Shifting Again

by Shifting Again (ant

  “We’ve already done the shirt-lifting,” Erlend replied, panting. “Just a wee bit more…”

  It was a sticky mess between them now, but in Erlend’s relaxed state, he didn’t mind it at all.

  “I meant,” Ronan said a bit later, stroking Erlend’s short hair, “that there are other ways of doing this.” His hand stroked down Erlend’s arse, fumbling a bit there. “Other ways,” he emphasized.

  Erlend moaned softly. “My flatmate at University mentioned those once, when we were pissed one night.” He thrust against Ronan’s hip as Ronan’s fingers began tickling at his arse. “You need slick, aye? Something. Check the drawer.”

  He heard rummaging and Ronan’s triumphant laugh. “KY Jelly? Presuming much, Love?”

  “From the doctor. Kirsten…” He groaned as Ronan’s slicked-up fingers traced from his balls to his arse. “Ronan…”

  It was sharp pain and feeling too full, followed by a burning he didn’t think was possible. But when Ronan found the angle, Erlend saw stars. “Aye, Love, that’s it…”

  He was surprised they lasted as long as they did. This time, the mess was more contained, even though he doubted the sheets would ever be the same.

  “Good?” Ronan asked, kissing his shoulder.

  Erlend rolled over, capturing Ronan’s mouth with his. “We could wait a while, and let you find out for yourself, eh, lad?”

  ***

  Erlend looked at the number on his mobile phone, not surprised to see that it was the cottage's main number.

  "Where are you?" Ronan's voice asked. "The secondary school needs Peedie's birth certificate for something."

  "I might not be home ‘til this evening. John Isbister's cow is expecting twins." Erlend shifted the phone to his other hand. "Can you take the certificate up to the school before it closes?"

  He could hear Ronan having a conversation with Peedie in the background. "Peedie says she'll drive it up." Even after all these years, Ronan still wasn't entirely comfortable riding in a car, much less driving one. "Or I could call your mam."

  "Tell Peedie she can drive in five years, just like the rest. And aye, call my mum. She'll be happy to."

  "So, where is the damned thing? I can't send it off if I don't know where it is," Ronan prompted. "I'm not blessed with the second sight or anything."

  "Check the safe in our wardrobe. The combination is Peedie's birthday."

  He could hear Ronan making his way to the bedroom and then shoveling off the pile of clothes that had hid the safe for so long. "So there is something under there. I thought it was just your laundry basket. So you just dial in the numbers and it opens?"

  "Aye. And her certificate should be on top of the pile. If not, it'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

  "Except tomorrow's Saturday, remember, Love?" Ronan reminded him. "A Saturday when the bairns are off at your sister's and we have the day all to…"

  There was a shriek in the background. "I don't wanna hear it!" Erlend could hear Peedie shouting. "You've already scarred me for life, Ronan!"

  "I'll let you get back to that," Erlend said with a laugh. "If Mum wants to take her shopping as well, there should be some extra cash in the breadbox."

  "And spend an entire afternoon to myself? Whatever would I do?" Ronan whispered into the phone. "Unless I stay here and think of what I'll do to you tomorrow…”

  Ronan was cut off as someone yanked the phone from him. "I'll make sure he goes with us, Da," his daughter said into the mobile phone. "Gran and I will make sure he has something presentable to wear." Presentable to a twelve year old though wasn't the same as presentable to a fifty-year-old man, much less a selkie.

  "Don't frighten him too much, peedie lass," Erlend said. "You aren't the one who has to live with him in that sense."

  "But we're not talking about that," Peedie replied quickly. "And he's making faces at me, so I'll give the phone back to him. Later, Da!"

  "So you're resigning me to an afternoon of shopping in Kirkwall?" Ronan asked. The selkie sniffed. "Taking me for granted, you are."

  "Just want you to look pretty for me when I get home," Erlend whispered into the phone, smiling a little.

  "We'll see about that." Ronan's voice got louder. "So I'll get the certificate and have your Mam run it up to the school, and then Peedie will be able to start secondary in the autumn, aye?"

  "Sounds right. See you in a few hours, Love."

  Then Ronan said something he rarely did on the telephone. "Love you, Erlend."

  "Love you too, Ronan."

  It wasn't until he was driving home that night that Erlend realized what was also in the safe. It was all he could do to stay within the speed limit as he crossed Mainland, hoping Ronan would still be there when he got home.

  But the sight of his youngest children sitting on the front steps gave him all the answer he needed.

  Peedie threw herself into his arms as soon as he got out of the car. Bryn followed behind her.

  "I'm sorry, Da. I tried to get the skin from him, but..."

  Erlend held out his arm, taking Bryn's lean body in his arms as well. "It was inevitable," he whispered to their heads. Peedie still fit under his chin, but Bryn was almost as tall as he was. "I should've hid it better. I should've given it to him years ago. I should've…”

  Bryn pushed back, and even in the twilight, Erlend could see that his eyes were red. "He had to go, Da. You saw how thin he was getting. It was time. They aren't meant to stay on land forever, not anymore."

  Peedie looked up at him, tears streaming down her round cheeks. "He left a letter, Da. And he looked like he might've stayed. We thought he was going to for a moment, but then…”

  Bryn shook his head. "He had to go back," he repeated. "Here, Da." He rummaged in his pocket for the folded up note. “Ronan said for me to give you this.”

  Erlend herded the two inside, not surprised to find lunch still on the table and the house a general mess. Over the years, they had divided up the housework between them, with the children doing most of the cooking. After almost twelve years on land, Ronan still couldn't--or refused to--cook reliably.

  He sat down at the table, staring at Ronan's graceful handwriting. From the creases of the note, it looked old, as if it had been written years ago. "Dear Love..." it began.

  Dear Love,

  We both knew this day was coming, and I wish with all my heart that I could stay. The ancestors know that my gran tried, and even my mam tried. It's just not meant to be. The Norsemen divided our fates years ago, so our kinds have grown apart. We don't love like you anymore, or share your passion for all things. Long life isn't a comforting thing when you spend most of it missing the ones you love. Which will surely be my fate.

  By right, I owe you nothing. You kept me prisoner all these years, not that I didn't love the shackles and cage. You gave me your children, something I never expected to have. And I'll miss them more than I can say, so much that probably only you will understand.

  But the old magic does give us one gift, one saving grace. With our skins, we are allowed to return to the sea. And with our skins, we are allowed to call others to the sea with us. I can't now, because the bairns are still young and need you, but when you're ready, Erlend...

  Call for me, love. The seven tears are all it takes. And, I promise you, we will be together again.

  Yours. Always.

  Ronan

  Erlend didn't even notice his hands shaking as he finished the letter. He took a deep breath, trying to hold back a sob. The letter was dated four years ago, which meant that Ronan had planned for the eventuality of finding the skin. The "Yours. Always" at the bottom, however, was probably written only hours before.

  "Da?" Bryn's voice was worried.

  "It's all right," he answered hoarsely. "It's all right, buddo." He tried to smile, but his face crumpled instead.

  ***

  He stared out at the sea the next morning, watching the seals play in the bay. One particular gray seal seemed to return h
is stare with brown eyes that he'd know anywhere.

  "If I promise not to hide your skin, will you come back sometimes, just for a night?" he called down to the seal, trying not to hope. "It'll be years before I can come to you, but as you said, years are nothing when you live so long."

  The seal held his gaze, looking as if he was considering the offer. With deliberate slowness, the seal nodded his head once before disappearing beneath the water.

  Erlend let out a breath that he didn't even realize he'd been holding. It wasn't forever, just until the children were settled and grown. A lifetime of love for his children, and a lifetime of loneliness, building up seven precious tears.

  alpha

  by ba tortuga

  The ground felt good under his paws, solid and firm, just a little damp, just a little cool. Autumn was coming, Cage could smell it in the air, sharp as a knife where the winds cut through the trees.

  He was getting tired, slowly but surely the moon had stopped calling and the extra energy had started to fade, the urge to run and run and hunt easing as he neared home.

  A hare crossed his path, right before he turned toward the den and his nose twitched.

  Oh.

  Yum.

  His direction shifted, motions quiet and sure, nose on the ground as he tracked.

  So intent was he on his trail that he missed the big black blur that came at him until the last minute, when it hit him and sent him rolling over and over. Heavy snarls filled the air as his attacker went for his throat.

  No. No. His den.

  Instinct took over, teeth flashing as he fought to find his feet, to defend his territory with all he was, fur to bone.

  The Other was bigger, maybe stronger, pushing at him, teeth snapping only inches from his throat. The ground churned beneath their paws as they fought, back and forth.

  He managed a sharp bite to one ear, another to the big male's flank as he tried to keep his throat, his ruff away from those teeth. The ground beneath their feet gave way and he jumped back, landing hard and snapping his teeth in the air in a direct challenge.

  Mine.

  MINE.

  The Other came in again, answering him with bared teeth and wild golden eyes, pushing him hard, going for his vulnerable lower back legs.

  Cage ended up scrambling for higher ground, claws scraping on the stone and bark left exposed on the ground. He could taste blood, sharp and metallic on his tongue and it tasted like prey.

  Bounding after him, the Other seemed tireless, seemed to grow larger, the ruff standing up around his neck. That tail had to be twice as full as Cage's.

  A pure fury filled him, sure as the sunlight that was lightening the sky. Hold on. Hold on. The sun was coming and he wouldn't lose his home. He wouldn't.

  They circled, both of them growling and bristling. The Other leapt at him again, almost catching him, just missing.

  He dropped low, snarling and trying for the Other's paws, anything to slow it down, to give him time.

  He missed by inches, the Other leaping back, then bounding for higher ground, toward the sun. Damn it.

  Cage took the risk, running toward his den as fast as his legs would carry him. The change still left him confused and weak, vulnerable.

  He skidded to a stop a foot short, the Other right there in front of him, snarling, teeth bright in the rising light.

  Without stopping to even think, Cage lunged, teeth bared as he howled out his fury, his frustration.

  He thudded hard to his very human back just as the sun crested the rise, hitting them fully. The Other had thrown him without breaking the skin, snarling loud. The sound cut off though, mid-stream, becoming more of a...grunt.

  Oh.

  Ow.

  Shit.

  Man, come on. You can stand up. You can.

  Really.

  "Fuck..." Now that? Was so not a wolf sound.

  Cage rolled up on hands and knees, blinking down at his hands, the torn nails, the mud. Yeah. Okay. See? Changed.

  Good dog.

  The Other was bigger as a man, too, wide shoulders and muscled arms braced as the guy looked at him, dark brown eyes wide. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

  "This... this is my place."

  "Yours...how long? How fucking long have you been in my den, you fucking pup?"

  "Your den? I won it in a challenge, fair and square." He had the scars to prove it, the big grey had almost killed him, but he'd done it and he wasn't leaving. "Get the fuck out of my way."

  "Jesus. It's been mine for years. What the hell?" The guy stood, unsteady, blood streaking the left side of his ribs.

  He scrambled to his feet, breath coming in quick pants. It wasn't his problem. It wasn't. His bed was in there, waiting for him.

  Those big hands clenched into fists, the hair covered chest filling with air as the guy breathed deep, preparing for the next round, maybe.

  Man, he needed a big rock. Not that he could pick it up to throw it right this second, but a big rock was better than no rock at all.

  The guy staggered, growling low and ugly. "I'm fucking tired. I'm going in there to sleep. You can come or not. But don't fuck with me, Pup."

  "It's mine." He wasn't giving it up. He wasn't. "Find your own place."

  "This is my place. You really want to go again?" The man could loom. That was for sure. He was all cut muscles and heavy brows and hot brown eyes.

  No. No, he really didn't, but he would. This place was his.

  Cage launched himself toward the door, praying for the element of surprise to work, just this once.

  It didn't. He collided with that heavy form, the smack making both of them grunt, the momentum forcing them to the ground. Luckily he landed on top.

  "Find your own place." He scrambled for the door, something in his shoulder popping as he muscled it open.

  "No! Goddamn it." They tumbled again, the door swinging crazily behind them as they rolled across the kitchen floor. "I left this place with a friend. What the fuck did you do to him, you little prick?"

  They landed, the big guy on top this time, straddling him.

  He covered the urge to whimper with a snarl, both hands pummeling at whatever bit of hard, hairy body he could reach.

  They fought until he was exhausted, until he could feel blood running down his hands from scratches he'd left. The body pinning him down got heavier, the fight weighing both their limbs.

  There wasn't a fucking inch of him that wasn't screaming, wasn't begging for his bed, for a long few days of sleep and healing and dreaming. Things got a little swimmy, his eyes crossing as he fought to urge to sink under.

  One hand finally closed around his throat. "You can stay, you don't try anything. Got it? I need to rest..."

  "This is my den." He gasped, snapped as he fought. "F...fair and..."

  Moon and stars, he was tired.

  Fading.

  "We'll fight about it later," the guy said, hauling him up off the floor so his feet dangled a little. "Now we rest."

  He didn't even have enough left to argue, so he sorta... hung there and blinked. Then he was in his bed, the smells comforting and right. His bed. His home.

  The Other slid in next to him, heavy and warm, smelling wrong and odd and yet familiar. LIke the scent that had lingered when he first moved in.

  Finally he just snuggled in, let the black and quiet pour over him, the heat around him defying the threat of autumn in the air.

  ***

  The light shone brightly when Roman woke, and damned if he wasn't starving. Really. His belly felt concave. He needed food, and he hoped to hell the little wolf cub had some.

  The cub. Lord. Roman rose up on one elbow and looked down, one hand settling in a disturbingly proprietary way on the kid's hip. This one had fight. Grit. It amused and astounded him.

  He stared at the kid, really looking, noting smears of blood he'd left. Looking for anything else that might tell him a tale.

  Compact, but not small, covered in a rough pattern
of scars and bites that proved the cub was a scrapper. The kid didn't smell of a pack, didn't look starved, smelled strongly of male and musk and blood.

  His stomach rumbled and Roman grinned. He could eat the kid alive, but not that way. Really. Sighing, he rolled to his back and stretched, pondering eggs. Surely there had to be eggs.

  A sharp yip sounded and the kid vaulted out of the bed, looking like someone'd just rung his bell, eyes wide as saucers. "I. Uh. Fuck. Who."