Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  Simon and Drew exchanged a quick look as Ian regained his senses and put on his captain’s face. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about but that’s enough out of both of you. I don’t want to hear another word about the toast or about Carson or about anyone sucking my cock. Got it?”

  Drew’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “But Ian—”

  “Not another word, Simon.”

  Simon sighed loudly, rolling his eyes at Drew as he muttered under his breath. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “Good.” Ian nodded approvingly, eyeing them both with what he hoped was a convincing expression of authority. Inwardly he was on the verge of freaking out. They weren’t being serious, of course. Carson didn’t have any interest in him, not like that. He was just overly enthusiastic and far too sincere for his own good. It didn’t mean he felt anything besides respect and admiration for Ian, and Ian knew better than to think as much was even possible. But God help him, he wanted so much to believe it.

  * * *

  Sam stayed behind in the dining room to socialize while Drew went back to their room. Despite his quiet reputation, he really thrived in smaller social environments, adding to the proceedings with sly observations and surprisingly cutting remarks. The guys always thought he was a riot and he was always pleased when his jokes landed properly. It did wonders for his self-esteem.

  As the dinner wound down, he waved goodnight to the fellas and took his time strolling toward the elevators.

  “Hey,” a very familiar voice snatched Sam’s attention as he entered the hall. He froze, shoulders slightly hunched as he turned to face Cassius. His teammate was looming over him, dark eyes twinkling with mischief or regret or some odd mixture of the two contrary emotions. The look seemed out of place on his face, and for whatever reason, Sam's stomach instantly lurched in anticipation.

  “Hey, yourself,” Sam answered, giving his friend the most benign smile he could muster. He wasn’t exactly sure why Cassius was following him, it wasn’t like they didn’t see enough of each other already. It had him on edge, for whatever reason. Something just seemed off.

  “What’s up?”

  Cassius didn’t seem bothered by Sam’s lack of enthusiasm, stepping closer to his friend, voice dropping low as he spoke. “Listen, I know this isn’t the best time or place, but I really need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder warily. There was really only one thing Cassius would want to talk about in so grave a tone, and if he was willing to risk speaking about it in the open then it had to be a serious matter. “And you’re sure this can’t wait until later?”

  “If it could wait, I’d wait,” he said, looking back over his shoulder too. “It’s about Adrian.”

  Sam frowned, “What about him?”

  “He knows, Sam.”

  Sam's blood went cold. Fear flashed in his eyes and his complexion paled. “What do you mean he knows?”

  “I mean he knows the truth. He figured it out.” Cassius still spoke in a quiet voice, but panic was beginning to seep in. There was no mistaking the worry in his eyes as he stared at Sam, imploring him to somehow fix it.

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No, I didn’t tell him—”

  “Oh my god. You told him, Cass. Don’t lie to me.” Sam’s voice grew louder then, a sharp, warning snarl. It was so unexpected even Cassius was startled by it. Luckily no one else was within earshot to hear the uncharacteristic growling.

  “I had to tell him,” Cassius answered quickly, lowering his eyes. “He would have figured it out anyway.”

  Sam shook his head, looking up at the ceiling like he might get some sort of guidance there. He muttered something quiet, something so soft that it had to be a prayer, before looking back to Cassius. His expression was as hard as Cassius had ever seen it and he found it highly distressing. “What was the first thing I made you promise me? When we got back to Rockfort, what did you promise me?”

  “That I’d never tell a soul.” Cassius whispered, looking like a scolded child. The height disparity between them only emphasized the peculiarity of his body language.

  “Exactly. But now Adrian knows.”

  “I had to tell him, Sam.” Cassius protested firmly, lips pressed together in a thin line.

  “You did the one specific thing you weren’t supposed to do. You can’t just go around telling people.” Cassius wasn’t sure if Sam sounded more disappointed or scared. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s Adrian. He’s not dangerous.” He was absolutely adamant on this point, staring back at Sam now, demanding his friend's full attention. “We can trust him.”

  “I barely even know him.”

  “Well, I do. And I trust him. Besides, you told Drew. It’s only fair.”

  That earned a scoff from Sam. This was nothing like his situation with Drew. For one thing, he and Drew were physically intimate and had been for years before he’d finally confided his most precious secret to him. And for another, he and Drew were in lo—.

  Oh. Oh. Love.

  It suddenly dawned on Sam then that perhaps their situations weren’t so very different after all. His cheeks went slightly red and he fussed with his bangs to mask his sudden case of shyness. He’d known Cassius for years, longer than just about anybody he still hung around with and it was awkward to think about his friend’s romantic exploits. It was like thinking about his brother having sex. And with Adrian of all people? But who was he to judge, right?

  “It’s like that?” He asked in a hushed voice, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  Cassius nodded, glad that he didn’t have to spell it out any more clearly. He always found these conversations awkward as it was. The last thing he needed was to have to specifically detail the nature of his relationship with Adrian just so shy little Sam would catch his drift. “I just couldn’t keep it from him any longer.”

  Sam bit his lip and nodded. He understood. He’d reached that point with Drew a long time ago, when keeping the secret would have been logistically impossible and also just too much to bare. He couldn’t hide his true nature from his lover forever. At a certain point, he’d had to take the risk and tell Drew the truth. He couldn’t really fault Cassius for doing the same exact same thing, even if the consequences could have been dire for them all.

  “How’d he take it?” He finally asked.

  Cassius let out a short laugh, relief washing over him. “Surprisingly well, actually. But I don't think he believed me at first.”

  Sam returned the laugh with a knowing smile. No matter how uneasy he felt inside, he couldn't help but smile whenever Cassius did. “He's only human. But he’s okay now?”

  Cassius nodded, “Yeah. He’s good. And he’s not going to tell anyone, Sam, he promised. You don’t have to worry so much.”

  Sam didn’t have the heart to tell his friend that worrying over being found out was probably the thing he stressed about most in life. Instead, he just sighed and accepted that what is done is done. “I'm not mad at you, Cass, but seriously? You have to be really careful. What happens if things go south with you and Adrian, huh? What will happen then?”

  “He's not going to change his mind. Not anymore than Drew would, anyway.”

  Sam looked at his friend for a long, pointed moment before giving a slight nod. He wasn't happy about the situation at all, but he decided then and there, if he had the chance to find happiness despite his curse, then his best friend deserved his chance at the same happiness. Just because he was cursed didn't mean he had to be alone forever.

  “Okay,” Sam said.

  Cassius let out a quick sigh of relief, grinning as he hugged Sam. “You’re the best, Sam. I knew you’d understand.” And with that, he trotted off toward the lobby, leaving Sam helplessly wondering if things really would be okay after all.

  Chapter 11

  Crush

  It had been an hour since their br
ief encounter at the elevator and Carson still hadn’t come down from the thrill of Ian’s smile. Despite Garry’s incessant pestering, he was off in his own little world, grinning to himself, sighing as he thought about Ian, thought about how it felt when Ian smiled at him. He also thought of how good it would feel in a week’s time, once they’d won the championship, when they’d really have something to celebrate.

  He’d made up another toast in his head, something which would be so moving and real that Ian would understand him and know he meant every word. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d finally grow a spine and actually tell Ian how he felt, how he’d always felt about him. Unlikely, but the seed had been planted and now it was germinating in his mind, threatening to burst into full bloom.

  “You’re acting weird,” Garry said, snapping Carson out of his fantasies. He turned quickly, seeing his friend wrapped in a towel, fresh from the shower. In his daydreams, Carson hadn’t even realized Garry had left at all. He felt a little bad then, having already bailed on their card game in order to indulge his fantasies about Ian's smile.

  “No, I’m not, I’m just thinking.” Carson answered, pulling his comforter up to his chin. Despite it being June, the hotel room was rather chilly.

  Garry gave an amused snort, feet shuffling on the carpeted floor as he crossed the room to his suitcase. “Great,” he said playfully. “What about?”

  For a moment, Carson entertained the idea of lying, deflecting, saying anything else to get Garry off his case, but he knew full well that it would be useless. They’d known each other too long to truly deceive one another. So instead, he sighed and bit the bullet. “Ian.”

  Garry groaned. “Oh for the love of…Carson. Is that what this is all about? Your stupid little crush?”

  Carson gave him a sheepish smile, peeking out from his nest of blankets. Garry was glaring at him from across the room. “Garry, I—”

  “You’re out of control,” he interjected, turning his back on Carson as he pulled on his underwear and then his pajama pants. Garry’s lips twitched into a frown. “I thought you were over that asshole.”

  Carson pouted in protest. “Okay, no. First of all, I am hardly out of control. This is literally the first time I’ve ever done anything like this.”

  “If you don’t count all the times you’ve tried to trick him into giving you piggyback rides, or all the million other times you’ve gone out of your way to attract his attention. Maybe you didn't spell it out, but you behaving like a moron around him is hardly a brand new development.”

  “But, I’ve never actually told him I have feelings for him though!” That was an important distinction and Carson felt that it ought to be recognized.

  Garry sat down on his bed, leveling Carson with an unimpressed gaze. “You don’t have feelings for him, Carson. You have a crush. It isn’t the same thing. It’s not even remotely the same thing.”

  “One leads to the other,” Carson mumbled.

  “Well they aren’t the same thing. And if you actually, really, truly had feelings for Ian, you would have done something about it years ago. And badly tackling him doesn't count. Neither does spamming his email with cat pics or not-safe-for-work gifs. I'm talking about something real. But you haven’t. Because you don’t.”

  Garry’s voice was sharp, scolding, and Carson felt like he’d been knocked down a peg or two. He did raise a good point though. He’d had years to stew on his emotions, to get over his little crush and move on in life. He could have said something at any point, made a move, asked Ian out, for God’s sake. And he hadn’t. But he hadn’t gotten over Ian during that time either. If anything, Carson was even more smitten with him now at twenty-seven than he had been at twenty-two.

  “I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him after the championship.”

  “You’re such an idiot,” Garry said flatly, reaching over to turn off the light. “I’m telling Perry.”

  “No! You’re not!” Carson’s voice jumped up an octave and he sat up straight, ready to intercept should Garry make for the door.

  “Hell yes, I am,” he insisted, rolling around until he was comfortable, not following through on his threat immediately. “He’ll talk some sense into you. I should’ve told him years ago, let him nip this shit in the butt.”

  “I never should have told you any of this!” Carson yelped, staring at his friend’s silhouette in the dark. “You’re such a jerk!”

  “And you’re being completely naïve.” He retorted. “Has Ian ever even indicated that he might reciprocate? Huh? In four years has he ever done anything which might mean that he likes you too? It’s all fine and dandy if you’ve got a secret gay crush on Ian. Whatever, that’s cool, I guess. But what do you think will happen when you tell him? Do you think you’ll run off together and live happily ever after? I hate to break it to you, but it’s not happening. And you know there’s about seven million reasons why it can’t happen and it won’t happen. So, stop fixating on his lame ass and move on. We’ve got a game to win. Don’t forget about that, Carson.”

  Carson lay flat on his back then, staring up at the expansive white ceiling. What had he expected, really? Garry was right. Ian wasn’t going to take him on some grand romantic adventure. That was never in the cards for them and could never be. But it didn’t mean a guy couldn’t hold onto the fantasy. Carson closed his eyes, breathed in and out.

  Okay, maybe there was no hope for a future with Ian and nothing besides his own desires fueling everything, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a shot. Maybe he’d be rejected. Oh well. At least he could try.

  A heart can’t soar if it’s wings have been clipped. Hmmm…the metaphor didn’t quite work, but regardless, Carson was resolved. He’d tell Ian how he felt. He’d be the one to make the first move.

  He sat up again and kicked his feet over the side, pushing himself out of bed. He walked slowly to the bathroom, then thought better of it and went for the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Garry asked, sitting up.

  “I need to clear my head,” was all Carson said before stepping out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

  Carson just had to go. He didn’t know where he had to go, but he had to get outside, away from Garry and everyone else so he could think. He’d stood in the hallway for a minute or so, pacing around by the ice machine before he heard voices carrying down the hall and decided to book it.

  Darting for the stairwell, he let his feet make the decisions for him, and before he realized it, he was on the pool deck. He blinked quickly, shaking himself out of his thoughtless daze, eyes falling to the crystal blue water of the pool and the man leisurely swimming toward him.

  “Hey,” Fabian called, smile obscured by the water lapping around his chin as he swam up to the ledge.

  “Hey,” Carson called back, giving an awkward little wave. The hem of his pajama pants was becoming wet from the puddles on the deck.

  Fabian hoisted himself part of the way out of the pool, resting his chin on his forearms as he let his legs float behind him. He spoke teasingly, voice gentle. “You’re hardly dressed for swimming, Carson. Don’t tell me you’re going to skinny dip.”

  Carson laughed. “Huh? No, no. I just…needed some space. To think. Or something.” He paused. “I didn’t think anyone would be out here so late.”

  “I was just about to get out,” Fabian said.

  “You don’t need to leave on my account,” Carson said.

  Fabian chuckled, flipping gracefully onto his back in a smooth motion. “Don’t worry. I’m not.” He floated there a moment, water sliding over his lean form as Carson watched him intently. There was a quiet, easy peace between them, neither speaking for the moment. It was nice, unforced, to just stay there and silently accept and enjoy the other’s presence.

  Fabian paddled slowly through the water, and after a minute spent watching him, Carson dropped down to roll up his pant legs over his knees and dip his feet into the pool. When Fabian noticed that, he smiled and mad
e his way back over to the ledge and to Carson.

  “What’s the matter?” He said, voice low and raspy from the chlorine. “And don’t say it’s nothing. You'd have to be blind not to see that you’re upset.”

  Carson blinked a few times, watching the waves swirl around his ankles. He didn’t want to talk about anything, not to Fabian, not to anybody. Nothing against Fabian Harris, but, well…they weren’t close like that. Not the way he was close to Garry. And Garry, his best friend in the whole world, had just royally shit on his parade. He fully expected Fabian would do the same…except for the fact that Fabian might have been the single most decent human Carson had ever met. He was competitive on the field sure, but he was also a gentleman. Like, a real and true gentleman. Fabian was nice, empathetic. He wouldn’t be an asshole. Not the way his own bestie had.

  “I guess I could use a pep talk or something,” Carson mumbled at last, turning to look at Fabian.

  “What kind of pep talk? Are you nervous for the championship game?” Fabian asked.

  He shook his head. “No, no. I guess, maybe, like…a general pep talk. One to apply to my whole entire life.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Fabian said, swimming over to the ladder to climb out of the pool. Carson stayed sitting where he was as Fabian walked over to fetch a towel to dry off. “Don’t tell me you’re having a crisis of self-confidence, Carson.”

  “I’m not, I just…” He trailed off.

  Fabian sat down beside Carson, letting his feet dangle into the water as well. “Don’t. Whatever is bugging you, don’t even indulge it. You’re better than the voices saying you aren’t good enough. I know it, and I know you know it. So just block it out and do what you’ve got to do.” He smiled, dimples showing. “Besides, you’re young, talented, and not bad to look at. You keep dancing to your own drum and the whole planet will fall at your feet. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a dirty liar and they’re probably green with envy.”

  Carson watched Fabian with a half smile, slowly stretching into a full out grin. Leave it to good ole Fabian to pump up his confidence again. But he did make a good point. Carson had never lacked self-confidence the way he sometimes lacked self-awareness. He would never have had the nerve to leave for London at such a young age if he didn’t have faith in himself as a footballer and as a person.