arm, a garbled noise leaving him as he pulled her closer to him, burying his face into the crook of her neck. "Just a few more minutes please." Caitlin knows she should say no, should try and remove herself from his hold, but his voice was rough with sleep and she can feel the vibrations travel down her body, shaking her up.
And suddenly he is wide awake, eyes almost black as they meet her own.
She shivers at the sight of it.
"Caitlin -" His voice is raspy, rough with sleep and lust, and in the fog of the morning he forgets about his promise to himself to not make the first move. He latches his mouth on her neck, sucking on the skin available to him, a soft moan leaving him as he tastes her on his tongue. She's more vocal in the morning, gasps and pants in his ear driving him mad, the needy whimpers leaving her as she clings to him desperately pushing him further and further to the brink.
Her body arches as she feels his finger dance across her waistline, slipping underneath the thin shirt she wore as a pyjama top, wreaking havoc on her nerves as he kisses his way down her neck and shoulders, his teeth grazing her skin as he bites the shirt lightly, pulling it down her arm so he has more access to her skin. His hands slide higher, her stomach tensing underneath his touch, breath hitching as his hands rose even higher, searching for something...
And suddenly he is on the other side of her room, his hands on her door frame, chest heaving and eyes black.
"That shouldn't have happened." She is so confused, her heart racing, chest heaving as she sucks breath into her lungs. Caitlin can hear the need in his voice, the rough timbre still sending shivers down her spine, flashes of heat running through her veins at the thought of it in her ear, his mouth brushing against her skin as he tells her every little thing he wants to do to her body.
Barry's groans wake her from her little trance, her cheeks burning as she was caught daydreaming about him.
"It did." It comes out a little shaky, her body and mind still a little ruined from a moment before. There is no denying the lust, not in her eyes or voice or the way she was sitting, her legs parted, palms flat on the bed slightly behind her, bearing her weight. Her chest was arched in the air and her hair was messy and sexy and he wanted to crawl over her, wanted to have his hands in her hair, holding her to him, her body plastered against his, her hands wandering down his body, clasping hi-
He shakes his head, dragging himself away from his thoughts and desires, guilt twinging his heart.
"I'm sorry -" She throws him a confused look, "I didn't ask, I just -"
"Barry." The understanding in her tone almost breaks him, his desire to stay away, to not run into her arms and never leave her side. "It's fine, I was enjoying it." And she shouldn't be saying things like that and looking at him with those doe eyes of hers and he is losing a battle he could never win.
He takes a step forward and the hitch of her breath echoes in the room.
"I should leave." And much like their first time he runs.
She feels an emptiness as he leaves her room and her house, his shirt and pants hastily thrown on, rushing for the bus that wouldn't arrive for hours.
Unlike the first time he doesn't come back.
