Jack&Teague [& Katy] stories 1-5

by Amy Lane

  “What, pappi?”

  “Take off your clothes, lay on your back, and spread your knees. He wants to touch you—make him taste you instead.”

  Her smile was slow and sensuous as she wriggled out of her jeans and threw them over the bed. “It’s good to have you back, pappi.”

  Teague growled and his towel fell to the floor. Words. He was tired of them. His family had come and seen him be savage and violent, and they’d claimed him anyway. It was time to return the favor.

  He leaned over the bed as Katy scooted down, losing her bra and her sweater as she opened her bare thighs around Jack’s head. Teague touched lips with her, and she arched off the bed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and oh Goddess she was soft and silky under his hands. He pulled away and suckled a lush breast, playing the nipple with is tongue, and she knotted her hands in the hair at his neck, and then she made a little keening sound as Jacky began to taste her.

  Teague pulled away long enough to ask “You know what you’re doing, Jacky?”

  Jack raised a shiny face to his lover. “I’m not very good at this,” he muttered, and Katy laughed throatily and reached down between her thighs to push at his head.

  “You know what you’re doing, Jacky—just keep…” she moaned. “Yeah. Like that…”

  Teague leaned over Jack’s side, so he could talk in his ear while Jack was busy. “Don’t ever turn away from me again.”

  Jack turned to look at him around the plumpness of Katy’s thigh. “Never,” he swore. “Never.”

  Teague kissed him, tasting Katy, tasting them and before he could get lost in the kiss, before the kiss became everything and he lost this fantasy of Jack pleasuring Katy as Teague fucked him into oblivion, Teague broke off the kiss and positioned himself at Jack’s backside.

  Jack was already stretched and prepared, and Teague had to rest his head on Jack’s spine for a moment to get control of himself. The thought of Jack and Katy in here, making him ready for Teague… God… God damn that was sexy. They were his. It was that simple and that absolute.

  Teague’s cock probed at Jack’s entrance, and Jack made a muffled whimper, a begging sound, and he must have stopped what he was doing because Katy made one too. Their physical happiness literally depended on him, and all of the triumph he’d felt and squashed in his chest when defeating his enemy surged back into him now.

  He thrust deeply into Jack, and grunted, “Mine!” Jack howled, the noise muffled in Katy’s flesh, and she giggled a little and then gasped as Jack seemed to remember what it was he was doing. Teague didn’t give him much of a chance.

  He pounded, hard and slow, and every time their bodies were flush, Katy gasped. Jack’s hands, which had been up on either side of Katy’s thighs on the bed, suddenly disappeared as Jack grabbed for his cock.

  Teague knotted one hand in Jack’s hair and dragged his head back while yanking Jack’s other hand off of his body.

  “Her, Jacky. Play with her!” Because as much as he loved Jack, Teague knew his lover’s greatest failing was an inability to think beyond the two of them. Loving Katy, touching her slickness, making her scream, that was a start.

  Katy gasped and shrieked and Teague rewarded Jack’s good behavior with a reach around. Jack felt long and full in his hand, and as Teague thrust hard into Jack’s body, his erection became slick with fluid as well. Jack groaned, and rested his head on Katy’s thigh and Katy protested.

  “No, you can’t do that, Jacky!” and Teague stopped. Just stopped moving, and waited for Jack to keep going. It became a lesson—Teague wouldn’t move until Jack remembered—there was more to their relationship than the two of them. Jack appeared to be motivated—his busy fingers worked and his clever tongue must have been doing something right. Katy’s eyes were glazed and her mouth was parted, and Teague slowly worked Jacky to the point where…

  “Teague…I’ve got to come!” He was begging, but Teague wasn’t giving, not yet.

  “You…” thrust “know” thrust “what” thrust “to do…”

  Suddenly Katy started to gibber. “Oh God… Jacky, that’s my… my… not… oh… yes…right there…” and then her body bucked, practically coming off the bed and her thighs clenched around Jack’s head and Teague, mesmerized by the sight of her beautiful climax had mercy on Jack and cut loose his own desires. He started pounding, hammering at Jacky, stroking him quickly, and as Katy relaxed and scooted backwards on the bed, Jack buried his face in the sheets and howled. His climax spurted across Teague’s hand, and again and again and again, and Teague let go of Jack’s cock to put both hands at Jack’s hips and thrust into him until his own orgasm ripped through his body and he poured himself into his lover’s flesh.

  He groaned, and then louder, and then, in a frenzy, he hauled Jack up by the chest to bite the joining of neck and shoulders, hard enough to leave a mark, and Jack groaned some more, an aftershock making his body clench around Teague’s tight enough to make Teague bite him again. Finally they were done and lay, collapsed at the side of the bed, panting, while Katy turned herself around and came to kiss them both.

  She kissed Jacky first, licking daintily at her own taste around his mouth and on his chin, and Jack grinned at her and kissed her back. Then she raised her face to Teague, and he possessed her. His body, still buried in Jack’s, stirred, stiffened, and Jack groaned as Teague’s hips gave another convulsive round of pistoning as he and Katy continued the ripe, passionate, lingering kiss.

  But eventually the passion banked, ebbed, and left them cooling their sweat, rubbing noses to cheeks and chins and jawlines as their breathing became completely normal.

  “Want to lie down?” Katy asked at last, and both the men grunted in protest as Teague pulled out. He stood to go get a washcloth and both Jack and Katy said, “No!” and he turned back to them and shook his head.

  “We like the stickiness,” Katy sulked. “Not for forever, but… don’t wash it away when it was wonderful, okay pappi?”

  Teague nodded and crawled up on the rumpled bed, not surprised when they climbed up on either side of him. He plumped the pillows and sat up at the head of the bed, and was truly satisfied when they clambered up and snuggled on either side of him. Katy tucked herself under his arm and kissed his chest, rubbing it absently as she smiled up at him.

  Jack sat up taller and wrapped his arm around Teague’s shoulders. Teague leaned back against him and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be comforted. Allowing himself to be loved.

  “Never turn away from me again,” he whispered, surprised. He’d thought Jacky and Katy would do the talking. Turned out, he had words in his heart too.

  “I won’t,” Jack murmured, bumping his nose along Teague’s jaw line. Teague closed his eyes and returned the bump, and then found himself talking again.

  “I mean it,” he said roughly. “There’s only so much of me. It all goes away when you turn your back.”

  “I know that now,” Jack said back. He reached across Teague’s body and took Katy’s hand, and together they made themselves into the human safety net that Teague had come to rely on. “I’ll never do it again.”

  Teague closed his eyes and figured that was about all the talking he could stand. He’d spent the last few weeks learning how to be happy and becoming the man his lovers needed. He figured now was a good time to put all of that learning into practice.

  The remaining werewolves were easily dealt with—but Cory wasn’t convinced that they were the end of the matter.

  They discussed it before the students left for school, and after she, Teague, and Brack had put the werewolves on a four a.m. plane out of town. “The thing is,” she mumbled through a bite of eggs and cheese, “they’re going to go back, tell everyone to leave us the fuck alone, and they’re going to make pretty credible witnesses. But from what I can tell, it’s sort of a big snake pit down there. A little alpha on every corner, no big alpha holding the whole thing together.”

  Teague grunted in agreement and took the pl
ate of bacon she handed him. He watched in amusement as Bracken gave her sausage to replace the bacon. Cory took a bite while she was talking before she even realized what he’d done, and then glared at him while she was still chewing. With a sigh, she held the sausage down next to her chair. Renny was there in cat from, and she took the meat with a clawless swipe of her paw.

  “We never did figure out who’s converting the homeless,” Teague reminded her, and she looked up from another helping of eggs on her plate in bemusement.

  “Bracken Brine Granite op Crocken,” she snapped, out of patience, “you are trying to make me fat!”

  “You lost ten pounds over Thanksgiving,” the elf replied with a scowl. “Who in the fuck does that?”

  Cory gave Teague a rather abashed look. “We’ve had this argument before,” she confessed. “The weird thing is, there’s not a single scale on the hill. I don’t know how he thinks he knows!”

  “I know,” Bracken said, coming back with a bottle of chocolate milk for Teague and a chocolate muffin that he put down for Cory. “Mostly I know the same way I know Teague lost weight too. Your jeans are sliding off your ass. So’re his. I suggest you both eat.”

  Teague blushed and Cory rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “I can’t believe he thinks he’s more mature than we are,” she hissed, and Bracken managed a smile of smug superiority before he yelped and hopped off his stool.

  “Dammit, Renny!”

  Cory took a napkin and dabbed at the blood on his ankle with appropriate soberness, but she cast Teague a wicked look of amusement over her shoulder, and Teague laughed.

  He laughed a lot in this place. Not loudly—he might never laugh loudly—but that little chuff of amusement no longer had to force its way out of his chest. He liked it that way.

  “So the werewolves,” Cory muttered with a pointed look at Bracken after he sat down.

  “And the homeless,” Teague prompted, and Cory sighed, shoving the remains of her breakfast aside and resting her chin on her hands. She and Bracken had worked the night before after the week of talking to the werewolves, and the stress of being three or four or five people was starting to tell on her. She looked very mortal and very tired.

  “The way I see it,” she said quietly, “is that our boys are going to go home and put the fear of God into their boys down South. That’ll be great. They’ll kill each other in-house, make sure none of their mistakes make it up here, and for a while—I’d give it a year—we’ll be blissfully unaware of how truly shitty that morass is down there, living up here in wolf-topia, right?”

  Bracken mulled the thought over. “Right,” he agreed. “And whoever was making psycho-wolves, well, he’s going to stop just so nobody notices.”

  “Unless it’s a glitch, like a serial killer’s thing, yeah,” Cory said, looking at Teague for agreement, which Teague gave.

  “And even if it’s a glitch,” he reasoned, getting into the game, “serial killers know how to lay low. Now’s the time to do it.”

  “Right.” Cory yawned, but her murky brown eyes were still focused as they worked things through. “So for a year, they’ll leave us alone—and then they’ll start forgetting. We’ll start seeing bad guys and dumbshit activity. Now, if we’ve done our job with those four, someone will call us and warn us, especially if they last that long. That would be nice, but we can’t bank the farm on it. But the first sign of anything hinky…”

  “We need to send someone down there to kick ass,” Teague muttered, and Cory agreed. She gave a sleepy, worn smile from her cupped chin on the wooden table.

  “We’ve got a war brewing,” she said softly.

  “Then what was this last week about?” Teague asked, curious.

  “A year of peace. We did all of that for a year of peace. Aren’t you glad you signed on, Teague?” There was some bitterness in her words, some recrimination, and Teague hated to hear it, but before he could reply Bracken put his hand on the back of her neck and she leaned into it as he murmured something in her ear. “This is our last week before finals,” she said back softly. “We can’t skip it—you know that. I’ll nap on the way down.”

  “Yeah,” Teague said belatedly, meaning it. “I am glad I signed on.”

  Cory smiled up at him again, looking dreamy and happy, the bitterness gone. “Hey, you haven’t seen us at our best. Wait until you see Christmas. It’s gonna be a trip!”

  Teague’s best Christmas to date had been the last one. He and Jacky had exchanged gifts, talked excitedly about how they thought Green had gotten his gifts to them under their tiny tree, drank beer, and watched football. Low key, but, well, it had been his only Christmas actually with somebody who gave a shit.

  He’d privately cherished that memory, but now that he and Jacky were living at the hill, he learned that Christmas should never be low key.

  One day while the students were out and Katy and Jacky were at the bakery, Green came and got him from the garage (he was working on the Mustang) and said, “Wash up, mate—come with us. We can be back before everyone gets home, it will be a grand surprise!”

  Teague had no idea where he was going until he ended up in the woods surrounding the gardens behind the hill itself—past the dividing line where the oak and scrub turned into pine and undergrowth. He and Green were by no means travelling alone: they came with an entourage of fey and shifters, ranged in size from flitting sprites to compact pixies, to what looked like a four foot by four foot pile of rocks holding hands with a compact pixie. (He later learned that the happy couple was actually Bracken’s parents—a thing that about blew his mind out his left ear.)

  The motley assortment of walking mythology was hunting for a Christmas tree.

  It had to be about eight feet tall, and perfectly proportioned, and most importantly, it had to be in a position to be lifted from the ground, wrapped tenderly in cloths, and replanted into the floor of Green’s home for a bit before being returned.

  Apparently some of their company were wood-nymphs—two foot tall, perfectly proportioned women with green skin and green hair… everywhere. (Green assured him that not only did the tiny women not feel the cold, they also grew to human sized—when it suited them. Sort of like trees themselves, actually.)

  When they found a tree (or rather Arturo spotted it and the littles chittered, cooed, tinkled, and generally fussed over it) Green asked him with a smile if it would do.

  Teague blinked. “It’s perfect,” he said with some bemusement. “Why ask me—I’m not an expert!”

  Green’s smile was one-hundred-percent tolerant affection. “It’s going to be your tree too, Teague—and Jacky’s and Katy’s as well. Is this the tree you want?”

  Teague looked at the tree again with new eyes—it looked now less symetrical than it had when Arturo had first pointed it out, but now it looked personally perfect, like shoes you like on the rack but fit well when they’re on your feet. “It’s an excellent tree,” he said soberly, and the tinkling, chittering, chattering cheer from his little entourage was worth the careful consideration and sincerity.

  Afterwards, he sat in the front room and drank hot white chocolate with Kahluah and watched as Cory and the other students—and Jacky and Katy as well—exclaimed over the tree and decorated it with blown glass ornaments and tiny snowflakes, hand cut from translucent white paper and strung on red string.

  Cory came into the kitchen to lean into Green and thank him. “It’s wonderful, beloved—I’ve never decorated one this big!”

  Green smiled indulgently at her and rubbed noses. “I thought you humans keep saying size doesn’t matter!”

  Cory laughed softly. “You’re right—especially in Christmas trees where it’s all symmetry.”

  Bracken came up then and looped his arms over her shoulders as she leaned into Green. “Last year’s was bigger,” he said critically, and Green nodded.

  “It was too big for the house this year. This way, we get to be acquainted with this one for a few years—he’ll be happy when w
e put him back, you think?”

  Teague blinked, trying to put their conversation together. “Why didn’t you decorate last year’s?” he asked Cory, and she shrugged.

  “It was sort of a surprise for me, when we got home from the city. Green wanted to do Christmas up really huge.” Her smile was all for her beloved. “Not that size matters or anything.”

  Teague turned his attention to his own lovers, who were engaged in a snowflake fight. Jack was winning, and Katy was wearing a glittering rain of translucent rainbow snowflakes in her black hair, on her cheeks and in her eyelashes. Jack bent to take one of them out of her eyelashes and as she stood there, waiting for him to finish, he snuck in a kiss that she responded to with a smile—and an open mouth. They would have a ‘last year’s tree in their history. They would remember this snowflake fight and try to recreate it. They were, already, building good memories, memories of each other, to become a family—a true family—like Cory and Green and Bracken and Nicky.

  Jack and Katy surfaced from their kiss and caught him, staring at them with shining eyes. They exchanged wicked glances then, and Teague had the foresight to put down his cocoa before being chased around the myriad halls of the hill, being showered by translucent snowflakes and avoiding the mistletoe dripping from every doorway.

  Eventually he allowed himself to be caught, to be kissed, and to be seduced and lured into their own bedroom, but in the meantime he whooped laughter like a child, and another little piece of his heart was patched together and sealed with the rest of it. The damned thing was getting more and more sound, more and more capable of sustaining his life and that of his lovers by the day.

  That didn’t mean that Teague wasn’t still a taciturn, defensive, grumpy fucker on occasion—it just meant the pay off was bigger when he let down is guard.

  One night after he’d been out, patrolling with the vampires, engaging in mock fights and making sure the neighbors from the surrounding hills didn’t venture too close to Green’s territory, he crawled into bed with Jacky, hoping for once to fall asleep. Except…