Jack&Teague [& Katy] stories 1-5

by Amy Lane

  “You had doubts?”

  No. He’d only known her for a couple of weeks, but he already recognized that particular flavor of pain.

  “So… that was it? You saw the scars, you said, ‘That’s no big deal!’ and it was all good?” Judging by her lip curl, he sounded a little more hostile than he intended, and her next words confirmed that he’d managed to ping her already sensitive temper.

  “No, Teague. No. That was not it. First he had to tell me the worst thing he’d ever done. How’s that? And it wasn’t just a little worst thing—it was horrible, even if he didn’t mean to do it. And then there was the whole ‘sex in the garden’ thing, and that was fun too—you know, because the whole world saw it and got to approve. But you want to know what the best part was? The really fun part? The really fun part was when that really bad thing—the worst thing he’d ever done—came back and bit us all in the ass and he had to stand up in front of the entire fucking hill and tell them that he’d been an all-access-raping-post for half his childhood. Wasn’t that fun? I got to feel him tell that story, because I had two marks by then, and we got to share all sorts of whip-fucking-spiffy emotions, and there was Bracken, right? His best friend since the asshole was spawned, and Adrian’s thinking Oh my God. Holy Goddess. Please let Bracken forgive me. And you know the only good part of this entire intestinal swap?”

  Teague swallowed hard and tried to keep his food down. How could he? Of all people, how could he have forgotten that everybody had a fucking story to tell?

  “There was a good part?” he rasped, and she let out a weary breath and some of the anger bled out of her scrunched-up, pissed-off face.

  “Yeah,” she murmured, looking any direction but at him. “There was.”

  “I’m sort of dying here,” he confessed. His chest felt raw. “I’d really love to know what kind of good part could come out of that.”

  She turned towards him, finally, and her mouth quirked in a wry, compassionate sort of smile. “The best part is that asshole—you know, that guy I just told to fuck off and bite me?”

  “I know him, yeah.” The guy was damned close to seven-feet tall with shoulders like a dump truck. He was hard to miss.

  “He didn’t even change expression. He sat through the entire entrail-ripping confession with this look on his face of absolute worship, you know? That shit that happened to Adrian when he was a helpless kid? Didn’t change a damned thing. Bracken would have gone to hell and back for him. As it turned out…” It was a good thing she’d slowed down, because she literally tripped over the lump in her throat. “…Adrian did it first.”

  Oh God. Teague felt like three or four buckets of grade-A fermented pig-shit.

  “I’m sorry…” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have made you…”

  Cory shook her head and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Your timing just sucks, that’s all. You know—how do I convince you that baring your soul will help if all I can tell you is ‘bad shit happened’?”

  Teague felt a reluctant smile start. “You do fine, Lady Cory…”

  “Oh don’t start that shit… not you. Not tonight!” Her voice was bitter and she couldn’t even meet his eyes.

  Teague blinked and realized they were on an entirely different topic. He was starting to know how Bracken felt—That’s the same argument! With Cory, it all sort of tied in together, didn’t it?

  “Why tonight?”

  “Because asshole was right, that’s why! I promised Green.” She buried her face in her hands and scrubbed. “Fuck. I promised Green I wouldn’t go. I…” She sighed, and looked at him with such miserable intensity that he put down his sandwich and looked back. “I almost died last year because I wouldn’t accept their healing—any of them. Because I was draining them dry. I was so close to death that I was killing them. And even when I was dying I wouldn’t take the last of their strength. And they… they’ve let it go for the most part. They’ve forgiven me. I lived. Water under the bridge, whatever. Until this week, when everyone including Green has just lost his fucking nut over bad-shit-anniversary. And… I owe them. I hurt them…and I’m going to have to send you and Bracken and Nicky and a carload of everybody else to tail you because…”

  Teague felt the answer like sandpaper on his heart. “There’s only so many right ways to say you’re sorry.”

  She used both hands to push the tears back from her cheeks. “You called it, brother.” She tried hard not to sniffle and Teague looked behind him and found a napkin. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Have you been to the were’s common room?”

  Teague blinked at her. “No…”

  “I’ll show you. Katy took Jack there about five minutes before you walked in.”

  Teague laughed a little. “I smell like armpit. Can you wait ‘til I’ve showered?”

  Cory nodded. “I’ll be here,” she murmured, staring sightlessly in front of her. Teague patted her arm and felt useless, but she captured his hand and squeezed for a moment before setting her chin on her fists and staring out the window across the room.

  Teague kept walking, with a wistful look over his shoulder, and by the time he got to the granite stairs he decided he couldn’t do it. He’d left her alone in the rain the day before, and it hadn’t sat well with him then.

  Sat worse with him now.

  Quietly—on werewolf feet—he made his way up to the granite trap door and swung it open. The speed with which Bracken turned to him—and his obvious disappointment when he saw who he was—told Teague more than he needed to know about how hard these two lovers could be on each other.

  “I think she’d really like you to come down now,” Teague said politely, hoping Bracken didn’t rip his head off. Werewolf of no, sidhe were quicker, stronger, and—in Bracken’s case—a hell of a lot bigger.

  “I’ll come down when she comes to her senses.” Bracken grumbled.

  “She’s there,” Teague said softly. “I… I was going to shower, and she was going to show me to the common room…”

  Bracken had been pacing near the white marble bench with Adrian’s profile etched on the sides, and he looked up form his pacing and actually looked at Teague. “Go shower and come get me. I’ll show you.”

  And in the time between, the two of them could get a handle on their dangerous emotions. He didn’t have to say it—Teague was only stupid about his own heart.

  Jack

  Rough Magic

  Jack liked the common room—mostly because it reminded him of Teague’s favorite bar. It was highly veneered dark wood with lots of brass, wooden tables and low hanging lamps. They served beer by the draft and the bottle, and whatever was available in the upstairs common room to eat was there in the giant refrigerators behind the bar.

  Everything was free, and some of the rougher, more rowdy lower fey enjoyed serving and playing with the were-creatures—as well as bilking them at pool and cards. Of course, no money changed hands.

  The room was fairly full this morning—a lively mix of were-creatures with some of the lower fey, with slightly higher ratio of men to women. When he commented on the number of men, Katy had shrugged and taken a hearty drink of her milk.

  “Mostly lost people end up here, Jack. Young enough that they can be found again, old enough to make a decision. Most people that age, that lost—those are men.”

  It made sense to Jack, but he found himself thinking that even if they didn’t swing that way some men might find themselves in that position from sheer lack of female companionship. But about midway through their meal, Katy looked up to the door and sucked air in through her teeth. Jack’s whole body grew cold and he forgot everything but the man at the door.

  “Oh look, Jacky,” Katy murmured, trying for casual, “he made himself all pretty for you.”

  Jack’s throat went dry.

  There was something vulnerable about Teague’s face, when his hair was wet and hanging over his forehead a little. He was wearing a clean, long-sleeved T-shirt, khaki colored, with jeans, and was
having what looked to be an uncomfortable conversation with Bracken. Bracken turned to leave, and Teague looked straight at Jack, then caught the large sidhe’s shoulder and asked him something. Brack looked out at Jack, shrugged and nodded, then took off.

  Teague nodded back and made his way to the table.

  “Heya, pappi,” Katy said nervously, “good run?”

  Teague shrugged and dropped into the open seat across from the two of them. “Heya, Katy.”

  “Did you want something to eat?” Jack asked without looking at him, and Teague shrugged.

  “Naw… had a sandwich in the front room.” He looked around. “I like this place though—my kind of ambience.”

  Jack managed a smile, and then he looked up and made eye contact with the stubborn Irishman and they both flushed. The crushing reality was that nothing they had to say to each other was fit for a public place.

  “What were you talking to Bracken about?” Katy asked, filling in the silence of all the things the two weren’t saying.

  Teague looked up, his depthless hazel eyes sparking for a moment, the look on his face almost like a happy kid’s. “I… I was asking if Jacky could come with me to pick up the new weres.” His expression changed to that of a chastised puppy, dropping off a large toy at the feet of his master. “Would you like to do that, Jacky? Come with me?”

  Jack’s own eyes were wide as he looked at Teague’s diffident expression. “Uh—yeah! That would be great!” He meant that, too—but he couldn’t figure out the reason for it. “Uhm, why the change of heart?”

  Teague shrugged, and his eyes went sideways. “Well, you know, Jacky… there’s only so many right ways to say you’re sorry.”

  The wave of helpless anger swept Jack from his toes, up through his groin and stomach, and then to his face, which flushed probably to his ears. He looked up at Teague, his lover, his beloved, and wondered how twisted Teague’s heart had to be to think he had done anything wrong.

  “You…” Jack gasped, and Teague looked gut-shot with hurt so he tried again. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for that,” he rasped finally, and then stood up, aware that his chest was pumping in and out like an Olympic swimmer’s. “I can’t do this here.”

  He pushed blindly out of the room with Teague and Katy on his heels and he didn’t even have to ask them to follow him. They all knew where he was going.

  He burst in through the door to their bedroom and bent over, putting his hands on the bed and trying to breathe through the red veil in front of his eyes. Teague came up behind him, and for once his touch on Jack’s back wasn’t sure, or possessive, or sexual.

  Teague’s hand fluttered, touched, lifted, touched again. “I… I’m damaged, Jack. I’m… fucked up… I don’t want to take it out on you… I…”

  Jack whirled and pushed Teague back up against the wall by the front of his shirt, aware that Teague’s eyes were wide and shocky and frightened.

  “You’re perfect,” he rasped. “You’re beautiful… you’re kind… you’re brave… you don’t ever…” Jack wiped his face on the shoulder of his flannel shirt. “Ever… you don’t ever have to worry about what part of you I see, do you understand?”

  Teague flushed again and turned his face away, but Katy was right there, on his side, glaring at him with the same fierceness Jack felt.

  “I’m damaged,” he said softly, looking from one of them to the other. “I might be too hurt to do this right—you need to face that, both of you.”

  “I’ll kiss whatever boo-boos you got,” Katy said levelly, close enough that Jack could feel the slight puff from her breath. He shivered, Teague’s eyes darkened, and the moment changed.

  Jack took Teague’s mouth hard, angry, frustrated, tender, and Teague groaned… and then took over. Without warning Jack was propelled backward until he fell back against the bed, and Teague straddled him, bending down to kiss him again, and again and again. Ah, God… Teague’s lips were hard and the stubble from his face was scratchy and his aggression felt heavenly.

  Teague made a surprised sound, and then he lifted up his hips and busy hands were fiddling with Jack’s fly and suddenly his pants were down around his ankles and coming off his feet with his shoes. Teague swung away from him, and Jack wanted to clutch him closer as their kiss went on and on, but oh my GOD!

  Katy’s mouth was on his cock, and he went from semi-erect to drooling pre-come before he could even frame the thought.

  He ripped his mouth away from Teague’s long enough to say “Fuck!” and then Teague was kissing him again, and Katy was sucking, and her hands were doing amazing, squeezing, fiddly things around his base and his balls and…

  “I’m gonna…” Oh, and he was, he was going to come, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t because he’d already come once but Teague hadn’t…

  Teague interrupted the kiss to pull off Jack’s shirt, and then run his hands over Jack’s chest, and then lower his head to suck on a pointy nipple and…

  Jack growled and stars exploded behind his eyes and he was coming apart under the two of them, exploding, coming when minutes before he’d been ready to cry.

  Katy crawled up the bed as he lay there, gasping like a fish, and he pulled her down for a kiss. Her mouth was soft and lush and different from Teague’s, soothing after the roughness, calm after the storm, and wild with the taste of his spend. She made a noise against him, a protesting noise, and Jack looked up and saw that Teague had stripped her pants off as well. He was leaning over her back, kissing a sweet line down her spine, and his hands were pushing up under her sweater and under her bra.

  Katy gasped and whimpered, then touched foreheads with Jack. “Baby, that feels soooooo good…” she moaned, “but we haven’t… you need… won’t you let us…aaaayyy!”

  Because Teague’s line of kisses had found it’s destination, and Jack knew that the man could please a body with his tongue and his fingers—he didn’t think it would be any less wonderful for Katy than it had been for Jack himself.

  Katy was vulnerable, bent over the bed, her bottom in the air and her sweet, slick sex was being invaded and tormented in the best, most passionate of ways. She gasped against Jack’s mouth and wiggled and grunted as she tried to find balance on the bed, and Jack shifted on the bed to help hold her.

  “Auughhh…Teague…” She whimpered again and Jack felt her come apart completely, her orgasm shaking her soft body against him. His sex stirred, aroused by her sounds and the sweetness of her body, but his needs weren’t urgent—unlike Teague’s.

  Teague’s hands were busy with his own belt, and he’d shucked his jeans before Katy realized what he’d planned.

  “Oh, pappi,” she panted, “let me see your eyes…ooohhhh…”

  Teague slid inside her and began to move slowly, his hands soft and possessive on her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, to plead, to beg, and Teague captured her mouth with a sweet, desperate kiss.

  But still he kept moving, and Jack knew when the pressure inside became too much for Katy because she keened and fell forward, right into Jack’s arms as he sat up on his knees. Jack just held her, her breasts pressed against his chest, his face buried in the hollow of her neck.

  “Later,” he whispered, knowing what she wanted. It had taken him nearly three weeks to see Teague’s eyes, to watch his face as they made love. She would have to wait just a little longer before he bared himself to her that openly. But in the meantime… in the meantime he was surging into her, thrusting hard enough that she bumped up against Jack with little grunts of pleasure, of excitement, of fierce reciprocation.

  And Jack peered through the curtain of her hair and looked up at Teague’s face, naked and beautiful. Oh God… the way he was looking at them, when he thought no one could see him, the passion and fear and love that twisted his expression beyond pain, beyond yearning…

  Jack swallowed a terrible tightness in his throat and held Katy tighter. She keened and howled against
him as her orgasm shook her, and Jack got a secret view of the man who loved them both, climaxing, coming apart, disintegrating, losing himself in her body and the torsion of his agonizing love.

  After Teague growled and gasped and buried himself inside her, throbbing and panting with completion, the three of them flopped limply onto the pillows, making contented, laughing sounds. Or Jack and Katy were. Teague was clutching Katy to his chest as though he’d never let her go.

  Katy’s eyes met Jack’s, over the shelter of Teague’s clenching arms, and their expressions sobered.

  “He’s good,” she mouthed, and Jack gave a quiet grimace and nodded. He’d managed to love them both, see them to climax, and never reveal himself. Jack’s heart felt full with what he’d seen, how much the two of them meant to Teague, the pain that cutting his love loose in the haven of their bodies had cost him.

  Jack kissed Katy then, willing her to simply accept for the moment, willing her to let it be, just for the moment, until he could tell her all the things she could not see.

  Katy

  All That Heaven Will Allow

  Katy dozed off between them for a while, but she woke up to feel the cold absence of Teague at her back.

  “He went for a final meeting before the run tonight,” Jack murmured. He was still naked and warm next to her, and she found herself snuggling into him for comfort.

  “I forgot…” she wiggled her head against his chest some more. “Lucky Teague—made it easy to leave, didn’t it.”

  “No,” Jack whispered, and he kissed her temple reverently. “I know you didn’t see… he didn’t let you see. The look on his face when he was inside you, Katy.” Jack looked away, like that would keep her from seeing his overbright eyes. “Damn, sweetheart. It broke my heart.”

  “Then why not show it?” she asked disconsolately. “Why not… shit.”

  Yeah. She knew the answer.

  “We promised him he wasn’t too fucked up to love,” Jack told her. “I’m still in—I can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t stick to him like a burr in his sock, you know?”