I'm back!
Major thanks to my awesome Beta Elle, who basically swooped in and edited this despite her personal stuff. You are the freaking best!
00000
Derek feels unsettled, antsy, something in him not sitting right like a rotten tooth he just doesn't know about yet. It nags at him, steadily building up his frustration and temper.
He manages to hold most of it back while he's with Malia, teaching her how to access her senses and use them as best as she can. Neither of them, nor her coyote contact Joseph, can figure out why she still can't fully shift, but Derek likes to think that if she can just get control of herself in human form then it will carry over to changing her body as well.
As for his own shift, he finds he's using it less and less, not willing to give himself fully to his animal self. Though if he was asked why he wouldn't be able to explain it; just something about it does not sit right with him, like there's something wrong with it.
It just adds to his general state of annoyance, until Derek feels like even the slightest little thing could set him off. He hasn't felt that way in a long time, yet it feels disturbingly right. Like he needs to be hyper aware, angry, and ready to go for when he's needed.
He doesn't even think to wonder by whom, or for what.
So he's not quite sure why he heads to the family vault. He hasn't been there since his mom's birthday and his moment with Peter. Peter...anger burns in his belly, demanding he strike out.
Who did his uncle think he was, leaving them like he had? Leaving his daughter. Did they mean nothing to him? Was he so wrapped up in his...wrong relationship that they didn't matter anymore? Had he forgotten family came first? Especially after all they'd been through?
He only cares for himself, a familiar voice tells him. You know that. He's not your uncle anymore; the fire saw to that.
Yes, yes it had. Peter had even told Derek that himself: the man he used to be had been burned out of him while the rest of the Hales burned around him.
The school's empty for the summer of course, not that Derek really cares, not with a familiar scent—old books and new hints of cold that make some part of Derek want to step back and think, which the rest of him ignores—assaulting his nose.
Opening the vault is as easy as breathing and he leaps down the stairs, eyes darting around before they've even had time to adjust to the change in lighting.
And there's Peter, shelving a book, looking for all the world like nothing's wrong, or changed. Except everything has.
"Peter," Derek snarls, feeling himself shift slightly.
His uncle turns, and arches an all too familiar eyebrow. "I know you and I haven't exactly talked or seen each other in the past month, but does that really mean you need to pull out all the werewolf stops Derek?" Dry amusement fills his voice and tinges his scent.
The anger in Derek gets stoked higher. "What are you doing here?" This was the Hale vault, even if Peter bore the name it wasn't his anymore.
"Research," Peter sighs. "Looking for an impossible answer to a simple question."
Dark satisfaction that for once Peter seems to be failing fills Derek. "Well you need to leave," he punctuates his command with a growl.
Peter bares his teeth, wolf teeth, in response. "Whatever for Derek? I have a right to be here, just as much as you."
Make him pay! He escaped us and we cannot allow it to pass! And Derek knew right where to hit Peter hardest. "No you don't Peter. This is the Hale vault, and as far as I'm concerned you're no longer a Hale. You haven't been since the fire."
"Derek…" Peter's clearly confused, stepping towards him, hand outstretched, as if that would be enough to make things right. "What's wrong?" The false concern coming from Peter makes Derek sick; he doesn't understand what Peter's failing to get from this conversation.
Before Peter can even touch him Derek steps back, letting out more of his own wolf. "Get out!" He roars. "You're not my uncle. My uncle died. He died just like the rest of my family. You might wear his face, and speak in his voice, but you don't smell like him, and you sure as hell don't act like him."
Pain, sweet wonderful pain, explodes from Peter, who seems frozen to the spot.
"If you're not gone in the next five minutes I'm going to kill you, again." It hadn't been easy that first time, too caught up in grief and emotion, but this time Derek thinks he could do it easy. And make sure it stuck, that Peter truly was dead.
Peter growls, and bares his teeth—that small part of Derek wonders why Peter's eyes haven't flashed yet—but moves, only to stop when he steps flush with Derek. "I don't know what's wrong with you Derek, but I'm willing to talk to you again...later."
Lies! His heart is a quagmire that consumes all you give it. There is no room in that selfish shell for concern or love!
Derek's so caught up in himself that he doesn't even realize Peter's left until he blinks and realizes how dark it's gotten in the vault.
Sinking to his knees, Derek stares at the concrete floor and tries not to cry for some reason.
000
Peter storms into the house. Intent on heading upstairs and…well he's not exactly sure what he'll do, but he certainly needs to do something.
Except before he can even hit the stairs, Vee's before him, blocking his way. "Move," he snarls, his fangs making him sound more menacing.
She snarls right back, some of her human shell falling away to show off a forked tongue and needle-sharp teeth. "No." She crosses her arms. "I'm not letting you take all that anger up to Lydia."
The need to protect Lydia—even from himself—wars with the rage bubbling up inside him, causing him to snarl again, "I outrank you." It's even true on various counts.
Not that Vee's intimidated; uncrossing her arms she sets one of her hands on his chest, pushing just enough to show that she's stronger than she looks. "You and I can either go outside and spar, or you can beat dough into submission. But I'm not going to let you upstairs until you've calmed down."
"Outside," he snaps, spinning around and storming through the house to the back door. He barrels past Seph, who squeaks and presses herself against the wall—the miniscule part of him not angry feels a flash of guilt.
On the porch he strips off his shirt, shoes, and socks before storming to the patch of grass they've marked off for training.
Vee joins him about a minute later, her features appearing calm and unworried. She comes to a stop a few feet away from him and shifts her weight slightly.
He lunges, claws extended, intent on ending this quickly. Even with his rage he won't kill her though; he's not that mindless.
She bats him away easily, her hand pushing his shoulder sending him sprawling.
He's up in a second however and diving for her again, not exactly catching her off guard, but he gets an 'in' as it were. Her hand rises up to shove him off and he sinks his teeth into the meat of her arm.
A hiss escapes her but her hand's in his hair, talons digging into his scalp and jerking his head back, tearing his teeth from her arm. In the same move she tosses him away towards the lake, his body sliding to a halt in the sand.
Leaping up his nose flares at the scents of blood and smoke, he's still close enough that he can tell she's already starting to heal, though the wound is still dripping blood, which hardly deters him as he goes for her again.
Overall he has no idea how long they fight—and it truly is a fight—but in the end Vee pins him to the grass. "Better?" Her breath is ragged, and Peter feels a burst of pride that he at least put up a good fight.
But he gives serious thought to the question. The rage is still there—he highly doubts it's going away anytime soon—but it has calmed some, enough that he feels more like himself. He slaps the ground and she lets him go. Rolling over he stares at the cloudless sky, squinting from the sun. "Yes."
"Do you want to talk about why you came home looking like you might kill something?" Her tone is casual, but he can feel her gaze intently upon him.
"You're not my uncle." Anger and pain lance through him again at Derek's words. "No," it sounds petulant though, like in even saying that he's not getting his way.
Vee doesn't press though, and seconds later she's standing above him, one of her hands reaching out to help him up. Even if his body is healing it's not healing as fast as he'd like, so he groans slightly as he takes the offered hand, his body protesting the sudden movement as she yanks him up.
"I appreciate it." Despite the fact that Jordan and Vee—and Lydia when she wants to work on her self-defense—spar regularly, Peter doesn't often take part. So it does feel good to let loose and not have to worry too much about seriously injuring his opponent. In fact Vee looks more healed than he is.
She waves her hand. "Not a problem. It was fun."
In silence they return to the house, Vee to the kitchen—where he hears Seph insisting Vee wash her hands before cooking again—and Peter upstairs. Stripping completely he takes a quick shower, then towels off and climbs into bed.
Lydia stretches and blinks at him, probably woken up by the shower. "Hey, what's up?"
Her question is unexpected, and he finds himself automatically checking the bond to make sure it didn't accidentally slip open. "What makes you think something's wrong?"
She turns over, cuddling against his side, and inside him his wolf howls with joy. "Please Peter, I know you all too well." Her hand settles on his chest, fingers tracing abstract designs on it. While he buries his nose in her hair, greedily taking in her comforting chilly scent and the muskiness from her pregnancy.
Just thinking of that fills him with terror and elation. The idea of him being able to actually being a father is one he doesn't exactly want to contemplate; let alone the fact that he loves these two people far more than he probably has any right too, even if they've chosen time and again to stand by his side.
It's just...he's terrified he'll screw up again, and that this time it really will be the final straw. And kids, well, it's a commitment he didn't ever expect honestly with these two.
A sigh escapes him. "Derek and I fought."
Her expression is clearly taken aback, which Peter firmly agrees with. It had taken him completely by surprise as well.
"Tell me." Even though she doesn't say 'please' it's clearly a request; one he finds he's more inclined to honor than Vee's straightforward question.
But he does tell her, about how he'd gone into the vault again to see if there was a book there he had yet to comb through about werewolves getting tattoos. He'd run into Derek on the way out after an hour's fruitless searching, and well… "Derek apparently had some choice words for me." Even with her he finds he's not willing to go any more in-depth than that, afraid what emotions repeating those words might revive in him.
Lydia presses a kiss to his shoulder, but doesn't say anything.
000
"You're not focused." Coming from Danu it doesn't quite sound like criticism, but it doesn't stop Lydia from flushing slightly.
"Sorry." She turns her attention back to the femur in her hands. Danu was trying to teach her how to actually activate the sparks in bones, but no matter how much she focuses all she can think about is Peter.
With a sigh she gives up. "Sorry, I don't think I can do this right now." She feels a little bad about it, but she's getting better at accepting her boundaries, at least when it comes to banshee stuff.
Danu nods and takes the femur from Lydia, respectfully putting it back in the box with all of the other bones. The hem of her indigo sundress flutters as she stands. "Would you like to talk about it? I just bought a chamomile tisane that seems well suited to the situation."
"You don't have to share," Lydia demurs as she stands too. Recently Danu's been insisting on more 'formal' conversation between the both of them—to train Lydia, according to Danu.
"I insist," Danu replies as she leads the both of them out of the study.
Lydia tilts her head slightly. "Then I accept."
Together they went into the kitchen. "Where's Brian?" Even though it's been over a month since she found out, Lydia still finds it strange that Danu has a pet pig.
"Outside." Danu sets the kettle on to boil and begins pulling out the usual sweets that seem to accompany every faerie meal. She scoops the dried leaves into the pot and pours the hot water in, moving it to the table to steep before bring everything else over and taking a seat. "So, what is bothering you?"
"Peter," Lydia answers with a sigh. At the beginning of their relationship she'd thought any problems they'd have would be mainly external, with maybe one or two personal bumps. Yet here they are.
It's become clear he's ecstatic over the baby. Why else would he dote on her and cuddle nearly every night? But…there's still a wariness about him that frustrates her.
However, she's not sure if she wants to be going to Danu for relationship advice. There is the practical problem though. "We, well Peter mostly, have been trying to figure out a way to tattoo him that doesn't involve burning it on to his skin." She definitely knows why he'd rather avoid that.
Danu hums and pours the tea, the pale golden liquid steaming slightly. "Have you asked your mother?"
Lydia blushes and picks up her mug to hide behind. "No."
"Have you told her you're pregnant?" Breaking a gingersnap in half Danu pops half of it into her mouth.
"No," Lydia mutters into her mug. She's actually anxious about telling people; there are bad things afoot in Beacon Hills and it feels like the fewer people that know the better.
Another hum from Danu, this one a little judgy. "Well I may know of a way, though I've never attempted it on a werewolf."
Lydia starts, nearly sloshing her tea. "You do?" Granted it had never occurred to Lydia that Danu might have a solution. She's only ever thought of her in terms of banshee things; Lydia feels embarrassed and chastised at the same time.
"Mmm, yes. While I do not know about modern tattooing practices, centuries ago many fae were having the same sort of problem—their healing rejecting the process. But if you have the right ingredients and know the spells it is possible to make them permanent." She finishes off her gingersnap.
"Would you be willing to do it?" Danu's already done so much for her, Lydia feels almost bad for asking her to do more.
Danu inclines her head slightly. "Yes I would. But you must buy the ingredients and the tools."
That sounds like a fair trade. "What do I need?"
000
Peter doesn't know whether or not he should be amused or frustrated that all he had to do to find the answer to his search was hunt down Lydia's teacher and ask her.
They're sitting outside. Having insisting it would be better, Danu pulled some chairs from the porch onto the grass. There's a small table next to them too, with all of the supplies Lydia'd bought the other day laid out on it. Danu's standing in front of it, hands moving as she mixes and blends, muttering to herself all the while.
For a change Jordan's the one sitting in his lap—insisting he'd be better able to take whatever Peter needed to do to deal with the pain—and Lydia is leaning against both their legs, looking like she's asleep.
He's still not sure how he feels about her pregnancy, but it's becoming easier to think about as the days pass. Easier to let himself be more affectionate with the both of them, like his wolf wants. Easier to realize that he won't exactly be alone in raising this child, and that Lydia and Jordan have just as much a stake in this as him.
"Where shall we be doing the first one?" Danu's question tosses him from his train of thought and he looks up at her standing next to him, a bowl in her hands. He holds up his right arm. "The forearm." He lays it flat on the arm of the chair.
"And the design?"
The three of them have gone back and forth over what they wanted, and where; they'd come to an agreement before they'd even known Lydia was pregnant. But Jordan speaks before Peter does, his hand coming up and fingers tracing shapes across Peter's skin. "A yew tree." He traces upwards. "With branches in full green." His fingers move down to stroke the pulse at Peter's wrist. Peter buries his face in the crook of Jordan's neck, setting his teeth lightly into the skin there. "And roots here."
"Then hold the bowl please." Peter hears something slosh a little as, he assumes, Jordan takes the bowl.
He hears footsteps retreat and return, then the sound of something stirring. "This will hurt," Danu warns, though it hardly sounds as if Danu's trying to reassure him. Not that he really wants to be reassured at the moment.
Feeling Danu's fingers trace something on his arms, Peter pulls his face away from Jordan, not to watch as Danu hammers ink into his skin murmuring to herself all the while, but to stare out across the yard towards the lake. He can see Seph sitting at the lake's shore, studiously watching Danu's pet pig.
The sight of the pig had certainly caught him off guard at first, at least until he remembered his gran's stories, and who Danu's husband was. Although considering the fae seemed basically immortal, why Manannán mac Lir would keep supposedly immortality granting pigs was odd, but he decides it's best not to ask Danu if killing and eating Brian would make him temporarily immortal, at least not while she was tattooing him.
For now the pain of the needle going in and out is manageable, but it's already starting to build on itself the more she works. Danu had told him before that this would all have to be done in one go, no stopping for a few days before continuing, so he expects there will be more pain later on.
However in the grand scheme of things this hurt far less than being burned alive had.
As the minutes start building into hours the pain becomes almost background sensation. He can't ignore it, but it's not exactly taking up his every thought.
Lydia had gotten up a half hour ago and is still walking around the yard. He finds his eyes tracking her, making sure she's alright. Tearing his gaze away from her (she'll be fine, there are four other people who can look after her while he's caught up in this) he finally looks down, surprised to see that Danu's nearly finished with his yew tree tattoo.
The brown branches swirl and interweave with each other, tiny green needles covering them all, reaching up to the crook of his arm; Danu's still clearly working on the roots, which encircle his wrist like a shackle. He's relieved that it actually seems to be working though. The tattoo exactly as it should be, which he considers a wonder.
Danu pulls her hands away. The needle-like device she's using goes into the half-full bowl of ink in Jordan's hands, while the small hammer gets dropped in Jordan's lap. Her hands then clamp onto Peter's arm and she speaks a word in a language he doesn't know. The pain builds in an instant, and he can feel himself start to wolf out, claws digging into Jordan's side. He'll make it up to the other man later.
But when Danu removes her hands the tattoo's clearly done, almost innocuous looking there on his arm; except when Peter stares at it all he can think about is Jordan, Erwann, the man who's also a tree, who happily submits to Peter, but isn't afraid of standing up for himself, or speaking his mind. The man who's willingly admitted, and repeated, that he loves Peter.
Peter tears his eyes away, feeling shaken, though not in a bad way.
"You are going to have to move Erwann," Danu's voice breaks through his train of thought.
There's a moment of shuffling, and then Peter's offering up his other forearm.
"And on this arm?"
Lydia is by his side, her fingers trace a design as well; but unlike where Jordan's was smooth and sinuous, her lines are short, and jagged. "My scream," she says simply. It had taken her a while to find a studio that could actually record the sound, but she eventually had and Peter had to admit there was something strange about seeing a physical representation of that sound.
Danu gets a curious expression on her face, but nods. Picking up her needle she swirls it around the bowl a few times, muttering and he stares as the ink in the bowl shifts colors from the brown it had been to a dark blue.
She taps the needle against the side of the bowl three times, then dips the needle in again. He pulls his eyes away as he feels the needle press into his skin.
Unlike the tree, the sound wave doesn't take all that long, for which Peter is grateful. Danu goes through the same ritual as she did finishing the previous one, and like that they're done.
Peter can't really take his eyes off them, though he can't quite pinpoint why that's so. They make him happy, which if he's honest with himself he finds vaguely disturbing. His life's been one fucked up event after another since, well, college apparently.
In fact he's half afraid something will go wrong with Jordan and Lydia, that this is just the calm before the storm.
"Peter?" He starts, looking around to see Danu and her pig have clearly left, and it's just the three of them in the yard. Lydia's standing in front of him and Jordan, holding out her hand. "Come on, let's go inside."
He takes her hand.
000
The three of them are curled up naked and mostly submerged in their water filled tub. Jordan and Lydia on either side of Peter, who still looks a little dazed from what just happened. Peter's eyes darting to each of his forearms where Danu had put the tattoos.
Then again Jordan finds himself drawn to them too, the sweeping and tangled curls of the yew tree on Peter's right, and the sharp jagged lines of the sound of Lydia's scream on his left. Looking at them makes Jordan feel...well like he does whenever the scar on his own forearm catches his eye, warm and aware of how much he's cared for.
And now Peter has that too, or at least Jordan hopes he does, wondering if this might be enough to get the man to admit he loves them; Jordan knows Peter does, but for some reason Peter still won't admit it.
Jordan won't press, knowing all too well that pressing won't get Peter to open up. With an internal sigh he reaches out across Peter and Lydia and traces a finger over one of the yew's branches, making Peter shiver.
Lydia stirs as well, her eyes fluttering open. None of them have nightmares thanks to the charm Lydia made, but that doesn't stop Lydia from being tired thanks to the pregnancy.
Just thinking that fills him with joy and a tinge of worry. He and Yvonne had know for what seemed like forever that of the two of them only he would be able to produce children, and it never failed that about once a century she'd gently rib him for nieces and nephews to dote on.
And now he is, and a vast new plain of potentially terrifying 'what ifs?' has been opened up to him.
The child might not even be his; not that he still won't love them when they're born. If it's not biologically his child they've still already agreed that both he and Peter will still be 'dad'.
Lydia talking pulls him from his musings. "What're you doing now?" She yawns and one of her hands comes to rest on his arm, right over his bite scar.
"Just thinking," Jordan answers readily.
Peter gives a quiet snort. "Feeling like I might fall asleep myself."
A soft laugh leaves Lydia. "Of the two of us I'm sure I've got a better reason to fall asleep."
"You try getting magical tattoos and see how you feel afterwards," Peter affectionately snaps back, making Jordan laugh.
He watches as Lydia moves, her head burying itself in the crook of Peter's neck and the rest of her moving to straddle him; Jordan's cock twitches in interest. "Well I," she starts, kissing a trail up Peter's neck as Jordan swallows back a sound, "think they're sexy." She lays a kiss on his jawline. "I want you to show them off all the time," she murmurs as she rubs her cheek against his. "Want everyone to see them."
Peter groans and Lydia soon swallows it in a kiss. Part of Jordan wants to just sit back and watch, but the rest want to join it. Leaning in he kisses Lydia's shoulder, tongue darting out to lap up some of the water beading on her skin.
As he moves across her back with his mouth he can feel Lydia hum in pleasure. He faintly feels her hips rolling against Peter's cock. Peter's hands leave the rim of the tub, sinking under the water to grasp Lydia's hips.
He breaks their kiss. "Playing a dangerous game sweetheart."
"With you two?" Jordan can just imagine the smile on her face. "Always. Jordan?"
Now he's the one humming, leaving off lavishing attention on her shoulders to rest his cheek on her shoulder. "Yes Lydia?"
"Be a dear and get the lube and condoms?"
He groans, and turning his head he kisses her shoulder, then leans over her to kiss Peter on the mouth and gets an eager response. With a sigh he pulls away and stands up, sending water sloshing.
Climbing out of the tub he doesn't bother drying off, leaving a trail of wet footsteps as he heads towards where all the sex stuff is. Behind him he can hear kissing and sounds of pleasure, arousing him even more.
So he snatches up both items, making sure the lube isn't water based, and hurries back, eager to rejoin in any capacity he can, or feels like. In his absence Peter and Lydia have really started to go at it, Lydia obviously grinding against Peter as he assaults her breasts.
Blight, but they're so damn attractive. Setting his items in easy reaching distance Jordan rejoins them in the tub, slotting himself against Peter's side and impulsively rutting against the other man's hip.
Peter breaks away from Lydia to chuckle, "Hello to you too Jordan." He turns his head and kisses Jordan on the mouth, teeth digging in just enough to send sparks shooting through him.
One of Peter's hands hooks around his waist to tease at his cock "You know," Peter says almost conversationally, "I do believe I owe you for earlier."
Jordan arches into the touch, a low groan of his own escaping. "What, what do you mean?" As far as he knows Peter doesn't owe him anything.
Peter's hand leaves his cock, much to his disappointment, and slides to his hip, stroking the skin there. "Mmm." Just through the water Jordan can see Lydia has Peter's cock in hand, stroking up and down. Blinking Peter seems to get a better hold of himself. "I went and clawed you all up." His claws stroke against Jordan's skin as if in emphasis.
Hips bucking against Peter, Jordan just groans, causing Peter and Lydia to laugh affectionately. Peter's claws leave his skin. "Up on the rim," Peter orders as his hand slides under Jordan's thigh, encouraging Jordan up.
So Jordan goes, settling himself on the rim of the tub, as close to Peter as he can. Before he lets himself get too involved with Peter he hands off the condoms and lube to Lydia, who darts up and kisses his chest. "Thank you dear." Almost distantly he hears her pop the cap.
Jordan would respond, except Peter's got his hand around Jordan's cock again and he's turning his head to lean in, and a shout escapes him as Peter's hot mouth slides onto him.
It still manages to surprise him how good Peter's blow jobs are, how each one is a little different from the last. His mind goes a little blank as Peter scrapes one of his fangs up the entire length of him, soothing the hurt with his tongue.
"Fucking, rot!" Somehow he doesn't orgasm, but Peter's obviously happy about the response, humming as he sinks down further.
Peter's movements change slightly and looking down Jordan sees that Lydia's firmly seated on Peter, her hands around Peter's neck as she rocks up and down, breathy moans leaving her with every movement.
Needing to do something with his hands Jordan threads one into Peter's hair, while the other clutches the rim of the tub behind him tightly so he, hopefully, doesn't go falling back.
He quickly feels one of Lydia's hands settle on the one clutching the rim of the tub. Loosening his hold and weaving their fingers together, he squeezes her hand, and gives a whimpering moan as Peter finally wrenches his orgasm from him.
Pulling his head up with an obscene slurp, Peter grins up at Jordan, who can't even muster the effort to roll his eyes. "How do you do that?" Jordan groans, throwing his leg back over the rim and slipping into the tub, somehow managing to stop himself from sliding all the way under.
And for the moment Jordan's content to stay where he is, watching as Peter and Lydia work their way towards orgasm.
Lydia reaches hers first, her head falling forward as she gasps and shudders. From the way she keeps moving up Peter must still be thrusting, but even that soon stops. Jordan's pretty sure Peter hasn't actually orgasmed yet though.
"Peter?" Jordan shimmies back over, watching as Peter lifts Lydia off himself; she groans softly as he settles her against the rim across from them.
Before Jordan can repeat his question he finds himself being subjected to Peter's attentions, namely being pulled onto his lap and kissed senseless. When they break apart Peter dives in, setting his teeth against Jordan's jaw briefly. "I'd rather not bother the baby."
"Oh my god Peter," Lydia's voice somewhere between a groan and a gripe. "They're barely a month old. One orgasm in a condom is hardly going to bother them."
This close up it's hard for Jordan to miss the actual worry that flickers across Peter's face. But Jordan keeps it to himself. Instead he settles his hands on Peter's forearms and brings them to settle on his waist. "Then you'd better hope Lydia didn't use up all the lube."
"The actual worst," Lydia declares from behind him. He and Peter share bemused looks as one of Peter's hands leave his waist to feel about for the lube.
"More to the left," Jordan tells him.
Peter snatches it up, popping the cap as he brings it over. "Hmmm," he frowns. "We might have to get more soon."
"Yes," Lydia sounds drowsy. "Because you're an incubus not a werewolf."
It startles a laugh out of Peter, a blob of lube squirting out onto his fingers. "I'm not sure I should be insulted or pleased."
Jordan starts to reply, but then Peter's fingers probe his ass, cutting off any and all speech. His forehead falls against Peter's as Peter's fingers start to work him open. One finger finally manages to wiggle it's way in to tap at his prostate.
A shuddering moan leaves him as Peter continues his assault, and Jordan finds he agrees with Lydia: the actual worst. Peter takes his time too, going slow and steady when all Jordan wants is hard and fast.
In the hopes that it might spur Peter on, Jordan moves his head up and sinks his teeth into the meat of Peter's shoulder.
Peter jerks, swearing—more from surprise than pain, but the two fingers he currently has in Jordan split, scissoring him and his cock pulses against Jordan's thigh. Lydia laughs at the both of them. "He's learning," she sounds pleased and fond; and lazy-warm happiness spools in his veins at the sentiment.
"I'd like to hear you say that when he bites you." Peter grunts out, his fingers moving again; Jordan groans into Peter's shoulder.
Lydia hums, the water around them sloshing slightly. "Oh please, like Jordan would ever bite me." She sounds downright smug about it.
As Peter's fingers leave Jordan, he lets go Peter's shoulder and turns to see Lydia in much the same position Jordan had been in earlier. And just because he can Jordan leans over slightly and sets his teeth into her shoulder—albeit not as hard or deep as with Peter.
"Hey!" Lydia sounds so offended that Jordan can't help but join in with Peter's laughter. Lydia pouts at the both of them, and Jordan ducks down again to kiss and nuzzle at the faint marks he'd left, as if to console her.
But he gets pulled away by Peter, who lifts him up easily. "Lydia, be a dear and help out?"
"I don't see why I should when you're both being horrible men," she huffs, but seconds later Peter groans and Jordan finds himself being lowered.
A hiss leaves Jordan as Peter starts sliding in, the condom making things feel smoother than usual. Needing to do something with his hands, Jordan weaves one into Peter's hair, clutching tightly, the other he uses to grab one of Lydia's. His breath leaves him in shuddering gasps with each of Peter's thrusts, and a guttural cry leaves him when Peter's claws dig into his hips and Peter orgasms.
"I really do love you," he pants into Peter's neck, laying a brief kiss against the pulsing vein there.
Peter stills for a second, then relaxes. "I know."
...
Later, after they've all dried off and curled up into bed, Jordan decides it's now or never; otherwise he feels he might just forget. So he extracts himself from the pile they've turned into—commiserating with Peter and Lydia's groans—and pads over to the dresser.
Nerves coil in his stomach as he pulls out the small jeweler's box and carries it back to the bed.
He sits, scooting across the blankets until his hip presses against Peter's waist, but doesn't lay back down. "Lydia?" He hopes she hasn't fallen asleep again.
Her eyes flutter open and she blinks sleepily at him. "Yeah?" She repositions herself so she's more on top of Peter, whose eyes are staring at the both of them intently.
"This is for you." He holds out the box.
It's probably a bit of a cliche, but it also feels right. Peter now has his tattoos, and he and Lydia have their scars; shouldn't he and Lydia have their symbols of affection too, even if jewelry isn't as permanent as scars or tattoos?
"Seph helped me make it." He doesn't know why he's attempting to explain it, except that her accepting this feels permanent, for her; it's already permanent in his mind. "I kind of got the idea from when you graduated and she just helped me work out what I wanted." Seph was a blessing really.
Lydia finally opens the box to reveal a ring, although this one's special. Instead of metal it's made out of twigs, ones just as alive as they'd been when he'd picked them from the oak trees outside.
"Oh Jordan," Lydia sounds a little breathless as she takes the ring out and slips it onto her left ring finger.
He's never considered himself a possessive man, at least not in the same way Peter is, but he feels a bloom of happiness to see her wearing it.
She leans over Peter and kisses him, slow and lazy. When they break apart she's smiling. "I've got something for you too." Peter snorts but the two of them just shove him from both sides. Lydia pulls away and repeats his walk to the dresser, adding a little extra sway in her step, as if she can tell he and Peter are watching her.
When she returns she's also carrying a small jeweler's box. "So it seems like we had the same idea really."
Affectionate laughter comes from all three of them as Jordan takes the box and opens it. Unlike his, her's is metal and instead of being shaped like branches it's a golden crown, with tiny emeralds embedded in it to look like leaves.
He doesn't hesitate before slipping it on, tines pointed inwards so it's always upright to everyone else. "I love it," he tells her, and he does. Now he's the one leaning over Peter to kiss her.
But before the both of them can really get into it they're both yanked back to Peter's sides. "While I would very much like to watch you two, I'm tired, and you'll just keep me up if I let you go on."
More laughter fills the room. "Poor Peter," Lydia coos. "We're ruining his crotchety old man routine." Still she settles against Peter's side, her left hand splayed across his chest.
Jordan does the same, though his position means he can't have his left hand on Peter too. His right hand will just have to do, fingers tangling with Lydia's as he closes his eyes.
Even if all of them haven't admitted it yet, Erwann knows this is love, wholly and truly.
000
Still both curious and confused as to what Lydia's planning, Jordan drives towards the cemetery, wincing at every pothole he goes over, the lid of his trunk bouncing up against the bungee cord holding it shut and scraping against the trunks of the two saplings Lydia sent him to get. "Only a few years old at most Jordan, if they're too old the spell won't work."
As he pulls up to Beacon Hills cemetery he hopes answers will be forthcoming. Pulling out the two saplings he gives them each a burst of magic, hoping to compensate for the rawness from the cord.
"Here." Peter doesn't actually surprise Jordan, but he wasn't exactly expecting the other man. He still gladly lets Peter take one of the saplings, the elder one, while Jordan hoists the black poplar up a bit higher for a better grip.
"Do you have any idea what Lydia's doing?" He asks Peter as they start making their way further in.
Peter snorts. "Nope."
Wonderful, now he feels like this can only end badly.
Eventually they reach Lydia, who's tucked herself away in a little used corner; she's dug a hole, the dirt and shovel still next to it.. "Alright," Jordan says as he and Peter set down the trees, "Young black poplar and elder, just like you asked. Now an explanation would be nice."
Lydia somehow manages a smile. "Hello to you too Jordan. And I thought it was obvious?" She walks over to them and inspects the trees, though for what he has no clue. "I want to try and see if I can replicate your rejuvenation technique."
He steps back, staggered. "What?! Seriously?" He's not doubting the idea that she could do it, but that she somehow figured it out at all amazes the hell out of him. In fact he hadn't thought it could be replicated at all, except possibly by his own children.
"Yes." Inspection seemingly done, Lydia lifts up the elder enough to carry it to the hole. "Peter do you mind being the guinea pig?"
Peter steps over to her. "Not at all sweetheart." There's a strange relieved note in Peter's voice. "What do I need to do?"
"Jordan, I'm going to want your help too," she adds, startling him out of his strange haze. "You and Peter plant the tree. Make sure it'll actually survive and grow here."
Jordan can do that. He joins Peter and together they unwrap the burlap. As they move the tree Jordan runs his fingers through the roots, luring them out of the slight shock they'd been in and encouraging growth.
Peter grabs the shovel while Jordan sets the tree into the hole. He keeps his hands on it as Peter starts shoveling in dirt, making sure the roots aren't too tightly packed or that there isn't any air. When they finish they look to Lydia again.
"Now comes the not so fun part," she pulls out a knife. "I'm going to need your blood Peter, or at least some of it." A ghost of a smile crosses her lips at her poor joke.
Peter throws his arms wide, tossing aside the shovel at the same time. "Where do you want it from?"
Lydia chews her lip, clearly having to think about it. Jordan at least isn't going to try and rush her; magic like this needed to be done at it's own pace. "The arm should be fine," she finally answers, moving to approach them.
Peter offers her his left arm, and grabbing hold of it with her free hand Lydia walks them both over to the tree. Nerves crackle through Jordan, not sure he's really liking where this might be going. Although he does hope it works; he thinks he'd be hard pressed to find anything that could really hurt Lydia, but Peter? Well for all that he'd consumed fae food, and bound himself to them, he's still 'human' from the fae perspective, and so far too easily killed.
The copper smell of blood grows strong enough that even Jordan can smell it a few feet away. Because of Peter's healing Lydia keeps having to make the same cut over and over again, and Jordan finds that despite all he's seen in over a thousand years of living it makes him sick to his stomach to see.
But Lydia soon stops, falling to her knees and laying her hands on the blood soaked earth. Peter staggers over to Jordan who moves to support him. "Are you alright?"
"Nothing a rare steak and a good night's rest won't cure," Peter replies with a wan smile.
Jordan's only half comforted. Both of them turn their attention to Lydia, who's muttering to herself. If Peter can catch the words he doesn't say anything.
The air around them starts to get colder—whether from Lydia's winter powers or her banshee ones is hard to tell—until Jordan can see his own breath. Granted, it's actually kind of nice considering the heat wave they're going through.
An audible pop fills the area, and Lydia falls back. Jordan finds himself torn between supporting Peter and helping Lydia, but Lydia makes the decision for him, standing on her own.
During that brief moment the elder sapling began to glow, the whole of it appearing to go through a few years rapid growth.
But then the glow vanishes, and next to him Peter gasps as the tree withers away into dust.
Lydia turns them them, her expression confused and scared. "That wasn't supposed to happen."
00000
Next week: confrontations, and reveals.