Beast of Bodmin Moor 37

The Beast of Bodmin Moor





“I’m still ravenous…” Phin noted, ever the greedy guts.

“That’s because you need food,” Jake informed him. Bossy boots.

“Nope, it’s not…but I am peckish, too.”

“You need food. Or you might find yourself setting off in search of some, whether you want to, or not,” Jake warned, the blue clouding with worry.

“Did that happen to you?” Phin tried to do keeping his voice whisper soft, but it still sounded shouty.

“Yes. Later. Food first.”

“Oh, okay…then do I get my pudding?”

Yeees. C’mon. UP.” Jake ordered. Phin had sprung to his feet before deciding to do standing up. “Um, I didn’t mean instantaneously,” the scoundrel chuckled.

“I didn’t do choosing…your voice did.”


“When you said ‘Up’, your tone was different…like a summons, so I did listening to it.”

What the—? I didn’t, well I don’t…different how?”

“It sort of did bonging, like a gong.”

“Not…on purpose. Does it sound ordinary now?”

“It could never do sounding ‘ordinary’ to me…” Phin admitted “…but yes. It is more velvety now, p’raps because I can hear its textures—like notes of perfume—it’s not doing the gong thing though. Try and do it again. Maybe…you must want me to do it. A lot. Dang, I might wish I hadn’t done suggesting that…” 

“Okay…well, you need to eat, but I’d better tell you where to go, incase you start chewing the rug. Fuck, I feel ridiculous…Phin, kitchen,” Jake commanded…and yes, there it was again. A tone that did echoing round his head, tugging like a leash. Phin shot off down the hallway, Jack hot on his heels. “Interesting…” The glint of steel in those eyes glistened silver-grey-blue as the scoundrel grinned in triumph. Uh-oh.

“I think I regret mentioning it, already,” Phin grumbled, a smidge distractedly, while watching Jake tug the fridge door open. The whiff of bacon and sausage that wafted Phin’s way made his mouth do watering…enough to p’raps cause drooling. He could smell everything in there; bacon and sausage being the most scrumptious. Far more appetising than the slightly sour taint of milk—which wasn’t off—that was its stink. There was also something sharp, citrusy…and the metallic tang of cans…and some more stuff Phin couldn’t be bothered to do identifying when he wanted a sausage.

“What d’you fancy?” Jake asked, after watching Phin do snuffing the air for a few seconds.

“That’s the daftest question I ever heard, but I may as well have some sausages in the meantime.”


“Jack…will you tell me about doing changing now?” Phin asked, after gulping down his last bite of sausage sandwich. It had proved so tasty, he’d scoffed it as fast as he could, which was a bit weird when he always did savouring his food. Rather than scarfing as if someone might do snatching it away. He also felt a mite more…settled in his tum, less skittish in the marble department.

They were seated at the kitchen table, wrapped in their so-soft bathrobes. Phin couldn’t resist snuffling at the sunshine musk clinging to the one he wore, even though Jake was seated opposite and the entire cottage was steeped in his scent. 

“It was…awful. I didn’t know what the hell was happening, when I first woke. I wondered what the fuck I’d taken…acid seemed about the best bet, when everything was so…vivid, intense. That makes me sound like a bloody hippy: It was like far out, man…” Jake dipped his head to staring at the table when his face flushed scarlet.

“It didn’t do sounding daft to me…my senses seem to think much-too-much all-at-once is a splendid plan. Everything feels more excessive than usual…excessively excessive,” Phin grinned, before admitting, “I’ve never done understanding what that means, not really, nothing I do is too much to me. It feels…normal. Too ordinary to know what they’re going on about. It’s akin to being told I’m in the penthouse when I’m sure I’m on the ground floor. Bonkers…but I have to do believing them, because they’re right and I’m wrong, but I can’t work out why. Did that do making any sense?” Phin wondered, wrinkling his nose…as if his words smelled too strange to pull off such a feat.

“Yes…it does. If it’s any comfort, I doubt I could’ve been as tolerant as you have. Not without snapping a few necks, at least. Excessive, compared to what, or whom?”

“I didn’t want to do bearing it anymore, so that’s why I bought my campervan. I didn’t need to be tolerant though, I just forgot about concentrating and did taking lots of no notice. Anyhoo, you still haven’t told me about doing changing and I’m very starving.”

“I know…” Jake groaned, his voice a husky rasp as he did snapping his head up to spear Phin with blazing blue; luminous, lit from within.

“Jake…” His name, barely above a breath, rifled the air half a heartbeat before Jake did throwing himself forwards, across the table in an ear-clattering cacophony of crockery. Phin (and his chair) hurtled to the floor, landing flat on his back with Jake atop him.

“Fuck, sorry!” 

“S’okay,” Phin gasped, too gatecrashed, Jake-crushed, to care if his spine had snapped as a consequence. “Jake…fuck me. NOW.” Phin’s body felt as if it might do bursting into flames, so intense was the heat, both within and without. 

“Hell, NO!”

“Jake! Please!!” Phin shrieked, gouging grooves in the tiles when his fingers flexed, trying to do clinging on.

“Phin, I need to get you somewhere safe.”

“NOOOO…need you! Aaah!”

Shit…you’d better be right,” Jake growled.

“Huh…?” Phin could scarce see straight, let alone do concentrating on what he might be right about.

“No, not you… Jack,” he stressed, springing off Phin to do scooping him up. Phin was bent over the table a bitten-off breath later, his cheek smushed to the soothing cool of pine. “Y’kay?” he asked, sweeping Phin’s robe aside. 

“Ye—” The snap of heaven-sent hips did snatching the rest away when Jack buried himself in Phin’s body. “Aaaahh…” Replacing it with a sigh of sheer relief.

“Gnrrrh! S’tight!”

“Hmm…” A smile was too busy smearing itself across Phin’s mush to do speaking. His brain couldn’t be bothered, and his body was too besieged by bliss to care about bugger all. Else.

“Oh f’fucksakes…” Jake’s curse breezed along Phin’s back alongside the thunk of his forehead against it.






Jake shot forwards, propelled by a force stronger than will when he threw himself across the table. He smashed straight through the remnants of their supper; plates and cups scattering like shrapnel as he ploughed into Phin and sent him flying—chair and all—to land with a bone-jarring clatter, flat on his back on the floor.

“Fuck, sorry. I” Jake groaned, gazing down at Phin’s shell-shocked expression; wide-eyed and unblinking, rosebud lips parted in a perfect ‘o’.

“S’okay. Please Jake…” Phin’s spine spasmed and his entire body jolted as if a thousand volts were tearing through it; long, lean muscles locking with a violent tremour as his body heat spiked and the need snagged their guts.

“Fuck…NO,” Jake shrieked, scrambling onto all fours. Phin’s face was frozen in a mask of pain, eyes screwed tight shut. Teeth gritted against the agony they could feel as surely as hear the ear-splitting screech of Phin’s fingernails clawing tile.

What the fuck should I—we—do? 

You know damn well what. Do it.

Sex? Are you off your fucking nut? NOW? He’s going to change, I can’t start pounding away at his arse, have you lost the plot?

They. Need. Us.

“Shit…you’d better be right.” Jake snarled. “No, not you… Jack,” he told Phin, peering up in puzzlement through eyes glazed with pain when Jake bent to scoop him off the floor. Phin was bent over the table in the barely a blink later; feverish skin pressed to soothing pine.

“Y’kay?” Jake asked, flipping Phin’s robe out of the way. His scent, stronger than everand suffused by theirswas staggering, tempered only by the resinous warmth of wood. Jake shrugged his own robe off and clasped his cock to line himself up.

“Ye” His answer was cut off when Jake thrust into his body, hilt deep with one sharp snap of hips and a hellish growl. “Aaaahh…” Phin’s sigh was steeped in sheer bliss…as if he’d just had a sedative suppository. Far too typical to seem the least strange, in any circumstances.

“S’tight…” Tight? Jake felt all-but flayed to bone.

“Hmm…” A rolling purr of sound, like a lazy curl of smoke.

“Oh f’fucksakes…” Jake groaned, flopping onto the extravagant sweep of Phin’s back. His skin was a ‘smidge’ cooler; clammy, but no longer burning up as before. “I thought you were about to” Jake broke off, afraid to give it voice for fear of tempting fate.

“Foxy was right though, see? Jake, will you do moving now?”

“What?” Jake blinked, bewildered. Surely, he’d heard that wrong? Foxy was right?

“He knew it would do working. Pleease?” Phin wiggled his arsea promptJake assumed.

That conversation would have to wait. The triple weight of their impatience was grapple hooking his guts. An unholy trinity of need gnawed his nuts, urging him on. Fuck, he was being besieged from everywhere; beneath him, through him, from him. Submerged in it, consumed by it. Desire, as devouring as the lust licking along his veins. Raw instinct, primal in its power, too pure for the petty complexities of human minds.

Jake pulled back, to hammer straight home. “Gnrrrh!” Home. Mine. Heart…body…soul. Mate. Mine. Home… Hips pounding to the rhythm of twin heartbeats, pulsing through their body; racing ever faster, swirling around his head.


It was a riot of taste, touch, scent, sound; his eyes were closed, lost to this world… Lost in Phin. There was only him. Them. Phin and his fledgling self. Soothed now, by the lullaby slam of flesh on flesh and the gatling growls that ripped free. As if he was bobbing on a boat, rather than bent over the kitchen table being nailed by a half-feral hybrid. The impossible pressure was maddening as Jake ground himself deeper still. Phin, never still; gouging grooves in the wood as his fingers fought for purchase, straining against Jake, as if there could be no close enough. For him, either.

“Phin…I can’t…”

“Hmm…yessss…” he sighed. A sing-song shimmer of sound…as if he was stoned.

When Jake bent to curl a hand around Phin’s cock, the scorch of flame that flared up his arm almost finished him off. Jake had no sooner formed a fist than Phin came; thick and fast, pulsing through Jake’s fingers as their name rattled the lampshade and shackled their heart.

“Jaaack!” A howl of sound so sublime it made Jack preen with pleasure. A husky rumble, deep in their chest skittered along Phin’s spine when Jake bent to press a kiss to it, then gripped Phin’s hips and snapped his own forwards a final time.

” Phiiin!” Jake shuddered and stilled, trembling as his vision shattered and torrent of white heat tore through his body; a rush of excruciating ecstasy too intense—truly too much—to survive intact.







An abrupt abyss of emptiness filled Phin’s body and did clutching his heart. He snapped his head up when his happy haze of bliss was obliterated by a sharp stab of awareness. Jack. His scent was stronger, sharper, cleaving through the sunshine musk. Jake had shot backwards, as if he’d been fired from a cannon. He would have been a blur had Phin’s eyes been incapable of tracking his trajectory…but Jake almost did sailing through the air in slow motion.

A feral growl did ripping from his throat when he crashed into the cupboards before crumpling to the floor, gulping great gasps of air. Phin was crouched beside him before he realised he’d done moving, but he must have. When Jake’s head jerked up, his eyes were an inhuman hue; a shimmering swirl of cerulean, flickering like gas flame.

“Grrrretback!” His snarl slammed against Phin’s ears like cymbals. Phin didn’t do choosing, Jake’s words propelled him back, away from his shuddering self. His honeyed skin was doing twitching as if a current of electricity was skittering through it.

Phin could see, hear, smell, feel far too much to do taking it in; engulfed by an avalanche of everything-at-once. Above all else, he could hear the frantic pounding of Jake’s heart, so he did concentrating on that, rather than the renting screech of Jake’s skin and the twang of tendons tugged too taut. The grate of bone grinding bone savaged Phin’s ears as Jake’s joints did popping with a meaty sounding squelch and his muscles strained, stretching. Stretching, to accommodate the changing shape of a body that began to blur when his shimmering skin did darkening from gold to ochre, from ochre to russet, grey…and black.

Phin didn’t see, hear, think, any of that separately; they were shoots from the same stem. Flooding his senses alongside the echo of Jake’s pain and the scent that did filling his entire self.  The ‘sudden sharp hot stink’ of…jackal. Not fox. Although, it was, o’course, his very own Foxy who did unfurling before his very eyes. After rising from the floor to stand proud on all paws, he did shaking out his fur with a full body quiver. Phin was sure he could do seeing every individual hair of his coat sway, like a field of wheat waving in the wind

Something deep within Phin stirred, stretched and then settled, with a huff of content.

“Jack…” Dropping to his haunches where he’d stood, Phin did holding out his hand. 

Claws tipp-tapped across the tiles as Jack came close enough to snuffle Phin’s fingers for a few seconds, before butting his head against his palm. Phin grinned and did fondling his ears as Foxy hoped he might; it made a happy rumble of sound do purring in his throat.

“It’s lovely to see you,” Phin told him, rather than expect Jack to sense that for himself. Even the best instincts could be foxed when feelings counted for more. “I’m glad you’re here…” he added, unwilling to let Jack do wondering whether some part of Phin wished he wasn’t. He never did ‘assuming’ stuff, and Phin wasn’t about to start now. Not when the consequences couldn’t matter too much.

Jack lifted his head and did swiping a sloppy lick across Phin’s cheek with a glistening pink tongue. “You’ve just had some sausages, so you shouldn’t be too peckish… d’you want a drink?”

Jack looked down at the floor, at the trail of broken crockery littered across it, then lifted his head and did raising his tufty eyebrows. Ruefully. Phin spluttered and clamped his hand across his mouth, in case Foxy was miffed about the mishap. But the eyes that gazed up at Phin were twinkly with amusement as his tongue did lolling out in a laugh.

“What would you like to do? Please do staying, if you want to, I’ve missed you. We can go out in the van if you like, unless you want a snooze. It’s late though, so you might need a scamper about.”

Jack tilted his head to one side as he did thinking about this. Then swiped a swift lick across Phin’s hand and turned to pitter-pat across the kitchen floor. Phin followed him down the hallway, but rather than do heading for the front door, Jack stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at Phin with a steady gaze.

“‘Kay…” he nodded and followed the swish of his foxy tail as he did bounding up the stairs. Once at the top, he pattered across the landing to Jake’s bedroom and leapt onto the bed. To Phin’s utter delight Jack did turning a full circle—in a foxy fashion—afore settling down at the bottom of it.

“I just need to use the loo…oh, sorry, d’you want to go too?”

Jack waved his head from side-to-side, then did resting it on his front paws, so Phin went in search of the bathroom. Once he’d been to the loo, he stood at the sink to do looking at his face in the mirror. It seemed much the same, except for his skin, which was a mite akin to moonlit alabaster. Rather than death pallor pale, as usual. Had his eyesight done causing it? Or, had he been bestowed with a radiant complexion since this morn? A thought that made Phin do grinning—at himself—with loon alert glee.

On the subject of eyes, his irises were darker than ever; so dark it was tricky to distinguish them from the pupil. Unless, they’d dilated so much there was barely any brown left…and yet, they didn’t look dull or flat. More like globules of ink caught in the light, glistening with the secret rainbow of colour secreted by black.

Nevertheless, Phin would rather do staring at Foxy than his own face, so he headed back to the bedroom. Jake’s. He must do remembering that—Jack and Jake—rather than Foxy and Jack. It would all do getting in a muddle otherwise. How much longer would it be before Phin did changing into his own Foxy? He must ask Jake when he did coming back.

Phin wasn’t afraid, he knew it would do hurting, but that was the price he had to pay. He’d felt much the same about sex before the wasps finally buzzed off.

“Hiya,” Phin grinned when he saw Jack still curled on the bed. His tail did patting the duvet—which made Phin’s insides purr with pleasure—as he lifted his head. Phin bent to press a kiss to the top of it and inhaled a lungful of husky scent before giving his ears a ruffle.

“I’ll get into bed, cos I haven’t got any fur to keep me cosy.” He told Jack, lifting the duvet to slide beneath it. “Sleep where you’d like to, okay? You don’t have to do staying down there.”

The blue was agleam with a soft glow as Jack watched Phin wriggle down to do resting his head on pillows that seeped sunshine musk.

“Hmm…” Turning onto his side, Phin pressed his face into it and breathed Jake in. The mattress did shifting beneath him as paws padded up the bed, then Jack snuffled at his hair before curling up beside him. After snuggling into the curve of Phin’s body, he did a happy huff; his weight a warm, cosy comfort atop the covers. Phin’s smile was smudgy soft as he curled an arm across the silken solidity of his foxy friend, and let his eyes do fluttering shut.




Beast of Bodmin Moor 36

The Beast of Bodmin Moor




Hmmm…more…” His murmur was a purr of pleasure that shimmered down Jake’s spine and shivered across his skin like the stroke of a thousand feathers. As compelling as the unabashed response of Phin’s body; every sense as finely tuned as a Stradivarius string. Muscles that flexed with such fluidity, he would run like a ripple of ribbon in the wind. Phin’s ungainly grace, like a newborn foal finding its feet, had smoothed from staccato spurts of movement to a melodic glide. A violin stroked by the bow of a master, rather than plucked at random by a truculent teen.

All these shifts might have been too slight to notice, had Jake not been intent on doing just that. Having never watched himself in motion, he’d been blind to the subtle, yet startling differences he now saw in Phin. Even if he had studied himself, his gaze wouldn’t have been graced by a ghostly gleam of pearlescent skin in the soft glow of night-sight. Let alone an endless streak of naked wraith on a sheepskin rug; carved from ivory, kissed by moonlight. Exquisite. His.

Barely conscious of his own movements now, Jake just…let go. Allowed his body do as it demanded and surrendered to the all-consuming craving. Revelled for once, in being no more, no less than a creature of flesh, blood and bone deep need…who needed Phin more than his next breath.

Closing his eyes, Jake focused instead on a world of touch, taste, scent. Relished the rhythmic thud of the most precious sound in his world. As strong and true as they’d ever remain to Phin. Mates for life. I did not think that. Did too. Twin pulses; racing ever faster as Jake sped up, spurred by an impossible pressure, sparking up his spine, boiling his blood. The world behind his eyelids, ablaze in haze of scarlet bright, like infra-red on LSD. No drug on Earth could compare to this. Nothing had ever, or could ever compete. No one. There was only Phin.

It was an irrevocable truth. Written in blood. Their blood. Jake’s scent coursing through Phin’s veins….calling his jackal out to play.







Rather than being gloriously glutted, Phin felt so fizzy he could do sprinting up the side of a mountain for a sumptuous picnic and spot of alfresco sex. He was still starving hungry. In every way. Crikey.

Jake sighed and did sinking down onto Phin’s back in a smudge of slick skin. His sigh was a lush shimmer of sound that seemed to do stroking Phin’s ears. A feeling so luscious he didn’t blame Foxy—Jack—one bit for going all gooey when his were fondled. If the ear thing and being hypercharged, rather than knackered seemed weird, it wasn’t a patch on the fact Phin was willing to swear that Jack felt happy. Not in an instinctive way like before, when he’d sensed that Foxy wouldn’t hurt him, but in a very real way. He knew that Jack was chuffed t’bits. As certain as if Jack had done telling him.

Phin knew lots more things, too…


“Yeah..?”  Jake did pressing a silky kiss to Phin’s spine before slipping from his body and doing flopping on the rug beside him. The ache he left in his wake was hollow rather than ‘hurt’. Phin had never felt finer in his life. Unable to resist the lure of lying flat on fluffy fur, Phin did lowering himself to his belly and turned his face towards Jake.

“You know…don’t you?” Phin was so unsure how Jake would react that his voice came out all husky, hesitant. While he was quite convinced he knew how Jack felt—Jake didn’t tend to do singing from the same hymn sheet—the daftest turn o’phrase Phin had rustled up yet.

“Yes.” Jake’s swallow sounded so dry it did scraping up his throat. “I’m so sorry, Phin. I should be shot.”

“Jake…I’m glad,” Phin did reassuring him, lifting his hand to trail his fingertips down the gleaming gold of Jake’s chest. Twitches of pleasure did skittering across its surface as his eyes sighed shut, despite himself.

“You won’t be…then you’ll hate me for it.” His voice was a rasp of velcro rather than velvet. Another whiff of vinegar assailed Phin’s nostrils.

“I could kill for some chips,” Phin admitted, before adding, “Yes, I will…and won’t do hating you. Ever.”

“You can’t say that…you don’t know.”

“I just did saying it…and I do. I could never hate you, even if you didn’t fancy your bone much and did shredding me with your teefs. So that’s that.”

What the—? You’ve just realised that I’ve turned you into a mangy mutt! How the hell can you insist you won’t hate me for it, so that’s that!?

“Eew…I hope I haven’t got mange. It sounds scratchy…ah well, never mind. I will be able to do licking my balls, that should prove plenty distracting.“

Oh fuck…” Jake’s shoulders started doing shaking when a chuckle bubbled up—despite himself—which seemed to be his contrary response to all sorts o’stuff. Quite how he managed to do so much despiting was a mystery. He was forever contradicting himself in a loopy loop of lunacy. Jake should have been a werewolf, so persuasive was the sway of all things lunar upon his person. Phin didn’t say any o’that aloud. He had bigger fishes to fry.

“Yes please.” Phin grinned.

“What? Again?” Jake’s jaw did dropping a tad.

“I find I’m feeling peckish already.”

“You need food first,” Jake stated, spearing Phin with a steely glint of silvery blue.

Then you’ll do filling me up in a more fun way?” 

“Yes…” Jake sighed and did rolling his eyes, as if he was hard done to.

“It’s a good job I know you’re doing pretending, or I’d be most miffed. I can’t help it, it’s your fault.”

“I know… and I’ll never forgive myself,” Jake snarled. The snarl was self directed, the words were wafted Phin’s way.  

“You’re bonkers…you can’t blame yourself for having the lushest tush on the planet. You didn’t do picking it from a line up of best bums, y’daftie. It was bestowed on you, so you’ll just have to do making the best of it.

“F’chrissakes, I wasn’t thinking about my arse.”

“I was…it’s one of my favourite things in the world to do thinking of. Anyhoo, I already told you that I hoped to turn Foxy and I wasn’t doing fibbing. I meant it.”

“Why the hell would you want that?” Jake snapped.

“So I can be with you…in every way. Both ways. Always. Can we have sex, d’you think?”

“What now? I told you…food f—”

“Noo…when I’m in foxy form.” Phin interrupted.

“God, I hope so…” Jake groaned.


“What’s hah!?” 

“See…you do want me to be foxy,” Phin grinned with glee.

“How the hell d’you work that out?” Jake growled, the blue ablaze with outrage. Hmm…

Phin was a fast learner. Except for stuff he couldn’t do learning at all. Like logic. He didn’t mention that, he was too busy frying fishes. “Easy. You said: I hope so. If a part of you didn’t secretly want me to be foxy, you would never have said that—longingly—the way you did. The very thought would have done affronting your…honour.”

Honour!? If I was honourable, I would never have laid a finger on you.”

“That’s bollocks. Blimey, I seem to be doing lots of thinking about balls. Odd that. I agree with Jack.”

“What?” Jake spluttered, as if he’d gone deaf, all of a sudden.

“I’m with Jack. It’s a Gift.” 

A Gift!? I don’t know where the fuck to begin. It’s NOT a gift, it’s a goddamn curse. You agree with him…how the—?” Jack abruptly ran out of steam, as if his brain was too taxed to do cobbling words together. He sprang to his feet in a flash and stomped to a coffee table by the sofa, upon which sat a bottle of whiskey.

Phin had been too distracted to do thinking about a drink…but now that he had thought about it, his thirst was so intense he could glug The Albion dry. Jake glanced over—as if Phin had uttered that aloud—then gave the lid a swift twist before lobbing the bottle at him.

Next thing Phin knew, he’d snatched it out of the air and seemed to be kneeling up, rather than lying on the rug. He must have done shoving himself up so sharpish he missed that part. It was all a bit of a blur.

“Thank you,” Phin grinned, unscrewing the strewth its tight lid for a quick guzzle. Jack winked when their eyes did locking, but Phin still saw the flick of a honeyed wrist in his peripheral vision. He shot an arm up to catch the tumbler hurtling his way—without looking—still ensnared by bewitching blue. “Strewth…d’you think I could play in goal for Plymouth Argyle?”

“You might want to acquaint yourself with your strength first, or you’ll take out half the team when you lob the ball back into play,” Jake’s chuckle was gruff rumble of sound so luscious Phin wanted to do licking it. He was finding it even harder to do concentrating than usual. His marbles were skittering hither ‘n’ thither, his focus tugged in different directions, trying to absorb the scents, tastes, sounds besieging him. It was a very lot of too much to do taking in at once.

Jack came and sat down, then did leaning against the armchair with his legs stretched out on the rug. They looked as if it had been glazed in golden syrup and sprinkled with silky hair. Phin wanted to lick those too…and very much more. He hoped Jack wasn’t planning on doing cooking, or he might starve to death. Twice.

Phin…” His name was a warning growl.


“Food. First.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t say a thing.”

“It was hardly necessary,” he huffed.

“Crikey.” Phin blinked, looking down. He had his very own jack-in-the-box cock. How splendid.

“That’s the least of it. I’d know if I was standing in the kitchen. I can smell you.”

“What do I smell of?”

“Lust, longing. Need, which is torture,” he groaned.


“Not acting on it. Jack…knows and he’s…fuck!

Phin’s guts spasmed with a shaft of pain alongside Jake’s curse, which came accompanied by scrunched eyes and a sharp hiss of air sucked through gritted teeth. Phin wasn’t even sure whose pain it was. He could do sensing Jack’s…frustration, which didn’t seem daft; his instincts always told him stuff, but never in a way that clawed his insides as proper pain. Scratchiness was different, that didn’t do hurting; it made him want to claw his skin off, but that was a consequence, not a cause. 

Phin crawled across the rug to Jake and found himself sitting astride his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, before he’d done wondering if it was wise. Why bother? He had to comfort Jake, it was a twin-tug on his heartstrings; Jack needed him too. He’d been trying to do far too much thinking, which always made him make muddles.

Instead of fretting about making Jake miffy and upsetting Jack, he should do following his instincts. They never did faltering or faffing about. Stuff would become so much simpler if Phin just did doing.






Jake wondered if his brain might blow up when his skull could no longer contain the chaos; there were too many conflicting emotions waging war in there. The predominant one being guilt. Guilt as vicious as a steel-jaw trap, having done the very thing he’d feared most. A crime so unspeakably selfish that Jake should, by rights, be skinned alive. Shooting would be too quick—too painless—and more to the point, he’d probably survive it. 

Murdering Phin would have been less despicable. Death would have been more merciful than the life he’d damned Phin to. A knowledge Jake would have to live for the duration of his, having forfeited the freedom of revenge. His penance would abandon Phin to the fate they’d forced on him; the one act more cruel than the future Jake had condemned him to.

‘I’m glad…I could never hate you…So that’s that.’

Three pearls of wisdom from Planet Phin. A world of whimsy where forgetting was an art form that defied all reason why, or why not. Jake knew full well that Phin believed every word that flitted from his lips, even when he was ‘doing fibbing’. A fact as unfeasible as it was accurate. 

Phin’s assertion was honest—his scent unsullied by deception—he was telling his own truth. He hadn’t said it to comfort Jake, or in an effort to salve his guilt. The reason Phin gave for being ‘glad’ was the most horrifying of all:

‘So’s I can be with you…in every way. Both ways. Always.’

Phin, quite possibly, envisioned their jackals scampering off into the sunset together, serenaded by pan-pipes. How the hell could he want to suffer Jake? He wouldn’t wish himself on his worst enemy; no one deserved that fate less than Phin. Not even as a furry friend, let alone the ‘mate’ Jack was hell-bent on believing he’d found. Scented a kindred spirit on the wind, or some such nonsense.

Scoff ye not, you upstart. You know damn well what you sensed. 

Kinship? We’re not related.

You’re not human either. So why cite such an irrelevance? Kinship, soulmate, bondmate, mate-mate, whatever. ‘Life partner’ if you prefer a pastel rose by any other name. Take your pick. Then you might want to do remembering that You fell in love, so suck it up.

In love? You can’t just declare that as ‘fact’ in so few days. Particularly after bastardising Shakespeare.

Can and did. I scented a kindred spirit on the wind or some such nonsense, don’t forget. So you took your time, tardy arse. 

Three years is taking my time, not three bloody days. It’s too soon to claim something so ludicrous. I can’t go there—

Too constipated, that’s why.  

What the hell am I supposed to infer from that?

Y’should eat more sausages? 

Ha. Ha.

Sorry, it was irresistible. Like sausages. I meant: you’re too bunged up with crap to go. ‘There’. 

Very funny.

No, it’s not. Still true, though.

Could you possibly look more satisfied with yourself? Don’t answer that.


I’m with Jack. It’s a Gift.”

Setting aside the fact Phin had declared it a gift, rather than a curse…how did he know that Jack insisted this? Jake had no idea what Phin thought about fuck all…although he could sort of tell how Phin felt. But that was based on instinct and scent, not intuition so astute it was absolute.

Phin’s reflexes were astounding. Jake had never seen anyone move as fast as Phin had snatched the bottle from the air…but then, Jake had never watched himself. Excepting the part it was impossible to ignore when that sprang to attention…a party trick Phin had already nailed, with alacrity.

They would barely be able to leave the house if this kept…up. A fact Jake would welcome, if not for a very real responsibility to Phin. Jake could not fail him, Jack could not facilitate that failure. It would be a dereliction of duty. Downright neglect of the man they would die for. The least they could do was pave a way for him to live.

It was impossible to tell if Phin’s…Phinness would prove a positive or negative factor. He didn’t seem to give a shit about participating in ‘society’, he just pottered around doing… Phin things. So how the hell was Jake supposed to prepare him for something he was never a part of in the first place? Purely because Jake deemed it his ‘responsibility’? Surely that would make him as guilty as those who’d tried and failed to chip away his too muchness? Hadn’t doing just that been their ‘responsibility’ too?

Phin would have every right to resent him for even attempting something Jake had no wish to do. All of which left one road clear for Phin’s campervan. A singular raison d’être for Jake. Be there for him. Help Phin come to terms with it on his own terms, ensure that he felt as comfy in fur as his skin.

They’re both ‘his’, numbnuts. 

I know they are, he’s hardly going to wear yours, is he?

Ours. Your pronouns are offensive, you should be shot. By the PC police.

Oh, shut up…If there’s ‘something you’ve been meaning to mention’…? I’m not that big a bastard. I’d bite my tongue off before misgendering you—

Us. You’re at it again…so y’can shove respecting my identity where the sun don’t shine. While you’re at it, ask Phin to explain ‘exception that proves the rule’. That’ll justify your belief in honouring folk’s pronounsapart from oursyou pillock. By the way, I’m somehow certain ‘your’ tongue is as safe as the part you were particularly  fond of, half an hour ago. Odd that.

Why the hell did I get saddled with the most pedantic and cussed critter on the planet?

No idea, we’re sure…





Beast of Bodmin Moor 35

The Beast of Bodmin Moor





“S’okay…you can open them again now,” Jake assured Phin, who’d cringed from the glare of the overhead lights, his eyes screwed shut.

Fuck. How the hell was Phin supposed to handle all that was heading his way, full beam bright? His senses were too acute for his own comfort before being skyrocketed into supernatural territory. Having ever been plagued by too much input, how the bejeezus could he cope when too much exceeded human capacity? If only that was the worst of it. Phin had spent a lifetime trying to reign himself in to appease people and patently believed he’d failed. So how would he feel when faced with razor sharp instincts too intense to repress? Responses that would be less suppressible than those he’d already been saddled with. ‘Excessive’ had been Phin’s baseline. Before.

Those charged with whittling away his excesses were about to find themselves in for a bloody shock. Not least when their efforts sure as shit hadn’t derived a jot of job satisfaction to date. A task that would shortly seem on par with a stroll in the park, compared to the polar trek they would all-too soon encounter. 

Unless…Was it possible that supersenses could come as less of a shock to a system already under siege from too much? Was Phin better equipped than most to withstand an extreme upgrade? Or… would the addition of shape-shifter acuity make Phin’s jackal self more…feral than Jack? Less controllable. Would Phin be forced to endure being Too Much Jackal on top of everything else? Fuck.

Jack was no help whatsoever; he was flat out with a daft expression on his furry face, tongue lolling in a far too self-satisfied fashion. For all the world as if he’d spent the night sniffing nefarious substances.

A state Jake couldn’t, in all fairness, begrudge him. The kitchen was drenched in a deranging cocktail of scents so thick it made walking more akin to wading through a pea-souper. Of sex. So potent, it was impossible to breathe without inhaling a lungful of lust laden air. Phin had smelled too alluring to resist from halfway across the moors…he was an opium den on (ludicrous) legs now.

Standing this close, barely a breath apart, Jake could scarce refrain from…doing exactly what Phin then did; launched himself into the space separating them. His full body weight slammed against Jake like a wrecking ball and down he went; standing firm would have impacted on Phin as if he’d been catapulted into a brick wall. Until Jake knew for sure that Phin’s resilience had been enhanced alongside his (further) heightened senses Jake wasn’t about to risk impact fractures by staying on his feet for no reason other than he could.

Jake landed flat on his back on the tiled floor with a bone-jarring crash, crushed beneath a Phin who sure as hell felt less fragile. A Phin whose frantic efforts to disrobe Jake were hampered by being plastered across his body. After finally managing to wrench the fleecy fabric aside, Phin swooped with a low growl; a sound he’d never come close to making before. The mouth he smudged across Jake’s chest was as hot, hungry as his raw cinnamon scent, now suffused with cassia bark. Stronger, more potent, yet retaining the essence that was essentially Phin. 

Jake’s heartbeat skittered, sped beneath the lips Phin clamped to a nipple, dragging a groan from the pit of Jake’s guts with teeth perfectly poised at the point of pleasure-pain.

“Phin…fuck…” Jake gasped when his hips snapped upwards, too desperate for friction to remain static beneath the heavy press of feverish flesh pinning them to the floor. A surge that sent Phin slithering backwards until he was crouched between Jake’s thighs. When he began to trail tentative fingertips along Jake’s cock, there was no need to lift his head to read Phin’s reaction to his new improved view on the world. Now narrowed to, focused intently on, the iridescent sheen of Jake’s cock. The scent that assailed his nostrils was every bit as vivid as visuals.

Jake couldn’t help but hold his breath, despite being (almost) sure that Phin was not about to start on supper but… Jake was rather fond of it, and pups were partial to chewing on whatever took their fancy. The rifle-shot gasp that ripped free was twin toned relief when Jake found himself engulfed in one fell swoop. Phin froze, aside from the guttural groan that crawled up in his throat—and along Jake’s length—when his taste-buds erupted in a riot of sensation. Those doe-a-deer-in-the-headlight eyes sure as hell flared wide enough to swallow Jake whole without any assistance whatsoever.  When Phin began to drag his head back, it was with a flattened tongue and lust-glazed gaze that were truly too much to endure. Too much for Jack to tolerate with Jake flat on his back at the mercy of his…mate.

“Grrrrrh…” The growl that tore free was damn near feral when Jake threw his body weight to the side, rolling Phin onto his back and reclaiming his rightful spot, astride everlasting thighs.

“So beautiful…” Phin, quite unperturbed by their abrupt role reversal, simply lifted his arm to hover quivering fingertips a few inches from Jake’s face. The scent of his skin was so intoxicating Jake clamped a hand around his wrist to brush his nose across its tender inner skin. Jake’s lids slid shut upon inhaling a lungful of cassis infused Phin, confirming what they already knew. Jake could smell himself; stronger, richer now, with husky mace and nutmeg base notes. Their scent—not on Phin’s skin—beneath the surface, suffusing his own.

“Mine…” Jake affirmed, darting out his tongue to taste their twinned scents, staking his claim. But not emphatically enough. Jake sprang to his feet and scooped Phin into his arms before whisking him into the front room, which was closest. The rug was sheepskin, which would do, although they would rather be outside. Beneath a rustling canopy of leaves…the air redolent with the richness of earth… lavish limbs gleaming ivory against the lush green of the grass. Tomorrow. For now, the soft tufts of wool would suffice…Phin certainly seemed content to be lowered onto it like the sacred gift he was.

“Fuck, look at you…” Jake heard himself mutter while gazing down at the lustrous lines of his body, the fluid ripple of lean muscle as he nestled into soft fur, a beatific smile on his upturned face. Unearthly beautiful. Caressed by the shady softness of night-sight, the pearlescent gleam of porcelain was mesmerizing. Every inch as captivating as  Phin himself…and all theirs.






Finding himself sandwiched between fluffy fur and hard heat was a contrast more delectable than hot fudge sauce drizzled over ice-cream. A delicacy that left Phin cold, compared to his craving for Jake. He had no other appetite, for neither air nor nourishment; all he wanted was Jake, filling him up, making him whole, forever. Making him His. For Phin wasn’t convinced there was a ‘theirs’. Not in any way that counted; not to instincts that had long since proved uncannily accurate. Despite Phin’s lack of care for consequences and tendency to do forgetting stuff that ‘mattered’ most. They even smelled the same; Jack’s scent might be stronger, but it didn’t differ in essence. Fur or no.

Phin buried his hands in the lush tumble of Jake’s hair, relishing the slither of silken strands that slipped through his fingers. When that magical mouth did crushing to his own, Phin’s lips melted to the plush contours of Jake’s, his breath a life force in itself. It felt as if he intended to do devouring all Phin was, even as Jake did giving more than he took.  Phin was starting to suspect they could spend forever trying to do slaking an unquenchable thirst.

When Jake did pulling away, it was to ensnare Phin with a gaze that shimmered untold shades of azure. Eyes that did drinking him in, as thirsty as his kisses. It felt akin to being nailed to the rug by blue…what was Jake looking for? Phin just hoped he could see it, because he never wanted Jake to do searching somewhere else.

“Are you afraid?” Jake asked, all of a sudden, for no reason Phin could do discerning. 

“Nope, I’m starving…”

“Fuck, I never fed you…” Jake groaned, a husky purr of sound that did shivering across Phin’s skin.

“I want you to do filling me up, not feeding me,” Phin informed him. He p’raps did a spot of hinting too; tilting his hips Jake-wards to do spurring him on. A gravelly growl rumbled in his throat when the scoundrel shifted himself so sharpish, Phin found himself flipped onto his front in a flurry of movement too fast to track. He hadn’t even begun to get his bearings when he was hoisted up by the waist and his bum was hosting a very frisky visitor. 

“Jake!” Phin may have done shrieking—a smidge—it was all too quick to do keeping up. A hot, moist shock to his system so sublime it made his entire self fizzle as if Jake was waving a sparkler about up there. His tongue was doing a flicker-flutter with the fury of hummingbird wings. If it was possible to do combusting with bliss, then Phin would have been smithereens splattered across Jake’s furry rug. It might’ve been a tad daft to think so, but it still felt feasible, all the same. “PLEASE!!” He almost shattered his own eardrums t’boot, which was a wee bit unseemly, but it was all too much more than Phin could do bearing without blowing up.

Jack whipped his tongue free and did gripping Phin’s hips with a fingers so firmand a focus so intenthe didn’t think a tractor could have done dragging him away. A fortuitous thing indeed while hovering on the brink of a moment so sublime Phin would have longed to stay suspended there forever. If he hadn’t craved its fullfilment more than life itself. Or something such. A very excessive lot.  

Grappling hooks of anticipation did gripping his guts when the heavy press of Jake’s cock nudged the core of Phin’s very self. The racket that did ripping from his lips alongside the snap of Jake’s scintillating spine was so steeped in raw lust, it sounded fit for rutting in the forest rather than on a fluffy rug. Phin couldn’t have done stopping it if the rest of forever depended on doing so.

“Jaacckkhh!”  It was a tad startling, but blimey o’riley… the bliss that sandblasted his brain and blitzed his body was unbearable without giving voice to it. It demanded a presence, which was, quite possibly the most doolally thought that had ever done flitting through Phin’s head. Ah well…at least that hadn’t insisted on airing itself too.

It was rush of ecstasy so intense it did snatching his breath away….and quite clearly the last of his marbles. Phin wasn’t entirely sure he did surviving it. He certainly didn’t care. It was akin to hurtling into a hurricane of white heat. Or being engulfed in a fiery furnace; all consuming, inescapable, devouring…and yet, Phin never felt more…safe, sure, complete.

The need was a press too immense to do comprehending…and yet, his body understood. It was necessary.  Nothing had ever done mattering this much; the craving for Jake to do filling him up in every way.

“Fuuck…hang on.” Jake did dragging in a ragged breath and held it; every muscle taut, quivering with a desire so desperate Phin could do tasting it. Having never had a snack quite so luscious, he couldn’t do discerning its flavour…p’raps steak glazed in maple-syrup and flame-grilled in absinthe. Something as darkly rich as molten molasses and so delectable, decadent, he’d go stark raving bonkers if he so much as snuffled it.

“Sorry. Toomuch,” Jake gasped.


Jake…” There was still strain in the single syllable, but Jake’s husky voice did sound less trembly. The sunshine musk of his scent grew stronger, overriding the sudden sharp hot stink of fox-y that had overpowered it. Phin was now thinking in Hughes-isms; theirs was a realm where the prosaic had no place. 

“See, I did remembering. Jaake.” His elongated ‘a’ rifled the air as a sigh of satisfaction. “Now can you please do fucking me?”

Jake? Answered with his hips. Emphatically. Excessive belonged to a world far from this. After (almost) withdrawing with one smooth, swift ebb of motion, Jake surged forth and buried himself in Phin’s body as if to do imprinting on his very bones. His head rocked back and his spine did arching to drive Jake deeper still; he wanted more, needed more… His whole self was ablaze with it; it was like trying to see through a wall of flame. Phin couldn’t think or feel around it…he just wanted Jake to take him as hard and fast as he was holding back. Again.

All the incessant clamourings of Phin’s mind may as well have been whipped away on the wind; he’d never felt so free, so entirely flesh and bone and blood. It was akin to stumbling from a blizzard into a world as pure and untainted as sunlight dancing off fresh snow. A world where there was no too much. Phin could never have ’nuff Jake.

“Gnrr…Phin…” That velvety voice was syrup poured over his skin when Jake did rolling his hips with a foxy finesse no human spine could pull off.

“Hmmm…more…” Phin’s wanton hussy aspirations were p’raps progressing apace. His own spine sure seemed to be indulging itself in some antics Phin hadn’t known it was capable of. But then…his body had never met Jake before, so it probably hadn’t done bothering.

It was as if, deep down, his most secret self had done waiting, muddling along as best it could. Knowing that only one soul could ever do soothing the scratchy. Or fill the hollow ache that was his heart. Knowing…that it would do waiting for Him. Forever. 




Beast of Bodmin Moor 34

The Beast of Bodmin Moor





“Phiinn!” The rasp of his name seemed to do tugging deep in Phin’s guts; somewhere so secret, sacred, he’d never felt a peep from it before. Sort of similar to the sizzling spot that had sent fireworks fizzing up his spine and made his head do exploding; except, this was a…bone-deep drag. Rather than a…button that did triggering consequences. Blimey, it was a good job Phin was too busy to botch that barmy explanation aloud. Whys ‘n’ wherefores that mattered not a jot when Jake’s hips spasmed and he did coming. Lots of coming…filling Phin up, and his whole self with shimmery waves of warm wonder. 

“Hmmm…” Phin sighed when Jake smudged a kiss—not between his shoulder blades as he had before—but to each one in turn. In a tender sort of way, as if he were doing kissing it better. There was nothing amiss though, so Phin had possibly lost his plotalot. The least surprising part of the day, it must be admitted and thus, not a jot perturbing. Jake’s lips felt like squishy satin cushions that sent sparkles across Phin’s skin like fuzzy static. “I’m lots more than okay, afore you do asking, Mr. Fussalot,” he informed Jake. So very okay, in fact, that Phin longed to do the jackal-with-jammy-whiskers sound Foxy—Jack—made while having his ears stroked.

“Mr Fussalot? I am cut to the quick,” Jake sniffed. “Might I remind you that I could shred you with my teeth if I felt a bit peckish?”

“I should p’raps do getting you some bones from the butchers for when you fancy a snack.” 

“Thanks.” Jake’s chuckle skittered along Phin’s spine as he peeled their sticky skin apart, coshing it with a clutch of cold air in his stead.

After scrambling around to do stretching out on the bed, Phin lay, blinking against the glare of the floodlight lamp. Crikey…it was cruel. The duvet was not; the cool cotton felt luscious, so Phin did wriggling a bit, luxuriating in its coarse caress.

“Are you quite comfy?” Jake smirked, quirking an arch eyebrow.

“Yes, thank you…” Phin grinned, “…except for that bloomin’ lamp. It’s brutal…doesn’t it do burning your eyeballs? Mine are screaming and it’s not even orange. Just silver-sharp, like a strobe light. Is…Jack happy, Jake…?”

“It’s a bit bright, but I’m used to it, I guess,” Jake’s shrug was a tad…shifty, but Phin forgot to do mentioning that when he continued, “You know he is…” 

“I wanted to hear you do saying it…I might have been hoping too hard.”

“He is too happy for his own good,” Jake sighed.

“What makes you think he’s too much happy?” Phin asked, turning onto his side, facing Jake. Who did staring down at the duvet as if waiting for it to do something interesting when he replied;

“Because…he doesn’t deserve to be.” 


Jake snapped his head up to do spearing Phin with a blue that glistened like sunlit frost. “I was talking about Jack,” he growled.

“Exactly.” Phin’s smile felt upside down, even though it wasn’t. He could almost taste the tension seeping from Jake’s pores. It was tart…sort of salt ‘n’ vinegary. “You smell like a bag of chips.”

“Chips!?” Jake snorted. “How the hell did you segue from salty quips to chips?”

“P’raps I’m hungry. I’m partial to a chip buttie.” Phin did hedging because he didn’t think Jake would fancy being told he smelled bitter. It was p’raps on par with telling someone their bum looked big in that.

“Hungry, you might well be…but you’re still fibbing.”

“How can I be doing fibbing if I am hungry?” Phin frowned, a bit befuddled. It sounded a tad tricky to tell a truthful lie. He had managed far less probable mishaps, but a fudge was not a fib. 

“Because I can smell it,” Jake stated. Phin was willing to bet it didn’t do reeking of fish ‘n’ chips.

“What is the smell of fibbing?” he wondered. Aloud.

“Er…tainted?” Jake decided before adding, “As if the wrong spice has been added…a pinch of paprika rather than say…cinnamon.” 

“I could kill for an apple crumble, I’m starving,” Phin groaned when his guts did unleashing a loud grumble.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I don’t whiff of fibbing?” Phin guessed.

Not a jot. C’mon, let’s get you fed…” Jake did springing off the bed as if Phin would starve t’death if he didn’t shift himself sharpish. The scoundrel had shrugged on his bathrobe before Phin had even done scraping himself off the duvet. Dang. A spot of naked cheffing would’ve been the finest appetiser on Earth. Perhaps too much so, Phin fessed up (to himself) as he might forget to do remembering his rumbly belly. 

Jake snagged a second robe from the hook on the back of the door and tossed it to Phin, so he did shrugging it on before following downstairs to the kitchen. When Jake flicked the switch, Phin couldn’t help but do wincing as the lights burst to life, like spear points of heat pinging off Phin’s skin.

“Oow! It’s too much!” He screwed his eyes tight shut and did cringing from the circle of overhead spots, but they were coshing him from all angles. Jake snapped them off sharpish and the scorch of scarlet faded to black behind Phin’s eyelids. “Thank you…sorry.”

“S’okay…you can open them again now.” 

Phin felt the air shift, warming when Jack closed the distance between them. His husky sunshine scent seemed to do stroking Phin’s skin. Lust blazed through his body like a comet across the night sky, then a thud did crashing against Phin’s ears as a startled grunt vibrated through his body. The shaft of pain that shot down his spine was weird, when he was sure it wasn’t doing hurting.

Skin...he needed skin. Phin only realised that Jake was somehow flat on his back—on the floor—beneath him while shifting a smidge to loosen the belt on his robe. He would have to do figuring that out later; all that mattered to Phin was Jake’s scent and the craving to be closer to it.

“Phin…” Hm, his voice…was a velvet caress. It made Phin’s ears do quivering in response, like snare drums tuned to its timbre. Raw need was doing clawing his guts when he wrenched the fronts of Jake’s robe apart, revealing the gleaming gold of his chest.

“Gnnrrr…” Phin swooped and melded his mouth to Jake’s skin, smearing across it to the tempting twinkle of a nipple. When he flicked his tongue over its tightened bud, Jake did groaning; a sound as intoxicating as the salt ‘n’ sex taste of his flesh. It was desire so dark, compelling, it did consuming all else, as if Phin’s entire world had narrowed to Him.

“Phin…fuck…” Jake gasped as his hips flexed off the floor, distracting Phin from his sudden skin fetish. Redirecting his focus to the hard ridge of heat doing drilling into his stomach. After a swift slither down his body, Phin’s lids flared wide when his gaze alighted on feverish flesh. He could see the blood doing pulsing through Jake’s veins; his husky musk so strong, it seemed to do seeping into Phin’s very pores. Ensnaring every sense. His fingers were trembling when Phin reached out to trail their tips along the length of Jake’s cock. He sucked in a sharp breath when it did twitching off his belly, as if its beady eye was looking for more.

It didn’t need to do asking twice. Phin had wrapped his lips around its hilt before the racket that crawled up his throat had done making its bid for freedom. His taste buds exploded in a fizzy frenzy like Fun Snaps going off in his mouth when Phin flattened his tongue against silk-sheathed steel to do dragging his head back. Oh, so slowly…he savoured every inch, then did lapping up the pearl of come that glistened at its tip. 

“GNRRHH…” Phin flicked his gaze upwards when that groar of sound ripped from Jake’s lips. Instantly enthralling…it did ringing with the timbre of a demand. A split-second later Phin found himself flipped onto his back and straddled by a Jake who parked himself astride his hips, eyes ablaze with topaz flame.

“So beautiful…” Phin raised his arm to do touching Jake’s face but he shot out a hand and trapped Phin’s wrist. When he did ghosting his nose across its underside it felt as if Jake was drinking in the finest of wines. 

“Mine…” His husky rasp was the sound of grit ground against glass. Jake started to do tracing the tiny network of veins with the tip of his tongue. The shivers of flame that flared up his Phin’s arm was all pleasure, not pain, but still felt as if he were being branded. 

It was with a sudden surge that Jake did springing to his feet, then bent to scoop Phin off the floor. After carrying him through the open door, Jake did kicking a second one open and strode across the…front room before lowering him on the soft tufts of a hearthrug. Phin couldn’t help but do a wriggle, its furry tickle was too tempting to resist.


“Fuck…look at you…” Jake seemed to be talking to himself, so Phin didn’t bother to do staring downwards. He’d seen plenty enough of that particular view and would rather do gazing at Jake.

Phin could see him quite well, despite the fact Jake hadn’t done turning any more floodlights on. His lithe body was aglow with soft hues—not etched in harsh shades of daytime—like the warm caress of candlelight. Illuminating Jake’s proud bone structure and shadowing the hollows of honeyed skin stretched taut over lean muscle. He was magnificent. ‘Mine’. And Phin was his.




Beast of Bodmin Moor 33

I’m sorry I’ve taken so long…here are the next three parts.




The Beast of Bodmin Moor





“That doesn’t look very comfy…” Phin murmured, glancing down at Jake’s cock after throwing an excessive leg across his own. It sure as hell wasn’t; it looked about fit to burst.

Like an overcooked sausage. Phin fed me four, by the way…so you’d better not fuck this up. Or they might have unfortunate after effects. On your best rug…just sayin.

Would Jake ever be able to say ‘no’ to those eyes? To that face? It might have been carved from marble with the express purpose of driving Jake to distraction…and Jack wherever Phin wanted to go. Two lunatics at the steering wheel, careering wildly without a care in the world, as Jake sat cussing from the back seat, fists clenched white-knuckle tight.

There’d been a bit of banter between being lassoed by the leg and flinging himself at Phin—who was now flat on his back on the bed beneath him—but Jake couldn’t begin to recall it. Not while plastered across acres of silken flesh, cocks crushed together by the weight of his own body. A fact so deranging, Jake couldn’t even remember snatching up Phin’s wrists. Or pinning them to the pillow either side of his head. 

“…So tell me, what exactly have you been waiting to do?” Jake all-but growled.

“Anything. Everything. All of it. All of you.”

“Gnrh, you already have us…and you know it.”

“No…I don’t. Foxy p’raps…but not you.”

“He is me.” Jake groaned. Fuck. He’d never even admitted that to himself…or perhaps he had. Despite never accepting it, let alone owning it aloud.

“Jack…” Phin brushed his name—their name—across Jake’s lips. As if in affirmation.

Lust razed denial to dust, blazing through his veins as their their mouths melted together and tongues entwined. The hunger was voracious; as naked as their need, untainted by the bitter tang of fear. Impossible to defer, let alone defy. They would never be able to deny Phin anything….and both knew it. They were tethered as tightly as if they’d been collared with a choke-chain and leash. Willingly. 

Jake had sprung off Phin’s body and flipped him onto his front before he’d registered his own intent. Unperturbed to abruptly find himself with a face-full of pillow, Phin just chuckled. After hoisting his hips up, Jake swiped a lingering lick along the sensitive seam of skin behind Phin’s balls, luxuriating in their mingled scents; a cocktail so potent it dragged a  groan from the very depths of Jake’s guts.


The gentle breeze of cool air he blew across damp skin sent a shiver rippling through Phin’s muscles and made his back bow, beckoning Jake on. When he slipped a finger inside, to ensure that…all was well, Phin was slick with his own come. A thought so erotic it was all he could do to repress a howl. Much to Jack’s frustration; having no recourse to voice the exhilaration coursing through their veins. Or express it with the degree of reverence it deserved.

“Jake…please…” Phin gasped, straining towards him.

“Okay. Just don’t forget to do remembering,” Jake warned. Pointlessly.


Jake could almost hear him rolling those inimitable eyes. “Monster,” he snorted. A retort that triggered naught but the wiggle of Phin’s arse. As incorrigible as it was incendiary .

“Was that intended as a comment…or a hint?”

“My bum is doing multi-tasking, methinks.”

Jake spluttered, blasting Phin with such an explosion of spittle-peppered air it prompted a sound not far from a squeal.

“You’re lethal enough without a multi-tasking arse, thank you very much.”

“Hurry up then, daftie, so it can do concentrating on one thing.”

An excellent point, it must be admitted.

This admissions lark was getting horribly out of hand. Strewth, it was a bloody good job Jake wasn’t Catholic. Confession would sure as hell unleash the batshit in the belfry.






Phin was strung so tight, he could scarce contain himself; every sense was fizzing with expectation, his heart as full as his body felt hollow. Aching with anticipation, hunger clawing at his guts, a gnawing need sharpened by fear. Ratcheted to teeth shattering intensity by the agonising awareness of being gifted something too precious, too perfect to be meant for him. Something that would be snatched away long before Phin could bear it, let alone survive its loss.

It was far too late to turn tail and flee, it had been from the off. He’d been ensnared from the second he’d found himself beset by the quiver of wonder that shivered through his veins whenever he happened upon a new enchantment. He could feel it…the twinkly promise of a new passion shimmering on the horizon. Mr Neil called them obsessions; which sounded horribly like too much. Quite why he felt it necessary to point out such piffle, Phin knew not. It wasn’t a problem unless it looked likely to kill him off, but no-one popped their clogs while reading too much poetry, did they? He could p’raps do eating too much doughnuts. If only in grammatical crime terms.

There was one distinct difference; his new passions tended to do shimmering into being…almost while Phin wasn’t paying attention. But this one had sprung forth all guns ablazin’ with a rootin’ tootin’ pizzazz snaffled from Calamity Jane. Phin would be slapping his thigh and sporting a jaunty bandana before the week was out, if matters progressed apace. As obsessions went it was surely better for his welfare than insisting on cream-to-fawn hued food, so not even Mr Neil could have himself a grumble. It was a splendid way to burn off excess energy too…and scoffing a smidge too much shortbread.


Phin was partial to the new position he found himself in, which p’raps mirrored the mind’s eye imaginings that had installed themselves on a flicker-frame loop in his head. There was a mite more to it than that, though. Being on all fours in such a flagrant fashion felt more delicious than was seemly to admit. It felt divinely…decadent. In advance. Thus, Phin couldn’t help but do hoping that the (not a jot virtual) reality would whup the ass of his darkest dreams. As turns of phrase went, that was a corker. 

Jack gripped his hip with one hand and bent to press a kiss between his shoulder blades as he steadied himself between Phin’s thighs. He could scarce do holding still, so…pressing was the urge to slam back. The world ‘impale’ was possibly a tad unseemly, so Phin didn’t do thinking it. 

“Aaaahh!” His head sure did snapping back when Jake barnstormed his body with a scorch of all-consuming fullness that snatched his breath away. Alongside Phin’s expectations, which hadn’t been excessive enough. A shock that should have sent his system into hypersomething-or-other, but it was too busy being blissy to care a stuff. Thisss… It was more…even than before, in the absence of the burn; which seemed a smidge strange when his bum had been through a fair bit more than customary of late. It would have been quite entitled to feel a mite miffy on the salt in the wound front (or backside) but nope. The scoundrel all-but offered Jake’s cock a glass of sherry and a mince pie, as if it was Santa come down the chimney.

Jake let rip with a rumbly roar that skittered up Phin’s spine when he plunged into his body. A sound so exhilarating—exhilarated—his whole self felt lit up like a Christmas tree. A toe-tingling life-force almost too much to contain. Phin was forced to do gritting his teeth and holding on, or he’d have gone off like a firework. On the 4th of November.

Remember, remember to do remembering. Pfft. There was no price too much to pay for this…






Jake dragged in a deep breath, anticipation glinting like light off a dagger blade. A feral growl shredded his throat when he flexed his hips to thrust hilt deep into Phin’s body. “Aaaahh…” Whose cry was pure pleasure, unclouded by pain. Only its absence was present in his scent. The bow of Phin’s spine was fluid, as if forged from the liquid fire flooding every fibre of Jake’s being. 

“‘Kay?” He gasped, forcing himself to stillness, despite the screeching insistence of his own need and the clawing urgency of Jack’s. Or vice versa, Jake couldn’t tell. His entire self, too consumed by Phin to care. There was only Him, could only ever be him. A knowledge as irrevocable as it was bone-deep.

The scent shimmering off Phin’s skin was akin to inhaling flame. As intoxicating as it was life-giving. Jake’s nostrils flared in recognition of a truth he could no longer deny. Jack had never tried, of course, a fact Jake had been hell-bent on blanking. Intent on blissful ignorance. Jackals mate for life. Plural. Phin smelled of home and hearth; of flickering warmth on a bitter winter night. It was far too late now. It had been from the very first.

I hope you have. I’d like that…

Words as innocent as Phin, before Jake clutched him to his heart; he held both close, and eased back before burying himself home…sweeter than cinnamon sticks on a roaring fire…home. 

“Yesss…” Phin’s sigh caressed Jake’s ears as if he’d done the fondling thing. “Jack… Harder!” he demanded, clenching steel-jaw-trap tight. Jack whimpered, champing at the bloody bit, eyes ablaze like driftwood flame. All primal power, tethered by…time to come. Mine.

Grasping Phin’s waist, Jake ground himself deeper into blinding bliss. Seeking solace in oblivion. Shielding him from the knowledge scorched on his subconscious. Branded soul-deep. Heat everywhere, entwining them together, binding them fast.

“Jake…stop holding back…” Phin begged, squirming with insistence. Jake’s spine snapped forwards; subterranean-self-propelled, their gaze laser-sight bright. Trained like twin targets on the porcelain expanse of Phin’s back…like the budding points of wings, rather than the fate they’d doomed him too.

Doomed my arse. You can’t do deciding that for him—Phin didn’t need to—never does, he told you that from the off. Listen. Heed his words, even if mine count for fuck all. Count your lucky stars, rather than extinguishing their right to exist…

Ignobly less difficult to do when engulfed in ecstasy, drowning in too-much-never-enough of everything, to comprehend even half of it. Driven by sheer instinct, Jake gave himself up to the necessity of them; of here, now, this night. Senses reeling in a blur of sensation…yet each was distinct, sharply defined. Every tendon tugged taut, as finely tuned as harp strings. Muscles, a fluid glide of sinew over bone. His gaze still riveted to Phin’s back; a palette of ivory pearl, stained azure; an opalescent gleam of satin skin.

Never had Jake’s hearing seemed so keen; attuned to every ripple in the swirl of sound, the slap of skin, the sublime sigh of flesh as it slid to and fro, the soft cries flitting from Phin’s lips, every guttural groan wrenched from his own. 

“Phin…” His breath shivered along the serrated sweep of Phin’s spine when Jake bent low, rolling his hips, holding him close. Glorying in the strong, sure pound of Phin’s heartbeat, pumping precious blood through his veins.

“Jake, please…do coming…” Curling his arm beneath him, he wrapped his hand around Phin’s cock and dragged his hips back. “Jaacck!” all but howled with triumph when they rattled off a few short sharp strokes that made their name claw the walls and their senses sing a song as ancient as time. Phin spilled through Jake’s fingers in a shuddering rush, trembling beneath him as Jake’s vision splintered, shattering in light-shot shards too intense for human eyes.

“Phin!” Jake hollered as he did coming. Excessively…as befitted its destination. 

A mate worthy of no less.





Beast of Bodmin Moor 32

The Beast of Bodmin Moor







A gravelly groan rumbled in Jake’s throat when he did lowering himself onto Phin’s body, sealing their sweat-sticky skin together. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air; a husky musk so sublime, Phin never wanted to do washing again. He wanted to wear it forever. It wreathed around them like incense; as heady as swirls of smoke. So tangible, Phin felt as if he might do reaching out to trail his fingers through it.

Phin wrapped his arms around the heavy heat pressing him to the bed and hooked his legs around Jake’s, entwining their calves. When plush lips descended, it was a lush smudge of melting mouths and tangled tongues.

“Did I hurt you…more than you expected?” Jake’s voice was gritty with worry, his gaze searchlight bright.

“No… it did burning at first, but I soon forgot to do remembering.”

“And now…?”

“Now? I’m very fine.” Phin assured him, eyes wide, unblinking, allowing blowtorch blue to do boring holes in his soul.

“Without a doubt, but are you also very…sore?” Jake persisted, narrowing his gaze as if to do probing with laser precision.

“Sore?” Phin did pondering for a mo, for appearances sake. “No…I thought I might be, but nope. Should I be?”

“Yeah… I wonder—” When Jake broke off, Phin could almost hear his cogs do whirring. “That seems probable…”

“What does?”

“When I…did filling you up, it may have...soothed matters.” Jake sounded more than a bit bashful, which was as adorable as it was incongruous. Being a bad-ass beastie, an’ all. 

“So, we don’t have to do waiting?” Phin’s gaze felt as if it should be as glinty as Jake’s, like brown set ablaze rather than burnt umber. 

“I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to…” The low rumble that vibrated against Phin’s chest felt as if it came from his own. Almost a growl, but not quite; more of a foxy purr.

“Is Foxy okay, Jake? Did he…is he happy?”

“Happy? So much so, he segued straight to smug.”

“Well, you did make him do waiting for nothing, so I’d say he’s entitled to be, but that would also sound a mite smug, so I won’t.”

“It’s a good job you didn’t do saying it then, isn’t it?” Jake smirk sabotaged his attempt to do looking cross, but his brows furrowed in the middle when he asked, “Phin…D’you feel…different?”

“Of course I do, I don’t feel like a virgin. Jake? Was it…disappointing, for you…? I didn’t know what I should be doing…” Phin trailed off, scrabbling in his stash of words for ones that wouldn’t do sounding as stupid as he felt.

“Fuck no. NO. Never, ever think that, your body sure as hell did, for a start. I don’t know how it felt for you…but for me? I’ve never felt so…damn. Much. Too much…in the best of ways. Phin…never think that’s a ‘bad’ thing, I don’t give a shit what you’ve been told, it’s the very thing I love mo—” It sounded as if the rest of Jake’s sentence had been bitten off before he could do saying it. Why? Had he realised it would suggest more than he meant? Was he worried that Phin would do assuming too much? In the wrong way?

“It’s okay…” Phin assured him. “I know that’s called a ‘turn of phrase’. I’m not supposed to do interpreting those literally.”

“Fuck. No. I-I need a drink, I’ll be back in a sec—” Jake almost flipped himself off Phin’s body and landed so lightly the whoosh of air left in his wake was louder. When the click of the lamp switch did flooding the room with fluorescence, Phin flinched and slammed his lids shut. It felt akin to staring straight into the sun.

“Sorry. Won’t be a mo…” Jake swished from the room, one of the most delicious sights Phin had ever seen, despite his blazing eyeballs. Blimey…how many watt-nots were in that bulb? A thousand? It was too intense to do getting accustomed to, so Phin did averting his head and propped their pillows against the headboard to lean against. Jake came back in a matter of moments, clutching two brimming tumblers of amber liquid. Whiskey. Phin had no idea how he could tell, until Jake did handing him a glass and he caught a concentrated whiff of its contents.

“When I asked if you felt different…” Jake began, after sinking down to sit beside Phin, “I…didn’t mean in…the way you expected to. I’m worried that you might…”

“Turn foxy?” Phin supplied, not a jot surprised. He knew Jake must have feared consequences he hadn’t done admitting to. He’d been fretting about far more than mad-axing. It was the future he’d been afraid of, not Phin’s lack of one. 

“Yes. Foxy is a jackal…hence ‘Jack’. I’m sorry I lied…about my name…and the rest of it. I was terrified of losing you, no matter how selfish that made me. I’m so sorry, Phin. If I hadn’t healed your head the moment we…met, I wouldn’t have been able to justify so much as kissing you. It was already too late, if my saliva could…infect you. I was too afraid you’d bleed to death, to consider the consequences. It was my fault you fell…I had to at least try and clean it up, the gash was all crusted with grit. I should never have let it go further, but…I’ve done nothing but fill you with…body fluids ever since, as Jack so helpfully pointed out. I loathe myself more than you could ever hate me…which is no consolation, I know.”

Jack...it’s perfect. I’m glad he has a proper name. Oh, I’ve done addressing him a lot, haven’t I? I kept getting your names in a muddle. I knew he wasn’t a wolf and he’s the wrong colour for a fox…but by the time I saw him close up, he was already Foxy in my head. I don’t hate you, either of you, y’daftie…that’s as far from true as possible.” After a brief pause, Phin added, as airy as can be,  “I hope I do.” 

“What?!” Jake did spluttering whiskey through his nose. Oouch, that must sting something chronic.

“You would’ve heard, even if I’d done whispering it, which I didn’t, so ‘what’ off. I hope you have, I’d like that. But Jake….it’s not a full moon, so you can’t be a were-jackal, surely? You seem to do changing whenever you wish…like a shape-shifter. Isn’t it supposed to be…hereditary?”

“I dunno, what makes you so sure?” Jake asked, shooting Phin a surprised side-eye.

“You don’t know? I read it. Werewolves have infectious bites, but shape-shifting seems to be inherited…well, it is in the books I’ve read, anyhoo. Can your family do changing?”

“No. I grew up amongst hippies, not a pack of jackals. My sister hasn’t shifted, she would have told me, without a doubt. I would be able to sense it now…even if I’d been oblivious back then. As for the rest of my family? My mum would have had us paying homage to the jackal gods every damn dawn at a candle-lit shrine…if we’d survived the sheer stench of joss-stick fumes,” Jake snorted.

“Jake…haven’t you done telling anyone?” Phin winced, when his heart did wrenching. “You’ve lived with this alone?

His head was abuzz with a zillion questions he wanted to ask—about how and why and what and where—but Jake seemed to know less than Phin. How the bejeezus had he done managing that? Phin would have done scouring out every scrap of legend and lore he could find. That didn’t matter a jot though, compared to the fact Jake had done suffering it alone.

“It’s not something you can announce at dinner, is it? They’d think I’d lost my marbles, I’d probably wake up in a straight-jacket. My dad would rather know less truths about his son, not more.” His voice was so bitter with self-loathing Phin could almost taste it.

“How I wish you’d had someone. It must have been terrifying…if you didn’t know what was happening. P’raps worse to be alone when you did.” Words seemed useless and might be unwelcome. What could Phin say when he didn’t know how Jake felt? How it felt? He could only spout platitudes that might make Jake want to do biting his head off just to shut Phin up. He placed his hand over the thigh twitching beside his own and did sliding it back and forth, which was supposed to be soothing. Um, no one had ever mentioned naked comforting methods; Jake sure didn’t seem to find it ‘soothing’. He sucked in a sharp breath as his cock did springing to attention. Blimey. It was like a jack in the box. Mm...

“Crikey, does that…happen a lot?” Phin wondered, scrolling through a flicker book of images; chock full of times when Jake must’ve been half-crippled in his skinny jeans.

“It does…of late.” The blue swirled with a luminescence that wasn’t caused by his strobe-light lamp. “Not before…but then, he didn’t want anyone else.”


“Yes. The night…it happened…she said ‘I found you‘. As if she’d been searching for me. I didn’t exactly think it through…but it didn’t seem so strange, in context. I was stoned…and could barely believe my luck. It just felt…necessary.”

Necessary?” The word did ringing with recognition in Phin’s head, where it had so recently pinged into place.

“Yes. It felt somehow…inevitable, despite being such a brief…encounter. It was purely physical, I didn’t even know her name. Nor did I wonder who she was, or why she wanted me…I didn’t think at all. I was at Glastonbury, stoned on fuck knows what. It was just sex. I’ve never longed to see her again since that night, it wasn’t like…this. It just felt necessary, in that moment. I wasn’t even disappointed when I woke alone.”

“You didn’t want to see her again…even for more sex?” Phin asked, staggered. The thought of Jake leaving made a sharp pain do stabbing his insides.

“No. Which was the strangest thing of all. Briefly. I was…relieved. I felt wretched, the last thing I wanted was a morning-after-the-night-before post mortem. Christ, that sounds harsh…but she chose me. Then walked away. As much as I wanted it to happen, I didn’t instigate it, or bugger off while she was asleep.” Jake didn’t sound upset, just sort of resigned. But then, his eyes abruptly sparked as if he’d done sticking his finger in the socket. 

“What’s wrong…?”

“I…crap. Is that how you feel? Now that…you’ve scoffed your sandwich? Could you drive off without a backward glance tomorrow? Tell me the truth.” Jake pleaded, ensnaring Phin’s gaze with blazing blue. Twin laser beams boring holes into his head.

“No. I wanted to do scoffing it, even if it was the last thing I ever did. I wasn’t fibbing when I said I’d rather be dead than stop…that’s how necessary it felt. I still feel that way. If you’re gone when I wake up—which would be a bit weird, cos you live here—but all the same, I would be devastated. Bummer, I shouldn’t have done telling you that…it was inconsiderate,” Phin winced and tried to do amending his words with ones every bit as true. “I wouldn’t do blaming you though, I wouldn’t want to put up with me either.”

“It wasn’t inconsiderate, Phin…I asked you how you felt, you told me. I’m glad you did… I—fuck, everything I want to say sounds too much. More than you’d want to hear.”

“That’s impossible…my ears are as greedy as the rest of me. You couldn’t do wanting too much. If it was something new I might do fretting about doing it wrong…or letting you down, but that’s my bad, not yours. I want you, all of you… Less would feel too scratchy to do bearing…it would drive me demented. That is much too much wanting,” Phin owned, dipping his head to do staring at the duvet snarled in his clutches.   

“Phin…you can’t know how you’ll feel, if—”

“Yes I can. I always know how I’ll feel, even if I haven’t done it or it hasn’t happened before. I can…picture it in advance, which sounds daft, but it’s still true. It’s like…virtual feeling? It always matches the reality anyhoo…much the same as feeling colours. I don’t think about that either, I just can,” Phin shrugged. “Do you want to do more talking or…” He turned onto his side a smidge more and threw a leg across Jake’s thighs. “That doesn’t look very comfy…” he noted, glancing downwards, with eyes every bit as greedy as Jake’s jack-in-the-box cock.

“Already…?” He was definitely doing teasing. There was no negating that.

“Well…I did do waiting for a long time,” Phin sighed.

“It was only a few days.” Jake smirked.

“It wasn’t. I’ve done waiting forever for you.”


“Yes, please.” Phin grinned, blinking a bit. 

He found himself flat on his back almost before he saw Jake spring forwards. Plastered to the bed by the wondrous weight of Jake’s body; a scorch of skin and clash of cocks that snatched his breath away. His wrists seemed to be pinned to the pillow either side of his head, somehow. Crikey, Jake was fast…and so many other things Phin could only do guessing at. A whole world of possibilities he’d never done dreaming of. That was p’raps for the best, on the freedom to do so front.

“Forever, huh? It seems I have a lot of lost time to make up for…so tell me, what exactly have you been waiting to do?”

“Anything. Everything.” Phin smiled, gazing up into a blue ablaze with wonderment. As if he was extraordinary, when Phin had never felt less exceptional in his life. A gift in itself. “All of it. All of you…




Beast of Bodmin Moor 29



Happy New Year to you all! I hope that 2020 is kind to you. Thank you so much for being here and for making this story such a pleasure to rewrite.



The Beast of Bodmin Moor







“I-I’m terrified…I’ll hurt you…but I—fuck. Please, Phin. Run. Go—”  Jake knew, even as he choked them out, that his pleas were the death rattle of a dying conscience. Knew too, that they would fall upon deaf ears. But he had to try. 

They sure as hell couldn’t stop now, which left only Phin to slam the brakes on. Jake had to be able to vow he’d done his damnedest to hand that power over—had tried to save Phin—even though he suspected it was far too late. As it had been from the first. This was inevitable…but he’d continued to torture them both; clinging to the belief that he could be better than he knew himself to be. For Phin’s sake. 

What a hero. Well, you’ve got the fireman’s lift covered…although, I suspect you were supposed to carry him out of the burning building rather than tucking him up in bed. Ah well, seeing as you have, can we get on with the sanity saving part now…while we’re here, an’ all? 

I wasn’t trying to be a bloody hero, smart arse. Honourable, at best. 

A better man than he was. A delusion that planted his palms on the duvet; he had to get the hell away from the body he must claim as his own. What the—?

Do keep up. Which part of ‘inevitable’ didn’t you quite catch?

“Jack!” Phin’s velvet voice rasped from his throat like the scrape of sandpaper. “I’m going to wish I was dead if you dare stop now. Take. Me.” Words that scythed through Jake’s threadbare resolve. His softly pleading, pliant Phin gone; midnight eyes ablaze with dark fire as he demanded far less than he deserved. 

Far less than he has every right to expect.

Jake could deny him no longer. 

Jack would not. 

Just following orders. Addressed to me. So, keep your snout out.

The jackal, much to Jake’s astonishment, had allowed thatpitiful attempt to steal Phin’s fate. Sat silent, serene; smug with triumph as the tattered shreds of Jake’s best intentions bit the dust.

“Fuck me, Jack…please” Phin’s voice may have gentled, but it remained as strong, sure, steady as his gaze; burning black holes of need that brooked no rebuff. Jake was done for. Outnumbered, outmanoeuvred, ousted from his own bloody bed. Jack, f’fucksakes.

On the bright side? Y’still have your body, numbnuts.

So he did, but for how long? Which was, of course, the issue that had been at stake from the start. The single sodding reason why Jake hadn’t claimed what he craved more than life itself. His own. Never Phin’s, which mattered far more. Jake surrendered. Bowed to the inevitable. Bent to capture Phin’s softly parted pout in a kiss as fathomless as an ocean, as timeless as the eyes that had ensnared his soul. Drowning deep; a tangle of entwined tongues and shared breath. 

“Phin…” Jake brushed his name across his lips as he pulled free, but only to smudge his mouth across Phin’s jaw…down his neck to fasten at the pulse pounding there. A god-awful groan crawled up his throat as Jake started to slither backwards, an incendiary smear of skin on skin that set his own aflame. He’d never felt more desperate to touch, taste, take.

His capitulation had but fuelled the need: it was an alcoholic let loose on a free bar. A raging thirst that could never be sated. Greedier, now that oblivion was oh, so near…for they had no intention of stopping. Ever. Phin arched off the bed with a sharp gasp when the tongue Jake had been trailing down his chest alighted on satin-suede flesh that puckered in an instant, allowing him to trap it with teeth that tugged a torrent of pleas from Phin’s lips.

“Jack…” he gasped. “Please, don’t stop, I needaah!

“I couldn’t if I wanted to…” Jake groaned, his senses so engorged on the scent filling—fulfilling—every fibre of their being that insanity beckoned if he tried to defy the need. As binding as an enchantment. Sentiments he would have considered hyperboletoo far-fetched to be feasiblebefore...Jack? Phin? Either, both, but that didn’t make them any less true. Or real.

“Hmm…I’m glad…” Phin’s whispersoft sigh was a symphony of sound. His skin, a silken snare. Jake shuffled back, tracing the rails of his ribs with tip of his tongue, cinnamon sugar growing more salty by the second; their sweat slick, the feverish flesh his chest ghosted across as he dipped his head to dapple in Phin’s belly button. He was trembling, strung so tight he barely seemed able to breathe. All Jake could hear were scrappy wisps of air escaping suspended inhalations shot-through with sharp gasps. His heart was hammering so hard, Jake might have feared for Phin’s welfare, had he never exuded more life. A vitality Jake could scent, taste, as he trailed his tongue down the tantalizing trickle of hair that made Phin’s hips spasm and his breath cut off completely. Jack clamped his palms to the top of lean thighs and buried his nose in scratchy-soft curls steeped in one hundred percent proof Phin.


“Hmmm?” he hummed, swiping a luxurious sluice along Phin’s twitching cock.

“No more. Just, please…now…”

“I’ve wanted nothing more…from the very first.” Jake admitted, in a rasp far too close to a canid snarl for comfort.

“Then why…?”

“Because I wanted you Too Much. Much too much to believe it could possibly be right.” Jake lifted his head, too deranged to care that his eyes looked inhuman. A fact too luminous to allow himself to hope otherwise, with the rest of the room cloaked in velvet darkness.  “Surely you know how that feels…?”

“Yes…” Phin’s smile was a brief flicker of sadness, before those inimitable eyes twinkled with mischief in mind. “Is Foxy okay?” 

“Yes…” Jake sounded as surprised as he felt; that it was true…but also because Phin had not only done wondering, he’d done so aloud.

Jack huffed a happy sigh, a small whine of want following in its slipstream.

“Good. I’m glad… Jack, I don’t want to do waiting anymore…please?” 

Jack huffed in agreement, lifting his muzzle off his paws to regard Jake with his get on with it, shit for brains face.

“No, nor do we…”  Their chuckle sounded like a trickle of treacle.








Phin was wound so twang-tight that something would snap if Jack stopped now; there would be nowhere for all the too muchness to go. The knot in the pit of his guts ratcheted up another notch, shooting sparks along his spine and tingles through his body.

Not even making their customary racket could be enough now…not with the promise of what could be fizzing through his veins, shimmering in the sliver of air separating them still

“Where are you going?” Phin humphed when Jack scrambled up and slid off the bed. The cosh of cold air felt akin to being clobbered.


He could hear foraging, but it was too dim to see what Jake was doing, now he’d snaffled his eyes away, plunging Phin into darkness. “…that you wouldn’t be grateful for.” The grin in Jake’s voice was as audible as whatever  thudded onto the duvet beside Phin’s thigh. His own smile? Was unseemly with triumph when Phin curled his fingers around cool plastic. “Now that is a cat with the cream face, if I ever saw one,” Jake’s chuckle was Death By Chocolate Cake. Glistening with hot-fudge sauce. 

“You can see my face? Duh, I’m a daftie, of course you can. I keep doing forgetting.”

“I’m glad that you can—do forgetting—I mean.” Jake sighed, sobering in an instant. “I don’t…want you to think of me as a…freak.”

A freak? That’s barmy-bonkers. You’re still you—knowing doesn’t make you different from before. Not to me. Food doesn’t do tasting different if you know the recipe, does it? Anyhoo…’nuff nattering, I’m starving. I want my sandwich.”

“Your what?” Jake gaped. 

“When you kept doing worrying, it was like having a wasp buzzing round my head stopping me from scoffing my sandwich.”

“Is there a particular sandwich filling that tickles your fancy, Sir?” Jake smirked.

“Jack, I’m so starved, I can’t do caring. I’ll have the Chef’s Special.”

“Strewth, no pressure there then…” Those burning blues flared as if someone had turned their gas up. 

“Oh, shurruhmmm…” Phin made a most unseemly noise when Jake grasped a bicep and flipped him onto his front before he could do so much as blink. “Jake…? Just how fast can you move…?”

“Very…very fast…” Was a whisper of blowtorch breath at Phin’s ear. Then it was gone and Jack was tugging his hips up to prop Phin onto his knees. He’d scarce got his balance afore he almost fell flat on his face when Jack swept a searing sluice along the hypersensitive skin behind his balls… Up, up, up, to flicker at what felt as if ’twas pulsing with impatience. Doing waiting was never Phin’s best thing, but blimey, he’d waited a lifetime (in the last three days) for this. For him. 

“Ooh…” Hands, hot, clasped cool cheeks and tugged them apart a tad, then oh, help… “Aah!” He was never ever going to do getting accustomed to that. Even if he was fortunate ’nuff to do finding out… Was that even possible?

The whole world had done narrowing to his own butt again. The hyperfocus; fixed on the tongue flickering at his very core, doing prodding, before plunging inside with a scorch of breath-snatching bliss that sent shock-shivers here, there ‘n’ everywhere. From the roots of Phin’s hair to the tips of his toes; he felt as if he’d been plugged in and the power cranked to max hypercharge. His head might do blowing up before the best bit. Well…Phin bloomin’ hoped it was about to be served up…having bided way too much time on the bench of sexing shenanigans already. The swirling was driving him demented—or delirious—it was tricky to tell. If matters didn’t do progressing in a sharpish sort of fashion, he would be fit for nothing but a fancy buckled coat (far better that, than orange overalls; an evil sure to do finishing Phin off. Not in a fun way). 

Much to the relief of his last marble, his right hip was released and the mind-mangling tongue left a hollow ache in its wake; about the only thing on Earth Phin would have done noticing roundabout then. On accounts of the fiery fingertip Jack did trailing down the valley of Phin’s darkest, most delectable, dreams. 

“Okay?” Jack rumbled when he heard Phin’s choked-off squelch; aspiring to be a swallow. His throat—tighter than his hyperstrung everything else—seemed dead set on doing strangling him. A fate that would be an itty bit typical, it must be admitted. 

He’d been so, so scared Jake would stop…so afraid he would find himself abandoned to the darkness with naught but wasps for company as somewhere downstairs, a door did slamming on his dreams.

“Yessss…” Phin managed to croak. A word he would have communicated if he’d had to carve it on his butt with a switchblade. It was then that the press of a slick fingertip—at long last made its presence felt—where he craved it more than air in his lungs. Fact.

Sooo, it was p’raps for the best that there was no need to do choosing…




Beast of Bodmin Moor 17

Hiya… I was asked to make a moodboard for  LGBTQIA+ Historical Romance’s 2019 Moodboard Project. I’d never made one before, but I had a bash:

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A free-for-5-days copy of said trilogy seemed a splendid match for my fancy pants efforts:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Um…moodboardery is a bit addictive… 😳

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Without further ado…




The Beast of Bodmin Moor 






He would recognize those footsteps entering the Albion on a busy Friday night, Jake realised, listening to Phin make his way to the alcove. Nevertheless, it was not the tufty top of his head that appeared at the edge of the bed, it was a hand wafting a wet white cloth.

A flag of surrender; grimly ironic, when only one occupant of this van was succumbing to the wishes of the other two…and his own, of course. Jake still found himself chuckling as he plucked the cloth from Phin’s fingers to swipe across his chest. Deducing that one scent was distinguishable from the other elicited a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ from the subs bench

You’ll find yourself substituted as sharpish as your cutting ‘wit’, if you don’t watch it. You’re on borrowed time, as it is. Mine. 

You seriously expect me to believe you’d prefer to be out prowling the moors?

I’d need your head looking at, if I did. I’m not dogged in denial.

Why the hell were you so insistent on staying? It makes no bloody sense. None whatsoever. You’re prepared to risk his life? Really?

No…which should suffice as answer to the rest of your rantings.

I don’t trust you.

You never did.

That, makes less sense than sausages for supper.


Nothing wreaked upon Jake in the last two years suggested that Jack could, or would, put Phin’s safety before his instincts. A fact that left Jake tightrope walking between the jackal and his whisperer—with Phin’s life on the line—rather than his own. About all Jake could do, was hope. Vehemently. Hope for what though? Neither one would give in, Jack had made that quite clear…and Phin was as dogmatic as the jackal. Worse still, their unholy trio all wanted exactly the same thing. Jake was buggered if he did and buggered if he didn’t…despite neither miscreant being dead-set on that particular outcome.

Two tumblers of brandy were next to appear at the alcove opening.

“Thanks,” Jake retrieved them and retreated deeper into their nook so that Phin could climb in without upending the lot with an unwieldy limb.

“Hiya…” The top of Phin’s head and eyes peered over the edge of the mattress like an anime-style Chad, no doubt emblazoned with the legend: “Wot no Fuck?” 

Much to Jake’s amusement, Phin did succeed in wrangling his excessive self into the alcove without knocking their drinks flying. Fortuitous in itself, when it didn’t seem likely that Jake might lie back and allow them to wind up lying in a lake of brandy. Snatching two glasses out of mid air—before they spilled—might strike even Phin as somewhat extraordinary. Once settled safely on his side, Jake handed Phin his tumbler and mirrored his position, which left them facing one another, heads propped on bent elbows.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” Phin asked, in a voice as soft as it was hesitant.

“I hadn’t intended to leave. Why d’you ask?”

“I wasn’t being greedy, I promise. I just…like to know stuff…so I don’t get scratchy.” Phin cast his eyes downwards, stealing his gaze away.

“Asking someone if they’re about to bugger off while you’re asleep doesn’t count as gluttony,” Jake assured him.

“I’m glad. I just didn’t want you to think I was doing hinting…” Phin was staring into his brandy as if all the secrets of the universe swirled in its depths. Was he avoiding Jake’s gaze, for fear of seeing censure there? Or safeguarding his own?

“Most people are greedy…they just don’t admit it aloud. Quite the contrary, they do their damnedest to conceal their avarice…” Jake murmured, “Self-restraint is the toughest subterfuge…more folk cheat than you’re crediting them with, Phin. Almost everyone lives a lie, in one form or another.”

“Why?” Phin’s nose wrinkle suggested an assault by a malodorous stench.

“Either to fit in…or play the role they aspire to, I guess.”

“That’s a bit daft…like borrowing uncomfy clothes, or swanning about in a swanky suit. I would feel scratchy enough to tear my skin off.”

“Or hack away at it…” Jake sighed, glancing at the gash that might never have been. All that lingered was a score line, now pillow-crease pink.

“That doesn’t work…only if I’m miffy with myself.” Phin corrected him, with an honesty few were prepared to turn upon themselves. 

I doubt he has a choice, dipshit. Do keep up.

“But you’re not greedy…except p’raps for bacon and brandy. So… you either fibbed when said you wanted me. You’re cheating…or you have superhuman self-restraint.” 

Superhuman. Strewth…excuse me while I fall off my legs laughing. 

Ha.Ha. I can’t even argue, you snarky git.

If it makes you feel better, we do ship super/human. I am super…and you’re sort of h—

YesThank you for the breakdown. Not. I am familiar with the lingo.

Colour me stunned…I never noticed the thirty-seven Johnlock fics you inhaled last month. By the way, if you ship our names…you get Ja/ke or Ja/ck. Odd that.


“Even if you fibbed, I still wish you were greedy enough to do forgetting hyper-restraint. That works out about as well as starving t’death…or sticking a cork up your bum.” Phin managed to opine this with an expression so sage, it made prequel Yoda appear foolish. The corker? Was added after a nanoseconds pause for reflection. “Not in a fun way.”

“Oh, I am, that’s what worries me…”  Jake muttered, half to himself.

“I don’t believe you…no, that’s not quite right. My guts seem to believe you…but my head doesn’t.”

“Wanting something and taking it aren’t mutually exclusive,” Jake sighed. “I want a lot of things I can’t have.”

“But you can have me, so I’m not one of them,” Phin shrugged.

“If only. It’s not that easy…” 

”Why? I clearly am. You said you’re not married…and you are not-a-jot impotent. I-I just…” Phin trailed off, rolling his eyes roofwards, as if an alternate reason might be spray-painted up there. “I’ve already done choosing, so it doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t do unchoosing afterwards. And that’s that. I’ve gone giddy now, shall we go to sleep?”

“Sure…beats slamming my head against a brick wall.”

“I think that’s supposed to sound like a metaphor…but…it isn’t. D’you do that very often?”

“Only when I’m pissed off with myself,” Jake admitted. He couldn’t bring himself to tell him any more lies tonight.

“I think you’re more dangerous to yourself than you are to me…” Twin pools of molten brown all-but bore holes in Jake’s soul. 

“I just…really don’t want to prove you wrong.” He dipped his head and his hair fell forwards obligingly. Concealing the treacherous sting of Jake’s eyes.

“I wasn’t wrong about Foxy. You were worried he would hurt me, too…but then, animals like me better than people, so…” An impish grin brought all such observations to an abrupt close. For which, Jake thanked his unlucky stars. Profusely.  “I’ll go and turn the lamp off, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay,” he croaked.


I hope you’re bloody satisfied.

Jack just regarded him with an unblinking stare…and the blatant belief that only one occupant of the bed was making a fuck awful mess of everything.

The light flicked off, then Jake watched Phin clamber up to join him; a lavish streak of ivory gleaming in darkness that wasn’t dark at all…unless Jake closed his eyes. Phin crawled beneath the duvet and lay on his side, facing inwards; arms bent, hands tucked beneath his chin. He didn’t reach out, nor brush Jake accidentally—or otherwise—which felt more bruising than being jabbed with a lethal joint. It was unbearable. Those lustrous eyes were scrunched so tight, it seemed that keeping them shut took more effort than holding them open at five a.m.

Jake found himself reaching out…to brush aside a few tufty strands of fringe. Apparently. Phin’s lids popped apart, revealing big brown orbs that defied their own darkness. As glossy as liquid glass. The apple-strudel scent of hope that flooded Jake’s senses was impossible to defy. He leaned in…until his nose nudged Phin’s, then paused, waiting. It had to be his choice after being rebuffed. A whisper of brandy-warm breath bathed Jake’s face as Phin lifted his chin, just a touch. Enough, to grant Jake access to cherry-ripe lips. Their mouths melted together and for an endless moment neither moved, nor spoke. Even the air seemed to still.

The jackal sat silent sentry.

Despite knowing damn well how ludicrous it was, Jake still felt as if his entire life had led to this… sultry shimmer of quietude as dawn hovered on the horizon. He could neither describe nor define it, just knew that it was. Nothing whatsoever happened. Yet everything did. Only the dual thud of their heartbeats bore witness to Jake’s epiphany.

The jackal just sniffed, a snort of sound which bore a startling resemblance to… do keep up, shit for brains.


“Jake..?” Phin whispered, their lips but a breath apart. “Can we do spooning? I think I’d like that. A lot.”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “Are you turning over, or me?”

“You, please. Um, that will fit better.”

“The real reason, please?”

“What makes you think I fibbed!?” Phin gasped. Innocence personified.

“Instinct. What mischief are you up to?”

“I’m not! Hmph. I just…if you were pressed back there my brain would explode. Oh…and your bum is luscious.”

“Luscious. Oh gawd,” Jake groaned.

“Yup…it’s a lush tush. I don’t have any more reasons, so stop fishing and turn over. I have no nefarious plans afoot…” The latter was intoned with lofty aplomb. Utterly incorrigible.

“That, I suspect, would be a first. Okaaay,” Jake huffed.  After dropping a kiss on the end of Phin’s nose, he turned to face the wall, grinning to himself when an arm was curved across his waist. After shuffling closer ’til their skin fused, Phin curled around Jake’s back, tucking bony knees into the crook of his own. The hip wriggle that followed almost finished him off. Jake froze—with an entirety that suggested lock down—as if the cock nestled in his butt crack had triggered a security system. A rumble Jake was not responsible for vibrated in his throat.

“Hmm…I love that noise,” Phin murmured into his hair. “G’night Jack, I’m glad you stayed. Too much methinks.”

“As am I…g’night.” Jake conked out almost the moment he closed his eyes.

For all the world as if someone, somewhere, finally thought he’d suffered enough.







Phin sighed, snuggling deeper into his pillow, listening to Jack’s snuffly breaths as he slept.  He had gone out like a light, so he must have been pooped.

While his own head was all whizzy, it wasn’t in a tired way, despite taking his tablets. There was just too much stuff stomping about in there. Not least the fact that snoozing through the spooning, rather than savouring it, was too sacrilegious to contemplate.

Jack seemed softened by sleep, stripped of his insistence on being mad, bad, ‘n’ dangerous to Phinkind. Yet sometimes—Phin had been doing concentrating—he saw glints of something sharp buried beneath his hypercontrol…biting into soft flesh with wince-worthy cruelty.  Perhaps that explained why he was so careful, controlled; guarding every movement, lest it gouged deeper and betrayed his pain. As silver-sharp as a blade, it felt a lot like loathing to Phin. A smidge akin to his own scratchy…but different. Harsher, meaner, spiteful…but not in the outward way Jake claimed. It was self-directed. He was as dangerous as he feared. To himself.

Of course, Jake could hurt him, Phin wasn’t that daft. If he lashed out in rage, then Jake could probably finish him off with naught but a blaze of blue, but Phin wasn’t scared of Jake, who could only kill him. Phin had to live with himself. 

It had forever felt as if he saw stuff he wasn’t supposed to…staring at it inside out. Or Phin was. One or the other, maybe both. Feelings sat on the surface, rather than hidden safely away. He didn’t mind, mostly, but it was tricky to focus on stuff people wanted him to. If he couldn’t, it made them miffy—they thought he wouldn’t—and got affronted.

Well…that was a lot of thoughts thunked…and Phin was still none the wiser. This is why he didn’t like going to bed. If his brain wasn’t busy it got bored and embarked on a bit of merry mayhem. Before Phin knew it, it had scarpered with the scraps of sensibility he could call his own; about the only thing he didn’t have too much of to start with. 

It was very hard keeping his mitts to himself too. He did have an arm wrapped around Jack, but its hand couldn’t go a-wandering as it wanted to. A temptation akin to chewing tin foil with fillings. It was getting lighter outside. Dawn was coming to steal away the darkness.

It was with a serendipitous sigh that Phin let his eyes flutter shut.


“Mmmm…” This, was The Best Dream Ever. Phin would go to bed more often if this lay in wait for him, rather than a snake-pit of too much stuff he’d rather not be ambushed by. Warm wet wondrous...a slip slide of lustrous…slurping.

Phin’s eyelids flared wide. Jack. Was here. There. He blinked. Twice.  Nope, Jack was still…down there.

“Jaack…” He didn’t answer, which wasn’t surprising, all things considered. Phin seemed to be half-lying on his back, with one arm stretched across the bed, the other resting on the sheet, beside his bum. His torso was twisted, with the top leg flung akimbo…like a dog having his tummy tickled. Most unseemly…and more than a mite flagrant. The whereabouts of Jack being every bit as blatant. Plush lips were sending shivery quivers of bliss here, there ‘n’ everywhere; a lush glide of hot, moist, heaven.

Phin was never going to manage making-it-last, after such a rude awakening. He’d barely got his breath back, then lost it again before the ball-bubbling bliss shot sparks up his spine and blitzed his brain with a dizzying rush of rhapsody (he’d always wanted to think that word, so he did, no one was listening). Bismillah! And Good Gawd, oh blimey… Jack swallowed him down with great greedy gulps, as if feasting on breakfast fit for a king.

“Hmmmm…”  A happy hum sounded in Phin’s throat as he patted about for a silky tumble of hair.

“Morning…” Gleaming lips twerked up in a rakish grin. The second sexiest view Phin had ever been treated to upon waking.

“G’morning. Thank you…” That p’raps drizzled from his lips like dribble.

“Oh, I’m not done yet…” The blue blazed topaz fire when Jake clasped Phin’s wrist and  gave it a sharp tug. His breath left the building—again—when he found himself flipped onto his front, face down in the pillows, before he could blink. When Phin craned his head around, it was just in time to see Jack snap his ankles apart…and crawl into the space he’d made in the middle.

“Wha—” That was as far as Phin got, cos the snaffler grasped the corner of his pillow and snatched it away. “Ooof.” That was a mite muffled on accounts of having a faceful of sheet.

An arm burrowed under his belly and up it went, before landing on the purloined pillow. All o’this took less time to gasp than what the bejeezus, so it was tricky to keep his bearings. Phin hadn’t recovered from his rackety start to the day yet. That had been too boggling to do concentrating on top of.  Phin may well have tried a tad harder if he’d realised that doing concentrating ever again might prove pointless.

So there Phin was, sunny-side up, with nary a breakfast in sight. Just sheet. A thought obliterated by the very next deed of Mr. mad bad ‘n’ dangerous to Phin’s last marble. Jack bent low…and swiped his tongue betwixt his butt cheeks.


“Guess again,” Jack chuckled, then swooped to swirl his tongue at the dip of Phin’s coccyx; the most ticklesome spine-tingling torture he’d ever endured.

“Jaackk!” Phin was left grappling at fistfuls of sheet, cheeks clenched tight, as Jack set siege to his senses with an excess of excruciating. Bliss. “Stooop! Pleeaaaaah!”

“Oh, okay then…” Jack raised his head, then clasped Phin’s hips and tugged them up. This, before butting the backs of his thighs to prop him onto his knees. Nothing in Phin’s whole life had ever prepared him for the next part. Not even slurpy rackets.

Jack trailed lazy fingertips along his thighs…curving around to clasp their tops, then swooped to sluice a long, luxurious lick…in the valley of Phin’s darkest dreams. His head nearly blew off. He perhaps shrieked so loud it was a wonder the windows didn’t shatter, which might have been unseemly. Had he not already been lying face down on the bed with his butt waving in the air. Being slurped from behind. Or possibly having his behind slurped.

Jack, had barely begun.

The next few minutes and forever felt as if he had a firework fizzing in his head…and bum.  A megalodon one—like the ones let off over the Thames—not a piddly one that fizzles a bit in your back garden. A huge fuck-off firework of brain blitzing hyper-too-muchness.

The way it felt physically, was a surface shriek of exquisite sensation…but the tsunami tongue swirling beneath? Was the darkness itself, secret, sacred, sublime.


Phin had known what an orgasm felt like before he met Jack, so he’d sort of been prepared…but only a bit. It had felt a helluva lot different with Jake doing the deedy. Phin had tried to imagine how it might feel to have sex and…sort of fiddled about a bit. But he’d never ever dreamed this might happen, let alone wondered what it felt like. Phin didn’t live in bum bliss paradiso. He lived in a camper van in Cornwall.

Thus, he had never envisioned waking up one morn to find himself served a tongue where the sun don’t shine. It sure left a morning cuppa in the shade. That noted… Phin had never met a robe snaffler on the moors, dead-set on stealing his sanity, either. He was starting to have a sneaky suspicion that Jake had looted a very lot more…





Beast of Bodmin Moor 16

The Beast of Bodmin Moor




“G’night.” Phin sighed, hoping it didn’t sound as…bereft as he felt.

He was a bit miffed with himself, because Jack was Here. In Phin’s bed, beside him. Almost naked. Wanting more was being greedy. Too Needy. Needy was not sexy at all, he knew this…which was very prob’ly why Jack didn’t want him. Despite his gallant attempts to be kind about it.

So kind, that he’d even claimed to want, no need, Phin Too Much…and not in the too-much-too-soon sort of way deemed so unseemly. That was too befuddling to fathom. If Phin wanted something too much, he couldn’t do concentrating on anything else. At all. That tended to make folk huffy so he did try to pretend otherwise. Peace o’mind was precious…and big fat fibs called white lies don’t count. Those are being considerate.

Jack had snaffled Phin’s robe when he’d needed something to wear, so why hadn’t he taken what was being offered so freely, if he wanted Phin? Too freely, was p’raps the problem. Phin was supposed to do ‘playing hard to get’ to tickle someone’s fancy, wasn’t he? It was a bit bloomin’ late to start now, even if he knew how the bejeezus to go about it. Lying-starkers-in-bed-with-a-stiffy didn’t seem the most subtle of starts, on the whole. Even with all the will in the world (and Phin possibly had a smidge too much, according to…most), he couldn’t sheer-force-of-will Jack to want him.

He was still pondering this when Jake surged forwards all-of-a-sudden. Snatching Phin’s breath away in a literal and metaphorical manner so excessive it would have been swoon-worthy, had Phin been standing up. Rather than flat on his back starkers beneath a nearly naked and surely needy Jack. Unless he was smuggling a substantial cosh about his person, perchance Phin got too frisky—despite having ensured that he could scarce move. This, on accounts of being squished by the wondrous weight of Jake’s body and boggled by the alacrity of his ambush. Blitzed by a sheet lightning bolt of bliss that obliterated all-but-him. This...was all Phin had ever craved; a passion so intense it could silence the white noise shriek of his senses…sweep aside the itchy insistence on more with a lust that scorned its very existence. 

Jake’s breath fluttered across Phin’s neck, followed by lips that locked there. Shivers sparked along his spine, scorching through his system, leaving him buttery boned and breathless and certain that there was no more than this. Than him. The heady suction tugged far lower down, even as it dragged the blood to the surface. Phin could feel the bruise blossoming and thrilled to it; a bit as a keepsake…but mostly because it seemed Jake was intent on marking him. This was somehow sexier than tasting himself in the kiss…that he wanted to. Had Jake told the truth, after all? If he had, then why was a lie lurking in its shadows? 

Did it matter, when he was here and hard and oh, so heavenly heavy? All Phin had ever wanted was splayed across his naked self, seeping sex from every pore. A man strong enough to sweep the scratchy aside….with an appetite to match its too muchness. Phin had waited a very long time for Jake. Sooo, it was a tad likely that he might crave sex stuff as excessively as his favourite food. In a too full for anything else sort of fashion. 

Phin’s spine was hell-bent on arching off the bed but that tilted his bum backaway—the wrong way. When he tried shoving his hips Jackwards, he made a sound so rumbly it vibrated against Phin’s chest. He couldn’t help but suspect that splaying his palm a smidge lower might help matters, so he slid it down to the small of Jake’s back, and pressed…yesss. But blimey. The base of Jake’s spine was so concave that the convex curve beneath was mind-boggling.

A swift flick through his freeze-frame stash coshed Phin with the fact he’d never actually seen Jack from behind. Or even in profile, sans snaffled bathrobe. He’d caught glimpses here ‘n’ there as Jack moved around, but you can’t ask someone to stand still so’s you can stare at their tush. That wasn’t po-lite at all.

Jack’s waistband was very in the way. Phin was starting to really hate Jake’s pants. That was a bit of a fib, in time-scale terms—and severity of dislike ones—but loathed them with every fibre of his being possibly counted as a smidge excessive.

P’raps…Phin edged his little finger under the elastic and stilled, breath abated, but Jake was intent on the tantalizing trickle of his tongue across Phin’s collarbone and didn’t seem to mind…so… Afore Phin knew it, his palm was splayed across the most magnificent mound of muscle imaginable. As taut ‘n’ tight as its skin was silken. Crikey...Phin’s throat may have made a racket that suggested it was smuggling a strangled cat. 

“Jake…please…”  The craving felt as if it was going to choke him; Phin could scarce catch his breath. The next bit was so brain blitzing it felt a helluva lot like Jake’s pants vamooshed. Or combusted. Phin was too bedazzled to tell the difference. One second there they were; the next, his cock was crushed to a scorch of rigid flesh as hot, heavy, as the breath at his ear. 

“Phinngh…sstop me…hurtchoo—”  Grit-strewn gibberish that cut off on a raspy gasp, but Phin had forgotten to do listening so he didn’t miss much. “Promise…” Jake groaned, dragging in a jagged breath while bracing his forearms on the bed. 

“’Kay…” That was a teeny fib. Jake let his head fall forwards in a tickle of hair and gave his hips a quick twitch.  “Ahh!” Phin bit down on his bottom lip, screwing his eyes tight shut, willing his cock not to have a hyperreaction that was farrrr too much, too soon. Another twitch that felt…a lot like a testing testing tap on a microphone. Phin held his breath, hoping Jake didn’t stop, never stopped. 

He did not. Phin’s lungs offloaded themselves in one helluva rush when Jake unleashed a snap of hips so sublime it cocked a snook to circumspection and all such stuff ‘n’ nonsense. Making a racket was marvellous but Phins entire self hadn’t been squished beneath Jake’s in a cock sandwich of brain-moggling too-much-never-enoughness. The rolling, winding, glide of Jake’s hips was the most mellifluous melody on Earth; a symphony of sensation that scoffed at the very existence of excess. Chewed it up and spat it out with nary a care for seemly, nor the scales themselves. 

Every note pitch-perfect—as if Jack had hot-wired himself to Phin’s system—hypertuned to the witterings of his lips, the tiniest twitch of hips. Making a mockery of the fears that held Jake so hostage. Fears proved foundless—unfathomable—by the intensity of his focus and sheer poetry of his spine. These airy-fairy-thoughts wafted along in the wake of those as visceral as the need gnawing Phin’s guts…as guttural as the groans clawing the walls and the blood boiling through his veins. The world behind his eyelids was a kaleidoscope of white hot sensation that scoffed at the spectrum itself. Awash with light-shot scarlet bright, blinding in its brilliance. 

“Y’okay?” Jake gasp sounded as if it was tugged too tight. Okay? If Phin had ever felt better, he sure hadn’t forgotten to remember it.  

“Yessss. Jake…I-I…”  The rest melted away when Jack let rip a fulsome snap that shredded the last sliver of restraint Phin was clutching tighter than the sheets snarled in his fists.  “Jaaakke!” scored the walls when a cascade of bliss shattered his brain while battering its way through his body .  Jake must’ve been holding on by the skin of his teeth, ‘cos Phin had scarce snatched a breath when he shuddered and stilled, trembling as a second hot rush of sticky spilled across Phin’s skin. This, as his name resounded around his head…the most exquisite echo he’d ever heard. A sumptuous sigh caressed his chest when Jake’s lush weight slumped onto it. His hair was stuck to his face, slick with sweat, so Phin lifted a tentative hand to smooth the tangled tendrils aside. 

“Phin, are y—” 

“No…” he interrupted, which was rude, but Phin done lots that was rude of late and Jake hadn’t seemed to mind. “I’m not hurt…” he murmured, still stroking. Ditto.

“Y’wouldn’t fess up if you were…” Jake chuntered.

“You’d know.” Phin shrugged. “I know you would. You just wanted to hear it out loud, as if that made it more true. It’s as true as the fact I would be just as glad it had happened if it cost me my last breath. So there.”

“Don’t say that…” Jack groaned. 

“So there, or popping my clogs? They were facts so I ‘fessed up…you have a bit of a bee in your bonnet about admitting stuff.”

“Don’t tempt…fate. ”

“Why? D’you think I’ll get smited?” Phin did his best not to grin. It was quite dark in the nook, though.

“I think you’d dare the devil himself.”

“Only if it was worth it,” Phin owned, while he was on a roll, an’ all. “…Or p’raps, if I was bored.”

“Phin…” Jake growled. A despairing one. Not at himself.

“It’s very sexy when your voice goes all growly.” Oops…the snowball situation was getting out of hand. Ah well, at least the question burning a hole in Phin’s head hadn’t made a bid for freedom.

“Oh fuck…” 

“Can we do that next?” Oh. Dear.

“Christ…” Jake let his forehead crash onto Phin’s chest. With a groan like the clang of a dungeon door. 

“Oops…should I not have said that?”

“I need a drink. And a gun.”

“My mum always said I’d get myself shot.” Phin sighed. It sounded regretful.

“I didn’t intend to shoot you.” Jake humphed. 

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t got a gun then. I don’t want to die a virgin.”

WHAT!?” A whiplash reaction as swift as it was fulsome. 

“I haven’t ever—”

“I know that...but why the hell would you die a virgin? You are the most ench—”

“I knew you’d know…” Phin butted in, too abashed to wait for the worst. “I’m sorry…was it very dread—”

“God No!” Jake snapped, the blue ablaze in the semi-darkness. “Don’t ever think that. Phin, you drive me demented.”

“I am very irritating.” Phin acknowledged, stifling a sigh that would sound ‘sad’, when he was simply telling the truth.

“No! I meant…oh, shit.” Jake’s fingers snagged in his hair when he tried to rake them through it. “I meant…demented in the desperate sense. I’ve never craved—”  Jake broke off a bit abruptly to prompt; “You didn’t answer my question. What did you mean about dying a virgin?”

“If you shot yourself.” Phin didn’t beat about the bush, in hopes of hearing what Jake had never craved, all the sooner.

“Y’what?!” he gaped, agog. Heavenknows why, that was a fact, pure and simple. Jack sure couldn’t wind his hips like that if he was dead.  “You’d meet someone else—someone far better than me—you can’t say that!” 

“I won’t—I don’t want them—I just did,” Phin rattled off, with a shrug. This was the most pointless chat on the planet. His mind was not a pair of pants or a jumper.

“Phin, listen to me. I don’t want you to feel—”

“And I don’t want to be a virgin, but you won’t listen…”


“Grr…y’self. I thought you wanted a drink?”

“I do,” Jake huffed.

“Then stop huffing ‘n’ puffing so I can go and fetch it.”

“You’re impossible.” Jack snuffed out a fringe fluttering sigh and hefted himself off Phin’s body. The cold cosh of loss was more than a mite abated by the liberal smears of sticky adorning Phin’s skin. Theirs. Not his. He was p’raps grinning like a loon when he lowered himself to the floor.

After grabbing a couple of cloths, Phin dipped them in the bowl and squeezed one out for Jack, then stood under the nook and held it aloft, waving it like a peace flag. Jake was  chuckling when he whipped it from Phin’s fingers, which stretched the grin to ear-licking levels. After pouring a two tumblers of brandy Phin raised them above his head and waited for Jake to retrieve them before clambering back up.

The fact it was tricky to recall the last time he’d crawled into bed not wearing half his nightcap was a cherry on top, it must be admitted. On that particular topic…it might be best not to confess the scoundrelly shimmer of hope in his heart… 






Beast of Bodmin Moor 15

The Beast of Bodmin Moor








Jake crawled the length of Phin’s body and hovered above him on all fours, gazing down into pools of liquid midnight. When berry lips smudged in a smile, Jake dipped his head to trickle his tongue across the lower one, then tugged on it with tender teeth. A miracle as ineffable as Phin himself. 

Everlasting arms wound around Jake’s neck and tightened, so he steeled himself and unlocked his elbows, allowing his weight to be…welded to acres of naked flesh. A soldering of feverish skin to silken ivory that crushed the crippled contents of his pants to Phin’s far more satisfied cock. Jake was clinging to his undercrackers like the last sliver of sanity they were. 

“It’s odd to taste myself on your mouth,” Phin told him, when Jake risked cranking his eyelids open. They had slammed shut on impact, alongside a rifle-shot gasp.

“Odd in a good way or bad?” he rasped, in a voice like ground glass.

“Oh, goood. It’s sort of…sexy, on your lips.” Phin decided, after pausing to ponder the most erotic taste on the planet. Jake was still grinning when he rested his head on Phin’s chest, and lay, listening to the steady thrum of his heart.

Their favourite sound in the world—by far—apparently. A thought that should have been enough to wipe the smirk off Jake’s face. It failed. Dismally. 

“‘Sexy…’” Jake repeated, too charmed to resist…chasing the stick. Clearly. “So…what else feels sexy?” 

 “Your skin squished to mine…making a racket…when your lips do the twerky thing despite yourself…watching you walk…”

‘When your lips do the twerky thing despite’…who you’re fooling no one except. 

“Watching me walk…?” Jake asked, ignoring snarky asides from the backseat.

Ouch. Bitch.

“Hmm…walking’s not really the right word. You prowl…like a panther.”

“I…” Jake didn’t have the foggiest idea what to say to that gem. It was an irony too …beastly for banter. Is Jack evident in my body language now? He had no idea, having assumed that he’d skulked around scowling for the last two years. That seemed far more feasible than the notion that Phin observed the same things as the rest of the word. Even if he did, that bewitching brain saw whatever the hell it wished. How Jake wished he could see himself through those enchanting eyes. 

Remaining still was no longer an option. If he didn’t shift himself, then he might shift full stop. The worst of this was a feat too astounding to fathom; Jack was uncannily calm. So why the fuck do I feel fit to bust?

Your guess is as good as mine?

No. It’s not.

You’re right. It is yours.

What’s mine?

Your guess. 

What are you on about? My guess is as good as mine?

Not quite. Not ‘as good as yours’… IS. Yours.

You. Are doing my head in.

Why change the habits of a lifetime? Just sayin…

Goddamn dog. Too smug to make sense…there’d be no living with him after this. It was with a sigh of resignation that Jake slid a knee between Phin’s thighs in order to lever himself up.

“Hmm, will you do that again…the fidgety thing?” His smile was pornoseraphic. If that wasn’t a word, a lexicographer had never met Phin. Jake’s hips twitched, entirely of their own volition. “Mmmore…” 

Oh god…they’d drill him through the bottom of the campervan. It was all wrong…he couldn’t just…rut against him on the bloody floor, like the mangy mutt he was. Jake could not. Could he not might be the more pertinent question. His hips were in league with the devil dog.

Better a devil dog than a dogged dullard. 

Jake had a horrible feeling that Phin might agree. Jack was far more…congenial company. Far better for Phin than Jake could ever be. 

I think my brain just burped, y’might want to get it looked at.

I might be a bastard, but I’m not deluded. Worse than that; I believe it. Phin would choose you, and I know it.

Aside from the part where I can’t recall ‘choice’ being an option? Phin doesn’t do choosing. He said so. He wants, or he doesn’t. He wants you…and me. Simple.

Are you trying to drive me demented? 

You’re managing that all on your own. Moove, you tetchy tosspot.



God, those eyes. They were more deadly than Jack. Jake screwed his own tight shut, dipped his head and took a deep, calming breath..which promptly proved the most Baldrick worthy of all cunning plans. Inhaling poppers would have been wiser than the concentrated hit of skin/sex/sweat that assaulted their senses. 

Jake’s hips juddered, nudging his cock against the rapidly stiffening one beside it; a friction too far for temptation. He swallowed, a thick, meaty squelch of sound, as lurid as the lust lashing his system.

You thought ‘loins’ first. ’Fess up. 


Odd that. 


Jake…girded his loins and gave his hips an experimental twitch. Pure, primal need shimmered down his spine, boiling through his blood, seeping from his pores, as necessary as their next breath.  “Fuck…”  

Really?” How the hell had Phin crammed so much hope into two syllables?

“No!” Jake damn near barked.

“Oh. You don’t want me…that way?” Words as steeped in sorrow as the scent that stabbed Jake in the guts. Higher. 

“Yes! I mean, no…I just…can’t.”

“I-I don’t understand…I’m too muddled.” The dark wings of Phin’s brows crumpled, those eyes huge, imploring. 

“Phin…I don’t just…want. I need you. Too Much,” he groaned through gritted teeth, seizing on the one phrase Phin would recognize as…significant. A Trojan horse secreting so much more. Definitive. 

“‘Too much, too soon’?”

Damn. He’d trotted out a phrase he must’ve had drilled into his head too often to ‘forget’. He’d filtered ‘too much’ to mean far less than it did in Phin-speak, because Jake had been referring to himself. 

“No…in your terms. Too much. To be safe.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve survived m’self. See, I’m not made of china.” Oh, but he’d break just as easily. Phin pinned on an expression best described as ta-dah, sorted. It didn’t quite reach those eyes. 

Slow? He saw more than most. Perhaps in a less…pedestrian way, he was pure instinct. Stripped of artifice. Emotion flayed back to bone. Jack had recognized as much long before Jake caught up. 

Too much crap in the way, that’s why.

So what if I trip then, smart arse? Shatter his hips, crush his ribs, puncture a lung, snap his neck…

Ye of little faith…

In myself? Merited. How the hell do I explain the inexplicable? 

Tell him the truth.

Fuck no.

“I know you’re not made of china…but I-I can’t—whatever I say will sound—”

“If you tell me the truth, that’s how it will sound. Fibs tie knots. That’s why peeps make my head hurt…I have to stare too hard. Picking at knots.”

“Some truths are…impossible to air.”

“Air…or share? With me?” Phin sighed. For the wrong reasons. Crap.

“Impossible, literally.”

“You should forget to do listening to ‘impossible’. How can it be, if it’s your truth?” Phin frowned, lifting a forefinger to brush the space between Jake’s brows. “Jack…why are you so sad?” Words as silken as the stroke. 

“Sad? Because I’m fucked up…and I’ve fucked this up too.” 

“You haven’t fucked anything. I’d better not say ‘Sadly’, it wouldn’t be seemly. You’re a bit befuddling…but it’s very hard to do concentrating.” An illustrative twitch of hips was followed by a question from so far left-field, Jake wouldn’t have seen it coming with a wide-angle lens. Rather than blinded by extreme close up.  “Are you going home now?” 

“D’you want me to?” Jake wondered. That mattered more than ‘why’.

“Not a jot…unless I’m making you sad.”

“No…you’re not. That’s all on me…” Jake sighed, bowing to the inevitable. “I don’t want to leave. But I’m not taking your bed.”

“Will you take half of it?” Phin’s beam was the burst of winter sunlight breaking through clouds. Jake had no choice. Other than four legs or two.


“I’m very glad…Jack? Um…” Another twitch. “That can’t be comfy…” 

Jack? Seemed prepared to be patient, for the moment. As long as they were staying put. 

Happy now? 

I’d be a helluva lot happier if you were ‘comfy’. 

Y’such a gent. 

“…And my bum has gone numb,” Phin added, with a wriggle. “It is very late…I should take my tablets. Can we go to bed now?” Big brown orbs blinked up at Jake, innocence personified. Lethal.

“Sure…” Jake planted his palms on the floor to push himself up. Froze. Roll off, or spring up?

Horizontal to vertical in the blink of an eye? You might as well just shift and be done with it, numb nuts.

I hate it when you start making sense. Roll, it is…


The moment Phin had clambered up and pottered off to the loo, Jake bounded to his feet and stood for a moment, staring up at the alcove.

You’d rather be dead than deny yourself this, admit it.

If only that was the deal on the table, I’d take it. Rather than risk the exact opposite. 

Jake bent his knees a little, then sprang lightly onto the bed to land in a crouch. There wasn’t much head room, to say the least.

Good job we’ve sorted that, then.

What the fuck? Forget it. Not happening.

Is, too.

I’m not budging. No condoms. No lube.

Aside from the fact you haven’t had sex in forever…use your pea-brain. It might not be as flexible as my spine, but still… 

Christ. Was that visual really necessary?

Some of us don’t have hands, just sayin. But I’m feeling benevolent…I’ll spare you a truth you cannot deny. For fear of being smited, if nowt else.


Did I detect a smidge of sarcasm? Stop overthinking everything, you tedious tosspot…you’re driving me demented. I never once mentioned mating. You’ll find yourself rutting rocks on the way home if you keep this up. Literally. 

What theMating!?

A snigger from the backseat was his only response. From whence I’m supposed to accept counsel? It was all going to hell in a hurricane jet. Next stop, a therapy session with Dr. Lecter.

Still, it was with an inner and outer huff of contentment that Jake crawled beneath the covers. Strewth. Cocooned in purgatory. The scent wafting from the duvet had all-but clobbered him with a breeze block on landing. Now he was swaddled in it. And a sheen of sweat. Jake lay, flat on his back, staring sightlessly at the roof. Every sense aflame with awareness, anticipation coiled hot, heavy in his gut. Ravenous.

“Hiya.” A tufty head poked into the alcove, followed by far too much of the rest of Phin. Still starkers.

“Hiya y’self,” Jake grinned, turning onto his side and backing up a bit while Phin manoeuvred his extravagant self into bed. A feat accomplished with sharp elbows and (too) much wriggling. 

“Oops, sorry…” Phin whispered, once settled to his satisfaction. There was barely a breath of air between their bodies. Heat shimmered in the sliver of space like a force-field. It was akin to being microwaved with a banquet-batch of cinnamon cookies. Drizzled with sex, marinated in naked need. Laden with longing. Longing? That was the least of it. Jake’s veins were ablaze with liquid lust.

He was afraid to speak, for fear of shattering the silence. As if that would be an act of violence…like plunging his fist through a stained-glass window. Instead, he lay, listening to Phin’s heartbeat tattoo his own.




The hollow loss of hope assaulted Jake’s senses. He could taste it. His entire involuntary nervous system spasmed in response, thrusting him forwards in a breath-snatching slam of skin that rolled Phin onto his back. A whimper of want caressed the curve of the neck Jake buried his nose into and inhaled; long, slow, deep, drinking him in. Heavenscent. 

The rush of relief was the spark that scarfed the trail of dynamite.