keon

The first few days were great; the spot you two had picked to camp out was perfect, there was nobody around to bother the two of you—it was great.

The last night was when things went terribly, awfully wrong.

You and Steven had put out the fire for the night and were preparing for bed when you heard it. At first, you both thought it could’ve been a bear or perhaps a neighboring camper’s dog that had gotten loose, but you very quickly—and too late—realized that it was something much, much worse.

The beast had lunged at the two of you from beyond the clearing, cloaked in darkness beside the taunting, hopeful glow of the full moon. You two barely had time to react—you managed to just get knocked back by the sheer force of such a creature, but Steven was less lucky.

The thing had gotten the best of him, but only for a second before being startled and running off. It still left its mark on him—a nasty scratch that ran from the top of his shoulder down near the middle of his chest.

You both are lucky to have made it out of there with your lives—thankfully, Steven’s injury was no more than a flesh wound, and healed with little scarring. When law enforcement arrived at your aid, you had been told that there had been sightings of wolves in the area, and were told that this was just a ‘freak accident’ and that you two were ‘not in any more danger’.

It was a difficult few months after that; poor Steven, as skittish and anxious as he already had been, was a total mess after the incident. He was grateful to have you around, though, and you helped him to return to some sense of normalcy.

Things have been generally pretty normal, but once a month, Steven is…different.

It’s like for a few days, he’s less like himself—he’s more reckless, clingier, like he can’t tear himself away from you even for a second. He’s abandoned his veganism, too, which you’ve found most strange.

He’d given you some rushed, stilted response; something about how he’d gotten tired of tofu scrambles and veggie wraps. It was very unlike Steven, but he’d been through a lot, so you’d forgiven it.

There’s a lot more steak in your fridge than you thought you’d ever have.

One day a month, though, he goes away overnight—tells you that some of his mates invite him over to have dinner and play some games, and you let him. He never tells you which friends he’s with, or where he goes.

A part of you thinks he’s lying.

He comes back all disheveled the morning after, a bit worse for wear, but he always insists that it’s just because he and the boys got a little wild the previous night.

It all doesn’t add up. You figure he’s just going through some kind of crisis in the aftermath of such a horrific attack.

But after months of this same routine, you’re fed up—it’s been too long of him lying and dancing around questions, skirting away from giving you any sort of solid, definitive answer.

“I’m coming with you tonight,” you tell him as the two of you sit on the couch together, spending time before he vanishes overnight.

He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost.

“No! No, you—love, it’s not—there’s nothing for you to worry about. Promise.”

You’re not convinced.

“I am worried, and I’m going to come with you. I don’t care what your friends say.”

He’s flustered now, nervous and looking like he’s trying to find an escape route to get out of this conversation. A part of you feels guilty for pressing him like this, but you need to know.

After what feels like an eternity of Steven struggling to find the right words to say, give some decent response to what you’re suggesting, he speaks up, voice soft.

“You can’t come with me, love.”

You make a face. You never knew Steven to be so insistent that you stay away from him, even if it’s overnight. So, you give him an ultimatum.

“Fine. If I can’t come with you, then stay home.”

He makes it seem as if that’s the worse option of the two, but he knows that you’ve got him backed into a corner. Either let you come with him, or stay at home.

That seems to have gotten through to him, and he nods, resigned. It was inevitable that you found out, and he knows that he’s damned no matter what he chooses.

“I’ll stay home, but we have to talk about this, yeah?”

You nod right away. Finally, you’re getting somewhere with him, so you’ll take whatever you can get.

He shifts in his seat beside you, suddenly feeling awkward and much more nervous about having such a conversation, but he eventually speaks up.

“After what happened to us a few months ago, I’ve been…different.”

No shit, you think. He continues, fidgeting.

“At first, I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I thought I’d just gone mental, yeah? But I didn’t. Something, er, worse happened.”

Your brows knit together in confusion, and you’re immediately able to tell that he’s stalling. Playing with his words and trying to put off this inevitable confession. You need him to tell you.

“Steven, just tell me.” You interject, tone a bit more firm than it usually is.

He tenses, and immediately blurts out the confession like the words burned in his throat.

“I’mawerewolf.”

What?

The words were rushed, all jumbled together but it was so obvious what he’d just said. You can’t believe it.

“Say again?” You ask, desperate for clarification.

His face is flushed red with embarrassment, and he can’t meet your gaze anymore—he’s awful at this, but he eventually gathers the nerve to repeat himself.

“I’m a…werewolf,” he cringes at the word, hating the way it sounds from his mouth. To further elaborate, he gestures vaguely in the direction of the window, where the sun has set and tonight’s full moon has begun to rise.

“You know; full moon, lycanthropy and all.” He makes a sad, awkward little howl noise, probably in some attempt to be funny or lighten the mood.

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Unfortunately, it all makes too much sense.

The “wolf” attack, the disappearances once a month, the sudden change in his appetite.

Steven’s a werewolf.

The glow of the moon through the window is suddenly much less comforting. You realize he doesn’t have a lot of time before he’s unrecognizable.

“I go out to the woods every month,” he starts again after a beat of silence.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody. Don’t want to hurt you.”

You feel the guilt burn in your throat—that’s why he’s been so flighty, hiding away from you every month.

You don’t even have anything to say. What can you say to something like that?

You aren’t given much time to dwell on your thoughts before Steven doubles over in pain before you, and immediately all of your senses go on high alert.

“Oh fuck, Steven, are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question. Obviously, he isn’t.

You wish there was something you could do, but you don’t exactly know the protocol for what to do when your boyfriend starts turning into a werewolf.

“Fine! Fine, just—ah-“ he grimaces in pain, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

You give him as much time as he needs, and he manages to get a few words out through his pain.

“Put away anything fragile—ah, fuck—please. I can’t-“ he doesn’t finish his thought, dropping to his knees from where he’d sat on the couch, and your heart aches for him.

After a few seconds of standing dumbly in place, you move with nervous speed, grabbing anything immediately fragile—glassware, the framed photo of the two of you in Cairo, anything breakable—and toss it all onto your bed, before shutting and locking the door.

By the time you return, Steven’s gotten rid of his clothes, and it’s the least of your concerns.

“I don’t want you in here when I—“ he cries out in pain, and your heart aches for him.

He doesn’t want you in the room with him when he turns.

You nod unsteadily, trying to wrap your head around this situation. An hour ago you figured that he might’ve been hiding something from you, but you never had thought that it’d be something like this.

Even though he’s warned you, you can’t take your eyes away from him.

The first thing that changes are his hands; his nails elongate into what you can only describe as claws—sharp and deadly.

You keep a safe distance.

With a pained shout, he arches back, and you bear witness to the grotesque sight—and sound—of his breastbone and ribcage cracking and stretching, expanding his chest to better accommodate the anatomy of a wolf.

It’s killing you to see Steven—your Steven—hurting and knowing there’s nothing you can do about it.

His canines stretch and sharpen into points. You back away from the living room.

You watch as he falls forward, leaning on his hands and knees; his back arches, his spine cracking and popping as his entire form is rearranged.

The sounds of his bones and joints cracking and shifting are awful enough on their own, but combined with the sound of Steven’s cries and shouts in agony, it’s that much worse.

His joints are rearranging, moving and grinding against one another. It’s grotesque and horrible, and you can’t believe that this is what Steven goes through every month.

It’s awful, and it gets worse when you see the way his face distorts, his nose and his cheekbones cracking horribly as his face stretches into something more canine than human.

It doesn’t take long until he’s completely unrecognizable. A hound; a werewolf.

You stand a fair distance from the creature that used to be your boyfriend, watching as the beast paces around your living room, sniffling and snarling as it takes in its surroundings.

“Steven..” you murmur, and the beast turns in your direction.

You can see Steven’s eyes, deep and brown—and even as unrecognizable as he is in this state, you still know that this is your Steven.

Against your better judgment, you step closer, treading softly and praying that he remembers you.

The wolf’s ears flatten against his head, and it takes a cautious step backward. It—he—growls, something low in his throat. Not quite a threat, but a warning. You can’t tell if it’s out of anger or fear.

He looks like a wolf, but bigger. You don’t know if that scares or excites you.

Every alarm bell in the back of your mind is blaring, telling you to run, get out of there, but you can’t. Not when you know that the wolf in front of you was your boyfriend a handful of minutes ago.

Slowly and carefully, you lower to your knees—you vaguely remember a documentary you and Steven had watched about wolves, how if you approach them on their level, they’d be less inclined to attack you. They’d be less threatened.

The wolf steps forward cautiously, sniffing the air in front of you as it tries to determine if you’re a friend or its next meal. It takes another step forward, and you put your hand out—palm facing upward—in front of it.

Those deep brown eyes you recognize so fondly as Steven’s never leave yours as the wolf sniffs your palm, its nose nudging your fingers as it does its best to understand who you are.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when it presses its nose against your hand, a large, warm tongue swiping across your fingers.

He remembers you.

“Steven,” you breathe, and he huffs in response.

You move your hand carefully across the wolf’s snout, brushing your fingers over the fur on the top of its head gently.

You’re petting your boyfriend like you would a dog at the shelter.

The wolf takes another step forward, and you can see more of Steven in its eyes; that care, the affection, it’s all still there, just expressed differently.

He’s a lot bigger up close, definitely larger than any dog you’d ever seen, and that’s more obvious when the muzzle of the dog (if you can even call it that) nudges against the side of your head, then under your jaw. You can hear the way he sniffs and huffs as he takes in your scent.

Your hand slides from the top of his head down behind his ears, and you’re able to feel how soft his fur is. It’s dark, dark brown, much like Steven’s own hair color.

My boyfriend’s a werewolf, you think. Yeah, no big deal. I can roll with this.

You scratch behind his ears briefly, before you let your hands trail across more of that soft fur. With every pass of your hands, you can feel the strong beat of his heart, the way his chest expands with every breath.

After he’s gotten a good idea of your scent, he nuzzles against you for a few more moments. You can’t deny that the feeling is nice, like subconsciously, you know that it’s him.

You continue to pet him, before he shifts, and lays across your lap, putting all of his weight on you.

It doesn’t surprise you at all that Steven’s werewolf form is as much of a cuddler as he is. He’s warm, impressively so, and you take the tranquility of this moment to truly process the way this evening has gone so far.

Steven’s a werewolf. That night six months ago when you were attacked, he’d gotten scratched by what you can only assume was another werewolf, and that was all it took.

You resume brushing your hand across his fur, wondering what happened in your life to bring you to this point—sitting on your living room floor while Steven’s oversized werewolf form lays across your legs like some big lap dog.

Most of the night passes the same way, with the wolf curled up as best as it can in your lap, until you move him off of you when your legs fall asleep. There’s no complaint, though, and he settles down on the floor right in front of you, going right back to sleep.

Much to your surprise, nothing was broken like he thought when he told you to hide away anything fragile, and the two of you end up falling asleep on the living room floor.

—

When you wake up the next morning, Steven’s back to himself. You take this time before he wakes up to take in the sight of him now, and mentally compare it to the way he looked last night.

You drag your hand lightly down his bare back, fingers tracing his spine, remembering the feel of his thick fur beneath your touch. He stirs, so you retract your hand, allowing him to wake up on his own.

He does, turning and stretching as he comes out of sleep, sitting up to get himself more awake.

Before things can get awkward, you grab the blanket that rests on the back of the couch, pulling it down to cover his lap, since his clothes lay in a haphazard pile on the other side of the room.

He turns to you, a sheepish grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you.

“Hiya, love,” he murmurs, voice soft and still thick with sleep.

“Sorry about…everything.” He gestures to himself, before letting his hand fall lamely back to his lap.

You shake your head, moving so that your head rests on his shoulder, now sitting beside him as the two of you wake up in the aftermath of an interesting and unexpected evening.

“It wasn’t as bad as you probably thought it’d be.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you, dumbfounded.

It’s only then that it dawns on you that he might not remember everything that happens when he’s turned, so you fill him in.

You recount the events of the previous night to him, from witnessing his transformation to the way his wolf had cuddled and nuzzled against you for most of the night until you fell asleep.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t—“ he shifts, keeping the blanket across his lap.

“—didn’t know that I’d been such a lap dog.”

He says the words sarcastically, in that self-deprecating tone that you always associate with Steven.

You take it in stride, chucking softly.

“Oh, yeah, total pooch,” you tease.

“We even played fetch at one point.”

He flushes a bright red, the color bleeding down his neck, and you swear you can hear the way that his heart rate skyrockets.

“Shut up.”

After a few beats, you speak up, voice a bit softer and more sincere.

“You go through that every month?”

He pauses, eyes falling to the blanket in his lap, hands fidgeting with the fabric. He nods, taking a slow breath.

“Not really a good way to spend the evening, is it?”

You both chuckle softly, taking this quiet morning to become accustomed to what very well might be a new routine for the two of you.

“You were pretty calm, all things considered.”

He hums, nuzzling against the side of your face as you speak. You can’t help but make the mental connection between the way he did that same gesture as a wolf last night.

“Maybe you should just stay here when you..y’know. Turn.”

You can feel him pause for a moment, thinking, but after a few seconds, he resumes his nuzzling against your jaw and neck.

“I don’t want to put that responsibility on you,” he murmurs, tone low.

You shrug, bringing a hand up to card gently through his curls. You remember the texture of his fur beneath your fingers.

“I didn’t mind it all too much. It’s not like you tore up the apartment or anything,” you gesture around, his lack of destruction apparent.

You can feel the way he grins shyly against your skin, and your hand continues to brush through his hair.

“Thank you,” he hums sleepily, breath warm against you as he speaks.

You’re definitely not opposed to one morning a month turning out this way.

- you live in a big apartment in a good place in London, it has 3 big bedrooms and has a big kitchen, a livingroom, a dining area, a bathroom, and a big balcony with a nice view

- you were sharing this apartment with another person who unfortunately have to move into another citiy because of their job

- the third room is a gym. The owner left his old gym stuff there, since he opened a real gym not far and he filled it up with more modern equipment, but he also didn't want to throw these out. He said they were free to use for the people who live in the flat.

- you don't have enough money to pay for the apartment alone, but you also don't wanna move out, because this place is too dreamy so yeah you rather die than leave. You're desperate to find someone who will move in as quickly as possible okay, it could be Freddy fucking Krueger, you don't care as long as they pay

- Steven lost his job in the museum so guess who doesn't have an income anymore and was kicked out of his apartment. After he and Marc saved the world SAVED THE F-ING WORLD and got back to London, they have spent Marc's money for hotel rooms and to rent cars and stuff and they were met with the news that Steven has 3 days to move out, because the owner already gave the flat to someone else. You know. To someone who had a job. That fucker. What the fuck is he going to do now?

- 'It's gonna be okay, Steven.'

- "Is it?! It's your fault in the first place you know!"

- 'Mine? How?!'

- "You destroyed the bloody bathroom in the museum!"

- 'If you haven't told Harrow your name and where you live I wouldn't had to protect you from a giant fucking jackal!'

- Jake listened in silence from a far space in their head and would've rolled his eyes if he was in control of the body

- he had to do everything around here

- so he did take control of the body and started looking for flats they could move into on the internet

- he sometimes was working as a cabbie so he also had some money, but seeing the prices he wasn't sure if he will be able to afford one. Well, the ones he could afford looked really shitty but even they looked overpriced. Why can't the normal looking ones have that price?

- oh the next one looked nice. Big, new, and had much more light than Steven's curret flat. No offense to his headmate but this place made him want to spiral down into an endless pit of depression. Okay, this had three bedrooms, they don't need that many. He bet it was expensive as fu...

- his eyes widened when he saw the price. Okay this was too good to be true where's the catch. After reading the post he saw that only one of the rooms was for rent. He clicked on the profile of the person who posted the flat, since they would be the ones living in the other room

- after a few minutes of looking at their pictures, he decided to call them

- saying that you didn't expect a man in his mid 30's to be your fucking roommate was an understatement, but you did say that even serial killers were allowed as long as they paid and didn't kill you, didn't you?

- not long after posting the flat on FB, a man called you that he was interested in the room and he's gonna come over in an hour to look at it in person. You decided to clean up a little in the meantime

- after the call Jake took a deep breath, walked to the three-piece mirror, opened it and concentrated at his three reflections

- "Okay, guys, time to come out."

- 'Did you block me?' - Steven asked Marc offended

- 'I didn't block you! You blocked me, you idiot!' - Marc argued back

- Jake cleared his throat

- Marc and Steven frowned and looked back at their reflection in the mirror

- "Hola."

- Marc and Steven screamed.

- Jake grimaced.

- "We don't have time for this hermanos."

- 'What the f-, Marc do something!'

- 'Like what?!'

- "SHUT UP FOR A SECOND WILL YA?! WE HAVE TO MOVE OUT IN THREE DAYS AND UNLIKE YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOTS I FOUND A FLAT!"

- Marc and Steven looked at each other uneasily

- 'You need to explain a lot of things, man.' - Marc said to Jake.

- "Later. We have to check out the place I found. If you guys like it too, we can move in."

- after a bit of silence, Steven spoke up. - 'I mean. Do we have any other choice?'

- 'What's your name?' - Marc asked.

- "Jake. Jake Lockley." - he said as he started getting ready.

- 'I'm Marc.'

- "I know."

- 'I'm Steven.'

- "I know."

- Marc and Steven rolled their eyes.

- 'Do we have money for this flat?' - Steven asked.

- "Errr... Not for the whole flat."

- Marc narrowed his eyes. - 'What do you mean?'

- Jake put on his flat cap and walked out the door. - "We're gonna rent one of the rooms."

- 'Meaning we're gonna share the flat with other people? Man, I don't like this.' - Marc said.

- "We're gonna share it with only one person. And the place is big. Spacious. Modern. The person who posted it said they wouldn't mind if Freddy Fucking Krueger is the one renting the room as long as they pay on time, we're gonna be fine."

- 'At least there's gonna be someone who feeds the fishes when we're not home.' - Steven glared at Marc, who huffed.

- you jumped a little when there was a knock on your door. Okay, here comes the serial killer.

- 'Whoa, God is real.' - was your first thought after you opened the door and saw the very handsome man on the other side.

- "Hi, I'm Jake. We talked on the phone earlier."

- "Yeah, hi, come in! Have a look around." - you stepped back and opened the door more for him so he can come inside.

- the boys looked around impressed, the hall, the livingroom, the kitchen and the dining area was opened together creating a big space, making the flat look huge. He saw the big windows and a glass door leading to a balcony between the kitchen and dining table on the opposite wall and he saw five more doors, leading to the bedrooms, bathroom and toilette.

- anyway, you felt the need to fill the role of a tour guide, so you led Mr. Gorgeous around.

- Jake really liked the place, it was more than big enough for two people so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable living with someone else. Marc loved the gym and Steven let out a dreamy sigh when he saw that one corner in the living room was turned into a reading nest, with massive bookshelves and a big comfy armchair filled with pillows.

- their future room was big too, and the balcony had a beautiful view of the city.

- "So? How do you like it?" - you asked after the tour was over and you explained everything he needed to know.

- after a little bit of silence while Jake discussed with his headmates, he smiled. - "We like it."

- you frowned a little. - "We?"

- Jake took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. - "Yeah. Uhm, there's something you need to know if we're gonna live together."

- 'Jake what are you doing?' - Marc asked.

- 'Well, they deserve to know who they're gonna live with. Or have the chance to say no to it.' - Steven agreed with Jake.

- "I have a mental illness. Called Dissociative Identity Disorder. I share my body with two other people, Marc and Steven. So there will be times when you see me, but it's not me, if it makes sense. It's okay if you don't wanna do this, we find somewhere else. However we are kind of short on time, so if you could decide now, we'd appreciate it."

- you started nibbling on the nail of your thumb as you looked him over. He seemed nice, polite and clean. You didn't mind having them as roommates, ill people deserved to have a roof over their head too and as long as they don't violate the house rules, it's okay with you

- "Mental illnesses are not a promblem for me as long as you guys don't start trashing the place. There are a few house rules we need to discuss, and if you agree with all of them, you can move in."

- Jake smiled big and nodded. - "Okay."

- "Let's sit down." - you led him errr, them to the couch and brought them a glass of water then you dropped yourself on the couch too

- all three of them noted that you didn't sit on the far end of the couch, but close to them, meaning you weren't feeling uncomfortable in their presence even after you learned the truth about them and it made all of them smile

- "Okay, number one: don't eat each others' food without permission. If you see something of mine you'd like to eat, ask me, I don't mind sharing, but I hate it when I know I have a yoghurt, I wanna eat it and it's not there anymore."

- Jake nodded. - "Of course. Same for me, I don't mind sharing either, just ask me beforehand."

- you smiled. - "Cool."

- Jake looked somewhere next to you for a few seconds then his gaze found yours again. - "Steven and Marc says the same applies to them."

- your smile widened a little and you nodded. - "Okay. Number two: if you see something recorded on the box, don't delete it without permission." - you said pointing at it.

- Jake followed your finger. - "Clear."

- "Three: don't leave dirty clothes or towels around the floor, not even in the bathroom. It gives me the ugh..." - you shuddered.

- Jake and the boys chuckled: "Understandable."

- "Four: keep communal areas clean. It would be great if you kept your room clean too, but what happens in there is your business. Fair warning, though: if I start smelling something yucky imma kick down your door."

- "Uuuhhhh, okay." - Jake grinned.

- "I'm serious."

- "I have no doubt."

- "My nose is sensitive."

- "We'll keep that in mind when we wanna hide a body."

- you snorted. - "If the police comes I'm gonna tell them you kidnapped me."

- "With all of your belongings of course." - he gestured to your room.

- you shook your head with a smile and continued. - "Be respectful with noise levels." - you said then grimaced. - "This applies more to me, I tend to listen to music loudly so if it bothers you, please tell me."

- "Alright."

- "Final rule: you can't bring sex partners up to the flat." - you pointed a finger at him.

- Jake grinned again. - "Awkward encounters?"

- "Ugh, don't remind me. My previous roommate was a girl and when I walked out of my room one morning, a guy was standing in the kitchen completely naked. I freaked out, grabbed the nearest object and threw it at him."

- "What was it?"

- "A tennis ball."

- "Did you hit him?"

- "Right in his balls."

- Jake grimaced and reached with one hand between his legs, while Steven and Marc let out a painful moan in the headspace.

- you laughed. - "Yeah. But seriously, no sex partners, I don't wanna hear your nasty business."

- "What if we respect the noise levels?" - he wiggled his eyebrows.

- you narrowed your eyes at him.

- "Okay, okay, okay. No sexy time in the flat."

- you looked around thinking. - "I think that's all."

- "We're fine with these. Oh, uhm... one thing. We have two goldfishes."

- "Hmm... well, the owner doesn't allow pets, but I think an aquarium is fine. I'm gonna call him and ask, okay?"

- "Thank you."

- After the owner said fishes are allowed it was green light.

- they couldn't bring everything to the flat of course, like they won't need the couch and stuff anymore, so they used Marc's storage space for those

- on the third day they officially moved there

- the first week living together went smoothly, a little awkwardly but smoothly. You all tried to give the other space, just observing the other's routines so you won't bother each other with trying to use the bathroom when the other wants to or make food in the kitchen at the same time

- the place was big to be in the the same room without invading the other's personal space of course, but all of you felt like it was the polite thing to keep out of each other's way

- day after day you became more and more comfortable with each other, when someone went to the store they asked the other if they needed anything, when someone made breakfast, lunch or dinner or ordered food they asked the other if they want some too

- you learned each other's eating habits, you knew Steven was vegan, Marc and Jake mostly ate anything, but you knew the former especially liked Jewish food and the latter was weak for the Spanish kitchen

- they boys saw that you mostly ate well, junk food. So they were all in agreement to try and cook more so you eat a little healthier

- living with you was fun, but they'd be lying if they said they didn't think you're weird

- on their first day here when you showed them where are the different stuff stored in the kitchen you started opening the cupboards: "This is the cupboard, this is where the cups are."

- Jake looked at the reflection of a glass confused and saw Marc and Steven look back at him funnily

- you opened another one: "This is the plateboard, this is where the plates are."

- Jake frowned and Steven tilted his head trying to understand and Marc pursed his lips trying not to laugh

- you opened another one: "This is the snackboard, this is where the snacks are."

- "You do realize that all of them are called cupboards." - Jake pointed out.

- you frowned. - "No, silly. That is the cupboard, the one where the cups are. This is the-"

- "No, all of these, together are called a cupboard. It doesn't matter what you put into them, they are literally just cupboards. It's a general term." - Jake said gesturing to the whole thing.

- you looked at him like he grew two heads, then your eyes widened. - "Oh..."

- this time all three of them chuckled

- they knew you were grumpy in the mornings, so when Jake came home after a night shift and saw you fell asleep on the couch watching tv, he should've known better than to try and eat breakfast in the kitchen before going to sleep

- 'Shhh!' - Steven shushed him harshly when Jake pulled out a plate loudly.

- "You shhh!" - Jake shushed back in a whisper.

- "You shhh!" - you snapped from the couch. - "You're violating the noise level rule!"

- "Well, next time, sleep in your room."

- "I sleep where the fuck I want!" - you groaned, pulling the blanket over your head.

- "And I eat when the fuck I want." - Jake talked back and started humming loudly as he made food.

- You sat up and glared at him then overdramatically went to your room, and slammed the door shut

- 'Nice one Jake. Now you upset them.'

- "Hey, I pay to be here too, I can do what I want."

- you lifted an eyebrow when one time you opened the fridge and foods, drinks and containers were labeled with 'Marc' 'Steven' and 'Jake'. Well, at least you knew everything else was yours

- you were sitting in the armchair in the reading corner, when you saw them emerge from their room one late morning and they went to the kitchen, pulling out a tupperware box then as they were on their way back to their room they started eating from it

- "You can't eat that." - you said.

- they jumped a little when they realized you were there - "Why?"

- "It's Jake's."

- they lifted an eyebrow. - "I am Jake."

- you snorted. - "No, you're not."

- they looked annoyed. - "I am, amor, now hush."

- "You're Marc."

- "Que?"

- "Cut the bullshit, the minute you stepped out of the room I knew you were Marc!"

- "How?" - Marc asked with an annoyed whine

- "You walk differently than Jake."

- "How does Jake walk?"

- "Like he owns the place." - you said, going back to your book.

- "How do I walk?"

- "Like a bitch."

- Marc snorted annoyed then went back to his room, after a second he opened the door and looked out: "How does Steven walk?"

- "Like the cute little bean he is."

- Marc rolled his eyes and closed the door while you snickered

- "Beans can't even walk!" - you heard him yell with his mouth full with food.

- Steven was always a ray of sunshine and he always recommended books for you. Marc and you usually talked about movies and Jake talked a lot about cars

- "I think you have OCD." - Marc said one time when you rearranged the stuff on the coffee table for the fourth time in 5 minutes while the two of you were about to watch a movie

- "And I think you have STD." - you snapped back

- Marc's jaw dropped. - "Why do you think I have STD?!"

- "Why do you think I have OCD?"

- "You're weird."

- "Says the guy who has two other guys living in his head."

- Marc shut up after that

- "I like you the most." - you said to Steven one time when you were both laying on the couch, reading.

- he had his back to one of the armrests, you were laying against the other one, your feet were touching his, and a blanket was covering both of your legs.

- Steven gave you a toothy grin. - "How come?"

- "You're the nicest."

- "They are nice too, but I admit they can be annoying." - Steven said.

- "Yeah, and you're not. You have this warm aura around you and it's so calming."

- "Thanks, love."

- "Do you think I'm weird?"

- "We are all weird in our own way aren't we?"

- "I guess, but I meant like... weird-weird."

- "What do you mean?"

- "Marc called me weird."

- Steven rolled his eyes at his headmate's stupidity. - "He didn't mean anything bad by it. You have... weird habits. But if you mean it to the point that it brothers us, then the answer is no. We think you're cute."

- your face lit up and you would be lying if you didn't feel a little flustered

- the next time Jake came home in the morning and saw you asleep on the couch, he decided to carry you to your bed before you castrate him for being loud in the kitchen again

- he scooped you up in his arms, carefully walked to your room and gently put you on your bed. He tucked you in and closed the door after he walked out

- "I can either teleport or I'm sleepwalking." - you said later that day when you finally woke up and emerged from your room.

- "Why?" - Jake asked.

- "I fell asleep on the couch and woke up in my bed."

- "Or maybe you have DID."

- "Like you?"

- "Si."

- "Why do you say that?"

- Jake grinned. - "Just ask Steven about his old 'sleepwalking' problem."

- Your eyes widened when you realized what he meant and he laughed

- soon carrying you to your bed in the mornings became a ritual everytime Jake had a night shift, and you figured out that the boys may had to do something with you waking up in your bed

- Marc and Steven sometimes asked Jake to let them front so they can carry you too

- one time you woke up to the sound of them coming home but you pretended to be asleep to test your theory

- soon you heard their footsteps coming closer and felt their arms wrap around you and you were afraid they could feel your heart beat like crazy while they made the trip to your room

- after they put the blanket over you, they gently tucked your hair away from your face and felt them softly caress your cheek then they left

- you just about melted into a puddle

- when you went to have a night out with your friends the boys always texted you to ask if you were okay or needed a ride home

- sometimes you accepted their offer, but sometimes you walked with your friends when you were not far from the flat

- it didn't matter who was fronting, if they were home, they helped you change into your pj's and made you take a painkiller and drink a glass of water

- tomorrow you were always grateful

- when the boys caught a cold and Jake wanted to go to work you told them no

- "I'm fine, I'll go." - Jake said and started coughing like he was about to get rid of his own lungs

- "Yeah, you'll go the fuck to bed, come on." - you helped him lay down in his bed and put your hand on his forehead

- "You're hot as hell."

- "I know, amor." - he winked with a weak smile

- you rolled your eyes, but a small smile was on your face

- you made him a hot tea, gave him a pill for his fever, and put a cold towel on his forehead, then you went to the store to buy tissues, fruits, vitamins, more painkillers and you got a chicken noodle soup for him from a nearby restaurant

- you helped feed them when they felt too weak to do it themsleves (or just acted weaker so you'll help them), and left their door open a little so they can call out to you if they needed anything

- Steven asked you to read for him and after you looked at him confused, he told you his eyes were hurting so you did it. He fall asleep to the sound of your voice and you couldn't help but caress his hair a few times before you turned off the lamp and let them rest

- Marc emerged one afternoon wrapped up in the blanket while you were watching a movie and he laid down on the couch putting his head in your lap

- you froze for a few seconds, but then you put your hand on his shoulder and gently started rubbing it, along with his arm

- he let out a sigh then closed his eyes

- "Do you need anything?"

- "No." - he mumbled. - "It feels nice like this."

- "I hope you guys get well soon, I miss being an asshole to you."

- Marc smirked. - "I think you only want us to get better, because you miss watching me work out in the gym."

- you froze for a sec. Were you that obvious with your staring? - "I am this close to hit you." - you said as you held your hand in front of his face, with your thumb and forefinger almost touching.

- Marc just reached out and took your hand in his then closed his eyes again and slowly drifted off to sleep.

- Jake tried to sneak out one day, he reached the front door then before he could turn the doorknob your voice stopped him: "You're still not fully recovered."

- "We feel much better, amor, thanks to you."

- you narrowed your eyes, he was trying to play the sweet card. - "Back to bed." - you said firmly.

- Jake's shoulders dropped and with a sigh, he shuffled back to his room

- they never really saw the owner of the flat, the boys always gave you the money and you gave it to the guy along with yours

- but one time they were home too when he knocked on the door

- now neither of them really had a problem with their 5'7 height so far, but this guy was huge, like The Rock huge

- and you were smiling and laughing with him like he was Mr. Perfect

- you introduced them to each other and the guy was really friendly which made Jake hate him more, cause he doesn't really have a reason why he should hate him

- 'He seems nice.' - Steven said to Jake

- 'Yeah, too nice.' - Marc said with a huff

- Steven rolled his eyes. - 'You guys are just jealous.'

- both Jake and Marc let out a ridiculously long 'pfff'

- "You like him." - Jake said to you after the guy left and he sat down at the counter while you were looking around the snackboard... the cupboard that held the sancks... whatever

- "What? Who?"

- "Mr. Olympia."

- you snickered at the name and opened a bag of cookies. - "He's handsome I admit." - you said with a shrug as you ate one then held the bag out for Jake

- he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back, looking at you with narrowed eyes - "You laughed at that joke he told and it wasn't even funny."

- "It wasn't." - you admitted, eating another cookie

- "Then why did you get all giggly?"

- "I wanted to be polite."

- Jake lifted an eyebrow

- "Oh my god, Jake, it was just small talk and he owns the place and if I can secure my place here by laughing at his lame jokes I will!" - you frowned down at the cookies, stood up, put them back in the cupboard that was a snackboard and switched it for cereal.

- the boys watched as you poured milk into a bowl first then added the cereal

- "You wipe your ass before you take a shit aswell, don't you?" - Jake asked when you took the first bite

- you started laughing so hard you choked, making him snicker

- "I hate you so much!" - you coughed while you were still laughing. - "And just for your information this is the right way!"

- "Keep telling yourself that, amor."

- suddenly your eyes widened and you started pointing behind him

- "We're not gonna buy it." - Jake said. You have a habit pointing at their chest asking what was on their shirt and when they look down you bump their nose wirh your finger. They're not gonna buy your cheap trick now

- "There's a cat behind you." - you whispered, still pointing

- "How would a cat-? You do know that we don't own a cat, do you?"

- "Why do you think I am freaking out, idiot?!"

- finally, Jake looked behind him and his eyes widened when he saw a grey cat sitting on the back of the couch looking at you two

- 'I swear to god if it's another egyptian deity to enslave us...' - Marc groaned

- 'Mate, it's just a cat, not an 8 feet tall god.'

- "Hola." - Jake waved at it and the cat jumped down from the couch and walked to him casually. Jake grinned, picked it up and started petting it, while he checked out the medal on its collar.

- he snorted. - "Her name is Miss Pearl. She came from flat 13/B."

- "Making new friends, are you?" - you asked with a smile.

- Sí, I love making friends."

- "I was talking to the cat."

- Jake made a funny face at you and continued petting Miss Pearl. - "Are you hungry? Do you wanna see what's in the fridge?"

- Jake, it's not a stray, and if you ask me, it's obvious she didn't got her name for her colour." - you said, gesturing to the cat's body.

- Jake chuckled, stood up, walked to the fridge and opened it to look around for food

- and of course after feeding the cat, she visited you daily

- all of you experienced waking up with Miss Pearl sleeping on your beds

- Even Marc and Steven feeded her, not just you and Jake

- you just had to make sure to lock her out to the balcony when Mr. Olympia came to collect the money

- you were living together for almost a year when Jake got a message from you that made him tense up immediately while he was on a night shift

- his heartbeat went up so high it triggered Marc and Steven to cofront

- 'What happened?' - Steven asked

- Jake dialed your number, put it on speaker and threw his phone to the seat next to him and immediately changed direction with the car and started driving insanely fast

- 'Jake?!' - Marc said harshly to get his attention

- they got their answer when you picked it up and they heard your shaky voice on the other end

- "Where are you?" - Jake asked.

- "In my room. I think they are in the kitchen." - you whispered, frightened.

- "Stay there, lock the door and put your chair under the doorknob."

- 'Fuck, someone broke in?!' - Marc asked alarmed.

- 'Shit, step on it, Jake!' - Steven urged him.

- they didn't hear anything from the other side of the phone for a few seconds, so they assumed you put it down to move your chair to the door

- suddenly they heard a gasp and loud thuds, then it sounded like someone broke something

- "Y/N?!" - Jake yelled.

- "Get out of my home!" - they heard you cry and then a loud crashing sounded followed by some cursing which definitely wasn't your voice

- "Let go of me, you fuck!" - you shrieked. - "Jake! Jake hurry-!"

- "Y/N?!" - Jake yelled and when they didn't hear you answer, Jake's hold tightened on the wheel. - "I'm gonna fucking kill them!" - he growled and Marc and Steven agreed, they only wished nothing happens to you

- It was only about three minutes later when they arrived in front of the building and Jake pulled out his gun from the glovebox and ran inside and up to the flat

- they saw that the front door was closed, so whoever broke in, picked the lock, and they assumed it wasn't their first time

- Jake turned the doorknob with his gun raised in his other hand and opened the door. One of the smaller lamps were turned on, illuminating the livingroom, the dining area and the kitchen in a faint glow

- he tensed up when he saw you were tied to one of the chairs with a tape covering your mouth

- your eyes widened when you noticed him and with your head you gestured towards your room

- Jake nodded and quietly made his way there and soon he saw a man dressed in all black looking around in your drawers

- Jake also noticed your broken lamp by the door. Maybe that was the crashing he heard on the phone when you tried to fight back.

- "The only resson I'm not blowing your fucking brains out is because I don't wanna make a mess in their room." - Jake growled as he cocked the gun.

- the man tensed and stopped what he was doing

- "Put your hands up where I can see them and turn around."

- the man did as he was told

- 'I don't see any weapons on him.' - Marc told Jake

- "Come out of the room." - Jake told him, and when he wasn't moving fast enough for Jake, he barked at him angrily: "Vamos, puta!"

- you were watching the scene wide eyed, feeling as your heart was beating hard against your ribcage, but the presence of the boys brought a huge relief to you. And watching Jake order the robber around made you feel safer. He was controlling the situation and it was both calming and sexy at the same time. Wait what?

- "Kneel on the floor."

- after the man kneeled down, Jake looked at you. - "Did he hurt you?"

- after a few seconds of hesitation, you gave him a small nod.

- Jake's nostril's flared and he cursed angrily in Spanish as he looked down at the man. - "Close your eyes." - he told you.

- you closed them and by the sound you heard you guessed that he hit the man. Hard. You whimpered and heard a thud and then a second later you heard footsteps approach you.

- "It's okay, amor." - Jake kneeled in front of you and hushed you when he saw that you were trembling. - "It's gonna hurt." - he said as he took a hold of the tape on the side that covered your mouth and you nodded a little to sign him you were ready. When he pulled it off quickly you groaned. - "I know, shhh." - he hushed you more and he rubbed your thighs then stood up and grabbed a kitchen knife to cut you free.

- "What did he do?"

- "He hit me. I tried to fight him, but he was stronger." - you replied in a small voice.

- 'Fucking asshole.' - Marc growled.

- 'He's gonna pay for this.' - Steven fumed.

- after Jake freed you while he cursed some more in Spanish, you started rubbing your wrists. He went to flick on another lamp then he walked in front of you again. He gently lifted your chin to turn it left and right and his eyes narrowed when he saw a bruise forming on your cheek.

- "Thank you for coming home." - you said as you were looking up at him and you put your hand on his forearm that was holding your face

- "Of course, amor." - he helped you stand up and started leading you to his room, since he saw that fucker broke yours in. - "We're gonna deal with this motherfucker. He didn't break the front door, lock it, then go in my room and lock that too, until we get back."

- you were shaking your head the whole time. - "No, no don't leave me here please, I don't wanna be alone!" - you pleaded as you took hold of his jacket, desperately.

- Jake put his hands on your upper arms and started rubbing them soothingly. - "Shhh, it's okay, no one will come here, this fucker just chose the wrong flat to break into. We're gonna be back before you know it. There's a knife in my nightstand, but I promise you'll be safe, okay?"

- you looked so vulnerable in that moment, none of the boys wanted to leave you, but they had to deal with the robber

- "Why don't we just call the police and-"

- "And have them put him behind bars for a few months and let him out to break into homes again? Not on our watch, baby.

- you gulped and jumped forward hugging them. - "Please be careful."

- Jake quickly recovered from the shock that you hugged him and he hugged you back strongly. - "We promise."

- you were sitting on the floor in the boys' room, facing the locked door, holding Jake's knife in your hand for god knows how long, when you heard someone walking around in the flat again

- you tensed up, but quietly walked to the door and put your ear against it. You heard water running and Jake as he was talking quietly

- you unlocked the door insanely fast and swung it open, calling out for him

- he appeared from the bathroom and opened his arms when he saw you sprinting towards him

- "We're back, shhh, we're here. We thought you were sleeping."

- "I can't sleep alone." - you said, pushing your face deeply into his neck, breathing in his scent.

- Jake held you stronger and didn't let you go, until you pulled away to look at him. He cupped your face and kissed your forehead. - "Go to my bed, I'll be right there."

- you nodded and relucantly let go of him and quietly walked back to his room

- Jake watched you until you disappeared from his sight and he quickly washed his hands and face, before joining you, exchanging a look with his alters in the mirror.

- you moved to the side of the bed when Jake appeared in the door and he closed it after shutting it. He was already in his boxers and a grey shirt and he climbed under the sheets.

- he opened his arms when you started moving closer to him and wrapped them around you as you did the same, pushing your face into his chest.

- "Steven and Marc are here too?"

- "Sí. They couldn't wait to get back to you."

- you snuggled even closer. - "Don't go to work tomorrow?" - you pleaded.

- "No chance in hell, amor."

- you were laying in silence for a few minutes, then you lifted your head and saw in the small light that Jake looked back at you

- "I know you guys were carrying me to bed after I fell asleep on the couch." - you whispered. - "There were times when I was awake and just pretended to sleep."

- Jake caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers gently. - "We know. Your breathing is different when you're asleep."

- your eyes widened and your mouth opened a little, feeling a little embarassed that they knew it all along. Jake smiled and cupped your face, his forefinger softly rubbing the spot behind your ear, not breaking eye contact

- you licked your lips and gulped, then leaned forward

- Jake met you halfway and kissed your lips sweetly

- you pulled away with sparkling eyes and Jake's smile widened

- "The boys want a turn too."

- you giggled quietly and nodded your head

- "Hello, love." - Steven greeted you and you nuzzled his nose before kissing him. - "Been waiting for a while to do this." - he admitted with a lovestruck smile.

- "Well, it was bloody time we finally did it." - you imitated his accent, and he chuckled.

- "You owe me one too, darling." - Marc said and he kissed your cheek before his lips found yours.

- you kissed him back and grinned. - "Who knew you'd be desperate for my attention."

His hands are lightly tied behind the back of the chair, a scarf looped around his wrists that he’s holding onto tightly, keeping it secured as he bucks and moans. 

He’s completely bare, love bites forming on his inner thighs from where you’d teased him before you’d taken his thick cock into your mouth, and then worked the vibrating dildo inside him. 

“I think you can handle a little more, can’t you, Jake?” 

He whines pitifully, staring up at you with dark, pleading eyes. He licks his lips and nods, whimpering a little as you take your hand from his chin and pick up the remote on the side. You increase the vibration of the dildo inside, the sound echoing as he gasps. 

“Fuck!” He taps his feet repeatedly on the floor, his chest heaving as the dildo pulses against his prostate and stretches him wide. There’s a squelch of lube as he moves, unable to stop himself from bouncing ever so slightly. 

“Nice?” 

“Amor, so fucking nice.” He breathes deeply, groaning again as you press the other vibrator back to his nipples, savouring how pebbled and pink they are, how the barbells shake under the vibrations. 

He bites his lip, whimpering and pleading as he pants your name, his voice rising in pitch. 

You move the vibrator to his left nipple and lean down to scrape your teeth along his pulse point. 

“Shit, amor, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he bucks his hips a little faster, planting his feet on the floor so he can roll and push the dildo against his insides just right. “Amor, can you, please, just-”

You lean forward, practically bending yourself in half as you bend down and lick his right nipple. Jake let’s out the sweetest moan, his voice breaking at the end, and then practically screams as you suck his nipple and piercing into your mouth. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” His back bows, his hips bucking wildly as his orgasm crests. It catches him completely by surprise as lightning shoots up his spine and makes him shake in ecstasy. 

He just about managed to twist his hand free on the scarf behind his back and grab hold of his cock a milisecond before he spurts, angleing it away from his stomach and chest, and you. Instead, it shoots upwards impressively before it splatters onto the wooden floor. 

You take the vibrator off his chest while you slowly let his barbell piercing pop free from your mouth as you stand up. Quickly, you grab the remote and turn off the dildo. 

Jake sighs happily, his muscles aching and skin sweaty. 

You kiss his cheek, and he nuzzles into you. “Thank you for managing not to jizz on me.” 

He snorts.

“Not that I would have minded.” You tease and lightly nip his ear.

He giggles. “You’re so naughty.”

Thank you for reading!

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He was currently focused on some story. Egyptian. Hatshepsut and her fake beard because obviously being a man meant being more powerful than being a legitimate woman during Ancient Egypt. As his eyes sailed in the words, noting mentally that her stepson (or something like that) had been the responsible for her mysterious death, Gus’ fishtank hummed softly, giving him a background noise to focus even better. He was deep in the zone, where he couldn’t be bothered or taken out of his book.

Until a furry silhouette jumped to his desk.

Steven lifted his gaze from the paper, just to find a tiny calico cat in front of him. It had the sparkliest, most brilliant eyes he’d ever seen. Along with the tricolor pattern of its fur, its sharp face shape gave him a wandering look, as if it didn’t know what it was doing there, in the busy table of a stranger. The cat nuzzled Steven’s cheek with a little bump, and his hand ran through the cat’s chin.

“Hiya, there, little guy… how’d you get in here?” he asked, glancing around, but not spotting an open door.

He turned back to the cat. He noticed a tag hanging from a purple, narrow collar. As the cat landed its paws closer to Steven on the book and nuzzled him again, he snuck one of his hands under the tag. It read “Claude.” And nothing else. No contact information or address. Steven knitted his eyebrows. Who would let their cat wander off without any resource to get it back in case it got lost?

You, of course.

You, who lived only two doors away from Steven’s packed up flat. You, who was unaware of Claude’s whereabouts until you had decided to let him share tea time with some catnip and hadn’t found him anywhere in your own flat. And you, who stepped out of your apartment into the dimly lit hall of the building just to find Steven, your more-than-averagely-handsome neighbour stepping out of his own flat, with your Claude on his arms, looking around as if the answer to his questions was just there waiting for him.

And it was. Technically.

“Oh, thank God…” you exhaled the air that Claude’s search had taken from you, as you walked as fast you could without looking desperate to your pet, and to your more-than-averagely-handsome neighbour. “Thank you, I was worried sick.”

He immediately handed him to you. Your arms wrapped around Claude’s furred body and you took into your more than familiar embrace. Claude’s scent filled you again like the missing piece of a puzzle. The one that always lingered around your flat. Some jasmine. Cinnamon. Didn’t matter. It was comfortable and recognizable anywhere, that’s what made it so enticing

“Uh, yeah… no problem at all.” Steven managed to blabber out.

You know how they say pets usually look like their owners? Steven had done nothing but to prove that theory with every pet-owner person he got along with. But just now, looking into your sparkly eyes, he felt safe enough to confirm the theory for good.  They were shaped like almonds, but with a similar colour to Claude's. And they were just so hypnotizing, twinkling like stars in the dark, vast sky. Oh he was lost the second he stumbled upon them. It was hard to explain, really, especially when his mind had gone into short-circuit with the sight.

“I’m terribly sorry he snuck in like that.” you apologized, knitting Claude’s fur with your fingers. “He usually breaks into downstairs flats, I don’t know why…”

“It’s fine, really… he’s very… well-behaved.”

Well-behaved. His words came back to him like a stab. God, why did he have to be so awkward?

You chuckled. It wasn’t hard to tell your neighbour was the typically shy kind of guy. You assumed it just by seeing how he fidgeted a little with the hem of his blue jacket (almost too blue to be denim), or how his eyes seemed to be stuck on the floor or in the cat. He seemed sweet nonetheless, so you replied to his comment in order to make him feel a little better.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Steven quietly stared as you pet your cat and nuzzled against him like you were a cat yourself. He smiled heart-warmingly. He would totally do something like that with Gus if it wasn’t a fish. But he didn’t have the time to think about caressing his one-finned goldenfish, because you were quick to take him out of his unusual train of thought.

“... sorry, I didn’t get your name.” you said, adjusting your hold around Claude’s body.

“Steven. Just… Steven.”

Your lips curled upwards in a wickedly playful smirk. 

“Just Steven? That’s a weird one.” you teased him, observing him with your sparkly eyes. “... so, Just Steven, would you like a cup of tea? It’s… pretty much the only way I can repay you.”

The man swallowed. Bless his soul. His stomach had done the sucking thing and for a fraction of a second there he felt like he was falling from a tenth floor. He couldn’t believe his luck. What were the chances he’d meet someone as pretty and then would be invited to a cup of tea? Of course it was only a matter of time before you ran away from him like everybody else did, but he still allowed himself to feel the happiest man alive before absolutely accepting your offer.

“... yeah, why not? I mean… I should close my door first, don’t want any more strangers in my flat…” he chuckled awkwardly, and you followed. “... but, uh… yeah, I’ll accept your cup.”

“Mental.”

A few weeks had gone by. Though for Steven they had felt like months. 

After your little exchange on the hallway of your floor, your get-togethers had become more frequent. The routine was always the same. Claude snuck into Steven’s flat, wandered for seconds (or minutes, depending on Steven's current activities at the moment) and then he was taken back to you. Everytime the cat passed from one hold to another, you suggested a cup of tea, and then the quiet boring evening turned into late nights in your flat. Sometimes accompanied with dinner and a glass of wine, sometimes not. 

The whole not-arrangement was very improvised.

Steven and you were friends, surely, though that didn’t mean you two hadn’t grown fond of eachother. 

Too fond, I’d say.

The man was always looking forward to spotting the calico tail on his flat. It was like a signal. An announcement of his date. The green tea (that you loved and had tons of) and the biscuits, the talking, the laughing, and the rambling. It always excited him. He liked you, and he had gotten to know you much more than he would ever think he could.

You both had clicked so perfectly that none of you felt like restricting information from one another. Except, of course, for Steven’s DID. But he was never looking forward to that conversation, even if he had never actually told anyone about it. It was dangerous and the risk of scaring you away was always there, lingering in the air like a ghost. And the last thing he wanted was to scare you away now that he had your friendship.

That was one of the reasons why he’d never asked you out on a proper date yet, without the need of an announcer such as Claude beforehand. He’d been dying to do so, of course. He wanted to take you to a coffee shop, or to the museum and show you the sarcophagus, maybe tell you about how ancient Egyptians sucked the organs out of the later mummified corpses. Hell, even a walk in the park would feel like he was taking it more seriously than whatever you two shared, only due to boredom and mere coincidences.

But he had a responsibility. Both Khonshu and Marc had insisted on that. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by a pretty face and a cuddly cat. God did he want to, though. Everytime he thought about it, the American man living inside his head was reluctant to insist. “This isn’t good Steven. It’s not gonna work.” were his most used words. And Steven hated it.

Marc had his own issues, he respected that. He knew Marc was afraid of love, but Steven longed for it so badly. He was the picture perfect figure of a hopeless romantic. Every word you spoke was heard, every touch you gave him was received. And it always felt so good to be that cared for, and even better was to make sure you felt as much cared for too. All he wanted was a little humouring. He needed it, actually. And he didn’t care at all what Marc had going on inside of his (their) head.

So he was quick to brush off Marc’s cold-toned “Just say goodnight and go back home.” 

Most of the time, Steven had to resist an answer inside of his throat, because Marc couldn’t hear his thoughts. But currently, as he sat on your couch (cup of green tea steaming into his nose, refugeed between his palms) and looked at you petting Claude, who had sneakily (as usual) propped itself onto your lap, it was becoming harder and harder not to talk to the mirror. He wanted to prevent a weird stare. Or worse, getting kicked out.

“... so I tell her “I can’t hand the report today because you said it was due tomorrow”, and she…” you noticed Steven’s blank stare to your cat. “... she threw me out the fifth floor window. The glass shards still hurt like Hell.”

“They must, yeah…”

“Steven!”

He reacted, his wondering dirt-coloured eyes left your pet’s figure and landed on yours. Steven never got tired of gazing into your irises, framed with absurdly perfect eyelashes. They reminded him of the night sky, where stars seemed to grow and shrink quickly, sparkling with some gravitational force or some blimey like that. He couldn’t remember. He was too focused analysing your eyes, as if he was stargazing.

There really wasn’t too much of a difference to him. Between staring into your eyes and stargazing.

Cut it out, Steven. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” he replied, almost too quickly for it to be true. “... I… I gotta use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, love.”

“... sure.”

The pet name struck you, but you didn’t mention it. Instead, you followed Steven’s clumsy body with your eyes as it walked quickly through your living room and locked itself in the bathroom. He’d been like this lately and it buzzed your curiosity like an annoying fly you just couldn’t smash off. He seemed lost and overly quiet, like he was focused on something else other than you. You knew that if you thought about it too much, it wouldn’t do any good to any of you, so instead of keep overthinking the matter, you took a swig out of your glass of red wine.

A few meters away, Steven was having a one-off with his skeptical alter.

I mean it, it’s gonna cost you. It’s gonna cost both of us.

“C’mon mate, I just… I want this.”

I know and I understand, but it’s stupid. It won’t do us any good.

“Oh, don’t give me that…” Steven dismissed it by gesturing a wave off with his hand. “It might do.”

It’s better not to risk it, Steven! 

Marc’s voice started to sound impatient and condescending, as if he was talking to a child. Steven couldn’t stand when he got like that. 

“Listen, Marc.” he stated. “I don’t care. I would if you were making any sense, but you’re not. You’re only scared, and I’m not gonna be the one to fix it for you, so if you could just…”

We share the same body, man. It’s gonna come clean eventually and you’ll end up heartbroken.

His affirmation stopped Steven from stepping out of the bathroom to come back to you. He turned to the mirror, where Marc was looking at him with smug eyes, knowing that he was right and that he could, in fact, make some sense out of his fear.

“... I would never…”

Yes, you would. Can’t blame your neighbour. I wouldn’t want to be with us either.

“Steven?”

Your voice penetrated through the door like an angel’s call. Steven’s attention went from the mirror to where your voice was coming from. He started sensing the panic bubbling from his chest, making him debate whether he should open the door or not. He looked back to his alter and glared at him, as if saying “Stay quiet”, even though you couldn’t hear Marc’s sighs and complaints. You were curious, and abnormally willing to act on it due to the light alcoholic drink in your veins.

You heard no response.

Slowly, you pushed the door open. 

His expression was hard to read. His brows were furrowed in a scowl, yet he looked like he was about to cry at the same time. You tilted your head to one side in confusion. You could’ve sworn you had listened to him talk to someone, but obviously you were too light-headed to really try to understand it.

“Sorry, I thought I’d heard…”

Steven took one step forward, growing closer to you. He didn’t know what he was doing, honestly. His body was moving on its own, as if it was challenging Marc’s warnings and attempts to keep his alter from doing something stupid.

Don't do it, Steven.

“... I like you.” he spat bluntly, and you saw how his expression became more and more frightened by the second. 

Jesus Christ he was mortified. The dread in his eyes… you had never seen something like that. No words were left to describe it and certainly no words would be able to ease it down. 

So you did what you thought was best, and without words, you stepped closer and placed your lips against his for a second. Less than a second. It was so quick Steven didn't even realize what was happening until it was over. And oh he was so stupid. He wanted to kiss you again so bad but he knew it was nothing but your call. You were drunk. He couldn't take advantage of that. He wouldn't. Not ever.

Meanwhile, you took notice of what you had just done. Snuck a kiss to your awkward overly-handsome neighbour. The same way your cat had snuck into his flat a few weeks ago: Without him realising. And reacting way later.

Steven took his hand to his lips, covering his flushed face in the meantime. Embarrassed, you averted his eyes like vampires avert from the light. You looked anywhere else but him, as you felt his deep brown eyes drilling a hole in your face.

“Sorry, did you just…?”

“I’m a little drunk, so…” you interrupted.

“Right, of course.” Steven nodded, facing the tile floor of your bathroom. “Yeah, that’s… that makes more sense, doesn’t it?”

“But I do like you too.” you said.

The words struck poor Steven like lightning. He was baffled by your affirmation, almost incredulous of it. He even thought you were having a laugh with him.

But you weren’t. Your eyes irradiated the determination, and the courage it had taken you to say it back. Plus, you didn’t want things to get confusing afterwards, so you’d rather let things come clean, even if he didn’t believe you then.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, of course I do…” you reaffirmed, scoffing and looking down at the tangle of your hands. “... it’s hard not to, you know? You’re… lovely.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Steven, you.” you insisted, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. 

If Steven was startled before, there surely were no words to describe his flabbergast now. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what he was now trying to wrap his head around. His eyes scanned your silhouette, leaning against the bathroom sink in a posture that made you look like an angry spouse. His mouth was slightly open, and he felt like he couldn’t pass the air through his lungs. Were you absolutely merciless? Did you not care about him at all that you had to just say that?

“W-well, that’s… good to know. A relief. Yeah.” he stuttered, still utterly struck.

His words eased the pressure on your chest so pleasantly that you had to sigh. You were afraid there for a second that he wouldn’t believe you. But he did, and now things had just turned even more awkward. What are you supposed to say after something like that has been gotten out of your chest so bluntly? Lost as you looked, you slid your hand forward and interlocked Steven’s fingers with yours. He didn’t hesitate to squeeze them tenderly, staring down at the recently-made knot you had just created.

Slowly, you leaned in and closed your eyes, but the space between you was still there. Steven watched as your face grew closer and closer. He was having an internal battle, trying to decide whether he should kiss you or not. You were drunk, after all, and he didn’t want you to regret anything, and he didn’t want you to hate him. But then again, he couldn’t help closing his eyes as well, letting whatever had to happen, happen.

When your lips met, a rush of warmth invaded both of you like a wave. Steven tilted his head slightly, in order not to bump your nose, and that just made it better. The kiss tasted like wine, but also like lemon and something among green tea and sugar, but sweet. So very sweet. And you smelt like a fireplace, creaking sparks leaving the mother flame. And your eyelashes fluttered against his worn out skin like butterflies wings, making him lean in even further, now clumsily cupping your cheeks with his free hand. He fitted perfectly against you. And like the missing piece of a puzzle, you did too. 

But eventually, it was time to break apart. Though you didn’t want to drift so much yet, so you pressed your forehead against his. He was still holding your face with trembling fingers, but when you landed your hand on his, the shaking stopped. He scoffed a little giggle.

“Sorry…” he apologised. “... I just… didn’t think this would happen today.”

You didn’t say anything. All you did was reach for his cheek with your free hand as well and run your fingers across the skin, noticing his moles, his wrinkles, his freckles. He looked so good it drew a breath out of you.

“... you’re so handsome.” you whispered, not really hoping for him to hear it. “I’m so glad Claude likes your flat more than mine.”

That earned Steven a chuckle.

“Yeah…” he agreed, breathing out the laugh. “... me too, love.”

You brushed some hair out of your face to get a good look at the space. The room was a mess. Discarded in a frenzy, without knowing where they would land, the clothes you recognized as the ones you were wearing the night before hung off some of the furniture. You were sure some of it was on the floor as well though.

Still a little sore, you sat on the bed, letting your legs fall to the floor like a cascade. You found Marc’s t-shirt next to your feet, and you had the instinct to put it on, but then you thought he wouldn't like seeing you so comfortable walking around his flat. You weren't even sure he'd been a hundred percent comfortable the night before. So you chose to put on your own clothes, ignoring the morning-after etiquette like a champ.

After fighting with your own dizziness to get dressed, you exited the bedroom. Your slow walk let you take in all the details you hadn't paid attention to before, but eventually, you reached the main area of the apartment. You saw your bag hanging from one of the chairs, but just when you were about to reach out, you noticed Marc in the kitchen, separated from the living room with an island.

You couldn’t help it. An impulse dragged you towards him. He was facing the counter. Just as you were about to throw your arms lazily around his waist, he spoke.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

The words stopped you. You scoffed, smiling, yet you hugged him from the waist anyways, burying your nose against his spine. He sighed heavily. You hesitated, wondering if that had been a relief sigh, or an annoyed sigh.

“... ‘s what I get for trying to strike from the back,” you commented.

“Cowardly move.”

“Thought you’d call it smart.”

“It is smart,” he turned his head to glance at you before returning his attention to the task at hand. “Doesn’t make it less cowardly.”

Silence. You were comfortable, hiding your face away in his back, getting to smell his fabric softener, his cologne, his scent as a whole. You felt his body shift constantly with his breaths. 

You really, really didn’t want to leave.

So you opted for small talk.

“What were you doing?” 

“Making coffee.”

You awaited the invitation. A simple “You want a cup?” or, even better “Can I make you anything?”. Yet it didn’t reach you. It didn’t even seem to reach him.

“I thought you’d leave,” he mumbled.

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I thought so too,” you said in a breathy voice, adjusting your hold around his waist. “I was actually about to.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Oh, he was unbelievable. The rush of indignation was such you felt his warm, comfortable scent cut off. Your eyes popped open.

“I don’t think you want to hear it.”

You knew how he would get if you said the words. He’d close over himself, refuse to talk, refuse to say it back. You weren’t protecting anyone but you, by not saying what you felt out loud. Marc lowered his head. His coffee was ready. He had everything set to turn around and sit to have his breakfast in peace. He could even indicate where your bag was so you couldn’t delay your departure. But he didn’t do any of those things.

“... you’re right, I don’t.”

Saying that didn’t satisfy him. He actually did want to hear it. What he didn’t want was to deal with the aftermath, like he was doing now. The aftermath of your night was starting to turn into a dreaded serious conversation. Marc had tried convincing himself that it would be over soon. You’d wake up, say hello, and leave. But you weren’t doing the last part as he wanted. And he also felt selfish, hoping you’d accommodate to his own fucked up mind. You should leave him, he thought, you were too good to be dancing back and forth like this.

“At least tell me if we had a good time,” you probed.

Marc swallowed, hesitant. But why was he taking so long to answer? He had had a good time. In fact, he’d had one of the best times of his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t thinking about vengeance, or Khonshu, or Randall, or all the people he’d taken lives from. He found himself thinking about your laugh, the way your eyes curled up when you smiled, your more than invasive hair and the fact that, even knowing how he was like, you were still there, hugging him from behind after sleeping together. Hell, some goddamn normalcy at last.

“I had a good time,” he replied, not realizing he had a little smirk going on. “You?”

You paused. He was asking about you. That made you smile too.

“I had a good time too.”

He gave up on having coffee at the table. Instead, letting your touch ground him, he took the cup to his lips. It was strange. A few days ago, he wouldn't have let anyone (not even you) hug him like that. He sighed.

You were still doubtful. He hadn’t shown any sign of affection back yet. You, with your arms around him, your nose on his t-shirt, as close as you could get, were only getting vague answers. You bit your lip, resisting the need to yell at him. You knew he was reserved on the matter but a part of you had been hopeful that something from the night before would’ve managed to change him. What a fucking idiot, you thought.

Oh, but not receiving anything back didn’t stop you.

“... Marc?”

“Yeah?”

“Should I leave?”

Marc was struck for a second. Why would you even ask him that?

Silence was making you insanely nervous. And you knew why. Somehow it felt like there was more to that question than you were letting on. Should I leave and stop pretending you love me as much as I love you?

Marc knew this. You spotted his jaw clenching, his head turning quick to look away, deflecting on what he had now on his back. All of this, and his lack of answer was more of an answer than any sentence he could speak. You sighed, slowly unwrapping your arms away from him.

“Wait.”

That was when he turned around. You saw his eyebags, dark from sleeplessness, his lips twitching and the bite marks you’d left in his neck from when you were too far gone to care where your teeth landed.

“I can leave if it’s bothering you. I know I can be a little imposing…”

“No, you’re not imposing,” he replied, placing the cup on the counter and reaching out to wrap his hands around your waist. 

A tug pulled you closer. His scent crashed all over you again. Cologne, softener, and that something unmistakably him

“I mean it, you know? It’s okay if you don’t want me here.”

“I do… I do want you here,” he insisted. “Listen, I know I’m… I might not be the best boyfriend in the world but… I'm trying my best, okay? And I tried my best last night and I’m trying my best now and I’ll keep on trying my best because… I care about you.”

“You care about me?”

“Care, yeah… I fucking love you,” he exhaled, as if saying that had punched the air out of his lungs. “It’s scary as shit, but I love you.”

Those words made you feel your chest tighter than usual. But no matter the body reaction. None of that stopped you from tenderly raising your hand to frame his face. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even lean into it.

“... I love you too.”

As if on instinct, Marc smiled. Again. Two times today and both had you involved. He let you lean in and press a kiss to his lips, slow, tender, savoring. A comforting thought brushed across him. The aftermath wasn’t so bad after all.

Breeding Kink!Santiago, who knows you’re not ready for kids, at least not yet.

Who knows you use birth control, and that you’ve used condoms during your two years and seven months together.

Who knows you might not ever be ready to marry. He isn’t so sure about marriage himself.

But he just can’t help himself.

When you crawl on top of him during a movie, grind against him, so eager, the movie's plot forgotten, he loses his mind.

You're younger than him, you have your whole life in front of you. Half the time he wonders why you're even with him.

The sex is good, he's sure about that. He knows he can take care of you and make you scream his name.

But sometimes, when you're moving around the kitchen making breakfast, humming to yourself, he sees it.

The image of you in your favorite robe, so soft and worn, untied over a t-shirt or tank top and the boxers you like to sleep in. You shuffle around in your cute fluffy slippers, so adorable, but he thinks...

what if your tummy swelled with his baby, and poked adorably out of your robe?

What if he eased in behind you, humming along as he slipped his arms around you and felt the shape of his baby growing inside you?

What would it be like to make a baby with you - to skip the condoms, to stare into your eyes, knowing this could be the time - to make sure to come inside you -to fill you up and make your body change because of what he fucked into you?

What would it be like when you told him? Could you ever want this the way he does?

He can only imagine you feeling sick. He would feel terrible, but would jump at the chance to take care of you, to bring you snacks or hold your hair back if that's what you needed.

He would spoil you and pamper you and let you whine and boss him around, treating you like a princess, making you comfortable while your body changed and formed around this baby.

What would it be like when you started telling people that you created a life together, that someone, something in this world would bond you together forever, something beyond your love, a product of your love?

He could only imagine how it would feel to watch your body start to change. Your breasts would get bigger and might even be sore. You would probably roll your eyes every time he stared at them, and swat his hand away if he felt you up too eagerly or sucked your nipples too hard. Then again, maybe it would feel good for you if he sucked your nipples.

Then your belly would grow. You would eventually show - your sweet tummy would peek out of your clothes, making t-shirts go tight. When he took you out somewhere and held your hand, everyone would see that you were his, that he put his baby in you and it was changing you and making you round and full of life, full of something uniquely both of you.

Eventually, he would fuck you like that, hands around your swollen belly, maybe from behind, working his hips into you, feeling you all over. Maybe you would go through a phase where you wanted it more, where you needed him, craved him. Perhaps the opposite would happen. Maybe you would pout and whine and push him away and damn if that wouldn't make him want you more.

He would feel the baby kick - you would feel it together. And you would grow and change and he would give you anything and everything you wanted in the world.

As you straddle his lap, grinding against his erection, he grips your hips, moving you urgently.

"Take these off," he murmurs, yanking at your pants. "Want you right now."

"Okay, slow down," you breathlessly laugh, working with him to get you half naked. "We have to get more condoms tomorrow, remember? Wanna just fool around?"

"...fuck, I want you," he whines. And you can count on two fingers the number of times Santiago has whined, this being one of them.

"You can have me." You promise, nibbling on his lips. "Want me to suck you off first?"

Tempting but... "I think I have one in my wallet. Let's go to the bedroom."

He drags you, half-naked, down the hall to your bedroom, licking his lips as you shed your t-shirt and sports bra. He thumbs through his wallet, groaning as he realizes he might truly be out of condoms.

Cursing in Spanish, he pushes down his pants and flings his own t-shirt aside. "No condom," he tells you.

"Don't be mad," you say softly, placing your palms on his bare chest. "We have to be safe."

"I know, I know. I just want to fuck you. Wanna feel you. I need to." He kisses you hungrily, hands roaming all over your body.

"What has gotten into you, baby?"

What's he supposed to say? That while you were making out with him on the couch, he was fantasizing about knocking you up? About how your body would change because of what he would do to you?

Even now, the thought of it consumes him. He's pushed it down for a long time, but something snapped in him after his sister visited last weekend, with his sweet little niece and nephew in tow.

His niece is four and you and Santiago have always had fun playing with her, but when he saw you hold his baby nephew, it stole his breath away. The way your face lit up as you smiled down at him, cradling him gently and humming the way you liked to do.

From that very second, all he wanted to do was put a baby in you.

"Sorry, just...fucking want you bad tonight, mi cielo. Sorry." He shakes his head, smiling and rolling his eyes at himself. "My fault. Lay down. I wanna eat you out."

Eyes narrowing curiously, you nod, scooting back on the mattress and lying down flat. Santi climbs in over you, laying half on his side, so his knees won't hurt. He presses his mouth hotly to yours, tracing his fingers up the inside of your thigh until he sinks them hard and heavy into your wet heat.

"Oh fuck," you pant, breaking the kiss. As promised, he nibbles and sucks and licks and kisses a trail down your body, with hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, wet, desperate sucking of your nipples, nibbles across the smooth, soft parts of your stomach, and finally, he licks rough and hard at your cunt.

"Holy shit, Santi, that's good." Your hips shift against his mouth as you twist your eager fingers into his salt and pepper curls. "It's so good, baby."

All the intensity building inside him, making him want to breed you, he pours into pleasing you now, rubbing you with his tongue and sucking exactly how you like.

You pat his side. “Turn around and I'll suck you. We can come together."

He wants that. Wants it so bad, but as he pulls away and gazes down at you, your mouth parted and panting, tits heaving as you gasp for air, your body wet and ripe and hungry for him, he has to slam his eyes shut to get his bearings.

"Baby?" You whisper, reaching for his cheek.

"Sorry. Sorry," he shakes his head. "Let me just..." He lowers his head, as if ready to continue making you lose your mind with his mouth, but something is distracting him.

"Hey, come here." You coax him down beside you, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his cheek. "You want me bad, huh?"

He grins, laughing out breathlessly. "Yeah. I really fucking do. But...you know, boundaries. I'm sorry."

"Baby," you whisper, kissing him temptingly. "I know we try to be careful. With me going back for my master's degree so I can switch careers..."

"I know," he nods, staring into your eyes. "I know we have to be careful."

"But..." you go on, lingering long enough for his heart to catch in his throat, "I mean, I am on birth control. Skipping a condom just one time should probably be-"

He surges forward, silencing you with a searing kiss. Suddenly, he's everywhere at once, hands flying, crowding in close, and before you can blink, you feel the slick, heavy tip of his dick nudging at your hole.

"Stop me right now or I will. I want to." He meets your eyes. "But I love you. I'll stop."

"Santi, you act like you want to put a baby in me-umph!"

He sinks into you deep and heavy, groaning out something orgasmic. The corded muscles of his neck and chest flex and tense as he pants against your mouth.

"Fuck...say that again," he moans, working into you with desperate, consuming thrusts. "Say it, say it."

God, he's never been so eager with you, so hungry. Your thighs fall open as you claw at his shoulders, trying to meet his thrusts, to give him something back. But you can barely think straight, he feels so fucking good, raw inside you for the first time.

"Say...what...?” you pant. "Shit...Santi, you feel good in me like this. It's so good, I like you like this in me, baby."

You know there's the tiniest chance you could get pregnant even on birth control. That's why you and Santi are always so careful, using condoms and you even track your ovulation. Thankfully, today is not one of those days, but still...

"I'm gonna fill you up so good," he growls, pushing your thigh up and spreading you open further. "It's gonna drip out of you and then I'm gonna push it right back in."

You assumed he wouldn't come inside you, and you know he would stop in an instant if you said the word, but seeing him like this, wrecked and wanting, with sweat pooling in the curls over his forehead, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, his beautiful, broad hips sinking into you with wild abandon, despite how his knees might pay for it later…

you want to give him this. You want him to come inside you. You need to know how warm and wet it would feel. It's something you've never shared with anyone and god, you want it.

But...you just aren't ready for a baby. Your career is not what you hoped for, you have school, you're still young. Young enough, anyway. You and Santiago haven't even discussed starting a family.

"Wait," you pant, pushing gently against his shoulders. "Wait, sorry, slow down, one sec, okay?"

"Yeah...yeah," he gasps, bring his hips to a halt, his eyes flying open and blowing wide with guilt. Now you would know. You would realize how much he wants to give you a baby.

"Tell me what you want," you beg him, lacing your fingers together as his cock goes still inside you. "Tell me the truth."

He swallows hard. "I wanna fuck you raw."

He feels your cunt clench when he talks to you like that.

"And?" You manage, breathlessly.

"I wanna come inside you. Fill you up."

You throw him a bone. "I want that too."

"Fuck," he hisses, thrusting into you once and then stopping himeslf. "But I know you're not ready...you know..." he attempts to conclude the conversation.

"I'm not ready for a baby."

When you say that word, he actually moans. Oh shit.

"But...you are." It hits you like a ton of bricks. The way he stared at you whenever you held his baby nephew. The way he oh so casually wandered by the baby aisle at the store, commenting on the cute, sporty onesies. The way he wanted to fuck without a condom and the way even the mention of a baby makes him lose it.

"I love you," he tells you, almost pitifully. "That's all that matters." He pulls out of you, but you can tell how much he doesn't want to. "We can fool around. It's okay."

You surge forward and kiss him, swapping places with him until you are on top and he's resting on the mattress gazing up at you.

"You want a baby?" You ask him tenderly, with no trace of mocking or guile in your voice. "Or...you just want to breed me?"

"Fucking hell," he groans, his arm flopping over his eyes. "Don't say that shit to me. I can't take it."

"Yes you can," you tell him, easing down beside him. You kiss his neck and breathe on his ear while your hand wraps around his dick.

"We can still be careful even if you want to put a baby in me," you murmur, stroking him the way he likes, working up and down his length, slick from his brief time inside you. "Is that what you want? You want to knock me up?"

"Jesus," he whines, hips snapping up to fuck into your fist. “Say it again.”

"It's okay to want it," you tell him. "It's okay to think about filling me up - coming inside me. It would feel so good if you did.”

"...fuck...yes." He groans.

You lick your lips at the way his broad hips thrust so heavy and hard. You can imagine yourself on top of him, feeling him spear you open. You work him faster, slipping one hand between his legs to toy with his balls. "Tell me again what you want."

He moans out your name, brokenly, the muscles of his neck straining as he holds himself back, even now.

Your hand goes still.

"No, no, don't stop," he begs - a rare thing for him. It sounds good.

"Tell me," you repeat, teasing his dick with your fingertips.

"I did," he pants, a sound of pleasure mixed with relief rumbling in the expanse of his chest as you suck on his neck and keep jerking him. "You want me to say it again?"

"You want to fuck me raw," you breathe lowly, against his ear.

"Yeah..."

"You want to come inside me."

"Unhh...fuck..yes."

He's close. Sweat beads on his forehead as his muscles go unbearably tight in his neck, his chest, his arms. Even his heels dig into the mattress as he pushes back against your grip, thrusting.

"You want to fill me up, push your cum back inside me. Make a mess of me."

"Shit, shit, I'm close, baby."

"I know," you purr, very satisfied with yourself for having this kind of power over a man who is typically ruining you on a tri-weekly basis, sometimes more often.

Watching him fuck your fist and moan and writhe under your touch has created a waterfall between your legs - one you cannot wait for him to pay attention to.

"You want to put a baby in me?" You can't even get through the question before he spurts all over your hand, coating it until it's dripping onto his bare stomach.

You watch his face twist in pleasure. You kiss and touch and take him through it, feeling like you've unlocked a new level of Santi.

His eyes stay closed for a while longer than usual. You curl up close and let him come back to himself as slowly as he wants.

"Shit, that was good," he finally manages. His eyes drift open and search for yours. His heart burns for you like never before. He showed you a piece of himself and you took it in stride. Well, not literally, but you met him right where he was and let him enjoy it - didn't judge him for it.

Better not get ahead of himself and start wanting to marry you. "Hey, do you want some ice cream?"

You laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "You are so weird. I am drenched over here, by the way. I don't want ice cream unless you are going to treat me like the ice cream cone."

"I can do that," he murmurs against your mouth, rolling you over and kissing you deeply. "When we're done though, I really need to go to the store and get some ice cream. And condoms."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "I love that plan, actually. Let's go."

An hour later, you're back in bed, ice cream bowls stashed in the kitchen sink. Santiago pushes deep inside you and if feels so good you know you won't last long.

"I love you." His words are tender although his body isn't. Fine by you. You've been waiting all night for this.

You stare into his eyes, knowing tonight was a win. "I love you. I'll be ready someday."

He cradles you close, slowing his pace, kissing you hungrily. "You know, you talk a good game. Can we do that again?"

"Yeah," you tease, and just to get a rise out of him, you add, "Knock me up."

All hair and claws and razor sharp teeth, he slices away your nightclothes, unable to even ask for consent in this form before his thick, long tongue laps at your sex - rough and raw, sniffing at you, claws shredding new holes in your mattress as you come hard and fast.

By the time you relax, he's rutting against your thigh, the one human piece of his brain knowing he can never really have you in this state lest he rip you open and destroy this body he worships.

So why does he come to you like this?

Because when the full moon rises, he can no longer control it.

He's rutting faster now and you blindly reach for his animal parts, an odd mixture of shame and arousal luring you into scandalous action. You touch him, grip him, coo on his ear, inhale his animal scent of wet woods and fur, urge him to come in your hand, which he does, eyes flashing wildly gold in the darkness as he howls out his release.

☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

You're to be introduced to your betrothed soon. You spend your days endlessly plotting how to hide your animal lover once married, or worse, how to learn to live without him coming to you each full moon, licking you to the height of pleasure, always leaving you wanting more.

You dream of him. Of what it would be like if he flipped you over, pushed your face into the mattress, mounted you and claimed you - letting the monster in him awaken your own beastly desires.

You touch yourself nightly to this thought. Your secret, seductive wolf claiming your body, ruining you for any man, likely spearing you open beyond repair.

You must regain control of yourself if you are to make some sort of life in society.

You gather your wits, are dressed in the latest fashions and carried to a most illustrious and opulent ball to meet your intended - a duke. A fine match indeed. Even if he is an ogre, his wealth and title alone should make you proud.

He is very handsome. You smile demurely and dance and talk, and on one whirl around the dance floor, you smell him.

Your wolf.

All wet woods and warm fur and heady arousal.

You almost trip over yourself as the steps of the dance signify you are about to change partners. When you do, you come to face to face with the deepest, near black eyes. A proud face, square cut jaw, petal soft lips, with inky curls slipping rebelliously from his attempted style.

His lips part as he inhales sharply. Quickly recovering, he guides you through the necessary steps - the touch of his hand on yours intoxicating you utterly.

He spins you this way and that - the scent of him heady and invasive, but somehow more appropriate for a ball - more clean, more human, yet still permeated with nature. His lips fall close to your ear during one of the final turns. "Congratulations on your engagement, my lady."

His voice, velvety smooth and rich washes down your neck, heating your skin.

You stutter out a 'thank you' as the dance comes to a close.

Your betrothed comes to collect you, taking your hand and kissing it gently, leading you away into a sea of well wishers. You throw a glance back toward the man with dark curls and you swear his eyes glint golden in the candlelight.

☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

The moon is full the next week, but he doesn't come to you. You become so insane with lust for him that you tie your robe around you and quite scandalously sneak out of the house, into the woods, calling for him.

If you are discovered acting madly like this, it will ruin your entire family and any hope for a future, but you don't understand. How could your wolf possibly know of your engagement? Isn't he merely an animal? Or half-man/half-animal at least? Why would an arranged marriage prospect preside over his animal urges? Why did he not come?

Cold air kisses your skin as your slippered feet struggle to keep from tripping over roots. You hear a howl. Slowly turning, you hold out your lantern.

"My wolf?"

But something else is there. Something menacing, with light gray fur and red eyes. It snarls, licking its chops as it nears you.

"Stay back!" You feebly cry, swinging your lantern toward the creature. It growls and lunges toward you, but is intercepted by another animal with inky black fur and golden eyes who attacks with all its might.

You fall down and scurry backward, your lantern breaking and extinguishing itself in the process. Vicious gnashing of teeth and yelps of pain fill the night as you hide yourself behind a wide tree trunk, hopelessly lost without your light to guide you.

You hear the sickening rip of flesh and a gut-wrenching, wounded cry and then the commotion stops.

Covering your trembling lips with your hand, you attempt to hide your presence, but only a moment later, a long snout appears beside your head, peering around the tree.

It growls lowly, and at this close range, you can see blood staining its razor sharp teeth. The full moonlight catches its eyes, which gleam golden.

You tremble in relief, rising from your hiding spot, Without much thought, you throw your arms around the neck of the giant, black-haired creature, inhaling his familiar scent.

"My wolf," you gasp out tearfully. "You saved me."

He sniffs at your hair, loving licking at the skin of your neck as you hold him.

"Why did you not come to me tonight?" You ask him sadly, eyes brimming and wet in the moonlight. "I came to find you. I missed you."

His head hangs in shame like a domesticated dog being scolded, but you reach for him again, stroking between his ears. He pushes into your hand, lapping up your attention.

It occurs to you that he is, in fact, an animal and your desires are not natural. Perhaps this is all wrong, but as he regains his confidence, he jumps up, gently but insistently pushing you to the ground. He licks at your cheeks, your neck, pawing at your clothes, using his sharp claws to shred them, as usual.

As your body lays on damp earth and dying leaves, exposed to him, in his own environment, he sniffs at your sex, a deep growl resonating in his huge body. Then he laps at your cunt in wide, determined strokes. You're the best thing he's ever tasted and he eats you like a treat, his arousal hardening as you moan and writhe.

His tongue is so long that he shoves it up inside your sex, wanting to taste you deeper, wanting to somehow know every single inch of you. He stuffs you so full, still licking, lapping until your body seizes and you scream out into the night so violently that it gives him, an animal, pause.

You desperately reach for him, touching his pulsing length, taking it in your hand and stroking.

"You can have me," you moan out, unabashedly. "You can have this body. It's yours. I'm yours. My wolf."

He's already whimpering at your touch, but when you release him, he stares as you position yourself on all fours, bare ass shoved toward him. "Take me," you pant, deliriously sated and simultaneously hungry for more.

He nudges at the perfect, round curve of your ass with his snout, trying to get your attention, but you keep begging to be fucked.

He finally sniffs at you this way and starts licking again. You whine and demand he mount you, but he keeps going, determined, until you soak his snout and collapse, spent.

You slowly recover, dragging yourself to your feet and starting to redress. He waits patiently until you are ready, then kneels down for you to mount his back so he can speed you back to safety, to home.

☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

You feign illness in the coming week, if only to hide the fact that you continuously cry into your pillow as to why your wolf doesn't want you, and furthermore, as to why you were not created a wolf.

In between bouts of tears come endless episodes of you touching yourself and remembering his wet, wide tongue fucking you deep.

☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

The next ball comes and thankfully, your intended is out of town. Still, your mother demands you make a brief appearance, since the doctor cannot find a thing wrong with you.

You smile and nod and do have a bit of fun speaking to the other young ladies. You dance and that's when you smell him again.

This time, he does little to hide his reaction. His jaw clenches as his eyes glint and when he spins you around, you swear you hear him growl.

You have to excuse yourself for some air as discreetly as possible, at the end of the dance.

He finds you there, hiding in the garden. His mere presence is a scandal-to-be, but the way he holds himself back is nothing compared to your carnal acts under the full moon.

"Why are you here, Lord Spector?" You ask him, bitterly.

He flinches as if you've slapped him across the face. Taking a full step back, he swallows hard. "You do not know me." It is not a question. "Forgive me, my lady. My mistake."

The he turns on his glossy black heel. The nerve of him!

"Wait," you cry, in a hushed tone, but most frantically. "Will you give me up so easily?"

His head cocks this way and that, most canine in fashion. "You do know me."

"Of course I do," you breathlessly gasp, stepping boldly closer. "At least...I think I do."

The corner of his mouth curls in satisfaction. Pushing in close to you, he guides you to a more secluded alcove, deep in the garden. "You smelled me." One hand grips your arm securely as his nose traces across your cheek. "As I smell you, even now."

Your breath stutters, your desires rising to the surface under the curtain of night. "How do I know for certain it is you?" Forcing your eyes open, you grab at the lapels of his jacket. "How can I be sure you are -"

"-your wolf," he supplies, easing back and smiling...well, wolfishly, his white teeth gleaming.

You falter, so he steadies you in his arms. "I am yours. Your wolf. Your servant, my lady. And the only person alive who knows how sweet you taste, or how you sound when you come."

He licks into your parted lips, chuckling at your gasp and swallowing down your surprise. You've never kissed the wolf - it's nearly impossible now that you consider it, but the smell of him - the sense and the familiarity washes over you. Reaching blindly for his thick curls, you yank him closer, feeling a growl rumble from his chest to yours.

You kiss endlessly, indulging your desires, touching and feeling one another until you can't breathe.

You almost forget to be cross with him, but the hurt tugs down the corners of your mouth as you remember... "Why do you do this? What do you want?"

His lips, ripe and kiss swollen, chase after yours as he murmurs, "You, my lady. I want only you."

"You do not," you protest, pushing against his biceps as he holds you. "You come to me once monthly, you take me to heaven, or - perhaps hell - I am not certain, with your tongue. You cause me to crave these beastly, carnal things, to crave you - and then leave me wanting, never taking my body as your own."

You push against his chest, continuing. "Then we meet on the dance floor and I realize you are not just a fantasy of my lustful dreams, but a man - a gentleman at that, with position and family - and you simply congratulate me on my engagement? Then follow me out here tonight to ruin me with scandal?"

He has backed away now, lips parting as his eyes go round. "My lady, forgive me, I...I -"

"Do. you. want me. Or not?" You grind out, frustrated tears burning your eyes.

His shoulders sag in relief as he realizes he has not lost his chance. With two determined strides forward, he cradles your face in his hands and breathes against your mouth, "You are all I want in this world, waking or sleeping, man or beast, new moon or full. I want you and only you."

He covers your mouth with his own, while his hands go to work dragging up your skirts. You wilt into his kiss, hanging onto him, yanking at his trousers as you moan into his mouth.

Tearing his mouth from yours, he kneels to the ground, but you stop him. "No. No more. Not tonight."

Pushing him by the shoulders, you force him down on a garden bench and continue loosening his breeches. His cock springs free, stiff and leaking and you wet your lips.

"Help me," you ask him, and the two of you work to lift your skirts and push and pull away your underclothes. It takes some doing, but you are finally bare and sinking onto his tip, hot and dripping.

"Are you certain, my lady?" He stutters out, fingers flying to unlace your dress at the front, licking his lips at the sight of your soft skin.

The wolf's tongue is as long as the man's cock, so you are prepared to take him, and your soaking wet cunt sucks him in, inch by inch, with only the slightest whisper of discomfort. Your mouth falls open in ecstasy as you sit astride your lover with him deep inside you.

"The only thing that will stop me now is if you refuse me again," you tell him, rocking your hips backward and forward agonizingly slowly.

He groans, deep and needy, finally freeing your breasts from the top of your dress. "Never. You are mine now." He rolls his hips up into you, hands cupping your breasts almost reverently.

The feeling of mating with your wolf, even in this form - of tempting fate with the scandal of the decade - unchaperoned, in this dark garden, with a man other than your betrothed - the thought of defying your parents in such a way and giving your maidenhood to the creature of your fantasies - it all culminates in you losing yourself in your passions. Your body undulates, rolling into his. His gentle hands caressing your breasts, twirling and plucking at your nipples has you singing in pleasure.

He swallows your sounds in his own mouth, with long, wet, delicious kisses. Shifting your hips slightly, you start to bounce, craving friction, craving more. His tip rubs you deep and raw inside, coaxing you toward a new kind of climax - different from those on the wolf's tongue.

This is a man- a real lover - his cock inside you, his hands all over you, worshipping you - his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you. You can't believe all the ladies who gossip about their dreadful marriage bed duties. This is heaven.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, surging from deep inside through your entire body until you melt against him. He kisses you again, but eases himself out of your wet core, still straining, leaking and hard.

"I'm close," he breathlessly confesses, "but better to be safe. We are not married."

Yes, yes, no sense in creating a child at this point. You lick your lips and reach for him. "I want to," you tell him, stroking him languidly. When he groans and twitches in your hand, you work it faster, reaching underneath to toy with all of him. After all the pleasure he's given you, it is your most fervent desire to do the same for him.

This prompts your lips down to his leaking tip, where you swirl your tongue around, tasting him for the first time. He curses, spurting hot and eager all over your lips and fingers, a wild growl piercing the night.

Yanking you up by the nape of your neck, he kisses you again, licking his come off your mouth and stealing your breath away.

"Will you cast me aside, now that you've had me?" You whisper, clinging to him as the two of you cool under night's breeze.

He turns deadly serious eyes to you. "You are mine. You belong to me now."

"Very good," you sigh in relief, hugging him. "I thought I might never have you. The wolf always refuses me."

Marc chuckles, holding you against his chest. "No, my love. He indulges you. To mate with the wolf would break your sweet body."

You suspected as much. Still, it is nice to hear that he was concerned for your safety and not outright refusing you.

"Did you really want to...lie with the wolf?" He asks after several serene moments. "You do not think it...improper?"

"Oh," you laugh, "it is highly improper. The most carnal and sinful desire, to be sure." You turn your face up to his. "But something I crave with my whole being."

He considers your words carefully. "It can be done, but...it can be quite painful, at first. But..." He trails off, clearing his throat.

"What?"

"If the wolf bites you, during the act, the pain will subside. It would become most pleasurable, but..."

"But what?" You press.

"Then you would turn."

☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･