Just One Bite - Werewolf - Previously Published
~NOW~
Connell sat on the ground with his back pressed against the folds of the double bed, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his favourite double barreled rifle clutched in the other.
Soon the beast would come for him, and when it did he would splatter its brains across the back wall of his cabin.
He took a swig of the hard liquor, swallowing it down and relishing the harsh burn as it trailed down the back of his throat. The pain felt dulled already from when he had first propped himself onto the hard wood floor, but it wasn't dull enough.
He took another sip, noticing how it hurt slightly less to swallow it down. When he could feel nothing at all, then he would stop.
Connell's eyes fixed on the picture sitting above the mantle. He looked away quickly, but it didn't matter.
"Damn it Brennan," he whispered.
He knew the ginger wasn't here. He couldn't feel him here the way that people always said they did when someone they loved died. He could feel nothing but gaping, agonizing emptiness and he knew that wherever Brennan had gone to when that monster had torn him up, he was nowhere near here.
"Bastard," Connell muttered.
He brought the wet tip of the glass bottle to his trembling lips and took another long swallow. His eyes landed on the picture once again, fixing on the bright green eyes and pale skin, and the freckles—god how he'd hated them when he'd first seen them.
His throat closed, inhaling the fumes as it did and he bent double, coughing and fighting for breath.
When finally he could breathe again, tears were stinging his eyes. He wondered for a strained moment whether it was a result of choking and then they started to spill from his eyes and he couldn't deny the truth.
"For god's sake," he cursed. If only his grandmother could hear all this. "You know I don't miss you," he choked.
There he went again. Talking to a dead man who didn't even have the grace to haunt him like a proper lover should.
"I don't miss you and your damned freckles!" he insisted. His voice sounded different. It sounded like he was a poof, just like Brennan was. "I don't miss you. It's just the whiskey talking."
He held up the alcohol as if to prove it to himself but all it proved was what a right fool he was, sitting alone in the cabin, arguing to himself.
Fine, he could admit it if he had to. He missed Brennan desperately and the sight of his body ravaged and lifeless in the grass had forced him to replace his lover with alcohol in the short months since his death.
"It's your fault for letting it get you," he whispered. And it was Connell's for letting it get away.
The first time, he and Brennan had gone after the werewolf, as they did any of the other monsters they hunted. Brennan hadn't made it but the creature had. And it had come for Connell twice now.
Connell put the bottle down carefully. Tonight, he wouldn't make the same mistake he had last time.
He brushed his fingers lovingly over the barrel just as a loud, cliché howl carried through the night air and through his open window.
A cold chill ran down his spine at the sound.
"I'm ready this time, Rover," he muttered.
He rose unsteadily to his feet, cursing gently at the bottle by his feet as he knocked it over. It clanked and rolled across the uneven flooring, the strong smell of alcohol mixing with the damp wood.
It didn't matter. He could still see straight and he could still aim.
To demonstrate the point, he lifted the rifle, aiming it steadily at the door. Whoever was inside that werewolf was not currently home, but Connell knew from experience that the things human influence would force it to use the door, even if it was only crashing through it.
Connell heard the heavy th-thump of large paws hitting the wet earth first, the fast, heavy rhythm racing to match his heart beat. Next he heard the heavy wet panting, a low snarling just behind the breaths of air.
In moments it would be crashing into his modest home, but all he had to do was shoot it. Just one small movement of his finger and then it would all be over.
It hit the door hard, splinters of wood careening off the new frame, dust flying into Connell's face and then everything went still.
Was it out? Did it hit the door head first?
He couldn't hear a thing over his loud careening heart beat and unsteady breaths.
His hands, both trembling, Connell turned to one blackened window and paused, straining to hear. His whole body jittering, he turned to face the other but again, nothing stirred.
If the thing had knocked itself out, he had to act now. He had to kill it before it woke up.
An unsteady step had him at the door and then suddenly and without warning it broke off its hinges, the whole thing flying as one toward him with a deafening smash.
His rifle fired and the splintering door hit him like a rugby player, taking him tumbling to the ground. He heard a sharp yelp of pain and glimpsed the beast's bright familiar eyes as the back of his head hit the cold wooden ground with a smack.
~THEN~
Brennan sat in the creaky rocking chair; his head tilted back, his eyes narrowed as they always were when he was absorbing information.
His long legs were spread out before him, practically taking up all of Connell's little cabin, while one rocked him, absently.
The afternoon sun was tumbling through the window, lighting his red hair on fire and making those large, extraordinarily bright green eyes seem to glow, like one of the creatures Connell was prone to hunting.
Connell, for his part, was pretending not to notice any of it. He sat on the bed, leaning forward, toward his friend. His own, light hair was lit up by the sun, distracting him every time it fell before his eyes. He shook it out of the way for the third time, and Brennan leaned forward intently.
Connell promptly forgot what he was saying. He watched as the red head reached out and ever so gently brushed the stray locks from his face.
He hadn't expected that those large, strong hands could be so gentle.
Realizing that he was holding his breath, Connell took a lungful of air and looked away.
What had he been saying again?
Oh right.
"So basically silver bullets aren't normally enough, unless the werewolf is already injured. You need to get it smack in the face."
Brennan leaned back into his previous position, the corners of his mouth pinching slightly. For a long moment he eyed Connell and then looked away with a sigh.
Connell stared. He didn't need to be a seer to know that something wasn't right.
He reached out a hand, placing it on the knee that Brennan had extended toward him to get his attention.
His friend's green eyes met his hazel ones at once.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Brennan reached out and with the swiftness that Connell had gotten to know him for, he gripped his hand, stopping him from pulling away.
"What do I have to do?" he asked.
His voice was gentle, but there was a dangerous note hidden beneath it.
"For what?" Connell asked equally.
All gentleness was gone from Brennan now.
"For you to look at me with a quarter the amount of interest that you do those unearthly monsters of yours."
Connell yanked his hand from Brennan's grip. His stomach twisted with the implication of Brennan's words but the betrayal of them was more than enough to distract from the rest.
"Your brother was killed by one of my unearthly monsters," he snapped. "I thought you cared about all of this. I thought that was why you wanted to team up with me."
Brennan's eyes softened.
"It is," he said. "But it's not the only reason. Lord knows I've made it clear enough, but it doesn't look like you're about to do anything about it."
He leaned forward then, across the long distance between them. Connell had the time to pull away but spent so much of it deliberating that suddenly Brennan's lips were against his.
They were soft and they were warm and parts of Connell's body sparked to attention instantly. He shut his eyes as a tongue delved expertly into his mouth, his own falling open with embarrassingly little resistance.
He shouldn't do this. Connell never hooked up when there was a possibility of it becoming something more than quick sex. Not with friends and definitely not with anyone related to work. It was impossible enough to be with anyone with what he did, let alone his new partner...
He pulled away, their lips suctioning apart with a slurp and grimaced.
"We can't do this," he said.
"Yes we can," Brennan informed him.
He stood and Connell did nothing but stare as Brennan pushed him down into the couch. Just as suddenly, he was over top of Connell, soft lips falling to his neck.
Connell tried vainly to push the larger man off of him.
"Brennan—"
"Give me one good reason to stop," he said. "And I will."
Connell tried, but for the life of him, all he could think of was Brennan's weight pushing down on his hips where he was straddling him.
Brennan lifted with a cheeky grin.
"That's what I thought," he said and his fingers dug into the fabric of Connell's shirt, tearing the buttons.
"This is a new shirt, you know," Connell grumbled.
Brennan just grinned and latched his lips around Connell's already hardening nipples. Connell's his eyes fell shut as a hand slid into his pants, unabashedly massaging him and finally he forgot his complaining.
Those lips found his again, kissing him wantonly until Connell was moaning into his mouth. He gasped, head falling back, fingers clenching into Brennan's hard shoulders and Brennan pulled his hand away.
"I don't want you to come yet," he whispered roughly. "I've been waiting for this for too long."
He helped to push the clothes from Connell's body, whipping his own off as he did and tossing them carelessly aside.
Laying naked, like a display, Brennan gazed down at him hungrily, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, his cock twitching with anticipation between them until he lowered, licking Connell's neck wetly.
Connell arched into his mouth, his erection digging into Brennan's stomach as he worked his way down. He licked his cock only briefly, eliciting a moan before slipping down past it and sliding his hands under the soft underside of Connell's knees to push his legs up.
Connell lifted up, tying to watch him. He had a sort of fascination with watching Brennan do his work, especially it seemed, when it was this kind of work.
His tongue dipped out licking and dipping into Connell until he was crying out, his entire body twitching.
Finally, When Connell was so close to the edge he could barely hold on, Brennan positioned himself at his entrance. With a slow, steady thrust, he pushed himself into his body, not stopping until he sank in as deep as he could.
When he leaned down, Connell lifted up at once to kiss him, but Brennan drew back, watching Connell's carefully as he gently rocked into him.
Gasping with pleasyre, he reached down, pulling Connell's cock in rhythm with his thrusts, harder and harder, his body straining to fill him. Finally, with one hard thrust Brennan threw his head back and spilled into him. He strained, pushing himself as deep as he could as he came.
Connell cried out, clenching his muscles around Brennan's throbbing cock while he continued to slide in and out of him. With a long groan, Connell shot hot liquid onto Brennan's hand, his stomach and chest.
They stayed like that for a moment, with Brennan still thrusting and stroking, trying to milk the last drops out of him.
He slipped out with a sloppy sound and crawled down to Connell, laying down on top of him and kissing him.
"See, this wasn't such a bad idea," he finally said, smiling at Connell warmly.
Connell was too tired to argue.
"Fine," he said belatedly. "But if we're going to do this, then I'm making all of the rules."
Brennan chuckled against his neck.
"And what rules are those?" he asked.
Connell attempted to think.
"No touching each other during any work times," he finally said.
Brennan lifted his head to look at him.
"Does this count as work time?" he asked seriously.
Connell raised a brow.
"Clearly not," he answered.
Brennan grinned.
"Good."
For hours they lounged around the cabin together, alternating between dozing and waking to explore one another more thoroughly than the time before.
They spent days like that more times than Connell could count over the next months, their limbs wrapped around each other, the smell of Brennan's mint shaving cream tingling Connell's nose. He could smell it now, lying on the hard wooden floor of his beaten down cabin.
Connell's head began to pound painfully as he came out of his dreams.
He didn't want to open his eyes yet. He wanted to stay lying here, lost in those memories but the sharp scent of mint, mingling with hot blood, forced him to reality.
He opened his eyes slowly.
The fire had dimmed and the wind whipping into the room battled it roughly, making it sear to life one second and weaken faintly the next.
Connell stared at the patterns of light flaring across the ceiling as everything slowly came into focus.
His head hurt, and his leg too. He took a gasping breath as the pain registered. The door was jammed on top of him, something pinning it down over his ankle.
He could hear something breathing near him.
Collecting his energy he lifted his head, straining to see, but the door bumped his chin, holding him down.
With a strangled cry, he braced his hands on the cold floor and pushed himself, struggling as he pulled his body free and collapsed against the floor, gasping for breath.
Shaking from the pain, Connell lifted his head, finally looking at the fallen beast.
Connell's heart pummeled his ribs at the sight.
He had hit it alright, because now it was human.
But he hadn't killed it.
The thing was taking gasped, agonized breaths, its whole body shaking and twitching.
Dragging his twisted leg along, Connell pulled himself to the side of the beast and slid an equally shaking hand comfortingly into the bright red hair.
He spent a moment stroking Brennan's hair away from his face. The dusting of freckles across his nose standing out starkly against his pale skin.
Ever so slowly, Brennan opened his bright eyes and fixed them on Connell's shocked face.
"I saw you die," Connell said.
Why did his voice sound so hallow?
Brennan smiled softly and then squeezed his eyes shut with a hiss of pain.
When he opened them again, there were tears in his bottle green eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried to stay away from you, but I guess I just can't. I never could."
He took a shaking breath and gripped Connell's hand, much the way he had that first day.
"Get your rifle," he whispered.
Connell didn't move.
If his lover thought that he was capable of killing him, then he was crazy. He couldn't. Not now that Brennan had come back from the dead.
"Shoot me," Brennan insisted.
Connell finally shook his head.
"You should have come and told me sooner," he numbly.
Brennan laughed, choking on his blood. What had he gone through completely alone, these past few months?
"And what?" Brennan whispered.
"It doesn't matter!" Connell hissed. "We can find a way!"
He pulled Brennan up roughly, ignoring his cry of pain and squeezed him in a tight embrace.
As far as Connell saw it, Brennan deserved a bit of pain for making him think that he was dead.
These past few months since Brannan's death the werewolf had come for him on every full moon. It had shocked him so bad the first time he almost hadn't gotten away. He had been so sure he'd killed it that night while Brennan lay cold on the ground.
His hot blood warmed Connell's cold body now, but he didn't care. It was just further proof that he was alive and a wound like that, no matter how severe, would never kill a werewolf.
"We could tie you up," he said, wracking his brain for ideas. "It might not be so bad. Hell, I still have those handcuffs you got me for my birthday."
Brennan laughed against his chest and the shaking finally began to subside. The wound was starting to heal.
He pulled back slightly to look at his lover and smiled when two bright eyes, which were very much alive, met his.
"You can't let me live," Brennan said. "It's against everything that you do. The things of the night are evil, Connell, you said it yourself."
Connell nodded, softly.
"Yes, and I also said that I make the rules."
End
~
AN: Hi! So I wrote this story a few years back for a contest with All Romance Ebooks and they published it in their Just One Bite series! I was thrilled with the outcome :D and I still have a soft spot for this story. (My BF is Irish btw, I wonder what he'd say if he read this one with the little gay Irish monster hunters. hehehe He's really confused by my boyxboy writings, but still supports and reads most of what I write... I don't think I'll spare him this one though :P)
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