They never woke with a gasp like in the movies. It was always a slow awareness creeping back into them.
They knew it was a nightmare. Knew it was fictional.
However that didn’t stop the racing heart, vivid images and unsettled stomach.
Glancing through their space, they eyed every corner feeling far too exposed in the open, dark space.
A warm body stirred beside them.
“Flower? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Of course Huxley immediately knew they weren’t okay. The wide eyes and shaking hands gave that away.
“Bad dream.” They whispered, hands still shaking slightly. They heard the blind-fumbling on their bedside table before a light flicked on. It was dimmed, but enough to remove the long shadows and a good chunk of their anxiety.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. Can I do anything?” He asked gently, eyes still half-lidded from sleep.
“Hold me?” It was whispered into the dim room. They felt pathetic. It was 2:30 and they’d woken the poor man up because of some idiotic dream. Knowing something isn’t real and feeling it isn’t are two vastly different things.
Logically, they were fully aware it was a work of chemicals and a bad TV show before bed.
But their biological reaction had it replaying like a horrifically real memory every few seconds.
A sharp breath stuttered from their chest as he pulled them into his arms.
Warmth immediately seeped into every exposed nerve that danced along their body, soothing them tenfold.
“We’re okay. There’s nothing that’s gonna get through me.” He soothed gently, hand stroking up and down their stomach. Huxley’s palms were always warm. Not like Damien’s in the way that you could tell it was his core, but just in a gentle soothing manner.
They’d never get tired of it.
Flipping over, they buried their face in his chest. It allowed enough light to reduce the paranoia floating their head.
Huxley cradled their back in one large palm and the back of their head in the other. His short fingernails scratched at the nape of their neck, sending addictive shivers through them.
“Tighter?” It was a plea. Huxley immediately complied, wanting nothing more than to soothe his distressed partner.
He rested his head on the top of theirs, only bending to kiss their head sweetly. “I’ve got you, petal. You’re okay.” Each word soothed another frayed nerve. They were sparking live-wire and only Hux could settle the danger.
“Keep talking? Please.” In the darkness, it felt like such a silly request. Huxley understood. Of course he did.
“Uh, well Damien beat me at volleyball again. Our little spitfire, huh? He gloated very humbly. Gavin made so many innuendos, and I’m pretty sure he and Xavier snuck off half-way through to go fuck but oh well. It was fun, I just wish you and Lasko could’ve been there you know… would’ve been nice to have all my people in one spot.” He lamented a little sadly, squeezing them even tighter.
A kiss was pressed to his sternum, and his stomach jumped with the feeling.
“I love you, Hux.”
“I love you too baby, go to sleep if you can. I’ll be here.”
His chest rumbled under their cheek with every word, relaxing them more than any pharmaceutical had ever been able. He kept it up; rambling about the sunflowers he saw, about his moms, about their other partners, upcoming games, anything and everything.
It was nearing on 3:30am when he finally slowed, voice dipping quieter. Tilting back, he admired the sight that greeted him.
His darling Flower passed out on his chest, taking comfort in the place they knew they’d always find safety. Huxley took such pride in being able to comfort his partners, being more than a scary jock stereotype. He kissed their head once more, lingering there to cope with the rising emotions he faced.
Throat clogged with hushed love declarations, he choked out “I love you. Sleep well, flower.”
The shelter they found within his arms could never be replaced. It was unspoken, unconditional happiness.
Darlin’ hung back. A ghost on the wall that always managed to disappear. Never heard, rarely seen. Overlooked.
They enjoyed it that way. Forming limited connections meant less heartbreak further down the road when they decided to leave. People always left.
Watching the two people you were hopelessly in love fawn all over the other made it a little less easy to not care. Apathy was something Darlin’ had spent their whole life in the company of.
Through their parents, their friends, Quinn. None of it had ever really mattered, just adding complexity to their grey life.
However watching David and Asher be David and Asher, now that created reds and blues. It caused dark greens and pale yellows. It wasn’t fair. Why had these two had such an affect on their life that no one had managed to before?
Why the two mates who were so sickeningly in love, that it was apparent to everyone?
The Alpha and the Beta were every happy-ending given true form. They’d survived Gabe’s passing, Quinn, the inversion, and come out all the better for it.
Those events… they’d simply chipped further and further away at Darlin’s humanity. Left them scarred, broken, shattered. They would never recover from any of those moments in time. That was the simple truth of it all.
Milo had once begged them to tell his best friends about their secretly harboured feelings. That was met with a resounding no and a promise of violence if he ever told anyone.
So there they were, glued to the back wall like a parasite. They didn’t move, didn’t speak, as David gave his speech to his pack. All of whom were watching with great awe. David certainly wasn’t his father, but Darlin’ thought that might’ve just been a good thing. He bought so much more that Gabe (Bless his soul) had ever been able to.
After Liliana’s passing, Gabe had been broken. He’d attempted to keep the peace with his pack and himself, but Darlin’ saw. Kindred spirits and all that.
There was something familiar, even to their adolescent mind, in the way Gabe’s cracks seeped through into his everyday life. Maybe that’s why they’d felt such a close bond with the former Alpha.
Fiddling with their ring, they kept their gaze firmly on their mutilated hands while their ears remained tracked to every word that fell from between those sweet lips.
At one point they glanced up, feeling a gaze on them. Asher. Even from behind their sunglasses, they were positive he caught the way their eyes widened.
‘David’s speaking, why is he looking at me?’ They questioned silently, internally panicking at every out-of-place area on their body. 13. That’s how many they counted just with a quick mental scan.
Fuck.
‘Wait after. Please?’ Asher signed discreetly, nodding in their direction to confirm that he was speaking to them. Limbs paralysed and anxiety crippling their every survival instinct, they nodded and moved their unseeing gaze back to the Alpha.
In their peripheral, they watched as Asher kept looking at them for a few moments before turning back to his mate.
Sweat welled up along their hairline, a physical manifestation of their rapidly-increasing anxiety. Leaving now would draw too much suspicion, as well as alerting their friend Beta. The doors were far too loud to be moved without gathering unwanted attention.
They remained frozen, heart galloping in their chest for the duration of the pack meeting. Pack meeting. Honestly they weren’t even sure why they’d shown up; they certainly weren’t ‘pack’. Others had made that abundantly clear.
Oh god. A lightbulb flicked in their mind. David and Asher were kicking them out. They’d spotted Chrissy whispering to Ash not moments before the meeting began.
Fuck.
They were being kicked out. A loner. A rouge. Granted, majority of the time they felt like that anyway; but at least they still had the layer of being a Shaw on their back.
After this they’d be naked. Vulnerable. Totally alone.
Shit.
Noise finally penetrated their ears, seeping in around the buzzing. Clapping. The meeting had adjourned.
With the confirmation of their impending doom in their mind, Darlin’ did the one thing they knew their boys… their Alpha and Beta would hate the most.
As soon as Elliott woke up, he could tell that something was wrong. There was an odd pain in his stomach and his thighs were suspiciously warm. Throwing back the covers, the sight he was met with was one that the dreamwalker had hoped never to re-live.
Blood.
Sure enough, Elliott's boxers and sheets were stained with the red liquid.
The normally happy man's lip quivered at the very blunt reminder that he, in fact, was not a real guy. Tears built up in his eyes as he ran to the shower.
Honestly, he couldn’t stand showering unnecessarily, having to look in the mirror usually wasn't something he could face. Having his powers also made things difficult; shifting into dreams allowed him to adapt his form to that of a cisgender man.
Waking up afterwards though...
It left his chest hollow and aching at the reminder of the incorrect areas lining his body.
Water poured from the shower head as Elliott stripped, purposefully avoiding the mirror. He carefully stepped in, bracing his hand against the cold tile. He couldn't hold it in any longer as he slid to the floor, knees to chest and sobbed into his legs. He used to be so much better at dealing with his… period.
But after starting testosterone, he hadn't gotten one in over 2 years. Elliott's eyes drifted down to his chest as another wave of tears fell over him.
This wasn’t him. His body wasn't right. Nothing fit like it was meant to.
He loathed that he had been forced into a state that caused him so much pain. He hated being abnormal.
There were only a few people that knew about his transition and only a small percentage of them actually accepted him for it.
One person Elliott knew he could rely on was his Sunshine. God, they had saved his life.
When Elliott had asked them out and Sunshine said yes, he swore his heart stopped dead in his chest for a moment.
Thoughts of his partner swam around his mind and succeeded in cheering him up a touch, before he remembered that he didn't have any of the sanitary products he needed.
The dreamwalker logically knew that his partner would do anything to help, wouldn't judge. But the thought of having to admit that he needed such feminine products was suffocating. Standing up, he stuck his head under the spray and cranked up the heat.
The hurting man allowed the water to wash away his thoughts for a while. After he deemed himself clean enough and actually ready to face the world, he jumped out, stuffing tissues into his boxers and making a mad dash to the bedroom.
There he sat, phone in hand, trying to sum up the courage to actually press the button.
His hands shook violently as he did.
"Hey Elliott." He could hear the smile in their voice.
"Hi Sunshine," he whispered back. Tears pricked his eyes and he angrily clenched them shut.
"What's up?"
"Can you..." he trailed off, pausing. His heart was thundering in his chest. With a tight throat, he tried again. "Can you bring me some pads on your way home?"
They paused for a moment, "Of course, Eli. Do you need a new heating pad or ibuprofen?" Bless his Sunshine. He sniffled slightly, lip quivering from anxiety and relief.
"No, I just need the pads... and you." Elliott wasn't used to feeling the overwhelming nerves running through his system, but the thought of his partner being disgusted by him was nearly too much.
The lovers exchanged goodbyes, and Elliott was left staring at the floor of their bedroom for many minutes.
A knock broke his trance, "Yeah?"
"I'm home, baby. I've got your stuff."
He sighed in relief, "Thanks Sunshine." He paused in front of them, placing a kiss to their lips. He'd never get tired of kissing them.
Quickly changing, Elliott hurried through the motions. Nausea built in his stomach as he did.
He stumbled back into their bedroom. Looking up, he stopped dead.
Sunshine had built him a little nest of snacks, blankets and soft things. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but I couldn't help myself. I hope it's not too much." They explained sheepishly, cheeks lightly dusted pink as they looked around the space.
Elliott flung himself onto the bed and into the nest, collecting them into his arms. "Nothing you do is ever too much. Thank you Sunshine. This means so much." He promised, kissing them hard to prove his words. They giggled into his mouth, hands coming up to run through his damp hair.
"Alright, settle down. Get comfy cause we're not moving 'til dinner." They grinned, arms outstretched. He shuffled into their embrace, face nuzzling into the side of their neck. His lower stomach was wrapped in a heating pad and their warm palms danced over his aching back.
He sighed heavily, the exhaustion of anxiety finally hitting him. "Do you need anything else, Eli?" They whispered, lips placing a kiss to the top of his head.
"Just you." He whispered back. His arms tightened around their middle.
He was sickeningly in love with his Sunshine. With the one person who never made him feel less-than worthy. Who never questioned his feelings, only offering comfort as best they could.
"I love you."
"I love you too, pretty boy."
He smiled sleepily, limbs growing heavier with every pass of their hand down his back. The pain and discomfort was still very much present, but maybe, just maybe, he could find solace in his lovers arms for a while.
and you’re telling me that after a long day at ETS, making decisions and fixing everything
that the poor man doesn’t wanna lay down?
let someone else make decisions for him?
be pampered?
be taken care of instead of DOING the taking care of???
Like he’d come home, strip and collapse into bed.
His Love would glide their hands along his chest and face, admiring their gorgeous partner.
“May I touch you?” they always check, because some night he can’t bear it. Guilt and shame eating away at his soul. Some nights he needs to be help and gently reminded why they love him, who he is, and the good that he’s putting out into the world.
He nods, head tilting for a kiss. They allow it, lips meeting gently.
Their warm hands slide down his thighs, kneading at the softness there. Light hairs cover his legs and they adore the way he looks under them.
Peeling off his boxers, they nuzzle at him. His soft cock immediately begins to chub. His scent is thick and heady, beautifully him.
His hand goes to their head.
“Anton. Move that hand again, and I’ll tie it to the headboard. Keep them by your sides for me, baby.” He moves back, fingers tangling in the sheets.
“Good boy.” It has him groaning, head flinging backwards. In the back of his brain, he knows two words shouldn’t affect him.
But with his Love between his thighs, mouth tantalisingly close to his cock, the words go straight to his core.
“Please.” His voice cracks and his cheeks flush. It’s embarrassing. It’s perfect. The control is out of his hands.
His wellbeing placed into the care of someone he knows will treasure it.
They move, licking a long stripe up his cock. Anton’s already leaking, precum salty on their tongue.
Digging into his slit, they watch on fondly as he contorts.
The way his eyebrows furrow and his breaths quicken turns them on far too much to be acceptable.
“Ah, my love. Please, don’t tease. I’ve been craving you-” A whimper cuts his words as they take him down.
Their nose hits his pelvis, throat constricting around the length. His hands flex in the sheets, still listening to their command.
It’s his gospel.
They hum around him, just to see the way his thighs jump.
They move one hand into his own, knowing in that state Anton requires more reassurance and care.
They bob, constricting their throat and lips to give him the most pleasure. Their partner responds beautifully, eyes squeezing shut and moans tumbling from parted lips.
“Oh fuck. I’m so close love. Please” He whines, chest heaving.
Mercy is something they were never good at, but having such a strong man fall beneath them makes them give a little.
They squeeze his hand twice.
Yes.
He keens, back arching and cock sliding into their throat. Humming they breath through their nose and let him stay there until he’s finished.
Swallowing his cum, they pull off his softening length. “Good job baby. So perfect.”
The kiss tastes of both of them, and Anton has never felt happier.
“Thank you. I needed that. You are so incredible.” He pants, eyes glazed and fluttering.
Shifting, they wrap around each other. Limbs sprawled and tangled. Hearts beating for each other.
“I love you.”
“I love you too” That’s the last he hears before the world goes syrupy.
Lovely stood naked in front of the mirror. Hands roamed over a body that was supposedly theirs. It had all their features, responded to all their movements, connected to all their nerves.
But it wasn’t theirs.
Not fully.
It hadn’t been for a long time.
Since the early childhood days others had forced their marks onto Lovely’s body, marking tiny sections as ‘not-mine’.
It grew from scratches to scars, from kisses to bruises. Growing and gathering until they were nothing short of an amalgamation of other’s identities; stories they would rather forget.
Some were more obvious: the physical scars of trauma and accidents that time would never heal. Some less so, the internal wounds that were almost always more devastating than the visible ones.
They had tried not to, but seeing their Prince standing with such gorgeous people made them question their own worth.
Those types of people tasted like honey. They felt like glass, delicate and special. They sounded like music and looked even softer. No one flinched when those types of people took off their clothes.
Lovely was not. In the end, they were the antithesis of those people. They were broken. Cracked and chipped. Laid bare to be forgotten, winced at, looked over.
“Lovely. What are you doing?” Their husband called softly, body leaning against their doorframe. His arms were crossed, forcing his chest to stick out.
They wondered if he ever thought about leaving them for someone better.
Shaking their head, they moved swiftly away from the mirror. The horrific reflection flittered out of sight.
“Just getting changed.” They laughed. It was hollow to their own ears. They couldn’t lie, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t tell half-truths. He moved almost silently, though he purposefully slowed enough to make sure they were aware of his movements.
“What’s really going on?” He questioned softly, hands sliding into place over theirs. The shirt in their grasp fell to the floor. They kept their head down, gaze locked onto the very-interesting shirt that crumpled to the floor.
Fitting.
Subconsciously, they moved their eyes back to the mirror, and winced. “Fuck.”
“C’mon baby. Talk to me.” Squeezing their hands, he brought them back to the mirror.
An arm wrapped around their middle, another looped across their shoulder and down their side. His head came to rest in the junction of their neck.
A delicate kiss had them leaning back into the strong embrace.
“I’m just sick of feeling broken and wondering if I’m good enough.” Their lower lip trembled traitorously. It was somehow easier to voice all their feelings in the darkness.
It was comforting in a way.
“What?” He breathed out, a puff of hot air tickled their neck. “Of course you’re good enough. Where is this coming from?”
Scoffing harshly, “C’mon, you’re not stupid. Everyone has seen you with the people at that party tonight. Any one of them looked far better on your arm than I ever have. Even before…” They trailed off, voice breaking. Dark gazes met in the reflection.
Anger and acceptance.
“No.”
A squeal was ripped from their throat as they were hoisted up and flung onto the bed.
“Oof-, wow okay.” A giggle burst forward, unexpected in the face of their lover’s vampiric speed.
Lips met theirs. It was brutal but beautiful. Hot and calm. Complete juxtapositions all at once.
“Vincent, wait. What’s gotten into you?” Lovely gasped, hands coming to find purchase on his face. His eyes searched in theirs for a few long moments.
“My partner doesn’t think they’re good enough. I call bullshit. But I know actions are louder than words. So… ‘m gonna prove it to you.” He promised, fingertips tracing down their naked torso.
His teeth caught at their throat, sucking a mark into the flesh beneath them. Lovely moaned, body arching up into the addicting touch.
“Vince-"
“Shh, let me prove something to you.” That voice was dark, tinted with danger, lust and promises of something good.
“Tell me why you think you’re not good enough.” He demanded, still marking his territory across their chest and neck.
Unable to lie, the words tumbled from their lips, “Because you’re a Prince. You look so fucking good and I’m left off to the side like some little bitch. It isn’t your fault, but I just wonder if you’re gonna leave me. After all, I was fucked up from Adam, and my old life; but now this.” Their free hand gestured to their body, the remnants of the damage caused by the inversion.
Vincent peeled himself off them, using some of his strength to keep his body parallel to theirs but hovering above.
His eyes roamed every inch of their skin, taking it in. They suddenly felt very exposed.
“Don’t you dare.” He warned as theirs hands came up to shield themself. “Lovely, you are… the single most exquisite beauty I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon. Not only are you fucking sexy, but you’re gorgeous in a way that words cannot do justice to.” He kissed their lips, soft and sweet.
He kissed them like he was trying to make them believe him.
“You’re caring.” A kiss to their nose.
“You’re brave.” A nip to their chin.
“You’re mine.” A bite to their neck.
“You are my everything and more. You are kind, smart, beautiful, funny, and you have made my life so much better just by existing in it.” He swore, trailing kisses and nips over their heart and lungs.
Vincent made his spouse feel the weight behind each one of his words. “I will never leave you. You are not broken. You are my partner.” His breath ghosted their outer thighs. Vincent adored the way Lovely shivered under his movements.
It satisfied some primal part of him to know he was the one causing that reaction.
“I have never, and will never, care about your scars. Internal or external. They’re part of what makes you so… Lovely.”
They smiled at his idiocy, tears streaking down their cheeks. Festering black tendrils of shame, hatred and insecurity retreated slightly; relinquishing their hold on Lovely’s heart with each word.
They leaned up, taking Vincent’s face between their hands, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Their kiss was the type written in fairytales. The Princess Bride was a close equivalent, Vincent thought happily.
“I’m never leaving you.” He swore, thumb swiping away the few remaining tears that glistened under their pretty eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere either.” It was a nice reassurance, especially considering neither could lie to the other.
Vincent chuckled, hand worming its way down to their sensitive thighs again, “Actually I might if I can’t get my mouth on you in the next few minutes.”
They groaned, flinging themself backwards and laughing. Always one to ruin a moment, their Vincent.
A sharp knock rang through their house and they froze. Scarcely breathing, they ducked below the eyeline through the window and crept toward the front door.
Sure, they didn’t live in the least-safe area possible. But it was going on 1am and their instincts were haywire.
It was times like that, where they found themself longing for James the most. Times where their husband would’ve swept them up into his arms and sheltered them from the harm.
They weren’t weak, not by any means, but there was something so special about being able to hide with another, knowing you were safe as long as they were by your side.
Their longing ran core-deep in those moments.
Creeping to the front door, they paused only to grab the bat that resided beside it before flicking the lock.
“I am armed. I’ve got the police on speed dial. Leave this property now.” They warned, voice remaining steady despite their inner turmoil.
“Uh, I’m just here to deliver a pizza. It’s a large cheese for a [Name]. Is that you?” The timid voice they heard was their local pizza guy. They adored him; he was a stocky little man who always got a large tip for being on time.
They dropped the bat, “Oh shit. Sorry Guy. Just, it’s late and I didn’t order a pizza.” They rushed to explain, opening the door wide enough to see the pale man.
He hummed in consideration, “Odd. Well, I’ve got something else too but it’s a little heavy. Can you help me bring it in?” He smiled politely. They immediately agreed, propping the door and opening their arms to share the load of Guy’s delivery.
They looked down, expecting a box on the ground, when two black Oxfords entered their view.
“Hey Love.”
They stopped dead, hands falling and eyes going wide.
Shakily, their gaze rose back up to his. “J-James?” They needed confirmation that this wasn’t some twisted dream.
“It’s me. I’m home.” He smiled, eyes watering and grin so wide. They moved in a flash, body jumping into the security of their husband's arms without second thought.
Taking his face into both hands, they studied all the new eyebags, stress lines, and burst blood vessels that told a tragic tale. They studied him long and hard.
His eyes searched theirs too, finding the loneliness to be so obvious. It hurt his soul. Knowing his job and he, himself, had caused that.
James swore then and there to do whatever he had to, to ensure his spouse never felt that way again.
Leaning in, James kissed them. It echoed of unspoken words and mended bonds. Their lips met in just such a way that it resparked that fire.
A loud bang behind them indicated that Guy had left.
Neither of them paid it any mind.
James’s hands immediately found their waist, squeezing hard. He groaned in appreciation at the softness he felt. After so long dealing with such hard, unbending, unfeeling objects, it was a godsend to have his pliable lover beneath his fingertips.
“Bed?” He panted out as they separated.
“Bed.” They agreed, grinning down at him. Fuck, they’d missed him more than words could describe.
The two stumbled their way into the room, bodies collapsing on one another. The movements were rushed, but no less tender. James worked both of them out of their clothes, hands roaming the newly exposed skin.
“You’re as beautiful as the day I left.” He whispered, peering up at them through long lashes. They smiled sadly, finding his hand and placing a sweet kiss to it.
One that spoke of forgiveness.
He pulled their bodies together; their core was hot. Too hot. James knew he wouldn’t last.
“Can I?”
They nodded, “Please.” He sucked two fingers, lining them up and pushing in steadily. There was only a little resistance.
“Has someone been having fun without me?” His voice was dark as he crooked his fingers upward, eyes lighting as their body convulsed with pleasure.
“Mhm, missed you. Used the toy- ah, you bought. Your size.” They admitted, moans breaking up their sentence.
His deft fingers paused at those words, hands shooting down to grab the base of his cock.
“Fuck, Love. You cannot say shit like that if you want me to fuck you tonight.” The words were deep, almost a growl. It made their lower stomach throb in excitement.
“Then hurry up and fuck me, James. Don’t make me wait any longer.” It was a mean tactic, and they both knew it.
James surged forward, body bracketing theirs entirely as he kissed them like a starved man. He was starved. It’d been close to two years without physical contact from his partner. He never wanted to do that again.
They remained face to face as James slowly pushed his way in. Their body accepting him in the most intimate way. His cock throbbed in their hole, and he groaned deep.
“Fuck baby- oh god. You feel so fucking good.” He bit their neck, sucking a dark red mark to stake his claim.
Pulling their hand away from their mouth, he joined it with his above their head. The gold rings struck one another and the pair looked at their joined hands.
It was a beautiful sight.
James thrust in hard and slow. Using his full weight, he forced himself to hit their spot every time. Their eyes rolled back, body shaking under the long-forgotten feelings.
“James, James, James-” They chanted, head tossed back, unable to maintain eye contact. He chuckled, letting their hand go to wrap around their waist.
The momentum forced him deeper, the pleasure twisting both their minds.
“Fuck, you’re like a fucking vice. God, I missed this. I missed you.” He swore, kissing his way across their sweaty chest. Their orgasm caught them off guard, too wrapped up in the other’s feelings.
Love came hard, body locking James in. His hips stuttered. “Cum for me James.” They moaned into his ear. The new-found tightness was too much and he collapsed onto them as he came in tandem.
They often thought the aftermath of sex to be disgusting. Too much cum. Too much sweat.
But as James rolled them over, pulling out but keeping them close to his chest, they found it beautiful. Their heavy breathing became softer, both bodies falling in sync with their breaths.
Love’s hand toyed with their husband’s wedding band, pressing a kiss to the now-warm metal.
“I missed you so much.” Tears clogged their throat, a familiar constriction weighing down the words. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”
He kissed the top of their head, arms forcing them to remain flush against him. In that embrace, all sweaty and hot, both lovers were reunited happily. James swore he’d do whatever it took to keep his partner just like that.
“You’re home now.”
"I'm home." They both knew he wasn't just talking about the house.
Pre-Turning, Healer!Sam x mystery partner hurt/comfort
@tepid-judas
The raid was a relatively easy one. The Department had gained all its knowledge months prior through leaks, moles and a host of surveillance equipment.
It was an easy in-out.
Doors hung off their hinges, evidence of boot marks etched into nearly all of them. The battering ram was discarded on the floor to be picked up later.
Rogue bullet shells littered the ground underfoot, a testament of the struggle the Family had put up upon DUMP’s arrival.
The house creaked ominously as it settled, disturbing the tensely quiet atmosphere. Sam walked in further, eyes scouring every inch.
The room he entered was empty. His co-workers had searched every inch of the decrepit building, clearing all victims and villains alike. Sam, along with several others, had healed the worst of the injured. Though he knew he’d never solve the mental anguish they all felt.
Shockingly, they’d been a whole range of unempowered humans mixed in with the rag-tag lot.
Disgusting.
Sam shook his head, moving around the glass-covered floor. The sharp crunch of his footfalls was startling loud. It cut through the thick air like a dagger. It was unsettling.
An odd tugging formed in his gut. He’d been suspended from duty for the next week to heal and recuperate after the raid… but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
Every nook and cranny had been torn apart. The local woods scouted for any runners. Realistically, Sam knew he was being paranoid, but there was just something.
The only noise around was his own sharp breathing and crackling steps. Moving over, he left his fingertips brush against the mouldy walls, feeling around for anything out of place.
Finding nothing, he shrugged and moved on.
“Gut feelings” He sighed tiredly, scrubbing at his face. That was when his ears pricked. An almost silent whimpering could be heard from the next room over. Sam jogged in, stopping in the dead centre. The noise seemed to echo from all sides.
He stopped to a crouch, “Hey, can you knock on something for me? I’m here to help.” He tried to convince the creature but to no luck.
The whimpering grew fainter, almost as though it was happening against its own will. Sam rose again, going back to running his hands against the walls.
A loose plank stopped him. Prying his fingertips under the nails, he bent it away from the others. He peered in, and through that small gap, there was a figure in the shadows.
“Fuck.” He breathed heavily, “Okay. Okay I’m gonna get you out. Just hang on.” He promised. Scouring the floor, he spied a rogue crowbar.
Thank god for sloppy clean-up.
Lifting, grunting and heaving his way through the rest of the shitty boards, Sam finally created a gap large enough to allow the creature through.
He sat back, hands out gently in front of him. “Okay, there you go. C’mon, come out to me… please?” He watched as it stood on shaking legs before collapsing into a heap on the ground.
Sam took a step closer and the whimpers began again. He saw the way it shook its head. It attempted again, getting both front paws through the gap before it nearly fell.
Rushing forward, he grabbed it. With hands under its hind legs, he hauled it the rest of the way out of the hiding space.
He set it down almost immediately upon getting it free. Its eyes, blazing with fury and fear, maintained contact with his own.
Finally able to see the creature fully, Sam could tell that it… they were a shifter.
Injured.
Muzzled.
Someone had muzzled this poor thing.
With extreme practice, he managed to keep his fists unclenched.
“Hi. So, I’m gonna need to get that muzzle off you so I can look at you properly. Sound good?” He waited where he was but received no reply.
Moving closer one step at a time, Sam paused right in front of them. A loud but gargled warning growl tumbled from their throat and the connected collar shocked them harshly.
He hated the idea of pushing the poor thing beyond their comfort level, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave that torture device on them any longer.
He took a steadying breath, desperately trying to calm the bordeline-painful pumping of his heart.
They whined, and in that distracted moment, Sam made his move.
Deft fingers slipped around the back of their head, entirely ignoring the steady stream of growls that leaked through their wired jaw.
“Hang on, just gotta… done.” He smiled triumphantly.
As soon as the pressure around their face loosened, they tore the muzzle off and shot backwards; away from the large man.
He crouched before them, hands out to show he meant no harm. The stupid belt thing in his hand creaked ominously.
Yeah right.
They growled again, baring their teeth in warning.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re alright now.“ He soothed, waddling forward in his crouched position. He tossed their muzzle off to the side.
It was odd, the way that the normal panicpainrunscared feelings didn’t well up in him as the stranger moved closer.
Department workers, even shoddy vigilante ones, were not to be trusted. Too many first-hand experiences with corrupt pigs had made 1198518 wiser. There was always danger behind kind eyes.
1198518’s growls grew in volume with each step though. They could feel how low their ears were to their head, hackles raised and eyes squinted. Knowing the man wanted to inspect them - presumably for their next handler, or even himself - 1198518 tried to hide as much as was possible.
The shaggy man simply shook his head in amusement, unperturbed by their obvious threat. Stillness overtook the room as he paused directly in front of them, had backed them into a literal corner. He slowly reached his hand out and they snapped their teeth towards it instinctively.
They had to give him credit for his impressive reflexes.
The growling stopped but their teeth remained bared, eyes wide and feral. Anger and Danger danced through every piece of fur covering them.
He didn’t startle away though, only smiled warmly at them and moved in again. They didn’t snap this time but their teeth didn’t retract.
A calloused thumb reached their cheek and they flinched hard, head jerking painfully.
“Shit, sorry, really shoulda warned you, huh? I’m sorry, pretty thing.” He sounded genuinely apologetic… The confusion of it all made their head spin.
Although that could’ve just been blood loss, they supposed.
1198518’s gaze stayed locked onto his, peripherals tracking his movements.
Tragically, they were aware he had the upper hand. They were drugged, injured, cornered.
The department worker sat down, plopping with a small huff. What was his plan there? He kept himself smaller than them, almost appearing slightly submissive in movements.
Odd.
At a snails-pace he moved his dusty hand back up. Their snout received a gentle stroke.
Never venturing further onto their face. Never moving out of sight. Never causing harm.
They remained suspicious, body tense and rigid. Pain would soon follow, it always did. For now, they relented. Sitting onto their back haunches, they bowed their head minisculy. A show of acceptance.
“There we go.” He seemed happy. He moved to cup the side of their face. His eyes seemed to take stock of 1198518’s body.
Scouting weaknesses, they realised with a huff of disappointment. Well that didn’t take long.
1198518 couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched them so gently; potential buyer or not. Certainly not their handler(s). All the panic and anger melted out of their body. Any previous adrenaline that’d been keeping their shaking limbs upright ceased in their veins.
Despite themselves, they fell, preparing to meet the ground fast and hard.
But they didn’t.
Sam slid beneath the falling wolf before him, determined to keep them out of pain as much as he could.
Maybe gut feelings weren’t so stupid after all.
Their head was cushioned against a warm stomach, body encased by a long set of legs on either side. Somehow the position wasn’t suffocating. It was almost… comforting.
The wall behind their exhausted frame ensured no predators could attack from behind. Whatever sadistic tendencies the man cradling them held, they’d deal with later. With fluttering eyelids, 1198518 attempted to push away from him once more.
They knew sleep would mean they would be transferred. Easier to not be tracked and all.
He stroked their bloody snout, avoiding the worst of the lacerations. His touch held care and an oddly calm aura that was never present in their life.
“Shh, I’ve got you. You’re alright, sweet thing. Sleep, I’ll keep ya safe tonight.” He promised, scratching at the one spot behind their ear that turned them into goo.
A nap, yeah they’d just sleep for a few hours to regain energy and then make a break for it.
Perfect.
Sam looked down at the wounded creature strewn across his chest. He was a male shifter, that much was obvious. His story though, was an entire mystery.
The muzzle... Not wanting to startle the sweet thing was the only reason Sam had stayed still. He wanted to burn the fucking place to the ground.
A glittering on the collar still looped around the shifter’s neck caught Sam’s vision.
1198518.
The owners of the god-forsaken place had reduced all of their 'merchandise' to numbers. Horrific. Sam was smart enough to know what it meant though.
“Asher, huh? Pretty name for a pretty shifter.” He hummed quietly, glancing at the decrepit room.
It was Hell on Earth. No one deserved that, especially not someone with such sad eyes. Sighing to himself, he began to formulate ways to get the shifter… Asher home. Preferably without having his limbs torn off for his effort.
“Hey Mi?” Ollie called softly, praying for an answer from the emptiness. Relief flooded his chest with the “Yeah?” That echoed back.
Shaking his head, “uh… Nothing. Y’know what, never mind.” He laughed off semi-awkwardly. Sitting back down on the couch, Ollie pulled his knees up to chest. He cringed slightly as the sound of footsteps sounded from down the hallway.
Great.
“Hey Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Milo crooned softly, small smile reserved for his Mate plastered on his lips. His eyes crinkled in concern, and Ollie found himself melting under the gaze.
“It’s nothing. I’m okay.” His voice cracked halfway through his sentence, betraying the underlying panic that danced through his veins.
A hand settled on his thigh, bringing their gazes back together. “It’s shot day.” Milo’s soft words were a reminder. He knew. He constantly kept track of his fiance’s schedule, knowing how much the other struggled with needles.
Ollie nodded, fingers anxiously turning over Milo’s. “Help?” It was weak, small. But he knew his other half would hear.
“Of course sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you in there.” He grinned, tugging lightly on their joined hands. Slipping their hands around his waist, he pulled Ollie close into his body. The violently fast beating of his heart didn’t go unnoticed by Milo.
He squeezed his hand lightly, a comforting grounding reminder.
Pushing into the bathroom, Milo gently pushed Ollie down onto the toilet lid. The latter went silently, a glaring indication of how loud his head was.
A rhythmic bouncing was heard across the tile as Ollie’s pizza-socked foot struck it repeatedly. His lover did nothing to stop his anxious fidgeting, well aware the external stimulation eased at least a little fear in his head.
Milo set to work getting everything ready and clean, pulling a vial of testosterone out of the cabinet along with a needle. An almost silent whimper broke the quiet atmosphere and he felt his heart break.
“Oh love. It’s okay. Close your eyes for me?” Milo rested a hand against Ollie’s cheek, leaning down to brush their lips together so softly. Pulling away, he rested their foreheads together.
A hand creeped down, feeling for soft fabric. Thumbing at the waistband of his sweatpants, Ollie smiled as he found the physical grounding he required.
“Mi-“ Ollie stuttered, voice breaking with nerves. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’m just gonna pull your boxers up, okay?” With the nod, he did only that. He reached a thumb down to stroke at the newly revealed skin.
Ollie was tense and jittery, breaths coming hard and scared.
“I know. It’s so stupid to be scared of needles, especially when I’ve had so goddamn many. But I- I just can’t get over it. Like what if this is the one time…” Ollie trailed off, unsure and insecure. “You aren’t scared. It’s so stupid that I am, why can’t I be like you-“
Milo interrupted him, with a hand to his cheek, “Ollie, stop and breathe.” The latter’s eyes flew open, meeting Milo’s warm gaze. “You’re allowed to be scared. Needles are fucking creepy, you know. I used to hate them, even when Ma did all our shots as kids.”
“What? For rabies?” Ollie teased, a little spark shining through.
Milo scoffed, pinching his chin, “No, you brat. For tetanus and shit. But yeah, I was terrified. But I learnt how good it can be. When I do my T shots, I’m not scared anymore. Wanna know why?“
Ollie nodded, “Because it means I get to be *me*. Taking testosterone and getting those injections made me live again. I get to be happy in a body I love. And that’s all I want for you. That’s not to say you aren’t allowed to be scared, but just try and focus on the euphoria it’s gonna give you. Okay, baby?”
There were tears in Ollie’s eyes as he surged forward to kiss his wolf. It was tender, gentle and all-encompassing. Milo’s lips tasted a little like the strawberries he had eaten earlier but *fuck* if Ollie didn’t love it.
They pulled apart, lips shining and pink under the dim bathroom light.
“I love you Milo.”
“I love you more. Now let’s do this shit.” He grinned, wide and encouraging. Ollie’s heart rate picking up was audible in the close proximity.
Milo leaned away to get the needle, wiping his thigh with an alcohol swab.
“Deep breath. Focus on you, your feelings, your happiness. Focus on us and how fucking good we look.” An airy chuckle filled the space, and Milo clocked the suppressed grin Ollie was sporting.
“You want a countdown? Or for me to just do it?”
“Just do it.”
Milo smiled, kissing his partner once more, “Okay Nike. Let’s do this then.”
A sharp sting ripped through Ollie’s thigh and he winced harshly, hand gripping Milo’s pants so hard he swore he’d have to re-iron them.
“I’ve got you. Good job baby. Just a little longer, I promise.” Milo kissed Ollie’s head and pushed the liquid through the tube before pulling it away. It landed with a loud clink in the sharps bin and Milo rushed to get a bandaid.
A loud sigh of relief bounced off the walls. Ollie felt his shoulders drop, anxiety simmering down. Absent-mindedly twisting his ring, he watched on gratefully as his partner rummaged through the cabinets.
“You want Dora or Lightning McQueen or Boo?”
Ollie stared up adoringly at his partner. Fuck, he was so excited to spend the rest of his life with that man.
“Dora, obviously.” He laughed, a genuine stress-free laugh. It warmed the entirety of Milo’s heart. Pressing it down, he finished with the most delicate kiss.
“There. All better.”
Hands found one another, like a tether unable to stay separated for long. Ollie looked up through his lashes. “Can we go cuddle now?”
Bone-deep exhaustion from the multiple near-panic attacks he’d had earlier finally caught up. Milo grinned and nodded, dragging them both to their sunken lounge.
“Thank you. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Ollie swore, kissing him deep and meaningfully. It was the kind of kiss that promised forever and more.
“I love you too. Now, let’s watch some goddamn Star Wars.”
Laughter, softness and love permeated the space. Permanently ingraining itself into every inch of their shared apartment.
Some even say Aggro smiled that day, content his Dads had finally found happiness.
