Release Blitz · Update · Wafflish

Wafflish

Tadah

Hiya,

Just a little note hoping that you’re well and an update on my upcoming releases.

The Beast of Bodmin Moor will be released on the 8th and available free for 5 days on Amazon from the 9th. 

I’ve booked a Release Blitz with the wonderful Gay Book Promotions starting on the 9th. I’m chuffed to find that I’ll be here, there ‘n’ everywhere for a few days, so I owe huge thank yous to all the lovely folk who’ve signed up for my tour.

April 9

Gay Book Promotions 

Bayou Book Junkie

Books, Tattoos and Tea

Double A Author Services

Ilovebooksandstuffblog

LGB Blogger 

Matt Doyle Media

Never Hollowed By The Stare

Stories That Make You Smile

April 10

Eric Huffbind  

LGBT Book Promotions

Lily G Blunt 

Love Unchained Book Reviews

April 11

Drops of Ink

Gay Book Promotions Blog

Sharonica Logic

Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author

Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews

Sur l’étagère, derrière la sirène en plastique

April 13

Maggie Blackbird

***

I’ve also – finally – started work on my last round of edits for Hangover The Rainbow, book #3 of the Hangover Series. I’m hoping it will be ready to send off to my publishers, MLR Press in a month or so.

I hope you stay well…thank you, as always, for all your support 🥰

HangoverFromHell_20041953251

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor…the end. Almost.

Hiya,  I added the final chapter – Jake – beneath Phin’s, as it insisted on being so brief.  We’ll be paying them one more visit for an epilogue. Thank you, as always for being here.🥰

 

 

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

 

 

Phin

 

 

 

“Hold on…” Jake instructed, after pressing a kiss to the tip of Phin’s nose. 

Scant seconds later, he’d done sitting up and shifted them round to plant his feet on the floor and push himself up. With Phin clinging on like a lanky monkey. He’d never felt so light, fragile, in his life, which was a bit bonkers when he’d never been less breakable. But, the fact still stood, despite being about five inches taller than Jake. It wasn’t a frequent thing to feel as weightless as a wisp of gossamer when lifted aloft, at six foot plus. Phin liked it. A lot.

Uh-oh. 

Jake’s sharp inhalation made his eyes flare wide but, nose like a sniffer dog aside, Phin was pressed a smidge too close for jackal-in-the-box antics to go unnoticed.

“What on earth did you just think?” Jake chuckled. “Your scent spiked so sharply my knees nearly gave out.”

“Do I have to tell?” Phin asked, slamming his lids shut before cranking one open a smidge for a peep.

“No…but I’m now more curious than I was, which Jack finds frustrating.” 

“I think you use Jack like old folks use their age to suit themselves, so they don’t have to do remembering stuff that sucks rocks. Or ‘hearing’ it in the first place. It was p’raps about feeling as light as a feather—literally—when you do lifting me, and liking it. A lot.” 

“A lot, huh?” Jake grinned, rather than rebuff the blaming Jack part, as Phin had hoped. Bummer. “As for Jack…he likes that ‘snippet of info’ far too much. So, make what you will of that…while I go and run your bath and change the sheets…” Jake smirked, lowering Phin to the sofa. The second he was seated, the scoundrel turned tail and scampered off, leaving Phin far too foxed by Sphinxy riddles to do fathoming left from right. Or Jake from Jack…which was p’raps the point. Of what? Phin wasn’t sure. He was too flummoxed. 

Only one fact seemed certain; he would never do getting to the bottom of things that made Jake fascinating…or bored of the bottom that had just done slinking off with a wink of the dimples above its sumptuous swell. 

*

The scent of essential oils soon did wafting down the stairs…lavender, the sweet, herbal smell of chamomile…and one more, a minty woodsy whiff. Phin realised that he could hear the bath do filling up—not just the whoosh of the water from the tap—the sound was getting deeper, denser, as the level rose. His ears could still do picking up the noises from the bedroom as Jake rustled about; shaking out a sheet, having a scrap with the duvet cover. Phin was about to go and offer to do helping; it was his mess, but Jake was so super-swift he’d finished before Phin could do acting on the thought. 

The taps turned off and a few seconds later Jake reappeared in the doorway.

“Your bath awaits, sir…if it doesn’t smell orange. I hope?” 

“Nope…lavender, laced with chamomile…and…something else, just as green. Thank you, Jake…” Phin did smiling from under his lashes, blushing a bit. He’d come over all unnecessary. He liked that turn o’phrase a lot, but he’d never done feeling it before.

“Y’welcome…ready? Fireman’s lift or—” The fireman’s lift part ignited such a scorch of memory that Jake broke off on a rakish grin. Then did bending to clasp Phin’s right wrist and lift the arm aloft before tucking his tousled head beneath it. A snatched-off breath later, Phin was upside down with the best view in all of Kernow.  Nope, scotch that… watching it bunch, tighten and roll its way upstairs was sublime.  “There y’go…” Jake’s voice was raspy raw when he lowered Phin’s feet into the water. It did lapping at his calves in a silken caress, slithery with oil.  “Clary sage…that’s the other green smell. It’s an antispasmodic…I kept cramping for days…”

“After your first shift?” Phin wondered. When Jake just did a tight-lipped nod, a flicker of thought suggested a second question: “Did you try to do repressing stuff—fight it—next time?”

“Yeah…” Jake did a sigh so heartfelt it made Phin’s ache for him. Neither of them did acknowledging the cause and effect consequences of Jake’s answer aloud. They were as clear to Phin as the water rippling round his legs. Oh, he hadn’t done sitting down yet. Duh. 

Phin sank to his haunches and did parking his bum before shifting back a bit to make way for Jake. When he’d done stepping into the bath, Jake turned to present him with Phin’s favourite perspective on life, then clasped his bent kneecaps to do sinking between his legs.

“Mmmm…” That happy hum of sound happened on its ownsome when Jake did leaning against Phin’s chest. A sultry slip-slide of moist heat that was sheer bliss. A shade of buttermilk so luscious, he might get partial to baths for the first time in forever. Phin was too fidgety to ‘do relaxing’ and too clumsy to do reading while having a soak. That left one thing. Shooting yourself in the eye wasn’t a lot of fun, so Phin preferred to do showering, oddly ’nuff.

“Oh, I needed this…” Jake’s sigh was a spectrum apart from his last one. 

“Is it my fault?” Phin had to do asking because he dreaded the answer.

“No….far from it. It’s mine. You didn’t cause any of this, I did. I’m just tense, that’s all. Strung too tight, waiting for…the worst to happen.”

“What would the worst be?” Phin murmured, wrapping his arms around Jake.  

“Doing you irreparable damage…” Came the instant response. “Not just physical…”

“You were far too late to do damaging my head, y’daftie.” Phin assured him. “So you needn’t do fretting about that.”

“Your head isn’t damaged..or wasn’t until people tried to persuade you it was.” Jake grunted. “What is Mr. Neil supposed to help you with, Phin?”

“Cognitive behavioural malarkey. It hasn’t done making a jot of difference,” Phin admitted. “He’s very good at his job, I’m just a rubbish customer. P’raps it does working better when OCD is the issue, not a spin-off? I don’t know but my autism thinks it’s shady and does shooting it a suspicious side-eye. The colour stuff is separate…that’s just like being left-handed.” There. That was all of it…sort of. The rest was consequences…like cutting, but Jake knew about that.

“I suspect your instincts are too strong to slip anything ‘shady’ past them,” Jake chuckled. “Logic can’t touch ’em either, so I doubt it matters what’s drilled into your brain…” 

“It doesn’t have a hope in hell now…turning foxy is not a jot logical, is it?” Phin couldn’t help but do grinning. “Jake, can I ask something that does defying all logic to me?”

“Should I be worried?” Oops, it seemed to be Jake’s turn to do slanting a shifty side-eye. 

“It’s more a past thing, than a future fear?” Phin hedged. Jake didn’t do tensing in response, nor did his scent sour, so… “If jackals mate for life, why would she scarper after finding you at Glastonbury? ‘How’ makes even less sense…I’d rather die than do leaving you.” Phin felt as matter of fact about that as the clean duvet being claret. 

“It didn’t seem strange at the time…nor since, until we met. Now? I’d rather drop dead than abandon you, so…I have two theories: either she’s the anomaly, the exception that proves the rule, if y’like. That’s my preferred option. Or—how I hope this isn’t true—maybe she lost her mate? Grief’s a force as powerful as the love it mourns…if anyone hurt you I’d be quite capable of tearing them apart with my teeth and considering that justice. Unless it’s as simple as searching for second best…which never winds up feeling enough.” 

“I hope she finds someone she can’t do leaving, if that’s her story, it’s so sad. I wish you hadn’t suffered for her hurts but…” Phin trickled off, the rest of that sentence reeked all wrong and felt like rusty nails. Forgiveness was Jake’s to give.

“I know…walk a mile in her shoes, then judge her harshly, huh…?” Jake snuffed a sigh then did adding, “I’d rather she was heartless than heartbroken, t’be honest. Following in those paw prints is the last thing on Earth I’d want to do…”

“I can’t help but be glad she was a jackal…rather than say…a wolf.” Phin ’fessed up. “I would be a rubbish pack member. Having to follow lots of scratchy laws would do driving me demented. Too much bossing about would make me miffy…so I might forget to do remembering the rules and get bitted for being bad. Besides…I just want to be with you. I don’t want to do sharing.”

“I wouldn’t wish being stuck with me on my worst enemy, y’know,” Jake countered, which was the daftest thing Phin had ever heard anyone (else) do saying. It’s top spot was blink-n-miss it brief: “I’m fuck-awful company, and you deserve so much more…”  

“You’re the only company I’ve ever wanted to do keeping, so I feel m’self fortunate to be ‘stuck’ with it, you nutter. There is no more than you, and that’s that.” 

 

***

 

 

Jake

 

 

 

 “I’m the nutter? Thinking yourself fortunate for being stuck with me makes you certifiable. We should book you an appointment with Mr. Neil sharpish, see if he has any shady tips to imparrh fuck…” Jake tangled his fingers into the tufty hair hovering above his shoulder when the shell of his ear was accosted by a trickle of tongue. The lapping at its lobe ceased when teasing teeth sank into soft flesh and a feathery trail of fingertips started heading south, snatching away the last of Jake’s breath. Ah well…there was all the time in the world for talking. Surrender had never felt so sweet. Or permissible. Letting his lids glide shut, Jake inhaled a lungful of the most intoxicating smell of all, the mulled wine scent of his mate

“Kneel up, ’kay? I want to do washing you…” Phin murmured against Jake’s neck after leaving the hot imprint of his lips there. The blood that prickled to the surfaceblooming to a bruisewould be long gone before Jake made it to a mirror. 

Phin snaked out a long arm to snag the sponge when Jake grasped the sides of the bath to haul himself to his knees. A spurt of cherry almond preceded the slow sweep of soapy circles that spilled shivers of heat down Jake’s spine. He felt as fluid as the rivulets of water trickling down his skin, lapping at his legs. As languorous as the sultry air.

“Hmm…” Phin could pack more pleasure into a single syllable than ‘bliss’ could encapsulate. 

No one responded to stimuli with an absorption that could compare to Phin. Those inimitable eyes, as excessive as his thirst for more. He revelled in every touch, taste, scent, sight, sound, as if he might never know another. As if each was the first…and last. Wringing magic from the most mundane moments; infusing them with more. A self-sustaining energy source, personified.

Logic alone suggested that the flip side of this was—would be—brutal, which went a long way to explaining the ‘scratchy’ and Phin’s fear of it. If he could drink so much joy from things he delighted in doing, then—

You can’t control the air quality he breathes, you pillock. Nor would he thank you for it. In fact, quite the opposite, while we’re on the subject an’ all.

I know that, but—

But nothing. Just be there for him. Jump on the other end of the see-saw. Send him flying again. Obliterate the scratchy with a stronger ‘stimuli’, you fancy schmancy git. If anyone can… 

What if I fuck up, fail him?

If? You’re half-human, you lummox. Count on it. Of course you’ll fail him, he’ll fail you. We’ll fuck up. Together. I’d add ‘forever’ there, but it would sound too trite. 

You just did.  

With incorrigible Phinesse though, y’must admit…  

 

* * *

Fin…epilogue to come…

 

Tadah

 

 

***

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 50

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

 

 

Jake

 

 

The sheer intensity of Phin’s kiss was too much for Jake’s subterranean self to take…sitting up. One second they were side by side on the sofa, lips locked, tongues entwined. The next, Phin was flat out, pinned beneath Jake’s bod—fuck.

“Shit, sorry!” So, so stupid. Careless…when he’d never cared so much in his goddamn life. About protecting Phin, keeping him safe, shielding him from harm; when the greatest danger to Phin was still, in fact, himself. The inability to control his base instincts…reprehensible, at the best of times. Unforgivable, when they failed Phin.

That was oblique. Am I to suppose it was aimed my way…or are you finally ’fessing up?

Bastard.

At least you’ve always owned that much. On the bright side, Phin doesn’t seem a bit bothered, you jim-jammy sod…so stop cussing and count your bloody blessings for once. Rather than ripping y’self a new one. Golden boy. Inside and out; despite your constant carping to the contrary. Unless Phin is colour blindwhich would be a bit bloomin’ ironic, y’must admithe clearly can’t see the black heart you’re hell bent on bemoaning. So, suck that up, shit for brains. 

Jake abruptly found himself too busy to argue when Phin clasped his nape to crash their lips together. The air slammed out of Jake’s lungs and he gasped, tasting the scent that now seemed a part of himself. The supple warmth of Phin’s tongue, the fierce tenderness of his kiss; as luxurious as the leg he hooked around Jake’s. It also made flipping them over as smooth as it was effortless; relieving Phin of his weightouching or notand well… Phin’s words had proved impossible to shift since…moments before he’d done exactly that.

‘Jimjams can’t do sitting on Jake’s…’

Jake was only human (most of the time) and Phin? As sure as everlasting legs was, now at least. The glint that gleamed in those stargazy eyes, staring down into Jake’s, suggested Phin hadn’t done forgetting either. A fact confirmed about a gleeful grin before he scrambled up and shot off, returning a few seconds later with the lube.

It was all Jake could do to hold still when slick fingers were curled around his cock, such was the force of his own feuding will. Finer instincts fighting the compulsion to seize control when Phin’s body could do with a break from further battering, Sire or no. Safeguarding his mate being the only battle Jake had a hope in hell of winning. Phin’s earlier wish was the ace card that froze Jake in place when his waist was bracketed by bent knees. 

Rather than sinking straight down as he’d steeled himself to expect, Phin bent to brush a kiss to Jake’s mouth and whisper words he would die to deserve. Whiskey warm, as intoxicating as Phin’s breath. Then sank down onto Jake’s cock (sitting up and all-but begging), engulfing it hilt deep with a sublime sigh. The absence of—now unnecessary—prep was still a shock to Jake’s system so intense it ripped a curse from his lips, and a plea from every fibre of his being. 

“Fuuck!” Jake gasped,  “Phin…please…” An entreaty met by a swish of hips, for all the world as if to make himself ‘comfy’. If the intent in those eyes proved as lethal as they promised, it would finish Jake off. All he could do, was abandon himself to the lissom sweep of lithe hips and hope he didn’t disgrace himself. A feat in itself against what had to be the very definition of too much—at which Phin excelled—not excessed. Too much to be gifted, or have done a damn thing to deserve…too much bliss to bear…ever losing him. 

Jake gritted his teeth, jaw locked as tight as the grip on his own spine, hell bent on surging off the sofa. Then slammed his lids shut against a sight that was truly too much for one man and his dog to endure without exploding, in one form or another.

Jake let his head fall back, luxuriating in the sinuous sweep of Phin’s hips, rolling as he sank and rose…over and over till Jake felt half-crazed with lust; for more, always more… He would never, could ever, drink his fill; never taste, touch, take, give too much.  Buried in Phin’s body as deep as the dragging heat in the pit of Jake’s belly…radiating from the base of his spine to lick, lava-like, along his veins. He ached to learn Phin; every secret place that made a small, sharp, gasp rip from rosebud lips. Know exactly what made those long, lean muscles spasm, lock. To taste the precise tipping point when the torrent of sensation was finally too much for Phin to take. 

He could no longer wrench his gaze from Phin’s face. Lust-heavy lids, feathery lashes fanned low. As entrancing as the play of light and shadow on porcelain skin, shimmering with the lustre of pearl. Impossibly perfect.

“Gnnrrr…please…” Jake groaned, “Phin…” A plea that prompted a secret smile when Phin canted his hips just so, prompting a bitten-off shriek that made his head snap back. 

“Jaaake…” The heady sound of his name; exhaled on a sigh when he curled his fingers around Phin’s cock and allowed himself one incisive thrust. It wracked Phin with a shudder that snatched off on a gasp as sharp as cut glass when pulsing warmth started spilling over Jake’s hand. Infinitely too much to take. His spine spasmed, locking, when a staggering bolt of bliss shattered Jake’s vision in a torrent of white heat. 

When Phin sank against Jake’s chest, the smear of sweat slick skin and welcome weight was soothing. Lulling Jake into a softer sort of pleasure, like waves lapping the shore. Phin nestled into the curve of Jake’s neck, nuzzling close. He felt a little flicker of tongue, tasting. “Hmmm…” The purr that rumbled against Jake’s chest made his entire self hum in response. Ridiculous. Still true. 

If it was possible to hurt with happiness, Jake did.

“You’re terrifying…” Christ, he’d uttered that, hadn’t he? Into Phin’s hair, which had tickled Jake’s face, so he must’ve let the inanity air itself. F’godsakes.

“In a good way…or bad?” Phin didn’t sound a bit bothered. Either by Jake’s idiocy, or his own reaction to it, which was…inimitable.

“Can fear be considered glorious?”  Jake grimaced.

Okay, you’ve lost the plot now. Just sayin.

“Well…they do build roller coasters?” Phin lifted his head to offer, for all the world as if said lunacy had merited a reply.

“Can I keep you?”  Jake actually asked that. Aloud.

Now that is a question most meritorious. I’d begun to despair of you, I must admit.

“I doubt you’d do getting a refund,” Phin noted with a grin as dazzling as those stargazy eyes. 

“Thank fuck for that…”  Jake chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Only cos you’re priceless sounded far better, y’know. Ah well, it was a tad schmaltzy, I suppose.

Just a tad.

Tragic, that.  

Yup, devastating. Humans, who’d have ’em…?

You’re stealing my lines now, I think I preferred you all snarly.

What happened to ‘us’? Liar.

Takes one to know one?

Touché…

 

***

 

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 49

 

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

 

 

 

 

Phin

 

 

 

 

Phin sat, waiting for Jake to do returning with their toddies, wondering at all his world had become since…he took his tumble? Found his happy place? Crossed the Tamar Bridge into Cornwall? Bought his campervan? If Phin hadn’t done any of those things, would Jake still have found him? Somehow? It didn’t do mattering a jot, not really, when Phin had done them and here he was…but it was a smidge scary to think he might’ve done a dozen things different and missed the moment he was supposed to do meeting Jake. Phin knew he was being daft, but that had never done stopping him before, so why start now? It was still…comforting to think that Jake could have hunted him down…just as the girl at Glastonbury had. He must remember to do asking Jake about her flit in the night. It was unfathomable. 

Much to Phin’s relief, his fretting was foiled by the mouth-watering whiff that wafted his way…followed by a sight even more luscious a few seconds later.

“One hot toddy…as ordered,” Jake grinned, upon entering the room with two steaming—

“Are we camping out?” Phin asked, shooting the tin cups a suspicious side-eye. 

“Not unless you’d rather sleep in your van than my bed? I suspect you mean these though…” he twitched the articles in question afore continuing, “…in which case, I bought them after being splattered in the scalding contents of damn near every mug in the cottage. You won’t snap the handle off this if you clutch it too tight…” Jake added, handing him one of the drinks.

“Thank you…” Phin thought he’d better do practice-makes-perfecting, despite his tin training cup, so he did concentrating on his grip. “Hmm…I love this smell…” he sighed, snuffling the lazy curls of Baileys steeped steam.

“Thought you might, I caught a whiff of it earlier, almost as creamy as the satisfaction it accompanied,” Jake smiled, seating himself beside Phin on the sofa.

“P’raps I was thinking about your voice. That’s what it does smelling of…”

“Have you always…sensed things that way?” Jake did cocking his head, blurring fur and face for a mo in Phin’s mind. “You said I smelled a funny colour earlier.” 

“I didn’t know it was odd for a long time…everything else was weirder in a louder way,” Phin admitted.

“Louder? More…obvious to other people?” Jake sounded as if he’d done guessing at something Phin hadn’t thought obscure. He could never tell…until told. No one thought him weird if he was alone, oddly nuff….but Jake didn’t seem to. Or, if he did, he didn’t seem to do minding. 

“Does that make things…difficult for you?” Jake had gone all careful again, as if he’d done weighing his words on the way out. 

“No…well, only when things—people—are too orange and make me all scratchy.”

“What colour am I?” Jake wondered, which was so unusual it made Phin do blinking a bit. 

“Gold. Inside and out…which is spooky. Matching doesn’t happen much.”

“That sounds scratchy.” Jake said that in such an airy sort of way, he made it sound a ’reasonable’ reaction. That was just downright weird.

“Pretending I haven’t noticed gives me ants in my pants,” Phin nodded. “And honeybees in my bonnet.”

“Rather than wasps?” Jake’s grin was as far from waspish as his words.

“Yes…” Phin did returning it. “Bees buzz…wasps sting. They mean it. Honeybees just go about their business and just do stinging if they feel threatened. The price is too high…it kills them. Wasps don’t give a stuff, they sting for the hell of it. ”  

Phin didn’t do mentioning the terrorists of the waspy world that nested in Jake’s head. That would be poking them with a sharp stick. Jake knew. Pointing out such stuff just did rubbing salt into people’s wounds. If it wasn’t for Jack, Phin suspected that sepsis would have set in by now. Jake did his damnedest not to know that. Scoundrel.

“Phin, if I make you feel uncomfy, promise you’ll tell me? I’m afraid I might inadvertently do something…scratchy that distresses you. ” He shouldn’t have to do worrying about that, it wasn’t fair. Phin couldn’t bear being a nuisance. That was another reason he did keeping his own company. He wanted to keep Jake’s though, which was fact so strange it seemed to have done circumventing all sorts of itchy-scratchy. 

“Nothing you do makes me uncomfy, just things you don’t do, like telling me stuff I need to know to stop fretting. So, I promise…if you’ll do telling me when I’m driving you demented. That’s my very best thing, so you can’t claim otherwise. Are we having my bath now? I’ve finished my toddy.”

“Okay…it’s a deal. Don’t hold your breath though. Unless you’re underwater,” he winked, plucking the cup from Phin’s fingers. “I’ll go and run the bath…do you want to collect anything from your van? Toiletries…clothes…stuff you can’t bear being without?”

“I’m worried it will look like you’ll never be rid of me…” Phin admitted.

“Phin, which part of forever didn’t you quite catch? I don’t want to ‘be rid of you’. I’d never ‘demand’ that you stay—I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live with me—but I hope you’ll stay….for as long as you want to. There’s a spare bedroom, if you’d feel more comfy having a…safe place? Somewhere that’s just yours, so y’can…be alone if you need to. Or want to, whatever…”

Phin was too stunned to do speaking. Too staggered even to do blinking. He sort of sat, transfixed by Jake’s lips and the words tumbling from them in a rush. As if he was trying to sell Phin a bridge. Rather than offering him the world with his very own safe room in it.

“Too much?” Jake grimaced, when Phin’s face p’raps stayed frozen in saucer-eyed shock for a smidge too long.

“No…I…really? Cos, if you’re worried about PJ, I can do staying on the drive till—”

“Phin, close your eyes.” Uh oh. Phin’s lids had done snapping shut before Jake finished gong-bonging his order. “Now tell me what you sense.”

“You…the scent of your skin…” There was no ‘wrong spice’ to do detecting, just Jake’s sunshine musk and salted caramel smell. The creamy warmth of whiskey laced coffee…the heat of his body, the headiness of its proximity…the strong, steady thrum of his heart. A touch faster than usual, as if it was strung a tad too tight…suspense? Anticipation? Another niff…a new one Phin hadn’t noticed; too attuned to the top notes every instinct sought first. Apple pie? No; too much cinnamon and nutmeg, ’twas more… strudelly. 

Mine. Mate.

“Phin…will you stay?”  His voice had dropped to a husky burr so pursuasive Phin felt sure it could do coaxing sap from trees.

“Yes…”  

A whisper of whiskey-cream preceded the feather-light press of plush lips to first Phin’s right eyelid, then his left…before melting against his mouth in a kiss so tender it left him buttery boned. And breathless, when Phin found himself flat on his back on the sofa, bowled over by an onslaught of skin and the intoxicating weight of Jake’s body. 

“Shit, sorry!” he gasped, aghast.

“S’okay…I didn’t do ouching, you daftie.”

Still, I should’ve—”

Phin did clasping the back of Jake’s head and crushed his lips down onto his own. The scoundrel was way too fond of tearing himself off a strip. Quite what that nugget of nonsense meant, Phin knew not, but he had found a very effective way to do skinning a cat. Shushing a canid was far more fun, though.

 

***

 

 

 

 

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 48

Hiya,
This is the first of the just-written chapters, so we’re flying by the seat of our pants. Ah well, at least they’re new ones now, rather than recycled…

 

 

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

*

 

Jake

 

 

 

 

A single word thrilled through Jake’s veins. Mine. So clear it could have flitted from Phin’s lips. PJ stood before him, staring at Jack with the most imploring puppy dog eyes on the planet. 

You should take it from here, Phin needs you. 

“He’s on his way…” Jack swiped a little lick across PJ’s nose and nuzzled close, breathing him in. Jake?

’Kay, thanks…

Jack backed up a bit and dragged his focus from the face that would remain ever imprinted on his mind’s eye, forcing it inwards. Dragging a tractor uphill with a tow rope clenched between his teeth would have been a breeze in comparison. Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on the silent shimmer crouched at his centre. Jake. Caught the baton. Never had a shift been so simple to pull off, as if he’d abruptly acquired the parachute packing technique of Mary bloody Poppins. It was the swiftest sock up a hoover pipe that had ever been schllurrped.

Jake’s skin still had it’s post-shift sheen when he rose to his feet, sizzling with static. Those stargazy eyes, aflame with amber, brimming with a world of words unsaid. Bewitching. Jake bent to cup PJ’s face and press a kiss to the top of his tufty head.

“You’ve got this…I love you. Come back to me, Phin.” 

Jake straightened up and stepped back, giving him space. For a long moment, PJ stood, staring at Jake as if he’d soon vanish from view. Then his eyelids slid shut. Jake sensed the shift before it was visible, smelled the intensification of cinnamon spice when the air started to shimmer, surrounding him with an aura of soft wavering light, hazy with heat. Jake watched, entranced, every sense vibrating with awareness, as if they were tuned to the energy waves emanating from Phin. 

He hadn’t realised how…transcendent it would seem. Stupidly, when it was a bit of a no-brainer that shifting surpassed the limits of ordinary—human—experience. Way beyond the boundaries of ‘normal’, even when one’s baseline inhabited a stratosphere of its own. How the hell could Phin, who felt everything to ‘excess’,  emerge from such a sensory onslaught uscathed? Fuck. Jake’s blood abruptly ran as cold as the clammy sweat that prickled across his skin. 

How cruel it would be if Phin—whose affinity with his jackal self eclipsed Jake’s—found the process of reclamation so scratchy it triggered…fucknows what. He didn’t even know what label had been slapped on Phin or the strictures it imposed on his life. Nor how he ‘managed’ his ‘special needs’, or even if that terminology was correct. Jake hadn’t wanted to pry, to make it an issue of something that didn’t adversely affect his feelings, for fear that Phin might think Jake found it a ‘problem’ that necessitated discussion. If ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’? Jake had pretty much fitted Phin with roller skates and shoved him downhill. 

Which part of ‘Wheeee!’ didn’t you quite catch? 

“Phin…” His name fell from Jake’s lips as a prayer when the warped blur of fur and fog settled, stilling to a slight tremor of air around the miracle crouched on the grass. All present and correct—every excessive inch—luminous in shades of silver and shadow, kissed by moonlight.

“Jake…” Phin raised his head and prised his lids apart, lips curving in a slow smile as dazed as those eyes. Dark pools of bottomless brown, no longer ablaze with amber. Beautiful. “Are y’okay?”

Me?” Jake spluttered, staggered. He dropped to his haunches and brushed a rogue strand of tufty fringe aside before cupping Phin’s face. “It’s you that matters, I—”

“You smell a funny colour…sort of salty like peanut brittle, blimey I’m starving. I’m…feel as if I’ve been run over a bit. 

“A bit. As opposed to…say?”  Jake’s inane grin was ungovernable; the flood of relief so great he felt light-headed. Phin, his Phin, was present in those eyes, not lost to Jake in a too much overload that snatched away all he loved.

“Steamrollered? Squished like Tom after he’s been through the mangle.”

“Tom and Jerry?” Jake checked, as if that mattered more than the million questions he must ask before his ignorance did untold damage to Phin.

“Yes…Jake, why are you all frowny faced? Have you done changing your mind but feel responsib—”

“NO!” Jake cut in, too horrified to let Phin finish. “I’m sorry, I…I was afraid—Phin let’s get you inside, you need warmth and rest and—”

“Stop fussypotting, you daftie…” Phin butted in, planting his palms on the grass to push himself up. “I’m fi—ooouch!”

“See? Stay there…” Jake sprang to his feet and bent to scoop a chuntering Phin into his arms, “Stop cussing, I’m carrying you…”

“Bossy boots…now there’s a thought, will you do putting those on later?”

“My boots? But I’m not getting dressed…” Jake noted, knocking the door lever down with an elbow and pushing it open with his backside, which was bare and far warmer than the wood. “Fuck that’s cold…”

“You have the hottest bott on the planet that’s why, I’ve lost the plot now, where was I? My head is fuddled. Ah, that’s it…why would you do that? We haven’t been to sleep yet. Blimey, I’m thirsty, can we have hot toddies?” 

“Sounds good to me…then I’ll run you a bath, your body’s still been through the mill, no matter how fast you recover.” Jake told him, carrying Phin through to the front room and depositing him on the sofa. 

“Oh good…I didn’t want to be put to bed, I haven’t had my tablets yet. Thank you…” Phin smiled when Jake snagged the fleece throw off his armchair to tuck around him. “You don’t need to do fussing, I’m fine, I promise. Will you be having my bath too?” 

“If you want me to…” 

“’Course I do…Jake, will you do being honest?” Huge, imploring eyes gazed up at Jake, clouded with doubt. “Are you regretting…me?”

“Regret? Nothing could be further from the truth…” Jake sank to his haunches, searching Phin’s face. “Why…are you?”

“Never. You just seem strange, not distant…p’raps a bit. Sort of…careful.”

He means you’re acting like a wet lettuce. 

“I was afraid…you might not come back to me, that it might have…broken you somehow. The too muchness of it all…I should have asked so many things I didn’t—”

“That’s why you’re being all careful? I can’t be broked, I don’t think—not by stuff that happens to me—I do turning inwards, like hiding in my safe room. I can do way worse to m’self with far less effort, so don’t worry, you needn’t do being careful…’kay? Not knowing why—fretting that I’ve done something wrong—makes me scratchy, not too muchness. Anyhoo, I had you. You had no one.”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes but nothing, can we have hot toddies now? You’re too naked for chatting if you want me to do more listening, it’s very distracting.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Jake groaned.

“Yup, it’s one of my best things…” Phin beamed, utterly unrepentant. “You have too many to do mentioning, but you excess at being naked. Is it bath time yet?”

“What happened to your hot toddy?” 

“I’ve been wondering that for the last ten minutes…oddly ’nuff.” 

 

 

***

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 35

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

 

 

Jake

 

“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.

 

***

 

Phin

 

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.

“S’okay…Jake?”

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. 

 

***

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 31

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

 

 

Jake

 

Phin was a revelation. Within seconds, Jake realised that he’d expected his ethereal sprite to be all molten limbs and soft sighs. Phin, as ever, belied belief. He was a force of nature, ferocious with need. Every bit as insatiable as he was incorrigible.

“Stop doing fretting, Foxy won’t hurt me…Mmore…”

Listen to him, f’chrissakes. Even if you’re too bloody-minded to admit I’d rather drop dead than hurt a hair on his head.

How he’d ached to heed Phin’s pleas, but Jake hadn’t trusted himself any more than Jack’s word. The mutt was too wily to ‘do believing’, too instinctive to vow bugger-all. His ‘word’ meant nothing, the pub car park had proved that. In full, inglorious technicolour with surround sound. At least there he’d had space to ensure Phin’s safety. As opposed to buried balls deep in his body, without so much as a hairsbreadth of room in which to err. This, alongside irises that gleamed with inhuman luminosity—azure rather than amber—in readiness. Casting an ominous glow over Phin’s angel face, bleaching it of life; except for those eyes—ablaze with dark fire. Devouring all else.

Refusing to cede to their dual demands had felt a helluva lot like trying to read The Guardian while sitting on a deck chair in a hurricane. Jake had been afraid of failing Phin on two legs, from the very start..but the true terror? Finishing on four. 

“Stop doing fretting. Foxy won’t hurt me.”

How had Phin been so sure? Jake sure as shit hadn’t been. But it was Phin whose instincts proved finer-tuned than Jake’s, supposedly supernatural, faculties. When his subterranean self had shimmered to the forefront, as he’d known damn well it would, the outcome that so terrorised Jake hadn’t torn Phin apart. The very same shiver of heat that charged the air seemed…somehow changed. Rather than ride roughshod over Jake and imperil Phin; the raw, primal power had enveloped them, untouched at the eye of the storm.

The only ‘shift’ Jake’s deranged senses had been able to detect was subtle, in the base notes of his own scent…and a distinct difference in Phin’s. Impending orgasm? Impossible to tell with liquid flame coursing through his veins and a torrent of far too much infusing his every breath. Inevitable, when Phin was too much personified and Jake was buried in his body. A Phin whose extensive vocabulary had been tossed overboard in favour of one word—morrrre—wielded far too frequently with nary a care for consequence whatsoever. Of course.

They would have ripped him in half if they’d done as Phin demanded. Even Jake’s furry foe, who’d been dead set on doing Phin’s bidding from the moment they met—

Your civil war is too tedious for words. You’d already be bloody ‘furry’, you blithering idiot, if that’s what we wanted.

There is no We.

Keep telling yourself that and fuck this up too, then. Why change the habits of a lifetime for something as horrifying as happiness? To be honest, I’d be inclined to agree if his didn’t matter more than yours. Selfish tosspot.

Jack had never felt closer to the surface of Jake’s conscious self, which was terrifying. A thought so sinister it made a mockery of the fact Jack seemed…strangely calm. Not least when Jake had been terrified the jackal would seize the chance to snatch back the reins. Instead? Jake found himself no longer sure where he ended and Jack began. Or where they ended and Phin began.

How the hell Jack—hot-wired into doing Phin’s bidding—had managed to deny them both, Jake couldn’t fathom. Despite every indication to the contrary (and excruciating lesson learned), the realisation that he couldn’t hold out a second longer didn’t prove the horror show Jake had dreaded. Save for the destination of an orgasm so befittingly excessive it felt intent on turning him inside out…and quite capable of killing one of them. At least. 

Jake had determined on pulling out. Denying himself that much had been his last hope, when it became clear that was the only option he had left. His solitary means of safeguarding Phin, for every reason that suggested itself. Two in particular. First and foremost, Jake hadn’t been convinced that Jack could—or worse, would—contain himself in its throes, when it mattered most and Jake was least able to keep a grip on himself. Secondly—if only in survival terms—was averting what seemed the most surefire way of ensuring that Phin’s life, as he knew it, was over. 

Jake had done his damnedest. That he could vow, on pain of death.

Ever the hero… 

Why Jack? WHY?

Why not, when it was too late? 

Too late?

From the first. Before the first. Don’t plead innocence, it doesn’t become you. You knew. Except for being so bloody stubborn—to punish yourself, I might add—you’ve done bugger all to bypass your ‘worst fear’. Slobber in an open wound? Allowing Phin to swallow your load? You’ve done little else but fill him with body fluids since the moment we met. Intravenous infusion? Check. Ingestion? Check. How the bejeezus did you fool your batshit brain into believing that coming over all Catholic would ‘safeguard’ Phin from the ‘fate’ you claim to abhor? 

Claim?  I loathe you with every fibre of my fucking being. Was it imperative to all-but shatter his bones, t’boot? 

There is not a bruise on Phin’s body, and you know it. Nor have his bones ever been less likely to ‘shatter’. Let’s humour you for a mo, though—in which case—Phin would still bound out of bed, as right as rain in the morning. Now, if you’ve quite finished being tedious for five minutes? I have some wallowing in afterglow to attend to…

Quite aside from ‘wallowing in afterglow’, which inhabits a realm beyond ridicule: Tedious? You’ve been watching way too much Sherlock.

Well, that’s one thing less for you to fret about. We have our very own luscious legs to salivate over now. Just sayin.

Couldn’t you at least use ‘lust’, you slathering mutt?

Nope. Gild your own lilies all you like, lightweight.

*

This torrent of inanity rioted around Jake’s head at warp speed in the few seconds Jake spent with his forehead pressed to a silken expanse of sweat-slick chest. Breathing Phin in, listening the hectic beat of his heart slow, steady to a sure, strong rhythm. 

Residual fear plagued Jake’s conscience, despite every sense insisting that Phin was as healthy as a—assuredly not a horse. More to the point, Jake could smell that he was as fit as a fiddle (a far less foreboding simile). It wasn’t so much the absence of blood—nor the scent spattered in silvery trails across porcelain skin—but the cinnamon-infused husky musk of…satisfaction. Sweeter than Jake’s own: Irish Cream to their Whiskey. 

Phin…are you okay?”

“Hmmm…very okay. I won’t say told ya so though, cos that would be unseemly.”

“You are incorrigible…and quite shameless,” Jake groaned, before abruptly lifting his head to glower at Phin with naked fear ablaze in his eyes. “You should have let me pull out. I could’ve killed you.”

“Oh parp. I didn’t want you to do pulling out. I wanted to feel you filling me up.”

If there was an answer to that, it sure as hell wasn’t about to suggest itself any time soon. Jack was no help. It clearly took dedication to maintain that much smug. 

With your record of being right, you probably shouldn’t bet on it. 

Left without a leg to stand on (cue snickers from the rear end), Jake figured it would be wise to utilize his tongue in a far more useful fashion. That was his excuse and he was sticking to it...before their skin suffered a similar fate. Not an altogether unfortunate prospect, it must be admitted, but somewhat…limiting. 

“Where are you gohmmm…” Phin’s query dissolved in a happy hum of sound when Jake’s shuffle backwards reaped its rewards. After lapping up every last drop he slid along spit-slick skin to tug a taut nipple with teasing teeth and torture its twin in turn. The first sent sharp hips snapping off the bed and the second clamped Phin’s palm to his nape.

“Jaake…” Tugged harder, eliciting a purr of pleasure so potent it made the mutt’s ears prick up and the rest of that sentence…a superfluous rearrangement of words. Already?

No way. Have you lost the plot? He won’t be able to sit down for a week, as it is. 

Obviously. That being about how long it took a grisly head wound to heal… 

Was the eye-roll necessary?

Some things are too satisfying to resist. Particularly when there’s no reason to…

“Jake…?”

“Yes, Phin?” Only a coma could have blinded Jake’s senses to the obvious…and even that didn’t seem a sure thing. 

“Does this….” Phin slid his free hand between their bodies and clamped it around Jake’s clearly up for seconds cock. “…mean we can do it again?”

“I’m beginning to fear you’ll be fighting me off with a broom before I’m done…” Jake owned, apparently done with all sense of decency. Human or otherwise.  “…which will be never.”

“I don’t do brooming.” Phin noted, after pondering that for a nanosecond. “I shake the rug outside to freshen it up a bit. Jake, I couldn’t be too much glad about that. I never ever, want you to do stopping…”

 

***

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 30

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

 

ice-2575407_640📷 StockSnapPixabay

 

Phin

 

Oh, so slowly Jake slid his finger inside, sending white-hot shivers skittering here, there  ’n’ everywhere. Phin’s eyes did rolling back in his head, too dazed, dazzled and far too beset by hypermuch to do facing forwardslet alone their focussing thingany time soon. “Hhmorrre…” It felt sooo much better than Phin’s experimentings…but then, Jake made everything more magical, just by being Jake. Even the world seemed warmer, while bathing in blue.

“Y’okay?” Jake murmured, releasing Phin’s other hip to slip the hand beneath him and enclose his cock in a sure fist.

Jake!” 

“Too much?”

“Jus…don’t move it.” Phin gasped. A dark chuckle tickled his back as Jake began to swivel the finger before starting a smooth sweep of back and forth, far too slow to endure for long. “Morrre…” The finger retreated and Phin held his breath, hoping harder than his cock; a feat in itself. One that reaped fruits aplenty when Jake inserted a second alongside the first. They did burning a bit, but it wasn’t a bad burn, more of a searing stretch. Their slowness was excruciating.

How the bejeezus Jake was supposed to do fitting, Phin had no idea. He was just getting used to wiggling digits doing a scissoring swirl when Jake did brushing a spot that made a bomb go off in Phin’s brain. It sure felt as if it had exploded when sparks sizzled up his spine and set off a fit of the fizzy fidgets and a swift visit to heaven, or thereabouts. “Jaaaake!” Phin screeched so loud he might have done blushing a bit if he wasn’t too busy doing visiting. “Please…” he panted, “Now…need, ah!

“You sure?”

“I was sure two days ago!” Phin squawked. Jake’s devilish chuckle accompanied an abrupt ache so hollow it was a shock to his system. He felt…bereft. “Jake?” His name sliced through the darkness with a razor sharp rush of something Phin couldn’t name.

“I’m here…” He bent low, hot breath breezing along Phin’s back before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“’Kay. Sorry, I-I felt sort of…lost.”

“S’okay…I’ve got you.” His voice was a velvet caress. “Turn over…lie on your back.”

“But, I want—”

“I know. Trust me.” Words that oozed reassurance, ringing with surety.

“I do. I always did.”

“I seem to have a lot to live up to, tonight,” Jake sighed, as if he’d been called upon to pull off the impossible feat that was say…buttering a slice of toast. When Phin had shuffled around to flop onto his back, Jake crawled between his thighs and leaned over to grab a couple of pillows. He’d no sooner slipped a palm beneath Phin’s bum to lift it off the bed than done stuffing the pillows beneath it and lowering him onto them. “Is this better…?” Jake asked planting his hands beside Phin’s shoulders to dip his head and meld their mouths in a kiss as breath snatching as his finger shenanigans. 

“Hmm…I can see you…” Those eyes glowed like crystal ice caves in the darkness, illuminating Jake’s face.

“‘If we hook your legs over my shoulders you’ll feel more…secure. Bend your knees up a bit…” Jake clasped the backs of his thighs and hoisted them into place.

“Mm…I like the thought of having my legs wrapped around your neck.” Phin’s smile may have been his ‘cat’s-got-the-cream’ one.

“I very much like the thought of having your legs wrapped around my neck,” he chuckled. “D’you feel better now?” Jake leaned in low, pushing Phin’s thighs onto his chest when he bent to capture his lips.

“Much…” Phin answered, eventually. “Jake? Are you okay? Is Foxy?”

“Yeah. He thinks it’s about time I ‘quit arsing about and got on with it’. Apparently.”

“It’s p’raps a good plan to do listening then.” Phin did a sage nod, Yoda stylee.

“I do believe you’re right…” Jake’s voice dropped to deepest blue quartz.”If…if I hurt you, promise me— Just promise.” His eyes blazed topaz bright, blinding. Beyond beautiful. 

“I promise.” Phin rustled up a serene smile, and did crossing his fingers tight.

 

* * *

 

Jake

 

 

If…if I hurt you, promise me Just promise,” Jake glared, desperate to drill his words into that brilliant, baffling brain; now hell bent on surrendering Phin to the safekeeping of a predator. Said mutt was in complete accord with his wishes, of course, which assuredly proved Jake’s point.

“I promise.” Phin’s fallen angel face shone with sincerity. Radiant with wrecker’s lantern allure. Impossibly innocent. Irrational instincts (theirs) overruled rational reasons (Jake’s) why this was the worst idea in the world. Ever. Even as he acknowledged this, Jake knew damn well whose dark need had delivered the final verdict. He could tell himself till the end of forever that it had been decreed by a double-barrelled assault of eternal eyes and dogged determination, but it was all-too clear who’d put his foot in the snare…and left it there until it snapped shut.

Jack…please, keep him safe. I’d trade you the rest of the world for him.

Just. Trust.

Just trust? What sort of an answer is that? 

Did I do forgetting to say ‘yourself’? How remiss of me. 

Myself? It’s you who’s never once kept his shit together when it suited you otherwise.

Which proves my point.

Spouted by the font of wisdom forever intent on channelling Mutley or playing Riddle of the Sphinx.

*

Now that Jake had made the fateful decision (he hoped didn’t prove far too literal), it seemed he was hell-bent on flinging himself into it with gay abandon. The brutal truth being, of course, that Jake was guiltier than Double and Trouble put together. When he bent to press a kiss to lips that parted on a sigh, the scent of Phin’s breath snatched his own away. It was opium to their senses. As divine as it was deadly. There was only him.

There’ll only ever be him.

Is that some sort of soulmate shapeshifter crap?

Give me strength. As if.  

Jackals WHAT…?

You heard me.

Fuck.

*

Jackals ‘Mate For Life’. Apparently. That sure as hell formed an unholy trinity of truths:

  1. Unless Jack planned on a very brief happy ever after and life as a very lone jackal, then might Jake trust that Phin would live to regret it?
  2. Waking up with a sore arse would soon seem a rather transitory inconvenience. Upon finding himself mated for life with a mangy mutt.
  3. Or, at least until Phin ‘did sitting down’.

 

A low rolling growl (rudely) interrupted Jake’s inner—

Claptrap. 

Okay! F’fucksakes.

Exactly.

Just for the record? I am really weary of that word.

 

***

 

Phin

 

Jake p’raps intended his kiss to be some sort of promise. Or reassurance. A prelude to paradise. But when Phin parted his lips, the groan that vibrated against his mouth felt somehow…significant. It sounded like surrender, reverberating ’round the deepest of caves, too subterranean to deny. It tasted of lust. It felt as if something had shifted on its axis. It was a soul-scouring kiss that did clawing Phin’s guts. He’d never wanted anything this Too Much. If Jake dared do stopping now, then Phin would detonate from excessive too muchness. He was sure of it…which suggested that he’d possibly gone an itty bit bonkers. Even before factoring in the very doolally words doing a waft around his head.

“Make me yours, Jack…” That particular corker did airing itself before Phin could zip his lips.

The answering blaze of azure was a bolt of sheet lightning that lit Jack’s face in sharp relief, highlighting the proud planes of his cheekbones and noble nose. He’d never looked more otherworldly…majestic. It was impossible to do believing that Jack could want Phin as much as those eyes promised. Harder still, to credit meriting a need so intense it was crimson fire underscored with violet, as vivid as it was violent. But only in the very best of ways. A distinction Jake hadn’t been able to do recognising. Unless he finally had, on accounts that Phin’s legs were wrapped around his neck.

“Oh, I intend to..” His words were vermillion velvet, his breath as rich as port wine, which always made Phin’s mind misty.

The room was as dark as moonless midnight and Phin’s senses had switched to hyperswirl. Drenched in the amber musk of Jake’s scent, he may well have been lying in a woodland glade on a cushion of soft moss and rich earth, rather than a bed. 

Anticipation skittered through Phin’s veins a shivery rush when Jake settled the crooks of his knees more comfily on sinewy shoulders. When slick heat did ghosting along happy valley, a white hot bolt of want shot up Phin’s spine, obliterating all else—even the scratchy—when he felt a nudge of blunt pressure at the heart of dreams he’d feared might turn to dust.

“Jake!” He pleaded, about a scorch of pleasure pain before the tip of Jake’s cock breached his body. “Ahhh!” If that gush of breath hadn’t blasted out, Phin’s brain might’ve done combusting.

“Y’okay?” Jake’s voice sounded as if it was trapped in a vice.

“Yes. More.” Phin wanted him to do ripping the plaster off, it was too much suspense to do enduring a second longer. Jake was hell-bent on pushing oh, so slowly forwards, which was p’raps fortuitous but— A thought that did do biting the dust when the head of Jake’s cock did barnstorming the too tight ring of muscle barring his way. “Jaaake!” Phin possibly did making a most unseemly racket, but blimey, he felt huge. Akin trying to do shoving a sausage through the eye of a needle. Phin’s bum was bearing up admirably though, despite being a bit befuddled about the abrupt rerouting of traffic, but it was doing its best to be accommodating.

“Phooofff!” Phin puffed a whoosh of air; a very handy happenstance that made matters do relaxing a bit.

Jake? Did pressing on manfully (despite the caterwauling) besieging Phin with the most excruciating bliss that had ever vested itself upon his person. It was pain so exquisite, so all-consuming, it was a wonder they’d ever done letting it be legal. Or, at the very least, hadn’t rustled up a Bottom Breaching Tax to accompany the Tongue Tax.

Nothing Phin’s head had ever done dreaming up had felt this…decadent, despite his hyper-efforts to excel himself. Nor so…overwhelming; forbidden in the way only the most delectable of desires ever were. Could ever be. Compelling. The complete and utter annihilation of scratchy was an exhilaration too far. So much so, someone should have come bursting into the room to declare such antics too excessively excessive to tolerate. It was a torrent of too muchness encapsulated in one sublime thrust. 

Eclipsed, by the only man capable of conquering it with one blaze of bewitching blue.

 

***

 

Phin Pt 2

 

“Phin…y’okay?” Jake’s voice sounded as if he’d been gargling with gravel. 

“Hmmm…very okay. ” Phin scarce recognised his own, which he’d apparently snaffled from Serge Gainsbourg for the occasion. Except twice as strumpety and a smidge less French.  

Strewth s’tight. I should…apologise…in advance. It’s been a long…time… Not since—”

Apologise for the fact it had been a long time? It would have been a big fat fib for Phin to claim he wasn’t chuffed it had, but ‘sorry’ made even less sense from Jake’s perspective. Those bedazzling blues were too iridescent to stare into—let alone do reading—so Phin flicked his gaze to Jake’s lips. Clamped shut, his jaw clenched far too tight for comfort. Oh. He was worried about that? It would be a bloomin’ miracle if Phin lasted for more than a minute.

“Jake, it doesn’t matter. I just…want you. This.” Anything above and beyond the fact that Jake was inside him would be a bonus with a cherry on…bottom. 

“Y’have…shocking low expectations. Y’should…do working on that,” he groaned.

“I’ll tell Mr. Neil. Jake, pleease do more moving  before my head explodes.”

“It’s not the only…thing that might. Hence. The pause. In proceedings,” Jake managed to do grinding out. Eventually.

“Y’should have done pretending that you’re just ‘being a gent’.” Phin’s chuckle set off a chain reaction of ripples elsewhere; consequences so shiversome he couldn’t resist a spot of experimental clenching. “Hmmm…”

“Fuck! Phin!”

“Sorry! Was that wrong?”

Strewth. Nooooo…” Jack hissed, p’raps on accounts of his lockjaw. Oops. “Nngh! Sstop!” 

Okaay. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do concentrating very well though,” Phin noted.

“Don’t you dare do forgetting.” Jake all-but barked—in warning—which meant he still feared far less fun consequences. 

“Stop doing fretting. Foxy won’t hurt me.” Believing this was p’raps a bit barmy but that had never stopped Phin before…so he went with it. Jake just huffed in disbelief and dipped his head to do trailing his nose down the length of Phin’s neck in a ticklish trickle of silky hair. This, while rolling his hips with a sinuous swish of spine that made Phin gasp and his back do bowing in a bid to force Jake deeper still. He was fast turning into a wanton hussy. A fact Phin liked far too much for seemliness sake. Mmmore…

A plea Jake met with a snicker that sent a shiver of quivers straight to his cock. Crikey… sex was chock full of unforeseen consequences Phin had never done factoring in. He’d no sooner thought this, than Jake began to do moving. Moving? Phin had never unleashed such an excessive understatement. ‘Moving’ was white light before passing through a prism. Jake was a rainbow melody of motion. Hell-bent on proving that Phin had scarce got started on the understatement front. 

After clasping Phin’s hips, Jake did dragging his own back almost all the way. Phin had to quell the urge to clench, as if to trap the scoundrel if he’d decided it was too dangerous, after all. A small mewl of sound like a kitten shut out in the cold flitted from Phin’s lips, swiftly succeeded by a sharp gasp when Jake did burying himself balls deep with one sure surge. Shockwaves of heat sizzled through Phin’s body, boiling his brain, which was too boggled to do sorting the surfeit of sensations. So it didn’t bother, and just did melting instead.

This was the feeling Phin had forever craved…without even knowing what it might be. Or even if he would do recognising it at all, should he be fortunate ’nuff to find it. Its promise had hovered like a horizon in his head; a shimmering illusion he might never do reaching, no matter how far or wide he searched. Aspiration wise? Phin had known it was akin to a fixation on finding faeries at the bottom of the garden…but he’d never been able to abandon it. Impossible to do when it was irreplaceable. The void would have driven him demented—the one risk Phin refused to take, again—he valued his freedom too much.

He’d been quite content to do whiling away his time amongst the trove of treasures stashed in his head. Contentment and Comfiness had become Phin’s Plan B. States of mind for which he’d fought hard, made all the more precious for that. Arriving in Cornwall had put the tin (miner’s) hat on it; finding his own happy place had far surpassed settling for second best. Not least when he’d always known there was no second best: There was Him, whoever he was…and everyone else. 

Nothing had ever felt this…necessary. Nothing would ever, could ever, be the same after this. How was Phin supposed to get dressed and do pottering around and ordinary stuff tomorrow? Why would anyone do going to buy a pot-plant, when they could be in bed doing this, instead? Nutters. Phin wanted Jack to stay inside him forever—or, at the very least—every day and night for the rest of forever. See? He could do compromising.

“Jack! Harder, pleease.”

“I’ll hurt you…” The low groan that rolled in Jake’s throat was the most delicious rumble of noise Phin had ever heard. As delectable as every swish of his super-foxy spine.

“You won’t. I-I need you to.” Phin’s inner muscles did tightening, all on their own—as if to emphasize his point—which p’raps worked a tad too well. It sure made Jake let rip a roaring racket that did rattling the bedposts. Oops. 

Phin felt it then; the shimmer he’d seen at the car park. It did rippling through Jake—and Phin o’course—which was a consequence worth dying for, if he must. Ah well, what a way to go… 

The low beam of Jake’s eyes abruptly flared to blue flame, incandescent in the darkness. Swiftly followed by a spasm of muscle that sent Jake’s hips snapping forwards with the alacrity Phin had demanded. Not too much. Never too much. Foxy wouldn’t permit it, let alone inflict it. Phin knew this with a certainty as deep as Jake was embedded in his body. The hyper-thrust had made all Phin’s breath do gushing out, so he gasped great lungfuls of shimmery air, as if he’d done bursting through the sea surface after a surfing mishap.

Phin’s heart was hammering louder than the unearthly noises scrabbling in his throat. His veins felt like rivers of boiling bliss and his balls were busy cooking up a brew they were all-too eager to do sharing. The deluge of too muchness had distracted him for longer than seemed feasible, not least when Phin had felt fit to burst before Jake buried himself home. Home? Phin sure hadn’t rustled that up. 

The very air shivered with their sighs, Phin could feel it as a physical force. Pressing down, dulling the slick sound of skin on skin and the guttural groans Phin gobbled up with customary greed, even as he hungered for more. That was the last nugget of nonsense Phin could recall. After that, there was only the sublime sweep of Jake’s spine, the suppressed power that filled Phin with a thirst every bit as craven as his greedy guts. He wanted it. All of it. All of him…when Jake was already so much more than Phin deserved. He was magnificent; as enigmatic as midnight, as luminous as the blue ablaze in those eyes. Phin lost all sense of himself…of where he ended and Jack began. This was it; the world the poets had promised him. Nothing and no-one could convince Phin otherwise. Not even Jake. 

He was Too Much made man. Grinding against Phin with an intensity he’d feared he could never inspire. Pounding into his body as if hell-bent on proving something Phin had known from the very first; only Jake could ever be enough. Even Phin’s nerve endings had recognised that. They’d done tingling with Peter Parker pizzazz the moment Phin opened his eyes. On the moor.

Here, now, Phin couldn’t do keeping still. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing—but he seemed to be doing it—so his body must’ve got the gist of it and hadn’t done sharing with the class. No matter, that just meant he could do flying by the seat of his pants, which was always Phin’s favourite way to travel. 

“Phiiiin!” The raw rasp of his name was the most erotic sound that had ever rifled his ear-drums, swiftly followed by a white-hot shaft of indescribable bliss when Jake’s cock brushed that bedazzling spot. Much to his misfortune, Phin could describe the strangled cat sound that accompanied it, so he just hoped Jake didn’t do noticing. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered, but then, Jake could surely hear a dog whistle and that was a racket Phin was glad he’d been spared. He couldn’t even tolerate the hoover.

He felt as if he’d been whizzed back to an era of raw, primal need. A time stripped of petty complexities; no doing dreary concentrating and worrying about Too Much. Phin Just Was…and he just wanted Jake. His foxy friend, carved from honeyed gold, filling him up. Feeding-fuelling a need so gnawing it could never be sated…claiming Phin as his very own. Always and evermore. 

“I can’t…hold on. Got…t’pull out. Just incase I-he…” Words Jake forced through gritted teeth, then gasped and did gulping at air. “Ah…aah…NOOO! Jack!” Jake snarled. “No. Don’t…NO! Fuuck..!” He furled his hand around Phin’s cock about a bitten-off curse before Jake shuddered and a strangled howl tore from his throat.

For an eternal moment Phin did hovering on the brink of maddening bliss as a flood of warmth filled his insides and his own name clawed the walls. A fact that finished Phin off, snatching his breath away when the ever-building pressure exploded in an ecstatic rush.

“Jaake!” shattered the darkness when Phin relinquished all he was…and fell into forever.

 

***

 

Wafflish

Beast of Bodmin Moor 29

 

happy-new-year-rainbow-animation

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

 

 

 

Jake

 

 

“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.

“Jack!” 

“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

 

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.

“Nowhere…”

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…

 

***