The Beast of Bodmin Moor

by Zakarrie C

  Jake’s skin still had its post-shift sheen when he rose to his feet, sizzling with static. Those stargazy eyes, aflame with amber, brimming with a world of words unsaid. Bewitching. Jake bent to cup PJ’s face and press a kiss to the top of his tufty head.

  “You’ve got this…I love you. Come back to me, Phin.”

  Jake straightened up and stepped back, giving him space. For a long moment, PJ stood, staring at Jake as if he’d soon vanish from view. Then his eyelids slid shut. Jake sensed the shift before it was visible, smelled the intensification of cinnamon spice when the air started to shimmer, surrounding him with an aura of soft wavering light, hazy with heat. Jake watched, entranced, every sense vibrating with awareness, as if they were tuned to the energy waves emanating from Phin.

  He hadn’t realised how…transcendent it would seem. Stupidly, when it was a bit of a no-brainer that shifting surpassed the limits of ordinary—human—experience. Way beyond the boundaries of ‘normal’, even when one’s baseline inhabited a stratosphere of its own. How the hell could Phin, who felt everything to ‘excess’, emerge from such a sensory onslaught unscathed? Fuck. Jake’s blood abruptly ran as cold as the clammy sweat that prickled across his skin.

  How cruel it would be if Phin—whose affinity with his jackal self eclipsed Jake’s—found the process of reclamation so scratchy it triggered…fucknows what. He didn’t even know what label had been slapped on Phin or the strictures it imposed on his life. Nor how he ‘managed’ his ‘special needs’, or even if that terminology was correct. Jake hadn’t wanted to pry, to make it an issue of something that didn’t adversely affect his feelings, for fear that Phin might think Jake found it a ‘problem’ that necessitated discussion. If ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’? Jake had pretty much fitted Phin with roller skates and shoved him downhill.

  Which part of ‘Wheeee!’ didn’t you quite catch?

  “Phin…” His name fell from Jake’s lips as a prayer when the warped blur of fur and fog settled, stilling to a slight tremor of air around the miracle crouched on the grass. All present and correct—every excessive inch—luminous in shades of silver and shadow, kissed by moonlight.

  “Jake…” Phin raised his head and prised his lids apart, lips curving in a slow smile as dazed as those eyes. Dark pools of bottomless brown, no longer ablaze with amber. Beautiful. “Are y’okay?”

  “Me?” Jake spluttered, staggered. He dropped to his haunches and brushed a rogue strand of tufty fringe aside before cupping Phin’s face. “It’s you that matters, I—”

  “You smell a funny colour…sort of salty like peanut brittle, blimey I’m starving. I’m…feel as if I’ve been run over a bit.

  “A bit. As opposed to…say?” Jake’s inane grin was ungovernable; the flood of relief so great he felt light-headed. Phin, his Phin, was present in those eyes, not lost to Jake in a too much overload that snatched away all he loved.

  “Steamrollered? Squished like Tom after he’s been through the mangle.”

  “Tom and Jerry?” Jake checked, as if that mattered more than the million questions he must ask before his ignorance did untold damage to Phin.

  “Yes…Jake, why are you all frowny faced? Have you done changing your mind but feel responsib—”

  “NO!” Jake cut in, too horrified to let Phin finish. “I’m sorry, I…I was afraid—Phin let’s get you inside, you need warmth and rest and—”

  “Stop fussypotting, you daftie…” Phin butted in, planting his palms on the grass to push himself up. “I’m fi—ooouch!”

  “See? Stay there…” Jake sprang to his feet and bent to scoop a chuntering Phin into his arms, “Stop cussing, I’m carrying you…”

  “Bossy boots…now there’s a thought, will you do putting those on later?”

  “My boots? But I’m not getting dressed…” Jake noted, knocking the door lever down with an elbow and pushing it open with his backside, which was bare and far warmer than the wood. “Fuck that’s cold…”

  “You have the hottest bott on the planet that’s why, I’ve lost the plot now, where was I? My head is fuddled. Ah, that’s it…why would you do that? We haven’t been to sleep yet. Blimey, I’m thirsty, can we have hot toddies?”

  “Sounds good to me…then I’ll run you a bath, your body’s still been through the mill, no matter how fast you recover.” Jake told him, carrying Phin through to the front room and depositing him on the sofa.

  “Oh good…I didn’t want to be put to bed, I haven’t had my tablets yet. Thank you…” Phin smiled when Jake snagged the fleece throw off his armchair to tuck around him. “You don’t need to do fussing, I’m fine, I promise. Will you be having my bath too?”

  “If you want me to…”

  “’Course I do…Jake, will you do being honest?” Huge, imploring eyes gazed up at Jake, clouded with doubt. “Are you regretting…me?”

  “Regret? Nothing could be further from the truth…” Jake sank to his haunches, searching Phin’s face. “Why…are you?”

  “Never. You just seem strange, not distant…p’raps a bit. Sort of…careful.”

  He means you’re acting like a wet lettuce.

  “I was afraid…you might not come back to me, that it might have…broken you somehow. The too muchness of it all…I should have asked so many things I didn’t—”

  “That’s why you’re being all careful? I can’t be broked, I don’t think—not by stuff that happens to me—I do turning inwards, like hiding in my safe room. I can do way worse to m’self with far less effort, so don’t worry, you needn’t do being careful…’kay? Not knowing why—fretting that I’ve done something wrong—makes me scratchy, not too muchness. Anyhoo, I had you. You had no one.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Yes but nothing, can we have hot toddies now? You’re too naked for chatting if you want me to do more listening, it’s very distracting.”

  “You’re impossible, you know that?” Jake groaned.

  “Yup, it’s one of my best things…” Phin beamed, utterly unrepentant. “You have too many to do mentioning, but you excess at being naked. Is it bath time yet?”

  “What happened to your hot toddy?”

  “I’ve been wondering that for the last ten minutes…oddly ’nuff.”

  76. Phin

  Phin sat, waiting for Jake to do returning with their toddies, wondering at all his world had become since…he took his tumble? Found his happy place? Crossed the Tamar Bridge into Cornwall? Bought his campervan? If Phin hadn’t done any of those things, would Jake still have found him? Somehow? It didn’t do mattering a jot, not really, when Phin had done them and here he was…but it was a smidge scary to think he might’ve done a dozen things different and missed the moment he was supposed to do meeting Jake. Phin knew he was being daft, but that had never done stopping him before, so why start now? It was still…comforting to think that Jake could have hunted him down…just as the girl at Glastonbury had. He must remember to do asking Jake about her flit in the night. It was unfathomable.

  Much to Phin’s relief, his fretting was foiled by the mouth-watering whiff that wafted his way…followed by a sight even more luscious a few seconds later.

  “One hot toddy…as ordered,” Jake grinned, upon entering the room with two steaming—

  “Are we camping out?” Phin asked, shooting the tin cups a suspicious side-eye.

  “Not unless you’d rather sleep in your van than my bed? I suspect you mean these though…” he twitched the articles in question afore continuing, “…in which case, I bought them after being splattered in the scalding contents of damn near every mug in the cottage. You won’t snap the handle off this if you clutch it too tight…” Jake added, handing him one of the drinks.

  “Thank you…” Phin thought he’d better do practise-makes-perfecting, despite his tin training cup, so he did concentrating on his grip. “Hmm…I love this smell…” he sighed, snuffling the lazy curls of Baileys steeped steam.

  “Thought you migh
t, I caught a whiff of it earlier, almost as creamy as the satisfaction it accompanied,” Jake smiled, seating himself beside Phin on the sofa.

  “P’raps I was thinking about your voice. That’s what it does smelling of…”

  “Have you always…sensed things that way?” Jake did cocking his head, blurring fur and face for a mo in Phin’s mind. “You said I smelled a funny colour earlier.”

  “I didn’t know it was odd for a long time…everything else was weirder in a louder way,” Phin admitted.

  “Louder? More…obvious to other people?” Jake sounded as if he’d done guessing at something Phin hadn’t thought obscure. He could never tell…until told. No one thought him weird if he was alone, oddly nuff…but Jake didn’t seem to. Or, if he did, he didn’t seem to do minding.

  “Does that make things…difficult for you?” Jake had gone all careful again, as if he’d done weighing his words on the way out.

  “No…well, only when things—people—are too orange and make me all scratchy.”

  “What colour am I?” Jake wondered, which was so unusual it made Phin do blinking a bit.

  “Gold. Inside and out…which is spooky. Matching doesn’t happen much.”

  “That sounds scratchy.” Jake said that in such an airy sort of way, he made it sound a ‘reasonable’ reaction. That was just downright weird.

  “Pretending I haven’t noticed gives me ants in my pants,” Phin nodded. “And honeybees in my bonnet.”

  “Rather than wasps?” Jake’s grin was as far from waspish as his words.

  “Yes…” Phin did returning it. “Bees buzz…wasps sting. They mean it. Honeybees just go about their business and just do stinging if they feel threatened. The price is too high…it kills them. Wasps don’t give a stuff, they sting for the hell of it.”

  Phin didn’t do mentioning the terrorists of the waspy world that nested in Jake’s head. That would be poking them with a sharp stick. Jake knew. Pointing out such stuff just did rubbing salt into people’s wounds. If it wasn’t for Jack, Phin suspected that sepsis would have set in by now. Jake did his damnedest not to know that. Scoundrel.

  “Phin, if I make you feel uncomfy, promise you’ll tell me? I’m afraid I might inadvertently do something…scratchy that distresses you.” He shouldn’t have to do worrying about that, it wasn’t fair. Phin couldn’t bear being a nuisance. That was another reason he did keeping his own company. He wanted to keep Jake’s though, which was fact so strange it seemed to have done circumventing all sorts of itchy-scratchy.

  “Nothing you do makes me uncomfy, just things you don’t do, like telling me stuff I need to know to stop fretting. So, I promise…if you’ll do telling me when I’m driving you demented. That’s my very best thing, so you can’t claim otherwise. Are we having my bath now? I’ve finished my toddy.”

  “Okay…it’s a deal. Don’t hold your breath though. Unless you’re underwater,” he winked, plucking the cup from Phin’s fingers. “I’ll go and run the bath…do you want to collect anything from your van? Toiletries…clothes…stuff you can’t bear being without?”

  “I’m worried it will look like you’ll never be rid of me…” Phin admitted.

  “Phin, which part of forever didn’t you quite catch? I don’t want to ‘be rid of you’. I’d never ‘demand’ that you stay—I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live with me—but I hope you’ll stay….for as long as you want to. There’s a spare bedroom, if you’d feel comfier having a…safe place? Somewhere that’s just yours, so y’can…be alone if you need to. Or want to, whatever…”

  Phin was too stunned to do speaking. Too staggered even to do blinking. He sort of sat, transfixed by Jake’s lips and the words tumbling from them in a rush. As if he was trying to sell Phin a bridge. Rather than offering him the world with his very own safe room in it.

  “Too much?” Jake grimaced, when Phin’s face p’raps stayed frozen in saucer-eyed shock for a smidge too long.

  “No…I…really? Cos, if you’re worried about PJ, I can do staying on the drive till—”

  “Phin, close your eyes.” Uh oh. Phin’s lids had done snapping shut before Jake finished gong-bonging his order. “Now tell me what you sense.”

  “You…the scent of your skin…” There was no ‘wrong spice’ to do detecting, just Jake’s sunshine musk and salted caramel smell. The creamy warmth of whiskey laced coffee…the heat of his body, the headiness of its proximity…the strong, steady thrum of his heart. A touch faster than usual, as if it was strung a tad too tight…suspense? Anticipation? Another niff…a new one Phin hadn’t noticed; too attuned to the top notes every instinct sought first. Apple pie? No; too much cinnamon and nutmeg, ’twas more… strudelly.

  Mine. Mate.

  “Phin…will you stay?” His voice had dropped to a husky burr so persuasive Phin felt sure it could do coaxing sap from trees.

  “Yes…”

  A whisper of whiskey-cream preceded the feather-light press of plush lips to first Phin’s right eyelid, then his left…before melting against his mouth in a kiss so tender it left him buttery boned. And breathless, when Phin found himself flat on his back on the sofa, bowled over by an onslaught of skin and the intoxicating weight of Jake’s body.

  “Shit, sorry!” he gasped, aghast.

  “S’okay…I didn’t do ouching, you daftie.”

  “Still, I should’ve—”

  Phin did clasping the back of Jake’s head and crushed his lips down onto his own. The scoundrel was way too fond of tearing himself off a strip. Quite what that nugget of nonsense meant, Phin knew not, but he had found a very effective way to do skinning a cat. Shushing a canid was far more fun, though.

  77. Jake

  The sheer intensity of Phin’s kiss was too much for Jake’s subterranean self to take…sitting up. One second, they were side by side on the sofa, lips locked, tongues entwined. The next, Phin was flat out, pinned beneath Jake’s bod—fuck.

  “Shit, sorry!” So, so stupid. Careless…when he’d never cared so much in his goddamn life. About protecting Phin, keeping him safe, shielding him from harm; when the greatest danger to Phin was still, in fact, himself. The inability to control his base instincts…reprehensible, at the best of times. Unforgivable, when they failed Phin.

  That was oblique. Am I to suppose it was aimed my way…or are you finally ’fessing up?

  Bastard.

  At least you’ve always owned that much. On the bright side, Phin doesn’t seem a bit bothered, you jim-jammy sod…so stop cussing and count your bloody blessings for once. Rather than ripping y’self a new one. Golden boy. Inside and out; despite your constant carping to the contrary. Unless Phin is colour blind—which would be a bit bloomin’ ironic, y’must admit—he clearly can’t see the black heart you’re hell bent on bemoaning. So, suck that up, shit for brains.

  Jake abruptly found himself too busy to argue when Phin clasped his nape to crash their lips together. The air slammed out of Jake’s lungs and he gasped, tasting the scent that now seemed a part of himself. The supple warmth of Phin’s tongue, the fierce tenderness of his kiss, as luxurious as the leg he hooked around Jake’s. It also made flipping them over as smooth as it was effortless; relieving Phin of his weight—ouching or not—and well… Phin’s words had proved impossible to shift since…moments before he’d done exactly that.

  ‘Jimjams can’t do sitting on Jake’s…’

  Jake was only human (most of the time) and Phin? As sure as everlasting legs was, now at least. The glint that gleamed in those stargazy eyes, staring down into Jake’s, suggested Phin hadn’t done forgetting either. A fact confirmed about a gleeful grin before he scrambled up and shot off, returning a few seconds later with the lube.

  It was all Jake could do to hold still when slick fingers were curled around his cock, such was the force of his own feuding will. Finer instincts fighting the compulsion to seize control when Phin’s body could do with a break from further battering, Sire or no. Safeguarding his mate being the only bat
tle Jake had a hope in hell of winning. Phin’s earlier wish was the ace card that froze Jake in place when his waist was bracketed by bent knees.

  Rather than sinking straight down as he’d steeled himself to expect, Phin bent to brush a kiss to Jake’s mouth and whisper words he would die to deserve. Whiskey warm, as intoxicating as Phin’s breath. Then sank down onto Jake’s cock (sitting up and all-but begging), engulfing it hilt deep with a sublime sigh. The absence of—now unnecessary—prep was still a shock to Jake’s system so intense it ripped a curse from his lips, and a plea from every fibre of his being.