John Watson learned to not expect much for his birthday, namely because he had always shared it with his demanding twin sister. So whilst Harriet got her dream birthday - be it horse-themed or a princess party - John was placed on the backburner with promises of "next year." His parents eventually resorted to giving him money so he could do something for himself. John wasn't bitter. After all, Harriet demanded plenty of attention all year round, and his parents actually trusted him. He also got to avoid the inevitable drama that would happen every year when something didn't go properly according to Harriet. Although he could never say it, he would have happily paid his parents in order to avoid that.
That morning had been no different. His father ruffled John's hair and passed him a birthday card. John opened it to find £100 waiting for him and the words: "Congratulations on becoming a legal adult! Remember that getting caught breaking the law means bigger punishments now." John smiled at the message. His father always teased him about needing to commit crimes whilst being considered a "juvenile." John jested back that he was committing crimes, but no one was catching him.
After thanking his father, he pocketed it with his plans already in mind. He wanted to do something out of the box for him - something reckless, even by Harriet's standards. For once, he was going to have an interesting and maybe even shocking story to tell someone.
Now, he stood in front of The Playmate. It was one of the most exclusive clubs in London. Everyone was trying to figure out how to join, but those who knew usually kept their lips shut tight. John just happened across the information. Two blokes in the boys' restroom at school thought they were alone when one began to press the other for details. After talking in quiet voices for ten minutes, the bloke finally caved and told the other how to get in. John felt his heart race when he realised what information he had become privy to. After all, he never even hoped of finding out how to enter. He wasn't important enough nor interesting enough. This was a place where a human might be able to pick up a werewolf. And, if they were lucky enough, they might even become a werewolf's mate. Who would want that with the likes of him?
Romance novels aside, being mated by a werewolf was an incredible privilege. After all, most werewolves only mated other werewolves. For a human to be considered worthy was a rarity. As such, human mates were instantly adopted into the werewolf's pack. They were treated with respect, John heard. Being part of a pack also meant that a mate would have a support group to help transition them into the new culture. Not only that, but werewolves were incredibly protective of their mates. Mates usually wanted for nothing. But above all, a werewolf ensured that his or her mate came before everything and everyone else. That would be a wonderful change of pace for John… but he dared not to dream too much.
Chewing on his lower lip, John hovered outside of the front door. He was now old enough to enter, but he wasn't sure if he had the gall. After all, who would want to get to know him? Not even his parents cared enough to throw him a birthday party, and he certainly didn't have enough friends to warrant one. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the door for a long moment. The last thing he wanted was to be rejected... again. Turning on his heels, he started back down the street.
What do you have to lose?
The thought shot through his mind, causing him to stop mid-step. He glanced back at The Playmate's door. Sure, he feared rejection, but he never had to step foot back in there if nothing happened. No one would ever recall him. And if he didn't do it now, he knew he never would. He let out a long breath before squaring off his shoulders. Stepping up to the door, John raised a fist and knocked six times total, ensuring they were in sets of two.
A prolonged moment lapsed, and nothing happened. He should have known better. What were the odds that some bloke in the loo would actually know how to get into such an exclusive club? John was a fool to believe him. At least now he didn't have to worry.
Then the door opened, and John's jaw dropped. He hesitated, wanting to make sure that it wasn't a fluke, before finally stepping inside. The foyer was intimidating. A bulky man stood just behind the door, and a woman with slick, blonde hair stood behind the desk in the front. Hesitant, John shuffled towards the front desk. The woman looked up at him with piercing blue eyes. John stiffened with nerves. He didn't belong here. She must know that. Even so, the door closed behind him, and there was no backing out now.
"I do not recognise you, sir," she stated before typing a few things into her computer. "Is this your first time here?"
"Yes," John answered, his shoulders relaxing. It was a relief that she spoke first.
Nodding, the woman clicked her mouse a few times. "I am going to need to collect some information from you. First, though, our privacy policy is to never give your information away. We do not sell it to third party companies nor use it to send you advertisements." She handed John a clipboard with a form on it.
John took it and a pen before sitting down in one of the chairs provided. He noticed the general information that most asked for: name, species, ethnicity, gender, address, and mobile phone number. As he read down, he filled in the information. He took his time, given his handwriting was horrid, and he would hate for her to not be able to read something he wrote. When he got towards the bottom, though, he found a question he didn't expect: Who referred you?
Freezing, John stared at it as his brain whirled. He didn't even know the name of the bloke in the toilet, and there was no way that he could simply make up a name without her looking it up. But how could he explain knowing the knock to get in? Would he simply be thrown out? He suspected as much if he told them he got the code whilst on the toilet. After a moment, he simply signed and dated the bottom. Then he rose to his feet and shuffled back over to the desk. Without a word, he placed the clipboard on the desk.
The blonde took it and quickly scanned. "And who referred you?"
John felt dread fill him as his mind went blank. He had hoped she would simply let it slide. Now he knew he was going to be thrown out. "Well, you see…" he started in a defeated tone.
"Did they wish to not be named?" she offered, smiling sweetly. "It's nothing to be ashamed about. It happens quite often, particularly with mated werewolves. They simply don't want to give others the wrong opinion."
John relaxed upon hearing that. It seemed that luck was on his side that day. "I am so glad that you understand," he replied in one breath, trying not to smile too much.
Almost immediately, her smile dropped, and John felt his heart follow suit. "Now, joining us does not guarantee that you will find a mate. We are not a dating service. We do not play matchmaker. It is your job to read and understand the rules of the club, and we can terminate your membership here at any given time. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," John answered. Relief lifted fear from his shoulders once more.
The blonde smiled before placing another piece of paper in front of him. "These are the rules of the club. After reading through them, please sign and date at the bottom if you agree to abide by them. And while you do that, I am going to need a form of identification from you."
John removed his school I.D. and handed it over. She took it and headed to a back room. Looking at the sheet, John began to read through the club's rules. Plenty of them were simple enough: no fighting, no harassing other patrons, no stealing, etc. A few were clearly human-specific, such as no wearing pheromone perfume or cologne, and some others were only for werewolves, such as no possessive behaviour over an unclaimed human. John reached the bottom of the list and felt everything was reasonable enough. He signed and dated it.
Emerging from the back room, the blonde handed him back his I.D. before raising another card. It was entirely black except for the initials "PM" written elegantly. "There's your I.D., and this is your temporary membership card. It expires in ninety days. If you do not break the rules and come consistently, you will be allowed to apply for a year long membership card." With that, she flipped it over to show him a chip in the back. "You need to place this in front of the censor at the lift in order to use it. Go up to the first floor for the club."
John nodded, still slightly shocked. Honestly, he had been expecting for such an exclusive club to take one look at him and pitch him back out onto the streets. He might have bought nicer clothes for the night out, but the dress on the blonde clerk alone was worth at least five times what he spent. Still, he knew better than to point that out. The bulky bodyguard at the door could probably launch him to the next street if he wanted to.
Walking over to the lift, John scanned his card and hit the up button. He couldn't back down now. He would go up for just a while - have one drink - and if he felt too uncomfortable, he would simply leave and never return. He could destroy the card at home. But at the very least, he could say that he had gotten into The Playmate.
John hadn't entered with any specific vision of the club in mind. However, his jaw all but hit the floor when the lift doors opened. Wood floors stretched out as far as his eye could see. The chandeliers around the club appeared like they were surrounded by white twigs and roots. The shadows cast made it appear as if John was in a forest. Dark green walls complimented the earthy brown floors and furniture. It was only when John stepped inside that he realised that the ceiling had small, twinkling lights within it, giving it a nighttime sky appearance. Spinning around, John couldn't help but be in awe of this place.
"New here?" the bartender called out teasingly.
John looked over and flushed slightly. "Ah, sorry."
"No, no. Most humans react like that when they first see this place," the bartender explained. "Want something to drink?"
"Sure," John answered. Carefully, he approached the bar. What would be appropriate for him to drink? Should he get a pint? Or would that make him seem average? Maybe a scotch or a bourbon? But then wouldn't he be trying too hard? But he couldn't buy some frilly mixed drink, or it might seem like he didn't know what he was doing. He arrived at the bar, and the bartender looked at him expectantly. John opened his mouth and without thinking said, "Coke and rum."
"Coke and rum it is," the bartender responded. "Name's Mike, by the way. Mike Stamford."
"John Watson," John replied politely, hoisting himself up onto a particularly high bar stool.
Mike hummed. "You're a bit young to be in a place like this, John."
"Yeah, well, today is my birthday, so I figured I would treat myself to a night out somewhere special," he explained.
"Oh! Happy birthday," Mike offered before setting the glass in front of him. John reached back for his wallet only for Mike to wave him off. "This one is on the house."
John smiled. "Thank you!" he chirped before taking a gulp. He resisted the urge of making a face as the the rum scalded his tongue and burned down his throat. Coughing, he turned away from the bartender in hopes of hiding his expression.
Mike chuckled under his breath before taking the glass from John. "You know, you're not supposed to take it like it's a shot. How about I just give you a Coke, and we claim it's Coke and rum?"
Embarrassed, John nodded. "Yeah, thanks," he murmured, his cheeks reddening. He wanted to do nothing more than get out of this bloody club.
Mike handed him a glass of Coke before heading down to tend to a few other patrons. John sipped at it, letting it slowly cleanse his palate of the previous monstrosity. As he did so, he looked around. He could hear music coming from the back, and a few people passing through the double doors allowed him to glimpse bodies dancing together en masse. That would be his next stop, no doubt, once he managed to gain enough courage.
"So, John," Mike started conversationally, "are you here for a special night out or are you here looking for a special night out?"
It took John a bit before he comprehended what Mike was asking him. Sputtering, he answered, "Wh-what? No!"
"There's no shame in it, John," Mike replied, his lips curling in amusement. "You're young. Adventurous. Curious. I'm just asking because I know the regulars. I can tell you who to get close to depending on what you're interested in."
Clearing his throat, John waved his hands frantically. "No, no, I'm not… it's not… Thank you, but no."
"Whelp, if you change your mind, let me know," Mike offered before sauntering down the bar to help someone else.
John nursed his Coke and glanced around the pub. A few tables were filled with people chatting, but it seemed that most of the patrons were in the other room dancing. As John neared the bottom of his drink, he realised that he needed to do something besides sit alone. He shifted nervously in his seat before taking the last drink and placing the last glass onto the counter. Sliding out of his chair, he offered Mike a friendly wave before heading towards the other room. John had two left feet, but he figured that checking the room out wouldn't hurt. Bracing himself, he took in a deep breath and pressed through one of the double doors.
This room was darker, and the dance lights only lit flailing arms and shifting bodies. Perspiration dampened the air around him, and John could feel the increase in temperature. Scanning the room, he tried to discern where one person stopped and another started. He stepped forward and bumped into someone. Looking up, John found a man standing in front of him. Green eyes pierced his. Thin lips tugged down into a frown. It was only when he saw that that John realised what he had done.
"Ah! Sorry!" John called out over the music, waving his hands apologetically.
The man tracked the movement of John's left hand before snagging it. John yelped in surprise, pulling back only to find the grip was too powerful to break. The man pressed his nose to John's wrist and sucked in a deep breath. Shocked, John stared at him with his jaw slightly dropped.
"Pheromone cologne is forbidden in this club," he growled.
"Y-yes, I know-" John began to reply.
Releasing John's hand, the man stepped forward. "Then why are you wearing it?"
"I'm not! I swear. The only thing I did today was take a shower after rugby," John exclaimed. He was terrified that this man was going to pitch him out of the club. When he noticed the man hesitate, however, he saw his opening. "I promise."
"There's no way you smell like this," the man responded.
John flushed. "Wh-why do you say that?"
"Because you smell too good-"
"-for it to be natural." The low voice sent shivers down John's spine, and he felt an arm sling around his shoulders. "When are you going to stop using that one, Powers?"
Surprised, John looked over to find a male with dark features. Stubble outlined his strong jawline. His dark eyebrows intensified his gaze. Brown eyes gradually turned towards John. Forgetting to breathe, John froze. He felt as though he was prey spotted by a predator. After a moment, the stranger turned back towards Powers. John sucked in a deep breath before letting it out with a shudder.
"Sod off, Moriarty. I spotted him first."
Moriarty's arm tightened around John. Instinctively, John pressed in closer in response. "I'm not about to leave this naïve lad in your clutches. Not knowing what you did to the others."
"The others?" John inquired.
Powers scowled whilst Moriarty replied, "Oh, yes, you aren't his first. He lulls unsuspecting lads into his bed and then chucks them out once he's done. Don't expect him to even glance your way afterwards either."
Pressing further into Moriarty, John answered, "Ah, well, um, no thank you."
Moriarty burst out laughing. "You find out he wants to use you for sex, and that's your response?"
"Well… what were you expecting?" John inquired, looking up at Moriarty. His breath hitched again.
Moriarty's gaze locked onto John. "Something a bit more colourful, to be honest."
"Ah, well, sorry to disappoint?"
"No, no. That's not what I meant," Moriarty murmured. Slowly, he smiled at John. "You're the furthest thing from a disappointment."
"You think you're just going to snag him from me?" Powers snapped before stepping forward.
John's attention shifted, and he found Powers looming over him. He instinctively took a step back and felt Moriarty's grip on him release. That sense of security faded, and he slipped behind Moriarty in order to compensate. He didn't wish to get in the middle of a fight, especially not on his first night. Without thinking, he grabbed the back of Moriarty's shirt. It was comforting in a way that he couldn't explain.
Straightening up, Moriarty tilted his head like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise. "You're not going to lay a hand on him."
"Oh?" Powers sneered. However, he stepped back. "You think someone like you can take on someone like me?"
"Try me." Jim's voice was low and threatening. He took a step forward to compliment Powers' one back.
Powers levelled his shoulders. "Where did you find this spine? All I've seen you do is slither away like some Omega whenever confronted. It's not like you want to mate him. I don't even think you can get it up, freak."
"Say that again, Neanderthal," Moriarty snarled, taking another step forward.
John felt the shirt start to slide from his fingers. "Ah!" he called out before pulling on it. Instinctively, he didn't want to let Moriarty go. Moriarty looked back at him in surprise. Just as their eyes met, John noticed Powers move. His eyes flashed over to see Powers swinging his arm around. His heart dropped. "No!" Without thinking, he yanked Moriarty backwards.
Moriarty, clearly caught by surprise, staggered back. Powers' fist connected with nothing, and he quickly switched sides. Looking back, Moriarty saw the next attack coming. Just before the fist made contact, he ducked. Powers' momentum carried him through the strike so far that he punched a stranger standing close to him. Stepping back, Jim kept John behind him with one protective hand. John watched as the stranger quickly lashed out. Powers' head snapped back. He turned towards John, and blood poured from his obviously broken nose. Before he could say anything, the stranger punched him a second time. This time, though, Powers hit the ground hard.
Security swarmed in seconds. Silently, Moriarty pulled John away from the scene. John remained close, feeling comforted by the other's presence. "Thank you for getting rid of him," he murmured, not even sure that he could be heard over the music. "And you didn't even have to hit him back."
"I don't like getting my hands dirty," Moriarty replied. Offering John his hand, he said, "Jim Moriarty, by the way. Pleasure."
"John Watson," John responded, shaking Jim's hand. "And the pleasure is mine. I don't even want to think about how my night would have wound up if you hadn't stepped in." He imagined that he might very well fall for someone making him feel special, particularly on a day like today. With that, he sighed and ran his fingers nervously through his hair.
Jim observed him quietly for a moment, causing John to avert his eyes. Immediately, he became hyper aware of himself. He must look like a kid in his denim jeans and rolled-up sleeves. He should have known better than to spend some of his birthday money on this new outfit. After all, there was no way anyone would be able to take him seriously now. He was barely more than a kid, no matter what designer he wore.
Suddenly, Jim stated, "It's your birthday."
"H-how did you?" John started to inquire.
"Your clothes are new, obvious by the fact that they still smell like the store they came from. So you bought them today, which means you must have recently come into money. You're young, though, and still in college, so the chances of you having a job are slim. The chances of that job paying well are even slimmer. And the fact that you then spent it on nice, new clothes? It must be a special occasion," Jim explained. He smirked before leaning in a bit closer. "Your breath smells a bit like alcohol - rum specifically - which means you tried something but didn't like it. The fact that the only other smell is Coca-Cola tells me that you didn't get anything else. I know Mike Stamford well enough to know he probably offered you a Coca-Cola on the house. Good guy, but he doesn't do that for new members. Therefore, birthday."
Jaw dropped, John stared at Jim with wide eyes. "That's… remarkable!" he exclaimed before letting out a delighted laugh.
Jim was clearly surprised by the reaction. "You… Seriously?"
"Well, of course. You managed to notice all of that? It's incredible," John responded.
Blinking, Jim seemed to nearly glow from John's praise. "That's… not what I was expecting for you to say."
"What were you expecting?" John inquired.
"Something along the lines of: sod off, please," Jim answered teasingly.
John chuckled, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment. "I'm not always polite. I just didn't really know how to handle that type of situation."
"Yes, you are out of your element," Jim jested before ruffling John's hair. "Looking for a bit of excitement with a werewolf?"
"Just looking for a bit of excitement," John answered honestly. "My twin sister is having a party right now."
Examining John closely, Jim said, "And what? You weren't invited?"
"It's usually better if I just stay away," John answered honestly. "My parents have their hands full enough with her. They don't need me adding to their issues."
Jim frowned. "I highly doubt you're a problem, John."
"My sister isn't good at sharing," John explained before shaking his head. "I shouldn't be bothering you with this."
"You're not bothering me at all," Jim insisted. John, however, remained unconvinced. This man must have come out for a good time, not to be troubled by some stranger. Besides, John had gone out to forget about what was happening at home. After a moment of silence, Jim continued, "If you feel that bad about it, why don't you make it up to me with a dance?"
John blinked before answering, "Oh, well, I'm… not a very good dancer."
"And who says I am?" Jim responded before tugging on John's hand.
Reluctantly, John followed Jim into the mass of bodies. He was engulfed in movement, barely fitting in the spaces between people. After a moment, there was finally a break large enough to fit the two of them. Jim dragged John in close. John's breath caught as he looked up at Jim. He felt drawn towards Jim in a way that he never knew was possible. Jim's dark eyes locked onto him as he slowly started to move. John moved with him, trying to find that ever elusive rhythm for him. Jim's hands slowly shifted down and began to guide John through the movements.
Letting out a shuddering breath, John reached up and dared to run his fingers through Jim's hair. Jim's eyes fluttered shut. The air around them felt energized, nearly electric. John finally started to find Jim's rhythm. He moved with him, their bodies syncing as one. Leaning down, Jim buried his nose in the side of John's neck. John bared it, thinking Jim would kiss it. Instead, Jim inhaled deeply.
"You truly do smell incredible," he growled low in his throat.
John laughed softly. "Using that old line. I already heard it once tonight," he teased.
"I mean it, John," Jim replied before pulling back. His eyes locked onto John's once more. Slowly, he leaned down. Their lips ghosted against each other.
Upon feeling that, John came to the present. Panic seized him. What was he thinking, kissing someone he barely knew? And how had he been so drawn in? In such a small amount of time, no less? What was wrong with him? He knew better. John took another step back, and Jim's eyes flashed.
"I-I have to go," John stammered.
Jim shook his head and fastened a hand around John's wrist to keep him there. "John, calm down."
"N-no, I really-" John pulled out of the grip.
Jim called out in a panic, "John, you don't kno-!"
Without waiting, John slipped into the pulsating crowd. He pushed through, muttering apologies along the way. Staggering out of the group, he quickly scrambled for the double doors. He heard his name being called out, but he didn't dare look back. Instead, he pushed open one of the double doors. Several screams sounded out behind him. Curious, he glanced back just in time to see a huge, black wolf leaping at him.
Two paws landed on John's chest. Wind knocked out of him, John crashed into the floor. He let out a choked cry. Opening his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with a wolf. Fear washed over him immediately. Heart pounding in his throat, he glanced around, trying to figure out how to escape. He hadn't banked on being mauled that night, and he wasn't sure what would provoke the wolf.
"Don't move, John," Mike declared before grabbing the phone. "I'll get security for you."
John was relieved to hear that. The wolf above growled low before sinking down. Breathing heavily, John went tense as he noticed the wolf's maw shift closer to his throat. It rested its form against the full length of John's body. John felt the wolf's maw touch his neck. Turning his head away, he closed his eyes tightly and braced himself for pain. A lick tickled his neck. John giggled despite himself. Squirming, he pressed his hands against the wolf's chest. The wolf merely shifted its weight to pin John down and continued. With that, John let out a squeal before peels of laughter spilled from his lips. The wolf, startled, stopped. It tilted its head before sniffing at John's ear.
"I-i-it tickles!" John objected, managing to free his hands. He sank them into the wolf's fur, which was thick and soft to the touch.
The wolf pulled back enough for John to be able to look it in the eyes. They were the same eyes that he had been drawn into before. The fear that had clouded his senses before cleared. Within seconds, the pieces clicked together. Slowly, John relaxed. He trusted that Jim wouldn't harm him, even in his wolf form. Stroking Jim's fur, John tried to breathe in only to struggle, given the amount of weight now resting on his chest. John pushed up against the wolf's body, causing the wolf to growl in response.
"Jim," John called out. The wolf's ears perked upon hearing its name. "I can't breathe."
The wolf blinked before lifting some of its weight off John. Sucking in a deep breath, John stroked its fur in gratitude. Jim filled his view. Music from the dance floor began to fade. John's breathing synced with Jim's. Without thinking, he scratched behind Jim's left ear, causing the wolf to lean into the touch and grumble in satisfaction. John smiled wider.
Jim was ripped away. And with him, the warmth that had settled into John's bones. The wolf snarled and howled in anger, thrashing against the two men who held him. Shocked, John sat up. He felt a pair of hands lifting him up by his underarms.
"John, are you alright?" Mike asked him.
"Let him go!" John exclaimed as his wolf bucked yet again. He rushed forward. "I said, drop him!"
Mike shifted in front of John. "John, they can't let him go. He lost control. He nearly attacked you."
"He wasn't anywhere close to hurting me," John objected, looking up at Mike. "He wouldn't hurt me. Please. He's… He's…" Words failed him. John could feel the truth just on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't identify it. Running his fingers through his hair, he shook his head.
Eyes widening, Mike took a step back. "Oh," he breathed out before looking back. "John, a question. What happened right before his wolf emerged?"
"We were dancing." John hesitated a moment before worrying his lower lip.
"And then?"
Pausing, John answered, "Then… I told him that I needed to leave. He… he didn't want me to, but I… Well, I left anyway."
Mike gauged John a moment before looking back at Jim yet again. The wolf was still snarling and trying to snap at the hands that held him back. "I would have never guessed." He grinned in amusement.
"Guessed what?" John pressed.
"Release him," Mike ordered.
The security guards exchanged glances before placing Jim back on the ground. Jim snapped at their hands before stalking forward. Growling lowly, he stared Mike down. Mike raised his hands and stepped away. Even so, Jim kept his eyes on him until he passed and was in front of John. John knelt down and gave Jim a few pets. Jim nuzzled John's hand.
"Well, I'll be damned," Mike breathed out before whistling. "Who would have thought? I'm not sure if you're lucky or cursed, John."
"What do you mean?" John inquired, looking up in confusion.
Mike said, "It's probably best that Jim explains everything to you. But he won't be able to do that until his wolf feels like there's no chance of you leaving."
"But… I'm not going anywhere," John pointed out, perplexed.
"It's one thing to say that. It's another to prove it," Mike informed him. With that, he reached around the bar and pulled out a keycard. "This will give you access to the second floor as well as Room 221. Take Jim up there and just wait. He'll revert back to his human form, and I am sure that everything will be explained."
John stepped towards Mike to take the card, and he heard a snarl behind him. Looking back at Jim, he chastised, "Do you want it to be just us or are we going to stay down here the rest of the night?"
Jim grumbled but backed down. John took the key card and thanked Mike for the help. With a whistle, he walked over to the lift. Jim fell in step next to him, his pelt gently brushing against John's leg. John swiped the card, and the lift door opened for him. Stepping inside, he clicked for the second floor. Jim nuzzled John's hand, drawing John's attention to him. Smiling, he knelt down and rubbed behind Jim's ears. The wolf let out a happy hum from the pit of his belly, causing John to grin just a bit more. He sounded so content from such a simple action. John had never had that effect on anyone before.
The lift doors opened with a ding. Standing up straight, John stepped off the lift and motioned for Jim to follow him. The wolf stuck so close to John that he nearly tripped him on the first turn. A few turns later, he stood outside Room 221. John swiped the card and opened it to find a king-sized bed, television, and en suite water closet. In awe, John stepped inside and walked over to the window. He looked out across London, able to see St. Paul's Cathedral and the Thames off in the distance.
A soft keen caught his attention. John glanced back to find Jim sitting on the bed, staring at him. "Sorry," he murmured. "It's just that I've never been somewhere this nice before." With that, he crawled onto the mattress and situated himself on the right-hand side.
Jim laid down with a huff, resting his head on John's belly. John rubbed his thumb in between Jim's eyes, stroking with the grain of the fur. Closing his eyes, Jim relaxed underneath the ministrations. With his other hand, John reached over and located the remote control on the nightstand. He turned on the telly and flipped through the channels before landing on one featuring Gordon Ramsay. Without anything better to watch, he put the controller back down on the nightstand.
Honestly, John had always wanted a dog. He never got one because Harry was allergic, and his parents were convinced that he would never commit to taking care of it. However, lying here with Jim let John know that they were incredibly wrong. Because if he could have even had a fraction of this affection, he would have gone to the ends of the Earth. He couldn't help but smile as his body became heavy.
For the first time since he could remember, he felt cherished.
John hadn't realised that he was falling asleep even as it pulled him under. Stirring, he pulled the blanket up to his chin. He was too tired to notice that he had somehow moved underneath the duvet.
"I understand, sir," a deep voice rumbled. "Unfortunately for you, he's a legal adult. We do not require your permission."
With a soft groan, John buried his face into the pillow. Whoever was talking needed to stop. Couldn't he see that John was trying to sleep? Fingers ran gently through his hair. The soothing motion caused him to settle back down again. Sleep tugged at the edges of his consciousness.
"How about I explain it in a way that you can understand," the voice continued, now menacing.
John shivered and whined only to feel lips press to the top of his head as a response. He hummed softly in response.
"If you even think about trying to take him away from me, I'll ensure that every company in the United Kingdom knows of your drinking habits."
There was a pause.
"That's what I thought. It was a pleasure speaking with you, Mr Watson." The voice all but dripped with sarcasm, and a soft click followed.
John felt the mattress next to him shift before someone pull him back into them. Groaning out a complaint, he twisted and buried himself into the other form in order to block out what little light he could see. Two arms wrapped around him protectively. John hummed softly, shifting ever so slightly in order to get comfortable. He felt lips press a firm kiss against his hair before slipping back to sleep.
Yawning, John rubbed his eyes as he gradually woke. He barely registered anything more than his very full bladder. Without a noise, he slipped out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. He turned on the light and didn't recognise where he was at all. He stared. Slowly, his mind began to recall his night at The Playmate. Then his bladder reminded him of why he was awake. He stumbled forward and quickly emptied his bladder. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him. Turning to the sink, he rinsed his hands.
Once done, he turned off the light but remained hovering in the doorway. He still couldn't believe what had happened to him. He was in the same room as a werewolf. Not only that, but this werewolf actually seemed fascinated by him. He couldn't believe it. For the first time, someone had taken special interest in him, of all people. It was honestly too good for him to believe.
"John?" a panicked voice called out.
John stepped out of his reverie. "I'm right here," he reassured, walking back into the bedroom.
In the moonlight, John could just make out Jim sitting up on the bed. Jim's head was turned towards John, but it was too dark to see his eyes. Slowly, Jim reached out an arm. John walked over and accepted the offered hand, and Jim carefully tugged John into him. John settled down and closed his eyes. Despite appearances, however, he wasn't tired. He breathed deeply a few times, trying to figure out how to approach the subject.
"You must have questions," Jim finally said.
John nodded, grateful that Jim was prompting the conversation. "Many."
"How much do you know about werewolves?" Jim inquired.
"Just what I've seen in movies," John admitted. "Which doesn't mean much, I know."
"Movies can be quite hit and miss," Jim noted before running his fingers through John's hair. "But in regards to mates, they're fairly accurate."
John's eyes snapped open. "M-mates?" he echoed. His mind whirled with the implications.
"Yes. Mates." Jim paused and shifted underneath John.
The lamp turned on, and John grimaced. Once his eyesight adjusted, though, he looked up to find those dark eyes staring down at him yet again. Every movement he made, they followed. They flickered with observations and calculations, and John swallowed hard. Mates. That word continued to ring in his ears. Honestly, he could barely wrap his head around it.
"I don't… I don't understand," John finally confessed. "What does this mean?"
"It means that you are my other half," Jim explained matter-of-factly.
John shook his head in disbelief. "But how could you possibly know that?"
"Instinct." Jim examined John for a moment. When John's expression didn't change, he sighed. "It's hard to explain to a human."
"Well, you're going to have to figure out how to," John replied. He pulled away from Jim and fought the urge to return right back to those arms.
With that, Jim let out a long breath. "The wolf that you met is both a part of me and its own entity. It's the primal instincts manifested and unbridled. When the full moon comes around, the wolf takes over and indulges itself in whatever it desires. Unless I say otherwise."
Sucking in a deep breath, John tried to comprehend everything. "So you can always keep the wolf in check?"
"Not always, but for the most part. I do, however, always feel it within me. As a part of me. And it is the one who chooses my mate," Jim continued. "That's why I was trying to keep you from leaving. You walked away, and the wolf panicked. He thought I was going to let our mate disappear. But you need to know that he would never hurt you. And neither will I."
John let that information sink in slowly, absorbing it as best he could. Even so, he was nearly overwhelmed. He rubbed his eyes and let out a long breath. "That's fine and all, but… I don't understand."
"I know," Jim answered, reaching out.
Pulling away from the touch, John answered, "Please, just… Just give me a moment."
"Of course." Frowning, Jim retracted his hand.
John was still groggy, and he simply sat there for a minute in silence. He didn't think; he didn't move; he merely breathed in and out. His eyes drifted down to the crimson sheets. Running his fingers across them, he noticed how smooth and silky they felt. But then again, so had Jim's hands. Every touch was comforting, every word soothing, and every aspect just right. John was still inexplicably drawn to Jim.
Once he felt as though his mind was clear, he looked up. Their eyes locked.
"Why do I feel like this, though? I'm not a werewolf."
"No, but you are my mate. The pull is strong enough for even humans to detect," Jim replied. John stared at him, still trying to comprehend. "Look, I know it's all a bit much-"
"A bit?" John cut in. "It's too much. I don't even know where to start with all of this. All I wanted was to do something special for my birthday!"
Jim sharply retorted, "Do you think I wanted this?"
Stunned, John answered, "Well, doesn't every werewolf want to find their mate?"
"No, as a matter of fact," Jim responded, his eyes flashing dangerously in the lamplight. "I've never wanted to mate anyone. Ever. As far as I'm concerned, it's the worst possible thing that could happen. Because there's no fighting this feeling. I'm going to be protective of you. Possessive of you. I'm going to place you above everything. Including myself. Do you see how vulnerable you are going to make me? How vulnerable you already have made me?"
John felt hurt by the outburst. Lowering his gaze, he clutched his hands together. It's not as though he had asked for it, but he was clearly a burden for this man instead of a blessing. Perhaps that was always what he would be. "I'm sorry."
Fingers combed through John's hair, and a hand carefully cupped his chin before tilting his head back up to meet Jim's gaze. "You have my apologies as well."
"Why are you apologising? It's fine that you don't want me," John lied. He tried to keep the sadness from his voice. "I shouldn't have made assumptions."
Eyes softening, Jim answered, "No wonder you look so wounded. That is not what I meant. I just-" He hesitated a moment before leaning forward.
John's brain processed what was happening as their lips connected. Humming, he pressed into the kiss. Jim's lips slotted against his own in such a natural way. He had kissed a few people here and there, mainly during silly get-togethers. But this was on an entirely different playing field. John didn't feel this in just his lips, but the energy throughout his body.
John parted his lips to suck in a breath. Jim's tongue soon surged in, causing John to whine. He fought back, shoving Jim into the headboard in the process. Straddling Jim, John groaned and kissed him harder. Jim allowed John to control the kiss for a while before flipping him over. In mere minutes, Jim had managed to thoroughly explore every crevice of John's mouth. Their lips finally parted, and John gasped for breath. He looked into Jim's eyes before beaming.
Although he didn't understand everything, he felt more secure. He pressed their foreheads together and took a few more deep breaths. Jim was his mate. That much was blindingly clear.
"So you do want me," John said.
Jim chuckled. "I want you more than anything."
Melting into Jim, John let out a happy laugh. "I cannot believe this is happening."
"Me neither," Jim admitted.
John hummed softly to himself. He knew that it was all too incredible for anyone to believe. His peers at school would probably be jealous when John proved it to them. After all, being a werewolf's mate was revered, particularly by humans as they were usually left out of the werewolf culture. Harry was going to scream with jealousy. Maybe even try to demand for her parents to find her a werewolf mate. Honestly, he couldn't wait to tell her. And when his parents found out…
He suddenly sat up straight. "Oh, God, my parents!"
"It's be alright," Jim murmured. John could feel Jim tense from the mere mention of his parents.
"No," John responded, fear welling up in his mind. "I haven't told them why I'm not home yet. They must be worried out of their minds!"
Jim placed his left index finger against John's mouth and softly shushed him. "Deep breaths. I've already handled it."
That sounded vaguely correct to him, although he wasn't sure why. "But… how?"
"Your father called your mobile phone. It woke me up, and I answered when I saw who it was," Jim explained. John blanched. After a moment, Jim continued, "It was only natural for me to do so, given that you are my mate."
John shook his head. "No, no, it's not that. I mean… well, my father isn't exactly an open-minded person."
"No, I noticed that as well," Jim replied before kissing John's forehead. "I've already handled it, though."
Pausing, John didn't know if he really wanted the answer to this question. He braced himself. "Did he disown me?"
"What?" Jim inquired, looking up at John in surprise. "What would make you think-?"
"That's always been his threat," John explained. "If you are gay, you're out. Of the house. Of the family. Of the will. Of everything."
"Even if he did, it would not matter. You have me now," Jim replied soothingly.
John frowned. "It would matter to me," he whispered.
"Then it is important for you to know that he did not disown you."
Breathing out slowly, he nodded his head. He hadn't been disowned. Ever since he realised that he wasn't completely heterosexual, he had feared the day that his father would pitch him out of the house. But that day arrived, and he was still a member of the Watson family. Suddenly, he started to laugh. Jim gauged him as John leaned into him and laughed harder. The stress and tension that he had held for most of his teenage life had been released with one simple sentence.
Hugging him, Jim started to chuckle as well. "It pleases me to see my mate so… overjoyed. But you're near maniacal."
John sucked in a deep breath to calm himself down. "Sorry. I'm just… I cannot believe it. I've been worried for so long about being disowned and cast out of the house. And to know that you somehow got him to accept me - for me. That I'm not going to be cast out onto the streets by him. That I can be with you and still sleep in my own bedroom at night."
Jim went rigid upon hearing that. "Y-your own bedroom? But you're my mate."
"So?" John responded, confused.
"So you're living with me," Jim replied sharply. "I have a flat in central London. We'll get you moved in as soon as I get your home address."
John balked. "But we don't even know each other."
"You're my mate. That's all we need to know," Jim remarked. John looked at him fearfully nonetheless, causing Jim to sigh and gently stroke John's hair. "It'll be easier than you think. Your life and mine will meld right together. You'll see. Just… don't try to logic it out too much. Mates aren't forged by logic. They're created through instinct."
John nodded, settling back into Jim's arms. Although he wasn't sure how, he knew that Jim was speaking the truth. After all, there was this ever-present sense of calm that he experienced at Jim's side. It was inherent, a sensation that settled within his body as though it was a part of his soul. Jim leaned down and carefully pressed his lips against John's again. Without thinking, John moaned and pressed into the kiss. A sigh parted his lips, and he moaned when he felt Jim dominate him.
He had found his home.