Simon Rileyâs in charge of helping the rehabilitation of new pack members. The wolves that still have one foot in the military and the other in civilian life. Mostly aiding soldiers in healing from injuries that have pushed them out of the special forces.
Itâs where you come into his life. He never thought heâd get a mate, too worried heâd be too messed up to allow one into his life. But then thereâs you, bullet torn through your left shoulder. A shot to your back, a devastating betrayal that leaves you snarling at Simon every time he tries to help you. Thereâs no bite behind your words though, canines shaved and vocal cords ruptured during your months of torture.
Youâre so damned stubborn. Would rather lay in bed on your stomach than ask him for help. He can hear your wolf whining through the thin walls, but heâs waiting for you to reach out to him. Wonât force himself into your safe space, the small room next to his in his cabin. The same room thatâs seen over twenty shifters before you.
Before you, Simon doesnât remember like youâve always been there with him. He cleans your room when you finally summon the strength to have a shower and he canât rid himself of your scent. Youâre no doubt scrubbing your skin down to the bone so that you canât smell him lingering on you. Youâre both betaâs, headstrong and defiant, a little stuck in your ways...
Simon hovers around you, sitting with you during meals and checking over your wound. Something you begrudgingly let him do as you canât reach or see it to tend to yourself. Itâs during these moments where Simon fills the silence and you begin to speak one word. Then two. Sometimes a morning or goodnight. Full sentences as you watch him fix up the cabin thatâs still a work in progress.
Heâs content with the small scraps of conversation, thatâs until you slip into his bed during a thunderstorm. The warmth rolling off your body and washing over him, a heat he canât tear himself away from. A purr vibrating your throat, cheek pressed to his chest so you can hear his heart beat. He doesnât change his sheets for weeks, lays in longer just to trace the dent in the other side of his mattress you left behind. Brings the duvet over his head and breathes in your scent. Heâs convinced he can feel the cold more now too.
And well now heâs talking to the sky, wishing for a storm. Maybe a mate wouldnât be so bad after all?
Kyleâs father always told him that courting a mate was like dancing. You however, either didnât know how to dance or you hated to. He eyed you across the gym, slamming another shifter against the training mat. You circled your opponent, wiping the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand, knuckles bloody and torn as you shake your fists loose by your side.
Fighting was your dancing. An Alpha through and through. No baring your neck for a beta like Kyle. No you were the one that was meant to approach him, but you hadnât so much glanced at him. He canât even keep his head straight in the gym, picking up two different weights or running longer than he should have on the treadmill. You just keep his attention, the world around him a haze.
So when you finally get a whiff of Kyleâs continued interest you offer him a face to face on the mat. His face on the mat he assumes. He doesnât sleep a wink the night before, all he can think of is your thick thighs straddling him, muscular biceps and forearms squeezing his throat. He definitely wasnât prepared, his gaze following your every movement as you stretched and warmed up, a brow raising at his shameful staring.
âI wonât bite,â you say, beckoning him forward with a flick of your hand. âNot unless you want me to?â You chuckle as his ears twitch, Kyle reminds himself that itâs just the Alpha in you asserting dominance and trying to make him nervous.
Heâs pleasantly surprised though as you finally stop dancing around him, letting him get in some touches and nearly baring your own throat for him. Teasing him till he lets his guard down and ends up with his back against the mat. Your nose tracing his mating gland and canines nipping his jaw playfully, knee slotting between his legs and nudging against his growing bulge.
And whoâs he to defy an Alpha, his mate? Kyle grasps your nape and shoves your nose into his mating gland.
Werewolf!Simon finally finding his mate, only for them to be a human. Youâre not small by any means, but thereâs a fragility to your kind that holds Simon back from leaning into the bond. His muscles strained, jaw tight as he fights against instinct. He wants to squeeze you, crush you in his arms, but humans arenât built like him. Their bones easily snap, skin as soft as fruit that it bruises at the slightest touch.
Donât even get him started on courting nips, his molars ache from clenching his jaw and trying not to bite you. Refraining from dragging his canines along your supple flesh.
Oh, how he wants to nuzzle the tip of his nose against your neck and trace the sweet scent. Thatâs frowned upon in your world though, seen as animalistic. So he takes suppressants to dull the scents around him, yours to be exact. He stands under the cold shower each morning after a run instead of laying in bed with you. The prickling heat of his desires spreading like wildfire.
There are some advantages though. Ones that have him doing away with suppressants. He can sniff out your change in moods, knows exactly when youâll get a headache as if itâs the musk before a storm. âSit down, youâll get a headache,â he mumbles, guiding you into the arm chair and draping a blanket over your lap. Phone pried from your grasp and a warm cup of tea replacing it. A homemade soothing balm massaged on your temples. You call it his wolf radar, going so far as asking him to sniff out rain before you leave the cabin. It always rains he tells you, passing you an umbrella.
Youâre like a moth to a flame, hovering round him. Simon can feel the static zap of energy between the minuscule distance. Makes his wolf scratch to the surface, the tight snap of his muscles loosening as he gives in and wraps his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. Someone made a comment about how you follow him around like a puppy and heâs more flattered than offended. You are like a pup, learning his ways before he unleashes the wolf, a whole different type of beast animal.
And now he canât help but see you as a pup, teaching you about shifter cycles and the fundamentals of having a mate. He doesnât go too deep into the whole, I want to ravish you right now and you have no idea. Heâs achingly slow with you, hot make out sessions where youâre the one with his bottom lip between your teeth. Your fingers digging into his bicep as you claw him back to you before he slips out of your grasp.
It looks like someoneâs been teaching you a thing or two. Your teeth sinking into his neck, his milky skin heating at the bite. Simon hadnât even told you about the build up of the mating bite, but maybe heâs going to have to show you now.
John Price never thought heâd be living with his mate, let alone get you and then lose you all together. Youâre still here though, just not in the way John wants you to be. Your memory gone after your last solo op two years ago. No recollection of the life before now, not even a flicker of John, your mate. His teeth marks scored into your neck, but youâre none the wiser.
You try to journal, but John finds the ripped out pages balled up in his desk drawer. I canât remember scrawled on the lined paper, over and over as if itâd jog your memory. Splatters of red seeping into the ink and itâs seems the stress has manifested you frequent nose bleeds. Johns forever seeing you scrubbing your clothes in the kitchen sink and trying to remove dark red stains from your sleeves, your duvet or pillow case. The skin on your fingers peeling, cuticles raw from using harsh chemicals. You still wonât wear gloves, as if the pain is a reminder that this is real for you. That youâre a shell of a person trying to find whoever you were.
And like every other omega, you withdraw into yourself. Building an intricate nest in hopes it will soothe you, pull you into a slumber in hopes of dreaming of the past. Johnâs always there of course, not in your nest. Just beside it, his palm smoothing over the crown of your head. You might not remember him or yourself, but the bond still between you both grounds you.
He leaves little pieces around the cabin for you to discover. Your favourite snack or warm drink, splinters of memory scratching your head. One night your finger traces the scar on your brow and John holds his breath waiting for you to ask how you got, but you end up telling him the story and he canât help the smile tugging his lips.
âSomeone, stitched it up. Canât remember his name,â you mumble to yourself, brows furrowed and finger prodding the scar. Johnâs fingertips twitch in his lap, curling into his palms as he fights the urge to reach out to you. To hold your face in his hands and press his lips against the mark you trace.
âIâm sure he remembers you,â is all John says, the heat spreading across his chest. Heâs not going to push too hard, settles for listening to you describe the accident, hoping youâll remember him tomorrow.
Human!reader patching up werewolf!Johnny after he got protective of you. Some sort of shifter loyalty you canât relate to. Use of human instead of girl/boy to keep it gender neutral
Johnny looks freakishly large in his childhood bedroom, the single bed groaning under his weight as he sits down on the edge of the mattress. You didnât think it were possible that he could get any bigger, but his short sleeved T-shirt hugs his curved biceps and sticks to the dip between his pecs. Granted, he has just shoved a top on that was probably from his teen years before he bulked up in the military. The sight makes you roll your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze flitting back to his stubbled chin and the cloth you raise to his face. He doesnât look at you though, no. Those sapphire eyes staring out the window, a storm brewing just outside and youâre convinced thereâll be one inside soon.
You stand between his legs, tilting his face to the side and inspecting the bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. âI donât know why you evenâŠâ
âNo one messes with my human,â Johnny grumbles, wincing as you apply more pressure to the gash on his split lip. His skin will weave itself back together by morning, but he lets you clean him up knowing itâll make you feel better. âYe running around with wolves now?â He leans away from your touch, his fingers circling your wrist. The red soaked cloth dangling in your grasp.
âJohnny, I grew up running around with you.â You know what he really means though, the way youâre with another like him. Not like Johnny though, you havenât shared a bed with him since you were kids. Heâs not even touched you for more than a few seconds. And now heâs gone for months on ends in the military, youâve lost your best friend.
Johnny never looked at you like that anyways.
There was a small familiarity to being with someone like Johnny, but this wolf wasnât as gentle with you. Something you wished Johnny would do, he was always too afraid to push too hard or drag you completely into his world.
You came away each time with tender flesh, heavy hands exploring your body unlike any human ever had. The indents of teeth and grazes of canines. A rush, a heat washing over you that you never thought possible during sex. Sex with humans wasnât as exciting since and you found yourself going back to the Delta. You werenât stupid enough to go for an Alpha or a Beta, Johnny made you swear not to get involved and youâd stuck to that promise. The only beta you wanted was him.
Johnnyâs says youâre his. Part of his pack family without actually being sworn in. A friend he used to bring home, a person beyond the wolves that made him feel a sense of normal. You knew his scent had changed, eyed the new pack tattoo on his forearm. The new friends, family he relied on whilst he was away and it wasnât you. No room for you anymore, heâd avoided you since heâd returned home. Until the fight. Until now.
âYou deserve someone that wonât hurt you,â he says, his palm cupping your cheek and the rough pad of his thumb traces the corner of your lip. You lean into his touch, nearly stumbling as his hand retreats from your face.
âHumans hurt others too, doesnât matter who Iâm with. Thereâs always a chance that it can happen,â you say, moving from between his legs to drop the cloth into the cold bowl of water on his desk.
âBeing with a wolf is different and you know that. One wrong move and you could get severely hurt, you donât know what itâs like to hold back on those instincts,â Johnny says, sucking in a sharp breath as he stands from the bed. He leans against the window, rain lashing against the glass.
You want to launch yourself across the room and shake him. Heâs so close, you can see it in the way his fingers curl over the windowsill. One last poke or push in hopes heâll finally let go. Youâre not made of glass, he should know you can handle more.
âThen donât hold back.â He can probably hear the erratic beat of your heart, but you donât shy away from him. No you stand your ground, gaze locked with his.
âYou smell like him,â he says, pushing off the window and stalking towards you. âUsed to smell like me.â His palm slips around the nape of your neck, hot breath fanning against your jawline as he tilts your head up. He used to give you his clothes to wear whenever you hung out, swapped them out whenever you went home, all in the name of protection.
Johnnyâs nose nudges against the column of your throat, fingers digging into your nape as he pulls you closer. Heâd never scented you before, wouldnât take you into the heart of the pack and only on the boundary where he lived. His lips latch onto the side of your neck, sucking and kissing. Tongue swiping the favoured spot, the place where wolves have their mating gland. His teeth scrape against your skin before he lifts them off, smiling down at you as you groan.
His thumb brushes over the faint mark, a shiver running down your spine. âYou want me so bad, youâre gonna have to claim me,â he says, pulling you down with him as he sits on the bed. Your legs straddling his waist and he guides your head to his mating gland.
Human!Reader with terrible timingâŠyouâre constantly walking in on the guys half dressed or interrupting them. A slam of a laptop, hand covering their laps as you ask them if youâre making too much noise.
Kyleâs convinced you know exactly what youâre doing. You might not have supernatural hearing like a wolf, but you must have heard the shower running. Must have seen the steam filtering through the gap beneath the door. A mumbled apology followed quickly after your initial shriek. This isnât the first time either, youâd done the same to Price yesterday and heâd yelled at you to either get in or get out. You still hadnât looked the Captain in the eye and did your best to avoid him in the shared residential house. Johnnyâs been hoping youâll walk in on him, going as far as forgetting his towel a few times and making a naked dash back to his room. Simon tells you outright when he showers, warning you not to go in.
The towel and roll of your clothes falls to the tiled floor, you scramble to pick up your belongings and Kyle canât help but chuckle as he steps out of the shower. You mutter apology after apology, not daring to look up.
âYou know if you wanted to join me, all you had to do was ask,â Kyle says, reaching down to grab your hoody. He leaves the question open ended, just like the Captain. They donât want to force their Alpha/Beta influence on you and make you do something youâre unsure about. You might be a human but youâve got their packâs bite of claim on your neck like the rest of them and if Kyle really thinks about it youâre kinda like a runt. An omega that hasnât come into their abilities, never will but youâll still follow their orders, the bond tethering you to their every word.
âJohnny said no one was in here,â you say, tugging the hoody from Kyleâs grasp and keeping your gaze on the floor. Youâre still not used to the casual nakedness of werewolves and how they donât cover up. Youâre only going to see it when they shift, so why make a big deal out of it? So you keep your head down and wait.
Of course, Johnny the meddling fucker. Heâs been watching you two tip toe around each other for months and gave you a few nudges in Kyleâs direction. Now that he thought of it, maybe Johnnyâs been giving you dodgy intel in hopes of you two finally doing something. Claiming that mate word.
Kyleâs tried so hard to let you take the lead, to hold back and not come on too strong. Itâs killing him, the reason why he has scalding hot showers to ease the tension in his tight muscles. His restraint a weight of stone on his body, knuckles tender as he clenches his fists all day instead of reaching out for you. Even his bedrooms right next to yours, he can hear your muffled voice as you dream and the soft breathes each night. All he wants is to feel you in his bed and not listen to you through a wall.
Youâve been learning what that term means, mate. Attending classes in shifter behaviour and shadowing a Delta who specialises in human/Beta relationships. Kyleâs been grinding his teeth for weeks, waiting for you to reject him. And itâs in your right to have that choice, youâre human after all and a mate doesnât affect you like it does for him or his kind. He wouldnât put that grief, that burden on you though. Wants you to choose him because you want to, not because of a bond.
âShouldnât that have healed by now?â
Kyleâs breath catches in his throat, he doesnât know when your gaze wandered up to his shoulder. Your voice loud and clear, the sharp tone unfamiliar to him.
âBeen stressed out lately, affects the healing times. Nothing to worry about though, just need toâŠâ Kyleâs sentence is cut short as you step closer. He can feel the thrum of energy between you and him, the way you lean into his warmth without knowing. Instinct, the bond is all Kyle tells himself. Itâs not a want.
âWell thatâs what mates are for right?â You say, your finger tracing the wound curving over his shoulder. He shudders, his skin burning for a whole other reason and you hesitate, your touch lifting off of him as you observe the pad of your finger. âHuh, tingles.â You say more to yourself, no doubt storing that information away for later and asking your delta friend about it. Kyle wants you ask him why, wants you to map out every inch of his body, with your lips, tongue.
The waters still running, but all Kyle can focus on is the steady beat of your heart. Heâs glad you canât hear his drumming erratically, your voice ringing in his ear. That word mate, making his chest ache. It echoes in his mind, half a miracle and half a curse. Itâs a choice for you, one you can walk away from. One heâll honor even if it tears him to pieces.
Kyle brushes your hand away, âyou donât have to.â He shakes his head as you try to reach for him again. This is it, this is where you snap that tethered bond. That is why youâve been going to classes, learning how to let him down and ease the pain of his soul crushing fate. Youâre human, you have a choice. Heâs seen the way you talk with other wolves, a smile easily given and hand on their arm, more than youâd ever given him.
âI read that mates can help healing, why do you think Iâve been going to classes?â You tilt your head to the side, brow furrowed as your eyes finally connect with his. âI mean you want me, this too?â
Heâs at a loss for words, lips parted as you wait in silence for him to react. You hadnât so much as spoke to him since joining the pack, other than the yes sir, no sir during working hours. And even then you sat across the other side of the room. Never ate meals with him or accepted his invitation to do so either. Yet you want to be his mate. His mate sounds nice.
âOh, I did something wrong. Was that too forward? I mean the book does say mates can help heal and ground each other. I mean we donât have to be anything, you know. I donât mind just helping you heal or relax.â Youâre rambling, trying to add a casual air to such an important moment.
You roll your clothes back under your arm and cast your gaze back to the floor, closed off once again. It makes a growl vibrate his chest, he wants you to look at him. Really look at him. Never take your eyes off of him.
âWait,â he blurts out, hand circling your wrist before you can open the door. He shakes his head, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. âSorry. Thought you were going to reject me.â And as he releases those words, a weight lifts from his chest.
âKy, Iâve been going to classes and enforcing the pre-courting protocol. The book said I had to ease myself into your surroundings, try not to invade your space. Your senses.â You say it like itâs common knowledge, like Kyle should know all this too. And heâs starting to feel like heâs the one that doesnât know enough.
Sure he knows about mates, but didnât think of how you as human would fit in with his world. Youâre already in it, thatâs all he thought mattered. So thatâs why youâve been distant, why the guys have been teasing him about the whole ordeal. They all knew you were going to say yes whilst heâs been over thinking every little interaction.
âWhereâs this bloody book?â Heâs getting rid of that book, you donât need it anymore now that youâve got him. âProbably centuries out of date.â
Werewolf!Ghost getting rejected by his mate, so he ends up inserting himself in your and Johnnyâs relationship instead.
A somewhat second mate for you and Johnny.
Most nights youâre wedged between both of their hulking bodies in bed. Your face smushed into Johnnyâs chest, the tufts of his coarse hair scratching your cheek. Heâs fast asleep whilst Simonâs still got his cock buried deep inside of you. His mammoth weight crushing you, arm draped over and hand between your legs, fingers tapping your pussy.
Each time Simon lifts his touch off of you, his knuckles graze Johnnyâs cock and you know this because your mate whines in his sleep, edging closer to you. As if thereâs any more of your space left to take. The mattress dips behind you, Simon leaning on his elbow to hover over you and as he moves his dick sinks further into your cunt. A muffled groan slipping from your lips. He looks down at you, dark eyes not leaving yours as he drags his free hand up and down Johnnyâs shaft.
You can feel the searing warmth of Johnnyâs arousal, a grunt vibrating through his chest. Their scents clouding your mind, the knot in your stomach tightens as Simon adjusts himself behind you again. You jolt, glancing down at the hand pumping beneath the duvet as it tries to work more on chasing Johnnyâs release.
A few shushes in your ear and heâs fucking into you again, the cross clasped around Johnnyâs neck digs into your cheek and you try to wriggle it out of the way, but Simon does it for you with a sweep of a hand. A warm sticky residue sliding over your cheek, he whispers how you should maybe get some sleep but doesnât pull out of you. His arm going back over you and Johnny.
Youâre awoken in the morning, a finger and thumb rolling your pebbled nipple. Johnny smiles at you, saying he gets you for breakfast and then heâs wriggling down the duvet, tongue licking your folds and finger prodding your sensitive entrance. He massages your thigh, âI know, I know,â he murmurs, his hot breath fanning against your pussy.
The perks of two betaâs during your heat mean more attention for you. Simon making the meals and Johnny helping you relax.
Johnny MacTavish, a man made to use his hands. Thereâs a slight tremor to his touch, as if heâs still defusing bombs instead of fixing a crackly radio or a blue laptop screen for some pack member down in the heart of his packâs town. Most of them hardened military personnel, shifters with nowhere to go but here. A mismatch of loners and abandoned wolves in need of community.
He lives up in the dense trees, protector or guardian of the forest they call him. His small cabin built by him, furniture found on the roadside or crafted by himself. A small lean to shed housing his woodworking and repairs studio.
When he finds you passed out in the middle of the forest, he takes you home. Thereâs no denying your powerful scent as he bundles you up in blankets in front of a crackling fire back at his. Maybe even sneaks his hoody between the multiple layers, your breathing evening out as his own scent soothes your racing heart. He can hear it pounding against your chest, the twist of fabric grasped in your fingers relaxes and you nuzzle into the warmth.
Johnny canât wait for his delta, you his mate to wake up so he can meet you properly. He returns to his workshop, might as well make another wardrobe if youâre planning on staying. Heâs hoping so, he takes the moon pendant between his fingers and prays to whoever will listen that you will stay.
A smile tugging the corner of his lips as he hears your footsteps behind him. The sharp intake of breath as your eyes land on his broad back.
And well Johnnys a golden light cast upon you, a warmth youâre not accustomed to. Touch burning and deliberate in their course of tracing all you are. You feel like you were meant to find him, a fixer. A doer. So sure in his words that he unintentionally fixes something inside you. No, he heals something in you and you him.
You help him in his workshop, leaning back as he hovers behind you and guides your hands in instruction, his whispered breath coaching you. Soft words of praise heating the side of your face and you canât help but ask him to repeat himself.
Werewolf!Price that finds out his mate is human. John doesnât understand your customs, youâre in no way like the humans heâs worked with or show any interest in people with authority.
If anything youâre against everything he is. Brushing off the traditional notion of a mate, hopping in and out of his bed before heâs even claimed you. Letting others nip and bite your supple flesh, all for him to see when you turn up at his door for your next visit. Youâre stubborn, donât give into his demands till heâs really used the full force of the bond. You fight against it like a game, pulling it taut and watching it snap back like a rubber band. And you both get hurt in the process. It has his Alpha spinning.
You flirt with other shifters, damned sleep with them and then wonder why heâs slamming the door in your face one second and then dragging you into his room the next. He wants to be gentle with you, wants to take his time, but that bloody shifters stench that drowns your own has his Alpha clawing to claim you. It seems thatâs what you want though.
âWell how was I suppose to know youâd go full wolf,â you snap, tugging your trousers back over your hips and clasping the button. Heâs hovering behind you, walking you back to sit on the edge of his desk as you turn to face him . And you have the cheek to put his cock back in his boxers and pull up his zipper, palm tapping his thigh in an unspoken thanks. Thanks for the good fucking.
Oh, you know what youâre doing. Johnâs tested the theory, heâs acted on alpha instincts and watched how you react. A subtle cast of your eyes, the change in the beat of your heart and the fact that you move closer to him. You obviously like him wolfing out or going full wolf as you say.
âYou know when you go full wolf, this vein pops out.â You tap the heated skin of his neck, so close to his mating gland that John flinches. A smirk twitching the corner of your lips. âJust waiting for you to go all wolf, ya know. Show me that fuzzy guy.â
Fuzzy guyâŠJohnâs sure he can feel the pulse of that vein you pointed out. His eye no doubt twitching too.
He blinks, once and twice. Staring down at you as you pick his arm up and turn it around. He hasnât realised you wanted to see his actual wolf, it wasnât recommended and he didnât want to scare you off. His alphaâs lapping it up, the hair on the back of his neck raising at the fact that his mate wants to meet him. Heâs on the edge of shifting right now just on your command. Youâve got his Alpha wrapped around your finger.
âI mean youâre pretty hairy anyways, what are you a brown coat?â Your terminologyâs outdated, but heâs in too much shock to correct you. Brown coat as if heâs some bear.
So he shifts into his wolf. Surprised to find that you dote more on him like this, than when he passes as a human. Something about big dog privileges, perfect for scaring people away. You nap with him more in this form, head laying on his side and hand holding his paw.
Werewolf!Reader dating Simon, youâre a little cautious around him. Hesitating every little interaction, afraid to hurt him as you know humans donât heal as quickly and they break easily.
So Simon starts eating more, upping the weights in the gym and packing on more muscle, all so he can familiarise himself with your wolf traditions. Heâs been learning from John, your Alpha on certain rites of passage. How he should let you mark him already and that you should have been with him during your last three heats. No you disappear for a few weeks and return, all not to ask too much of him, your mate.
He even persuades you to rough him up, Simon can only describe it as play fighting. John did warn him about what to expect during the courting period. A way for you to figure out the dynamic between you and your mate. âGo on, Iâm not made of paper,â he says, his gaze on your fingers twitching in your lap. Heâs left with a variety of coloured bruises and little teeth marks all over him. You donât let him out of your sight for the next couple days, massaging his tender muscles and licking his scratches in hopes they heal quicker.
You once told him heâs mushy, soft and someone to be cherished. Mates are to be worshipped, protected and Simon being a human sends your Delta wolf in to a frenzy. A blanket being slung over him whenever heâs fallen asleep on the sofa, mate canât be cold. Touching his nose just to make sure. He wakes up sweating, youâre still getting used to the fact he doesnât need one in the summer. Humans can actually adapt to the changing seasons.
The water in the shower is set to a warm temperature, perfect for him, but he later finds out that to you itâs like taking a freezing cold one. You run hot, so it should be scalding. Simonâs going to fix that, doesnât care if his flesh melts off in the process. He does get a laugh out of seeing your face when he walks out of the bathroom, his milky skin tinged red and towel hung loosely around his hips. Convinces you that it helps relax his tight muscles and you start showering together. You start washing him, those instincts to look after your mate kicking in, followed by a quick burst of cold water to soothe his red skin.
Simon sticking up or protecting you though? He doesnât even give a second thought, tall and built like a Beta so heâs ready to fight one. Uses his human rank to his advantage, doesnât say much usually, but heâs bringing up every human to wolf handbook. Knows every rule and law, cites them when youâre being discriminated against, the classic too emotional and the age old favourite of collar that wolf sergeant. No oneâs collaring his mate! Heâs got the beta by the balls, twisting and whispering something indecipherable in their ear.
How can you not love your mate when they fight so fiercely for you?
Simon canât view you any other way since someone said you were like a pup. You, his human mate helping him go through the important moments he should have in his early years.
He hasnât told you that his pack or parents never taught him the basics. Never showed him how to build a nest, no he figured that out himself well past adulthood. He remembers being a child, frantically chucking his clothes and duvet on top of his mattress, fingers pulling the roots of his hair when it kept falling apart. He never had the healthy foundations to build upon. Didnât have friends to help him make an indestructible nest, because Johnny and Kyle could do anything in Simonâs eyes. They showed him so.
And why not start on a strong foundation? Nesting. The art of merging both of your belongings in one room. A safe haven for you and him to escape to. If you were a werewolf, youâd already know this and it doesnât count as mate stuff. He watches you, stepping back each time your hand pushes another item into the intricate layers of clothes and blankets. Your childhood teddy sitting on the top of the headboard like some guardian watching over you. He doesnât judge, nor does he change a thing you do. Content with observing you adding parts of yourself to his existing nest. A blend of mutual understanding and love. He grinds his teeth, trying not to think about taking you in the bed right now. How heâd like to claim you and fate. Lay in the nest with his mate.
Simon starts small, he introduces you to the first courting phase. His nose brushing against yours, mating boops as Kyle told him. Gentle at first, the tip of your nose cold against his. He lets you trace the column of his throat, asking you to describe his scent and make sure you know every subtle note. It takes everything in him to stay still, fists clenched beside him and he nearly blacks out as your hands rest on his thighs, pressing your nose further into his scent. He shudders, chuckling as you yelp at the sudden movement and lean back rubbing your nose.
After the basics of scenting, he follows it with courting nips. Not quite a full bite, no canines sinking into your flesh. Heâs still got your bite mark though on his neck and he wears it proudly. Loves catching sight of it in the mirror and touching the indents. Simon drags his teeth along your bicep to begin, enough muscle so it doesnât hurt. Shoulder, neck and inner thighs are reserved for working you up for the claiming bite. Johnny warned him they were no go areas if he planned on claiming you much later, good luck taming the wolf if you get carried away. Simon wouldnât go near them till you were ready. He finds that he enjoys you nipping him instead, a few pauses and a lot of did I hurt you? As if you could hurt him. He hasnât laughed like that in a long time.
Then came your initiation into the pack, a nerve wracking ordeal that had Simon tucking you into his side as you met them. His Alpha John had already gone through with both of you prior to the meeting. No bites, just the warning to always be scented by a pack member Simon whilst you wait for the mating bite. Which had Simon rubbing his scent all over you and giving you his clothes to wear. You also had a hat from John which he swapped out every now and then. Best to have an alphaâs scent too whilst youâre walking about.
All Simon had to do now was decide a date on when to claim you.
Simonâs never been so aware of every muscle in his body. His back straight, jaw tight and neck straining as he averts his gaze away from you. Away from your bare knees sinking into the plush mattress and your hands fixing the nest he just tore himself out of. Too close, heâs too close to fate. Something he never believed in till he met you.
His teeth feel like they arenât his own, like theyâre a false pair two sizes too big. Canines sharp, slipping over his bottom row as he clenches them too hard. He hasnât been able to touch you for days, dodging your cold hands each time theyâve swerved into his orbit. A knowing smile from you and a teasing comment thatâs left him taking long cold showers. He wants to claim you, but heâs afraid to hurt you. Not that heâd intentionally harm you, itâs just youâre a human and they break so easily. He doesnât want to break you, not that youâre some weak thingâŠheâs just not sure how much humans can take, can survive and heâs not willing to test it on you.
Youâre too enticing. Simon canât scrub your scent off his skin. Heâs a starving man, a hungry dog and hungry dogs will do anything for a taste. Kyle says his restraint is noble, but Simon knows heâs just prolonging the inevitable. He knows how this will endâŠhis mark on your neck and you in pain. Humans bleed more than wolves, heâs tried blotting the red clump in your brow when you knocked your head on the kitchen cabinet. Adding pressure also hurts, he couldnât believe the amount blood that seeped through the cloth. One dab and his wounds are weaved back up, a little tender. But no, you had to have stitches. Weeks of him staring at the line cutting through your brow and he can still see it to this day. A reminder of how precious you are. Pups need to be cared for.
Simon retreats from the safe confines of the bathroom, fully dressed, heâs not letting you distract him with your wandering eyes trailing his naked chest. No, too much temptation. You stand in front of the bed, hands on your hips as if youâre about to scold him. His scent merging with yours, itâs enough to keep him back, to deny himself a bit of you. Because heâs been denying himself of you for days now.
âI want you to bite me.â
You might as well have ripped his throat out with that line. His breath falters at your straightforwardness. Youâve lost the edge of your voice though and your gaze has trailed down to the floor. A way to appease his beta, make him think heâs the one taking the lead, but youâve always been the one calling the shots. He doesnât need to back you into a corner or get you to bare your neck. This is all you.
âSimon.â
His name is like a spell, a command on your lips, it brings him out of his head. Out of the many thoughts tangling up with his wolf. The beta says bite, Simon says not yet. Youâre a grounding presence, an anchor to the world around him and he canât help but smile back you. You soften his hard edges, give him love and gentleness. So why would he not treat you the same? You want this, heâll happily deliver, even if he has to hold back heâll treat you with love and gentleness.
Okay, okay. Heâs moving round your shared bedroom, pulling out the first aid kit from the wardrobe. âOkay,â he says out loud, realising heâd first spoke to his wolf instead of you.
You follow him through the hallway and into the living room, his gaze flits to yours as you watch him lay out some gauze and cleaning solution on the coffee table. He sits on the sofa, fingers linking with yours as he pulls you onto his lap. Your other hand rests on his shoulder and you push his back into the plump cushions, his head tilted to peer up at you and not your neck. The one particular spot heâs been dreaming of for weeks, maybe months. Scratch that, since heâs met you.
Heâs hardwired to bite.
Simon begrudgingly slips his hand free from yours, sliding his palm over your shoulder and brushing his thumb over the delicious spot, perfect for a mating mark. You angle your neck offering him more space to shove his face closer. His hooked nose nudges your skin, savouring the scent knowing that itâll change as soon as he claims you. Your fingers comb through his hair, mumbled words of encouragement spurring him on. He drags his canines along your flesh, licking and sucking, waiting for you to lean into his touch and close your eyes. He nips your shoulder, getting you worked up before he makes his mark and claim, creating a path of gentle nips to the desired spot thatâs got him salivating.
He bites. Teeth sinking into your flesh and your groan falls flat against his mouth. Your blood tastes sweet on his gums, red swimming over his teeth. If your scent was strong before, he doesnât know how to describe it now. Heâs drowned in it, knows he doesnât want to fight against the current but stay between the waves. Soak it all in. Swish it around his mouth so he never forgets what you taste or smell like. Heâs never washing it off his skin again.
Simon pulls always as your fingers dig into his bicep. Your breaths trembling and your eyelids heavy, forehead resting on his shoulder for a moment before you abruptly sit up.
âAh, shit. Itâs burning,â you gasp, leaning away from him and wincing as your finger traces the heated flesh of his mark. Simonâs palm presses into the small of your back before you can fall off his lap. Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill over your lashes and stain your cheeks.
Something he never wants to see again.
âItâs supposed to, I need to seal the bite remember,â he says, slipping his other hand around the nape of your neck and gently drawing you closer to him. âJust breathe okay.â Heâs half reminding himself the same thing, inhaling as he lowers his mouth to your neck again.
Simonâs lips part over the claiming mark and he feels your moan vibrate through his tongue. He licks at your heated skin, tracing the indents of his teeth marring your flesh. Your hands grasp his hair, his scalp tingling as you pull him in. The searing pain of the initial bite dwindling, tingles erupting against his lips and tongue as he cares for you, his mate. Official mate.
Heâs never getting rid of this sofa. Itâs sacred, a thing of worship.
The rest of the day is spent laying of the sofa together, its favoured to comfort your mate after claiming them. Hell, Simonâs not going back to work until youâve healed. He keeps cleaning licking the mark on your neck, a perk of bonding through the bite is he can soothe the pain for you.
And heâs waiting till you wake from your nap so you can claim him. Your nose pressed into his neck, hot breath fanning against his throat. He wonders what it will look like, might even do away with his balaclava. Wouldnât want to cover something so precious.
Werewolf!Reader that technically doesnât exist, their government name marked as deceased on every database record. Even more complicated being a shifter in the human sector of the military, they look after their own and expect you to have thicker skin fur.
So you tend to get mistreated in merged ops and well you canât really complain because you hate having to go through the long process of reporting. Shifter unions go round in circles trying to tread carefully and not ruin relations with humans, wolves normally having to accept nothing but a half assed apology. Itâs frowned upon to rip out their throats.
Sometimes it better to bite your tongue in front of a heavy handed superior, but when youâre in the presence of task force 141âŠ
âFunny thaâ I donât exist either,â Ghost says, glancing to the sergeant sneering at you. He continues sharpening his blade, tilting his masked face back down to the dagger in his grasp and flips the silver metal over, catching your reflection beside him where he sits.
They donât call him Ghost for nothing. A dead man walking. You wonder if the skull on his mask is one heâs ripped from an enemy. The sergeant flinches as Ghost scrapes the edge of the blade, shifting his weight to hide the initial movement.
âTechnically you wonât be either, if you donât shut it.â
The task force is somewhat a pack a for you, even if itâs just you and Kyle that are werewolves. You bunk with Kyle, thankful that your human captain allows you to share a room in the residential house.
Itâs taken you a while to lean into your omega senses, humans arenât as open to touch straight away like shifters. Kyleâs taken the fussing for months until the rest of the guys have warmed to you. Heâs helped you collect a few of their belongings to establish a pack scent, Johnnyâs clothes were the easiest to come by, heâs always got a pile of laundry in his room. Price was already prepared, a bag of his stuff left on your bed as requested by the shifter/human handbook. A hat, unwashed T-shirt and knitted scarf. You wear the hat everyday, heâs kinda like an Alpha so itâs a good way to mark you without a bite.
More often than not Johnnyâs squeezing in beside you in bed, pushing you between him and Kyle. A welcome warmth washing over you as he drapes an arm over you. He was the most open, the first to fully immerse himself in your shifter routines. Lets you scent him before an op and tend to his injuries later on. Youâve explained that, thatâs your role in a pack. Looking after others.
Kyleâs a beta, so he settles in quicker than you, but he doesnât leave you to get on by yourself. The perks of having a beta, heâs hardwired to stick with his omega. Make sure your needs are met, lays with you a little longer on days off and showers after ops with you. The odd snack appearing on your table whenever your heads been down doing work at your computer.
The other two, however are tricky. You like to think of them as the Alpha and beta. The Captain and lieutenant arenât like you though, thereâs an invisible barrier of authority that goes against your instincts. A list of rules instead of relying on a feeling. You have to read their body language and pay attention to their every word. Thankfully theyâre both straight forward and you donât have to pick apart everything they say.
John gave you and Kyle a contract, outlining everything thatâs expected of you in the merged setting and what is not:
2.0. Biting a human is forbidden. This contract is in line with the bite.
2.1. Lying with superiors is not required, but if you wish to do so there must be both a written and verbal agreement. (Something that is natural for packs and the act of nesting). Not that youâve laid with John or Simon.
2.2. In your free time you are not bound by the no shifting protocol. Only during active operations. (The captain/Alpha is in charge of shifting during ops, best to conserve energy and wolf out at the right time to optimise stealth, surprise and strength).
2.3. Merged sparring is restricted unless under the supervision of both an Alpha and Captain. To maintain safety and fairness. (You only spar with your task force).
2.4. Scenting is not compulsory between human and shifters. (You and Kyle can scent each other, humans have the right to agree/decline to scenting).
Simon, however is tricky. He refuses to spar with you, doesnât even linger in the hallway outside your door and he hasnât given you a scrap of any of his belonging for your nest. You do have one of his balaclavas hidden under your pillow. Youâre convinced he left it behind on purpose, a way for him to give you something without making a big deal about it. Heâs got loads of them so he wonât miss it. You might have scented it, familiarising your self with him. The last member of your pack.
Omegaâs arenât weak, their nurturing nature makes them the strongest link in the pack. Youâre the thread keeping them all together.
You just need to work more on John and Simon. Make it feel like a proper pack.
Beta!Reader getting chipped by another task force whilst contracted to work with them on an op. The serving Captain gives Price the old âcouldnât keep track of âem, best way to know where they are.â Your mission report says otherwise, how they put the chip in you during your health assessment before leaving the base. A different location so you couldnât really fight it, no team mates to fight your corner.
The act of chipping Price views as laziness. Outdated. Of course your human colleagues canât keep track of you, but thatâs what comms are for. Youâre more than experienced in confirming your position and taking orders. Price might not be a shifter, but he understands the risks of you having a chip. They interfere with your senses and put you on edge, the scar heals over the top, but your body still tries to reject it. A foreign object turning your immune system in on itself.
Price is mad, who dares touch his sergeant and do something so invasive to you. He finds you hunched over a cot in the infirmary, Simon and Johnny holding you in place whilst Kyle tries to dig out the chip. Your T-shirt is half pulled over one shoulder, scar raised and puckered, the rectangular piece of metal sticks out between your shoulder blades, the difficult chosen placement for you not to remove it yourself.
John hovers behind Kyle watching him pluck the chip out, but you shudder and knock the tweezers away. Thankfully your two pack mates Johnny and Kyle are there to calm you. Simonâs just the muscle holding you down and Price walks round the cot to crouch in front of you, his hand on your knee. Youâre gonna need all the help you can get.
Sweat clings to your forehead, canines sinking into your bottom lip and drawing blood. âFucking rip it out,â you snarl, your fists curling and nails digging into your palms.
âYouâre doing good sergeant, what can we do for you to make it less painful?â Price asks, he squeezes your knee and nods his head for Kyle to continue. Thereâs not much he can do for you, not like Johnny and Kyle can. The way you lean into Johnny tells him that the delta is pressing his soothing scent towards you. Kyleâs hand on your shoulder grounds you, warmth no doubt numbing your pain. A distraction is all the Captain can give you.
âPut a chip in âem and see how the bastard likes it,â you snap, back arching away from Kyle as you try to hurry him along with pulling the chip out.
âYou got it,â Simon says and Price knows his lieutenant will no doubt do it. Johnny grins beside you, catching you as your body slacks against his.
The chip clinking to the table, Kyle moves fast and heâs already stitching your wound, adding a square of gauze and securing it in place. Your outer wound will weave itself up quickly, your body though, thatâll take a few days to go back to normal.
Kyle helps you slip your arm back in your sleeve, guiding you to lay down in the cot as Johnny pulls the curtain for privacy. They both settle down with you, Price and Simon taking their leave. Theyâll check back in with you later.
Werewolf!Königâs the type of mate that gets distracted, his gaze on you and not his surroundings. Heâs forever clipping his shoulder on the doorframe or knocking his head on a low hanging beam. An oof and shake of the internal walls drawing your attention to the big guy behind you. Heâs more than happy to exaggerate his injuries in exchange for a kiss to make it better. His body shuddering wherever your lips press against his exposed skin. Youâre a cheeky thing, kissing so close to his mating gland that his knee jerks and sends you tumbling off of his lap. Then heâs the one smoothing his palm over your hip, lifting you from the floor and into his arms. And well now his precious mate has to rest in bed.
You think his human passing form is clumsy, if thatâs what you can call his hulking frame⊠once he shifts to his wolf heâs somehow worse. You hear the thud of his large paws pounding down the hallway, the crash of his side hitting the cabinet as he forgets his size and tries to squeeze through the small gap between the sofa. The cup of tea on the coffee swept off by his bushy tail as he launches himself on top of you, wet nose nudging your neck. His weight crushing you for a brief moment until he realises youâre struggling to breathe. His mate, he canât cause you any harm.
Does everything he can steer you away from possible pain. Such a worrier. Hand on the small of your back as youâre walking around in public or his hand clasping yours. Tracks you whilst you do your morning runs in wolf form, a way for him to let off some steam too. Does unintentionally scare off strangers by his sheer size. And when youâre close to cabin he likes to chase you back to the front door. Nipping away at the hoody tied round your waist.
He feels more comfortable as his wolf, doesnât need to cover his face or swerve your hands trying to peek beneath his hood (you have seen his face though, heâs always blushing around you and you tease him for it). Naps with you by the fire after a stressful day. Your fingers combing through tufts of his grey fur, his head in your lap.
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