Devour
A/N: This chapter runs parallel to the events of Season 2, Episode 5.
Chapter Two
"Hey, man, how've you been?" Jeremy is trying to be casual. He's been glancing over at Tyler all afternoon, and subtlety has never been his strong suit. He just can't get it out of his mind. That kiss, Tyler's teeth on his lower lip, all that rawness and the taste of whiskey.
Jeremy never thought about it before. He's thought about boys, sure. I mean, everyone thinks lots of different sort of thoughts, right? And if it gets you off, it gets you off. But never Tyler, with his clenched jaw and sneering mouth. Until that day in Tyler's living room, the hurt in his eyes and god, back to his mouth on Jeremy's.
Jeremy slides into a seat awkwardly. He's not quite sure what to say, not sure what the rules are. Do they mention it? Do they never mention it again? Tyler hasn't run out of the grill screaming yet, but maybe it's only a matter of time. He stupidly blurts out, "I haven't seen you since your father's funeral," and knows that it's a mistake by the way Tyler snaps.
He doesn't like to dwell on the way his heart thuds heavier when Tyler says, "Wait, hold up." He shouldn't care about the way his voice goes gravelly or the light on his cheekbones, but he finds he can't stop looking.
Tyler says, "You were cool that day, so thanks for that." Jeremy sees the relief in his eyes and imagines it's more about the fact that Jeremy hasn't been telling everyone that Tyler Lockwood likes to kiss boys—or about the way his eyes changed color—than it is about how "cool" he may have been but probably wasn't that day.
His heavy-thudding heart almost stops cold when the Aimee and Sarah show up, but Jeremy tries to smile, though he knows it probably looks forced. And god damnit, it starts right up again when Tyler turns to look at him. "You in?" His eyes are slightly clouded, and Jeremy can't tell whether the look in them is apologetic or challenging or both. Either way, he knows there can only be one answer. He's in.
xXx
Who are these girls who dance around alone in someone's house in the middle of the afternoon? And why has Tyler never hung out with them before? Aimee and Sarah are just what Tyler needs to help him forget. Forget about Mason and the story he told, forget about the moonstone in his pocket that he's sure means something, if only he could figure out what, and forget about Jeremy, who stands slightly awkwardly against the piano, holding a drink and laughing. He has a nice smile, Tyler notices, and then wonders why the hell he even invited Jeremy over.
Ever since the day of his father's wake, when those feeling of who-knows-what rose up in him and all he wanted to do was grab onto Jeremy and sink his teeth into him, Tyler's been trying harder than ever to forget. When he found out about Mason, about being a werewolf, a tiny part of him was relieved.
Because if that's all that was, the desire to eat Jeremy, if it's hardwired into his stupid supernatural skull, then Tyler doesn't have to think about what else it might mean. But it doesn't quite add up. He didn't get angry, not exactly. The blood pulsing in his temples and fingertips was different than that. And it definitely wasn't the full moon, so what is this?
What is this twinge of panic that rises up in his throat when Aimee says, "Yeah, I think Sarah's got a thing for Jeremy"? Tyler doesn't know what the hell it is, but it makes him want to down his whole drink in one go.
When Tyler flips through Jeremy's notebook, his pulse quickens and he can feel it in his throat when he swallows. He keeps flipping, turning the book away from the girls, who are looking more than a little weirded out—and, Tyler thinks with savage pleasure, Sarah's definitely not looking at Jeremy like she wants to eat him anymore—right to the back of the sketchbook.
On the last page, small, in the corner, is a sketch of Tyler at the Mystic Grill, face bent over his phone, sunlight hitting his left cheekbone, his hair so dark it seems to absorb the rest of the light in the picture. Tyler's mouth opens slightly and he licks his suddenly dry lips. Jeremy has captured something here, the darkness that Tyler's been grasping at. He slams the book shut.
"You still sketch, Tyler?" Jeremy asks. His tone is a challenge but his eyes are nervous, skirting away up the wall, and Tyler shoots him what he hopes is a cocky grin.
"Come on," he says. "I'll show you." I'll show you mine if you show me yours pops into his mind, and he is very aware of how his hands shake as he closes the door to the study and then shoves Jeremy up against the wall hard.
He watches Jeremy's face turn red and feels the same savage pleasure he felt before filling him, overflowing. "I know," Jeremy chokes out, and suddenly Tyler can't control his hands anymore. He shoves away from Jeremy. It's one thing for him to suspect, but for him to know.
Tyler wants his old life back, when all Jeremy Gilbert was was an immature freak who tried to steal Vicky from him, who got high in the woods and who Tyler could laugh at. Not this boy who stands before him now, eyes impossibly dark and chin set, knowing all the things that Tyler wants to keep hidden.
He gives in. There is nothing else to do, but Tyler is surprised at how his shoulders relax when he tells Jeremy everything. Jeremy pushes off the wall and comes to sit beside him on the couch, gripping his shoulder in a way that makes Tyler lean into the touch.
Then he leans in too far and overbalances, going down on one elbow so his eyes are level with Jeremy's collarbone, and something takes hold inside of Tyler. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's this strange closeness he feels, maybe it's the same thing that reared up in him before. He can certainly feel heat licking at his insides, burning and growing, and he reaches out and nips at the collarbone through Jeremy's shirt.
Jeremy stiffens instantly, his hand going tighter on Tyler's shoulder, nails digging in. But he doesn't let go. He doesn't let go, and as Tyler draws in a ragged breath and pushes himself closer, he smells the mix he smelled before. A whiff of cologne, or maybe it's just deodorant, salty sweat on Jeremy's neck when he pushes his nose up under the tendrils of hair that linger there, that same funky herbal smell.
And as the smell hits his lungs or his bloodstream or whatever it hits, Tyler can't control the heat in his stomach anymore. He rolls over until he's straddling Jeremy there on the couch, one knee shoved up between Jeremy's thighs, and Jeremy's eyes are closed but his mouth is open and he's breathing slow, still clutching onto Tyler's shoulder like he'll fall if he doesn't hold on.
God, he looks beautiful and perfect and horribly ragged all at once, hair mussed and shirt collar stretched down over one shoulder. But Tyler doesn't have time to contemplate his appearance much before he dives in, lips leading the way from Jeremy's exposed shoulder up his neck to his mouth, breath warm and tongue fluid.
There's a shriek rising in him, a giddy exhalation of air that Tyler knows could turn crazy if he lets it out of his mouth. So he just clamps his mouth down harder on Jeremy's, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, hands pressing at Jeremy's chest. Jeremy gasps and Tyler knows he's being too rough but right now he doesn't care.
He is lost in the feel of Jeremy under him, all solidness and hard planes and soft skin. He doesn't want to come to the surface, so he goes deeper, hands riding up inside Jeremy's shirt, brushing ribs and a puckered nipple and Jeremy gasps a different sort of gasp this time.
Then there's a distant click and Jeremy sits up straight, nearly toppling Tyler off the couch. He rolls away, tugging on his shirt as the girls trip into the room, their giggling too loud after the muffled silence.
"Were you two having a moment?" Sarah leans over the couch, her boobs practically bursting from her shirt, and Tyler wants to punch her even though he knows it's wrong to punch a girl.
"No," he says, trying to control his breathing, wiping his bottom lip. "We're good." And the moment is lost. Jeremy stands up, wobbling a little, and Tyler wants to put out a hand to steady him, but he doesn't.
After Sarah's pulled her terrifying prank on the stairs, they go back into the other room. Aimee's hand slinks around Tyler's back, and Tyler forces himself not to push her off him.
Everything will be fine. He'll figure out what the damn moonstone is for, and he won't be inviting Jeremy over again. The confused, knotted feeling in his chest will go away, and he'll want Aimee to tug on the bottom of his shirt, a coy smile on her face and one eyebrow raised.
Then he glances up and sees Jeremy looking at him over the edge of his glass and electric pain shoots through his stomach, tingling more than actually hurting. Jeremy's eyes are steady and he bites his lip. Tyler sighs. He knows he's only fooling himself. Things probably won't be fine for a while, if they're ever fine again.
