by JL Merrow
“So, what do you think of England?” Nick asked as they sat in an alcove in the corner, diagonally across from where a couple of the locals were making inexpert use of the dartboard.
Julian shrugged elegantly. More formal attire really did suit him extraordinarily well. Even if he did look a little overdressed here. “It’s… cozy? Gemütlich.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I miss the mountains.”
Nick grinned. “Did you see the hills we were driving towards? In East Anglian terms, the Gog Magogs are mountains! They’re over two hundred and thirty feet tall at the highest point, you know.”
Julian laughed. “Not quite the Alps, is it? Strange name, though. They were giants, weren’t they? Gog and Magog?”
“I’d be more impressed with that bit of knowledge if I hadn’t seen you looking at the pub sign as we came in,” Nick said. The sign depicted a rather ugly, one-eyed giant wielding a large club, with tiny villagers fleeing in crudely drawn panic before it. “But yes, in legend, they were giants—or possibly a giant, from a place called Magog, depending which source you read. Apparently he, or they, lie sleeping, buried beneath these hills, although what they’re waiting for, legend neglects to mention.”
“You don’t believe the legends.” Julian took a sip of his drink.
About to laugh, Nick reconsidered. “Well, as a historian I know there’s often a grain of truth in myths and legends. And as a—well, you know what—I’ve become aware that there is, as they say, more in heaven and earth. Perhaps there were some unusually tall men cutting a swathe through the fen countryside many centuries ago? But for my money, dead is dead.” He did laugh then. “Unless, of course, you know different.”
“I could tell you anything, couldn’t I?” Julian mused, his eyes glittering. “And you’d have to believe it. Witches in the Black Forest, mountain trolls, vampires….”
“I may be uneducated in matters supernatural, but I’m not that gullible. Besides which, I’ve been to the Black Forest. The only witches I saw there were dolls for the tourists.”
Julian’s smile grew wicked. “Maybe they come alive at night?”
“I hope not. My mother still has one hanging in her kitchen.” Nick took a swallow of his lemonade and soda, as usual missing the bitter smoothness of whisky, before changing the subject. “Have you traveled much in this country? Ever been north of Watford Gap?”
For once, Julian’s mocking smile seemed to be directed toward himself. “Well, I thought I had, until Tiffany pointed out that Watford Gap is actually nowhere near Watford. At least, not the Watford I know.”
Nick tried to quash the momentary irritation he felt at hearing the girl’s name. It obviously didn’t work, as Julian’s face fell. “You know there was never really anything between Tiffany and me, don’t you, Nick? We’ve never been more than friends.”
“I know that.” Remembered jealousy meant his smile was a little forced, but since amateur dramatics had never been his forte, there was damn all he could do about it. “It’s the sea I miss,” he pressed on hastily. “Grew up in Cornwall, not far from Land’s End.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I admit I’m far from an expert on English accents, but—”
“I know, I know. Product of the public school system, I’m afraid. You know, one of my contemporaries was from Edinburgh. Turned up at school speaking broad Lowland Scots and was told he had two weeks to learn how to speak ‘properly.’ To hear him now, you’d think he’d never been outside the Home Counties.” Nick grinned ruefully. “Of course, I don’t suppose that’d happen nowadays. God, I sound old, don’t I?”
“You’re not old.” Julian smiled. “And anyway, I’ve tried to have relationships with people of my age and it’s never worked.” He sipped his wine spritzer. Nick wondered if he knew the drink was considered a bit girly over here, not to mention old-fashioned.
“They always want too much, or too little,” Julian continued. “If you know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” Nick told him softly. It was just as well that he’d foregone the whisky, as they were on dangerous ground here. He could feel his hackles rising already at the thought of what Julian had suffered, what had set him apart from his contemporaries. He took a deep breath. “This… man, Julian. Your father’s beta—”
“Schräger. Boris Schräger.” His accent was harsh.
“How long were you with him? If that’s the right way to describe it.”
“It—yes.” Julian’s gaze was fixed firmly on his glass. “I was his, Nick. For almost two years.”
Nick slid his hand unobtrusively over Julian’s. Inside his blood boiled. Two years? That meant since he was fourteen. Arguably legal, in Germany, but only just—and Nick was very sure this hadn’t been the kind of relationship the legislators wanted to encourage when setting the age of consent. How could any father do that to his child? “How did you get away?”
“My mother.” Julian looked up fiercely. “You must understand that it was not her fault. My father is a forceful man.”
Nick barked out a bitter laugh. “I can think of a few ways I’d prefer to describe him.” He forced himself to calm down a bit. “So how did you both escape?”
“She came for me while I was at school one day. She told me my father had said we were to take a trip. We came to England with nothing but what we were wearing and what money and jewelry my mother could carry.”
Maybe he was reading too much into this, but Nick couldn’t stop the chill that ran through him at the way Julian described their flight. “She didn’t tell you where you were going and why? Was she afraid you wouldn’t go with her if you knew? Christ, Julian, did that sick bastard screw with your head enough to make you believe you were in love with him?”
“Nick.” Julian’s voice was pleading, and Nick realized uncomfortably that he was half standing.
A quick scan of the pub confirmed that yes, all eyes were upon him, and he sat, embarrassed and still angry. “That’s not what you said before,” he muttered. “You said you’d fucked. Not that he’d made you believe it was some kind of relationship.”
Nick hated himself for causing the pinched look on Julian’s face. “It was… complicated.”
“I’m sorry.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “God, now you know the real reason I don’t date. I’m just so bloody awful at it.”
Bizarrely, Julian was smiling again. “It’s all right. I wouldn’t expect you to feel any differently. But can we forget him now?”
Nick took a drink, grimaced at the watery taste, and put his glass down again. “Absolutely. So, er, what were we talking about?”
“You said you were from Cornwall and that you miss the sea.”
“Ah, yes. Mm, well, the point is, there’s more to the British Isles than East Anglia and Kent. You should take a trip up north sometime—plenty of mountains in Scotland, even if they’re not as high as the ones you’re used to. And Wales, of course, although it always seems to tip down when I’m there. The rain, I mean,” he added in case the idiom was unfamiliar to Julian.
“Rain isn’t so bad. At least it keeps the people in their houses. Less chance of being seen when you go out for a run.”
“Agreed, and that’s probably what we should be doing now, if we’re going to.” Nick hesitated. “We don’t have to, you know. If you’d rather do something else….”
Julian’s smile turned teasing. “Oh, I think we could combine the two, don’t you?”
Which wasn’t, in fact, what Nick had been talking about at all, but now it had been mentioned, he was suddenly desperate for what Julian was implying. “Shall we, then?” He nodded at his largely untouched drink. “I don’t think I’ll bother with the rest of that.”
Julian smiled and raised his own glass to his lips, draining the contents.
The publican called out a cheery “Good night!” as they left, and Nick felt he might, after all, dare to show his face here again. Outside, it was surprisingly cold, the wind having got up. “I don’t think we’l
l be wanting to spend the night out, do you?” he commented as they got back into the Mini Cooper.
“No. A shame, though.” Julian’s hand brushed Nick’s thigh, a touch innocent of itself, but which sent a surge of arousal coursing through him. Nick had to force himself not to flout the speed limits too outrageously as he drove toward the Godolphin Estate.
Going to the pub had been a good idea, he decided as he pulled Julian to him in the dark of the little wooded area. He felt relaxed—needy, but not savage. Julian seemed to respond to his mood, and they kissed deeply, tongues exploring each other’s mouths lazily. There was a freshness about Julian’s kiss that made Nick want to be gentle with him, protect him. It was only with reluctance that he broke the kiss.
“We should get out of the car,” he said in an almost whisper. “More room.”
Julian’s nod was more felt than seen. They got out and rejoined each other at the front of the car. Their bodies seemed to mold together, and their kiss was, if anything, deeper than before. Nick shivered as Julian pulled up his shirt and exposed his back to the chill night air, but the heat between them was more than enough to compensate.
Nevertheless, Julian abandoned his attempt to get Nick’s shirt off—for now, at any rate. He moved his hands round to Nick’s belt buckle. Nick’s breath hitched. Backing off a little to give Julian room, he kissed his way down the slender neck limned by the pale light of the moon that hung just above the treetops. Julian opened Nick’s flies and freed his cock. Moaning, Nick scrabbled at the fastening of Julian’s trousers, desperate to return the favor. His knees were weak as he finally pressed their erections together. Their combined heat seared his palm and sent a wave of sensation shuddering through him, almost as if he’d come at the moment of contact.
“Nick…,” Julian whispered.
“Mine,” Nick replied, a small part of him ashamed of his possessiveness, but the rest of him exultant. Yes. His, not Schräger’s. For once, though, the impulse aroused in him was one of tenderness. He stroked them both slowly, gently—too gently to reach orgasm, but then that wasn’t what he was aiming for. Not yet. “I want to take you.”
“Yes. God, yes. How do you want me?”
Instead of answering, Nick took hold of Julian’s beautiful, firm arse and lifted him bodily onto the still-warm bonnet of the Mini Cooper. Julian’s trousers were now in the way, so Nick pulled them off carefully and dropped them, with his shoes, to the forest floor. Then he bent to take Julian in his mouth.
Julian cried out and arched his back, bucking into Nick’s mouth. “Stop! Please, I can’t….”
“Too much?”
“I want you inside me when I come.”
For once, Nick was prepared. He took a condom from his jacket pocket and slipped it on—a little like locking the stable door after the horse had bolted, but better than nothing, he supposed. Shoving the ripped foil back into his pocket, he took out a small tube of lube.
“You don’t need to—”
Nick’s jaw clenched briefly. “Who is the alpha here?”
He could hear the smile in Julian’s voice as he answered, “You are.” He lay back on the bonnet, hands hitching up his legs, baring himself for Nick.
I love you, Nick almost said. He drizzled the lube over Julian’s hole and applied it liberally to his own erection. Then, with one hand on his cock and the other on Julian’s hip, he pushed in.
He’d thought he knew what it felt like to be inside Julian. He’d known nothing. It was incredible, amazing—pleasure without anger, without jealousy. Before, they’d rutted like beasts. Now it was something different, something better. Nick’s whole body felt electrified by the contact. A simple brush of skin against skin was like three thousand volts directly into the pleasure center of his brain. Nick moaned, or spoke, he couldn’t tell which.
“Need you,” Julian said, and it was all Nick could do not to slam into him. But he managed, somehow. He pushed in farther, every fraction of an inch wringing more sensation from him. When Julian’s whole body jerked, he knew he was there. After pulling out slightly, Nick thrust into that tight channel again.
“Yes! God, yes….” Julian was babbling, incoherent. Nick set up a rhythm, so exquisitely slow he thought he might die of it. But it was worth it to see that look on Julian’s pale, moonlit face.
So beautiful, Nick thought, and then Julian’s body contracted around him. The sensation, coupled with the sharp odor of fresh come, pushed him over the edge as well. It was so intense, it was almost painful—like a kind of transformation. It seemed to go on forever. Nick felt suspended between moments, as if nothing could ever be the same again. Then all too soon, the waves of ecstasy subsided and he hung, panting, over Julian’s limp body. As his softening prick slipped out, Julian’s legs straightened. Nick pulled him up and held him close, feeling come soaking into his shirt and not giving a damn.
His only regret was that it was too cold to linger in each other’s arms for long afterward. Reluctantly, Nick released his lover. They stood there in the moonlight for a moment, just looking at each other.
“Time to change,” Nick said at last, and they silently removed the rest of their clothing. Nick, at least, felt that words, right now, were redundant.
There was a strange kind of beauty in the way Julian transformed. It was a seamless transition; analog, not digital. Like a wave breaking upon the shore. Nick wondered if it had the same inevitability, once started. If Julian changed his mind midtransformation, would the process simply reverse itself, like a tape rewound? Nick couldn’t imagine himself being able to do that. For him it seemed more like jumping off a cliff: once you started, momentum made the result inevitable.
Julian’s lupine form sniffed impatiently at his legs, and Nick realized he was just putting things off. “You know, this would be much easier if you weren’t watching,” he muttered.
The Julian-wolf wagged its tail playfully and turned away. Nick laughed for pure joy. God, he was being ridiculous. It didn’t help, though, that the moon had visibly waned since the last time and was also now low in the sky, barely visible above the trees. In fact, if he didn’t (no pun intended) get a shift on, he wouldn’t be able to see it at all. Nick tried to concentrate, to focus his attention on the moon and its call. Surrender, Julian had said last time. Not something that had ever come easily to Nick. With a sudden flash of insight, he focused instead on Julian’s form, let the sight and scent of his mate call to him. And this time, it felt different. Right. In the near-darkness, Julian’s pale coat shone like moonlight itself. Like a beacon, guiding Nick to his true form.
Yes. There was still pain—but it was a good sort of pain—and when it had finished, Nick padded exultantly over to his mate.
Who promptly lay on his back, baring his belly. Nick let out a short bark, amused. He nudged Julian with his muzzle and the smaller wolf sprang to his feet. Together, they set out through the now-familiar woodlands.
The night was young, and there were rabbits to be caught.
IT WAS approaching midnight when they got back to college. As they walked through the gates, Nick recalled that he hadn’t told Julian anything about his moving plans.
“It’s looking like this will be my last year living in,” he said conversationally.
Julian turned to look at him. “You are moving?”
“Well, it’s more like I hope to be. I’m looking for a house to rent. It should make things easier for, you know, us.”
“Yes! Yes, of course.” Julian smiled and suddenly seemed ridiculously boyish, causing Nick to feel a strange twinge. “And it won’t matter how far out it is, as we’ll be able to travel in together. I could leave my bike in college—maybe some of my books, even—”
Nick stopped dead, appalled that Julian had mistaken his meaning in this way. “Julian… you can’t just move in with me. Do you want to cut yourself off from all the other students?”
Julian’s face froze. “I’m already cut off from them.” He looked away.
“Exactly! So it’d be mad to make that even worse. You’re only in your first year here. This is when you need to forge friendships, make connections with people. And in any case, I’m not at all sure it would be such a good idea to make things between us… public.”
Julian flinched. “I see,” he said stiffly, still not looking at Nick. “I apologize.”
What the hell was he apologizing for? “Do you, ah, want to come up to my rooms for a drink or something?” Nick offered, trying to placate him.
“You want me to?” Julian asked.
Nick was tired and fed up of trying to work out what was going on in Julian’s head. “What I want is for you to stop telling me what you think I want to hear!” Guilt pierced him as Julian hunched in on himself and then turned to look at Nick with obvious reluctance. He was about to say something when a window slammed shut overhead, making them both jump.
“Good night, Dr. Sewell,” Julian said politely, his face devoid of any expression.
Nick sighed and returned to his rooms alone.
THE WOLF’S blood was pounding in his ears. His Own was here. Alone.
Trembling, caught between conflicting desires, the wolf could not bring himself to end the chase too quickly. Careful to stay downwind, he tracked his Own. It seemed agitated, indecisive—wandering from street to street, then doubling back upon itself. Of course. His Own needed him. Needed his guidance.
The wolf kept to the shadows, losing sight of his Own where necessary, but never losing the scent. His ears pricked as a new note joined the scent. Arousal. Incensed, the wolf sped his pace, closing the distance between them.
His Own was with another. The wolf watched as they talked. The other grew angry and turned away with a curse.
His Own stood there for a moment, then turned back the way it had come, its back straightening for some reason, its step now sure.
The wolf felt the thrill of adrenaline flooding through his veins. It was time.
Time to reclaim his Own.
