by Zakarrie C
“Phin…” Jake brushed his name across his lips as he pulled free, but only to smudge his mouth across Phin’s jaw…down his neck to fasten at the pulse pounding there. A god-awful groan crawled up his throat as Jake started to slither backwards, an incendiary smear of skin on skin that set his own aflame. He’d never felt more desperate to touch, taste, take.
His capitulation had but fuelled the need: it was an alcoholic let loose on a free bar. A raging thirst that could never be sated. Greedier, now that oblivion was oh, so near…for they had no intention of stopping. Ever. Phin arched off the bed with a sharp gasp when the tongue Jake had been trailing down his chest alighted on satin-suede flesh that puckered in an instant, allowing him to trap it with teeth that tugged a torrent of pleas from Phin’s lips.
“Jack…” he gasped. “Please, don’t stop, I need—aah!”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to…” Jake groaned, his senses so engorged on the scent filling—fulfilling—every fibre of their being that insanity beckoned if he tried to defy the need. As binding as an enchantment. Sentiments he would have considered hyperbole—too far-fetched to be feasible—before…Jack? Phin? Either, both, but that didn’t make them any less true. Or real.
“Hmm…I’m glad…” Phin’s whisper-soft sigh was a symphony of sound. His skin, a silken snare. Jake shuffled back, tracing the rails of his ribs with tip of his tongue, cinnamon sugar growing saltier by the second; their sweat slick, the feverish flesh his chest ghosted across as he dipped his head to dapple in Phin’s belly button. He was trembling, strung so tight he barely seemed able to breathe. All Jake could hear were scrappy wisps of air escaping suspended inhalations shot through with sharp gasps. His heart was hammering so hard, Jake might have feared for Phin’s welfare, had he never exuded more life. A vitality Jake could scent, taste, as he trailed his tongue down the tantalizing trickle of hair that made Phin’s hips spasm and his breath cut off completely. Jack clamped his palms to the top of lean thighs and buried his nose in scratchy-soft curls steeped in one hundred percent proof Phin.
“Jack!”
“Hmmm?” he hummed, swiping a luxurious sluice along Phin’s twitching cock.
“No more. Just, please…now…”
“I’ve wanted nothing more…from the very first.” Jake admitted, in a rasp far too close to a canid snarl for comfort.
“Then why…?”
“Because I wanted you Too Much. Much too much to believe it could possibly be right.” Jake lifted his head, too deranged to care that his eyes looked inhuman. A fact too luminous to allow himself to hope otherwise, with the rest of the room cloaked in velvet darkness. “Surely you know how that feels…?”
“Yes…” Phin’s smile was a brief flicker of sadness, before those inimitable eyes twinkled with mischief in mind. “Is Foxy okay?”
“Yes…” Jake sounded as surprised as he felt; that it was true…but also because Phin had not only done wondering, he’d done so aloud.
Jack huffed a happy sigh, a small whine of want following in its slipstream.
“Good. I’m glad… Jack, I don’t want to do waiting any more…please?”
Jack huffed in agreement, lifting his muzzle off his paws to regard Jake with his get on with it, shit for brains face.
“No, nor do we…” Their chuckle sounded like a trickle of treacle.
41. Phin
Phin was wound so twang-tight that something would snap if Jack stopped now; there would be nowhere for all the too muchness to go. The knot in the pit of his guts ratcheted up another notch, shooting sparks along his spine and tingles through his body.
Not even making their customary racket could be enough now…not with the promise of what could be fizzing through his veins, shimmering in the sliver of air separating them still.
“Where are you going?” Phin humphed when Jack scrambled up and slid off the bed. The cosh of cold air felt akin to being clobbered.
“Nowhere…”
He could hear foraging, but it was too dim to see what Jake was doing, now he’d snaffled his eyes away, plunging Phin into darkness. “…that you wouldn’t be grateful for.” The grin in Jake’s voice was as audible as whatever thudded onto the duvet beside Phin’s thigh. His own smile? Was unseemly with triumph when Phin curled his fingers around cool plastic. “Now that is a cat with the cream face, if I ever saw one,” Jake’s chuckle was Death By Chocolate Cake. Glistening with hot-fudge sauce.
“You can see my face? Duh, I’m a daftie, of course you can. I keep doing forgetting.”
“I’m glad that you can—do forgetting—I mean.” Jake sighed, sobering in an instant. “I don’t…want you to think of me as a…freak.”
“A freak? That’s barmy-bonkers. You’re still you—knowing doesn’t make you different from before. Not to me. Food doesn’t do tasting different if you know the recipe, does it? Anyhoo…’nuff nattering, I’m starving. I want my sandwich.”
“Your what?” Jake gaped.
“When you kept doing worrying, it was like having a wasp buzzing round my head stopping me from scoffing my sandwich.”
“Is there a particular sandwich filling that tickles your fancy, Sir?” Jake smirked.
“Jack, I’m so starved, I can’t do caring. I’ll have the Chef’s Special.”
“Strewth, no pressure there then…” Those burning blues flared as if someone had turned their gas up.
“Oh, shurru—hmmm…” Phin made a most unseemly noise when Jake grasped a bicep and flipped him onto his front before he could do so much as blink. “Jake…? Just how fast can you move…?”
“Very…very fast…” Was a whisper of blowtorch breath at Phin’s ear. Then it was gone, and Jack was tugging his hips up to prop Phin onto his knees. He’d scarce got his balance before almost falling flat on his face when Jack swept a searing sluice along the hypersensitive skin behind his balls… Up, up, up, to flicker at what felt as if ’twas pulsing with impatience. Doing waiting was never Phin’s best thing, but blimey, he’d waited a lifetime (in the last three days) for this. For him.
“Ooh…” Hands, hot, clasped cool cheeks and tugged them apart a tad, then oh, help… “Aah!” He was never ever going to do getting accustomed to that. Even if he was fortunate ’nuff to do finding out… Was that even possible?
The whole world had done narrowing to his own butt again. The hyperfocus; fixed on the tongue flickering at his very core, doing prodding, before plunging inside with a scorch of breath-snatching bliss that sent shock-shivers here, there ’n’ everywhere. From the roots of Phin’s hair to the tips of his toes; he felt as if he’d been plugged in and the power cranked to max hypercharge. His head might do blowing up before the best bit. Well…Phin bloomin’ hoped it was about to be served up…having bided way too much time on the bench of sexing shenanigans already. The swirling was driving him demented—or delirious—it was tricky to tell. If matters didn’t do progressing in a sharpish sort of fashion, he would be fit for nothing but a fancy buckled coat (far better that, than orange overalls; an evil sure to do finishing Phin off. Not in a fun way).
Much to the relief of his last marble, his right hip was released, and the mind-mangling tongue left a hollow ache in its wake; about the only thing on Earth Phin would have done noticing roundabout then. On accounts of the fiery fingertip Jack did trailing down the valley of Phin’s darkest, most delectable, dreams.
“Okay?” Jack rumbled when he heard Phin’s choked-off squelch, aspiring to be a swallow. His throat—tighter than his hyperstrung everything else—seemed dead set on doing strangling him. A fate that would be an itty bit typical, it must be admitted.
He’d been so, so scared Jake would stop…so afraid he would find himself abandoned to the darkness with naught but wasps for company as somewhere downstairs, a door did slamming on his dreams.
“Yessss…” Phin managed to croak. A word he would have communicated if he’d had to carve it on his butt with a switchblade. It was then that the press of a slick fingertip—at lo
ng last made its presence felt—where he craved it more than air in his lungs. Fact.
Sooo, it was p’raps for the best that there was no need to do choosing…
Oh, so slowly Jake slid his finger inside, sending white-hot shivers skittering here, there ’n’ everywhere. Phin’s eyes did rolling back in his head, too dazed, dazzled and far too beset by hypermuch to do facing forwards—let alone their focusing thing—any time soon. “Hhmorrre…” It felt sooo much better than Phin’s experimentings…but then, Jake made everything more magical, just by being Jake. Even the world seemed warmer, while bathing in blue.
“Y’okay?” Jake murmured, releasing Phin’s other hip to slip the hand beneath him and enclose his cock in a sure fist.
“Jake!”
“Too much?”
“Jus…don’t move it.” Phin gasped. A dark chuckle tickled his back as Jake began to swivel the finger before starting a smooth sweep of back and forth, far too slow to endure for long. “Morrre…” The finger retreated and Phin held his breath, hoping harder than his cock; a feat in itself. One that reaped fruits aplenty when Jake inserted a second alongside the first. They did burning a bit, but it wasn’t a bad burn, more of a searing stretch. Their slowness was excruciating.
How the bejeezus Jake was supposed to do fitting, Phin had no idea. He was just getting used to wiggling digits doing a scissoring swirl when Jake did brushing a spot that made a bomb go off in Phin’s brain. It sure felt as if it had exploded when sparks sizzled up his spine and set off a fit of the fizzy fidgets and a swift visit to heaven, or thereabouts. “Jaaaake!” Phin screeched so loud he might have done blushing a bit if he wasn’t too busy doing visiting. “Please…” he panted, “Now…need, ah!”
“You sure?”
“I was sure two days ago!” Phin squawked. Jake’s devilish chuckle accompanied an abrupt ache so hollow it was a shock to his system. He felt…bereft. “Jake?” His name sliced through the darkness with a razor-sharp rush of something Phin couldn’t name.
“I’m here…” He bent low, hot breath breezing along Phin’s back before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.
“’Kay. Sorry, I-I felt sort of…lost.”
“S’okay…I’ve got you.” His voice was a velvet caress. “Turn over…lie on your back.”
“But I want—”
“I know. Trust me.” Words that oozed reassurance, ringing with surety.
“I do. I always did.”
“I seem to have a lot to live up to, tonight,” Jake sighed, as if he’d been called upon to pull off the impossible feat that was say…buttering a slice of toast. When Phin had shuffled around to flop onto his back, Jake crawled between his thighs and leaned over to grab a couple of pillows. He’d no sooner slipped a palm beneath Phin’s bum to lift it off the bed than done stuffing the pillows beneath it and lowering him onto them. “Is this better…?” Jake asked planting his hands beside Phin’s shoulders to dip his head and meld their mouths in a kiss as breath snatching as his finger shenanigans.
“Hmm…I can see you…” Those eyes glowed like crystal ice caves in the darkness, illuminating Jake’s face.
“‘If we hook your legs over my shoulders you’ll feel more…secure. Bend your knees up a bit…” Jake clasped the backs of his thighs and hoisted them into place.
“Mm…I like the thought of having my legs wrapped around your neck.” Phin’s smile may have been his ‘cat’s-got-the-cream’ one.
“I very much like the thought of having your legs wrapped around my neck,” he chuckled. “D’you feel better now?” Jake leaned in low, pushing Phin’s thighs onto his chest when he bent to capture his lips.
“Much…” Phin answered, eventually. “Jake? Are you okay? Is Foxy?”
“Yeah. He thinks it’s about time I ‘quit arsing about and got on with it’. Apparently.”
“It’s p’raps a good plan to do listening then.” Phin did a sage nod, Yoda stylee.
“I do believe you’re right…” Jake’s voice dropped to deepest blue quartz. “If…if I hurt you, promise me— Just promise.” His eyes blazed topaz bright, blinding. Beyond beautiful.
“I promise.” Phin rustled up a serene smile and did crossing his fingers tight.
42. Jake
“If…if I hurt you, promise me— Just promise,” Jake glared, desperate to drill his words into that brilliant, baffling brain; now hell bent on surrendering Phin to the safekeeping of a predator. Said mutt was in complete accord with his wishes, of course, which assuredly proved Jake’s point.
“I promise.” Phin’s fallen angel face shone with sincerity. Radiant with wrecker’s lantern allure. Impossibly innocent. Irrational instincts (theirs) overruled rational reasons (Jake’s) why this was the worst idea in the world. Ever. Even as he acknowledged this, Jake knew damn well whose dark need had delivered the final verdict. He could tell himself till the end of forever that it had been decreed by a double-barrelled assault of eternal eyes and dogged determination, but it was all-too clear who’d put his foot in the snare…and left it there until it snapped shut.
Jack…please, keep him safe. I’d trade you the rest of the world for him.
Just. Trust.
Just trust? What sort of an answer is that?
Did I do forgetting to say ‘yourself’? How remiss of me.
Myself? It’s you who’s never once kept his shit together when it suited you otherwise.
Which proves my point.
Spouted by the font of wisdom forever intent on channelling Mutley or playing Riddle of the Sphinx.
∞∞∞
Now that Jake had made the fateful decision (he hoped didn’t prove far too literal), it seemed he was hell-bent on flinging himself into it with gay abandon. The brutal truth being, of course, that Jake was guiltier than Double and Trouble put together. When he bent to press a kiss to lips that parted on a sigh, the scent of Phin’s breath snatched his own away. It was opium to their senses. As divine as it was deadly. There was only him.
There’ll only ever be him.
Is that some sort of soulmate shapeshifter crap?
Give me strength. As if.
Jackals WHAT…?
You heard me.
Fuck.
Jackals ‘Mate For Life’. Apparently. That sure as hell formed an unholy trinity of truths:
1. Unless Jack planned on a very brief happy ever after and life as a very lone jackal, then might Jake trust that Phin would live to regret it?
2. Waking up with a sore arse would soon seem a rather transitory inconvenience. Upon finding himself mated for life with a mangy mutt.
3. Or, at least until Phin ‘did sitting down’.
A low rolling growl (rudely) interrupted Jake’s inner— Claptrap.
Okay! F’fucksakes.
Exactly.
Just for the record? I am really weary of that word.
43. Phin
Jake p’raps intended his kiss to be some sort of promise. Or reassurance. A prelude to paradise. But when Phin parted his lips, the groan that vibrated against his mouth felt somehow…significant. It sounded like surrender, reverberating ’round the deepest of caves, too subterranean to deny. It tasted of lust. It felt as if something had shifted on its axis. It was a soul-scouring kiss that did clawing Phin’s guts. He’d never wanted anything this Too Much. If Jake dared do stopping now, then Phin would detonate from excessive too muchness. He was sure of it…which suggested that he’d possibly gone an itty bit bonkers. Even before factoring in the very doolally words doing a waft around his head.
“Make me yours, Jack…” That particular corker did airing itself before Phin could zip his lips.
The answering blaze of azure was a bolt of sheet lightning that lit Jack’s face in sharp relief, highlighting the proud planes of his cheekbones and noble nose. He’d never looked more otherworldly…majestic. It was impossible to do believing that Jack could want Phin as much as those eyes promised. Harder still, to credit meriting a need so intense it wa
s crimson fire underscored with violet, as vivid as it was violent. But only in the very best of ways. A distinction Jake hadn’t been able to do recognising. Unless he finally had, on accounts that Phin’s legs were wrapped around his neck.
“Oh, I intend to…” His words were vermillion velvet, his breath as rich as port wine, which always made Phin’s mind misty.
The room was as dark as moonless midnight and Phin’s senses had switched to hyperswirl. Drenched in the amber musk of Jake’s scent, he may well have been lying in a woodland glade on a cushion of soft moss and rich earth, rather than a bed.