the beast you've made of me
Written for August Fic Challenge 2023, Prompt: Moonlight. Established Relationship. Can technically probably tie in to my other BWOC fic, 'head in the clouds but my gravity's centered'. Title from 'Howl' by Florence + The Machine. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!
"God, Mert," Tommy breathes, still rocking into him, his fingers leaving bruises on Merton's hips, only just drawing blood where his claws have crept out. "You don't even know what you do to me, to the wolf. It's like… The wolf wants you covered in my scent, more than you usually are. In my clothes… fuck," he growls, "Wants to mark you, claim you, let everyone know you're mine. Always mine. Want to keep you like this, stay inside you, drive you wild."
Merton is mostly just along for the ride at this point. Tommy can go for so long, thanks to his werewolf stamina. Usually when it's like this, he comes at least three or four times, and he's sore, oversensitive, overstimulated. It's all he can do to keep up with Tommy's brutal pace – and even then, after a particularly long brush over his prostate, he loses the battle, and he groans as his knees give out on him.
But Tommy's there, always there, arms curling under his body to pull him back to his knees, pull him up until his back is flush to Tommy's chest, held securely in place.
"Oh, fuck," he manages, as the new angle gives him even more pleasure.
"The wolf wants you so much," Tommy says, his voice is a low and guttural against Merton's neck, too sharp teeth teasing over his skin even though they both know he can't bite. "Wants you to run, wants to chase you through the forest, catch you, hold you down, take you there under the full moon."
Merton shivers at the thought, little more than a boneless, breathless mess in Tommy's arms as the other boy finally comes inside him, claws digging into his hips a little deeper now.
It's not always like this. Merton's not quite sure he could survive if it were like this every time. No, only when the wolf gets riled up – possessive, protective, of its mate, too close to the full moon to be entirely human. Still, Tommy always takes care of him in the aftermath. When the wolf has finished with him, Tommy will carry him to the bathroom, climb into the shower with him, clean him up. He'll practically worship him with kisses, tending to whatever minor wounds he's caused, before he coaxes him to bed, curls around him, lets him sleep and tonight is no different.
Merton has a plan.
As far as plans go, it may not be a good plan, but it is, nonetheless, a plan.
And he means to stick to it no matter how much that little voice inside his head tells him that it is actually a very terrible plan and that he should scrap it all now before it's too late. He's very good at ignoring that little voice.
So.
The day of the next full moon, he ditches his appallingly boring history lecture and goes out to the area where Tommy likes to run on wolf nights. The forest there, on the edge of a state park, is too dense to draw much casual interest from the public. Not when there are better places in other nearby parks to picnic, to camp, to hike, to fish. Therefore, Merton is not surprised to find that, even on this pleasantly chilly autumn afternoon, the place is deserted.
Nothing more than the distant sound of birdsong and the wind through the colorful leaves.
"Perfect," Merton observes, carefully working a path through the weeds and trees. He hikes for a while, until eventually, he finds a clearing – it's just what he needed.
Everything he needs is in the backpack slung over his shoulder. There is a change of clothes, a few water bottles, a few snacks, a blanket, a flashlight, some cursory first aid supplies. He settles the bag in the nook of a nearby tree and waits until the sun starts to get low in the sky.
Tommy will be here soon.
He spends a long few moments preparing himself with as much lube as he can manage, so they'll have one less thing to do in the moment because he's not entirely if the wolf will have that kind of patience on a night like tonight. He's already wearing a pair of Tommy's old jeans, and one of Tommy's old t-shirts. Things that won't be missed when they face inevitable ruin.
Darkness sets in all around him, and somewhere off in the distance he hears a familiar howl.
He takes a deep breath, well aware that he is playing a dangerous game.
He walks away from the clearing, toward the direction he thinks Tommy is in.
And then he runs.
And runs.
And…
The wolf chases.
It doesn't take long for Merton to become aware of the wolf's eager pursuit, but he's sure the only reason he notices it at all is because Tommy wants him to. He's sure nothing else Tommy hunts in these woods gets such a heads up. But he hears it, the sound of branches breaking somewhere off to his left, a low rumbly growl closing in on him.
Merton makes himself run harder, wants to make it good for the wolf, for Tommy.
He only just barely manages to dodge away from an attempt to grab him, buys himself a few more seconds, a few more yards of time and distance between them before he feels himself tacked to the ground by Tommy's familiar form. He is promptly pinned down in the grass of the clearing, the full moon glowing brightly overhead.
Claws shred his t-shirt into tatters, the remnants still hanging loosely from his shoulders and neck. The jeans don't last much longer, promptly torn away from his body by Tommy's desperate hands. None of it is gentle, and that's fine.
Tommy takes him with a feral howl.
And it's… a lot.
He's sure Tommy has never been so out of control of the wolf than right now. Claws rake at his hips and over his stomach leaving red scratches littered over his skin. Bruises bloom red where his grip is too strong, and all Merton can do is brace himself through it all.
"You're crazy," Tommy growls at him, when he's a little more himself. Tommy's fingers weave into Merton's wild hair. He pulls Merton's head back and Merton leans into it obligingly, bearing his neck as Tommy kisses it.
"Probably," Merton concedes, but he reaches back and pulls Tommy forward, maneuvering carefully around the fangs for a kiss. "Yeah."